The Sixth School Book II Ch. 015

Author's note.

IMPORTANT NOTICE.

My mother and sister were travelling together and got involved in an accident. Thankfully, they didn't lose their lives. I'm helping take care of them while they recover. Consequently, my writing speed has taken a major hit. Instead of once a week, I'll be posting once every two weeks. it'll take a few months for them to recover, but once they are back on their feet, I'll get back to one chapter a week. I ask for your understanding.

As usual,

1). Remember, your help in pointing out errors will help keep me from having to take long periods off to edit. Your help in this is much appreciated.

2). Feedback from my readers is my fuel to keep writing. If you enjoy my work, please take the time to let me know in the comments. It does wonders for my motivation to write.

3). If you read the chapter, please take the time to rate it. It's just a few clicks of the screen.

***

All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...

***

Chapter Fifteen: Overpowered...

"What is your name young warrior?" The rotund man bedecked in jewel-encrusted golden rings asked.

Greg was currently inside the main tent of the caravan where the leader of the caravan would spend the day. In the caravan, chairs weren't commonly used as they had the nasty habit of sinking in the sand. That's why the man was lying back on a thick pile of pillows to support his prodigious weight, with a thick carpet under them keeping him from sitting directly in the sand. Greg was currently standing barefoot on the same carpet, having been forced to leave his shoes just outside the tent. While Greg did his best to keep his gaze fixed on the man, he could feel the burning gazes of the other occupants of the main tent.

As the man's size clearly indicated, he was one to indulge his desires. Which was why the tent was full of scantily clad women all wearing veils and formfitting attire that left very little to the imagination. Unfortunately for the man, his propensity to indulge in one area kept him from being able to indulge in another. Looking at the man's protruding gut, his fat fingers, and trunk-sized legs Greg somehow doubted that he engaged in a lot of physical activities. The women were an indulgence that he could only desire but never truly have no matter how many of them he packed into his tent.

Seated beside the man was a slender woman who was conspicuously just as ornamented as the man. While the women in the tent were dressed provocatively, none of them had even a hint of jewelry on them. If this clear status distinction wasn't clue enough, then the fact that she was the only woman seated directly next to the man told Greg that she was probably the man's wife. She also happened to be the only one not wearing a veil to hide her beauty. Greg could see the subtle assertion of her position as wife. While the other women were faceless toys to be played with, she was the only one whose beauty he was allowed to admire. Her lack of veil, however, made it impossible not to notice the raw desire in her eyes as she visually devoured him. Months of arduous training with his familiar had left Greg a broad-chested, well-muscled, and exquisitely-toned specimen. This, paired with the fact that Roka had a naturally handsome face, made it so that he drew the gazes of most women who caught sight of him. Add on the fact that he had become a legend to those in the caravan, it was easy to see why such intense desire seemed to be coming in waves from the women in the tent.

Ever since they landed in Ethavel, Greg had been focused entirely on dissolving his teacher's mana pathways. After that, he turned his attention to dealing with the mages from the Draknar alliance. It had been months since he last attempted this new dungeon that he'd unlocked. Now that things seemed to finally be going in the right direction, Greg had decided to go for another dungeon run. After all the life mana Greg had used in the past few months, his affinity for the earth element had degraded significantly. Moving on the sand had been a lot more of a headache for him this time than it had been on previous runs. He didn't have it anywhere near as bad as the totally green recruits, but someone watching them closely would easily tell that he wasn't one of the veterans. Even his connection to the earth had grown a lot more muted than it had been before. He still got 'feelings' and 'impressions' from the ground below him, but they were vague and indistinct, not delivering any clear messages to him.

But while his connection to the earth had been weakened, Greg himself had grown far stronger than he'd been before. Having already tried this dungeon before, Greg had already been on edge awaiting the attack by the desert bandits. And so, when his earth connection transmitted the feeling of something being off, Greg immediately lifted the foot he'd just set down. Barely a second later, a knife had swiped through where the back of his leg had been, hoping to sever his Achilles tendon. Rather than jump back, as he had always done in this situation, Greg brought his foot down with every bit of strength he could master. After the procedure with his teacher, this was no small amount. With the strength of a body-enhancing mage in the third tier, Greg wasn't surprised when the ground sunk a few inches lower to the tune of ribs snapping like twigs. The sand a short distance from the tip of his foot turned crimson as blood was forced out of his attacker's mouth.

As usual, there were screams as a few of the guards had their Achilles tendons severed. The few still green guards that allowed themselves to fall to the ground were silenced a short while later as the same blades that crippled them found their way to their throats. All too quickly, the shrill cries of pain were replaced with battle cries as their attackers jumped out of the sand like dolphins leaping out of water. Unlike every other time, however, the three bandits closest to Greg found themselves headless even before their feet touched the ground once more. One of the unexpected side effects of training under Olivia was the switch in mentality that came over Greg whenever he got into a fight.

Olivia was an overwhelming force on the battlefield. When he first started training under her, Greg was certain that his familiar was just torturing him for her amusement. The more he persevered, however, the more he realized what she was doing. Olivia would find out what your limits were and then just go past them slightly. Enough so that any mistakes you made would be harshly punished. At the same time, however, if you kept a cool head, and gave it your all, then you'd grow with each fight. Every time you pushed yourself just that bit more in fighting, your skill, your endurance, your reaction speed, they'd all grow steadily. After so long training under her, it had become a natural instinct for Greg to chase that bit of improvement. Getting it, however, required that you give everything you could and then try to push a bit beyond your furthest limit. This meant that when Greg entered battle, everything else fell away. Anything and everything that didn't directly impact the fight faded from acknowledgment. Instead, he became a cold and ruthlessly efficient killing machine only interested in taking down the enemy.

Even before Greg received a comprehensive improvement in his physical prowess, he could go toe to toe with most of the bandits in this attack. Now, as the equivalent of a third-tier body-enhancing mage, he was orders of magnitude stronger and faster than any of their attackers. By the time Greg noticed that something was off and that he wasn't being challenged to the same degree he was used to with his familiar, he was stabbing through the seventeenth bandit with enough force to pick the man off the ground. Greg might not have been able to match Olivia in terms of speed, but that didn't mean that he was in any way slow. When he pushed himself to the max, his motions seemed to become a blur to those around him as they proved incapable of keeping up with him. Almost twenty of them had died by the time he realized that these weren't equal opponents. After his power-up, he had become a shark and all these bandits were just small fish swimming in his waters.

Olivia had made it a point to punish him whenever he paused stupidly mid-fight. As such, Greg had only paused for a split second before he continued with the carnage. They were far weaker than him and he was reaping their lives like it was nothing. Did that elicit any mercy, guilt, or sense of shame in him? Not even remotely. Greg knew without a shred of doubt that if their places were reversed, they would kill him without even a moment of hesitation. And this wasn't just conjecture, Greg had died enough times to this group of bandits to know this for a fact. Now that he had the upper hand, he planned to press his advantage to the fullest. Like the grim reaper, Greg moved through the battlefield leaving behind him a trail of blood and gore.

By Greg's best estimate, there had been about three hundred bandits attacking the caravan. He was a little past his fiftieth kill when a mage was sent after him. Unfortunately for them, and luckily for Greg, the one they sent after him was an earth mage. Ever since he gained the earth connection, Greg had gotten all manner of sensations from the earth, the one thing he was yet to feel, however, was hostility. That's why it had been so jarring. Greg had just parried a dagger thrown at him when he felt the ground under him turn against him and desire to bury him. Indecision is death. This was something that Olivia had beaten into him countless times during their training sessions. The situations in which standing around and doing nothing was the right decision in the middle of battle were few and far between. Oftentimes, even if it wasn't the best possible choice, you'd still suffer a lot less by choosing a course of action and committing to it rather than hesitating at a critical moment. This was why, the second the sensation hit him, Greg immediately jumped away.

Barely a second after he jumped away, the sands where Greg had been standing started to turn in a circular motion like water draining down a sink. Greg couldn't help the cold sweat that soaked his back when the bandit he'd been about to execute barely had time to yelp before he disappeared under the sands. Turning this way and that, Greg had surveyed his surroundings trying to see if he could find the earth mage. Whoever they were, however, they seemed to be the cautious type as they didn't stand out in any way. With the color of their robes blending in with the sand of the desert, and the chaos of battle all around him, picking out a single individual was impossible. Whoever this mage was, they were hoping to end him from the shadows. Letting out a derisive snort, Greg had shot off once again. Whoever this mage was, he wasn't the only one that could be elusive.

They would have to keep up with him if they hoped to do him in. Greg, however, moved like the wind and crossed from one end of the battlefield to the other in under a minute. And with the caravan stretching for almost a kilometer, this was no small feat. What was even worse for his elusive mage was the fact that nothing he did was hidden from Greg. He'd already reaped another ten lives by the time he felt the earth turn against him once more. As soon as he felt it, however, Greg was gone. Anyone observing him might have thought that Greg was fully engrossed in the fighting he'd been doing. The truth, however, was that he had been keeping a close eye on the combatants around him. If anyone had come after him, there was very little chance he would have missed them. At first, even while running away, Greg had been confused by the second attack seeing as he hadn't spotted any mage coming after him. But then, it clicked. His gaze had turned to the sands below him as he remembered how the bandits initially stayed hidden.

Powerful as he had become, Greg knew his limits. His affinity for the earth element was severely weakened. On the other hand, his affinity for the school of life, while powerful, was entirely useless in this situation. He wasn't going to heal his way out it. He just simply wasn't anywhere near powerful enough to go toe to toe with a mage that could cross almost a kilometer a in few minutes by moving through the sand. No matter how fast Greg moved from one end of the battlefield to the other, this mage was almost always just a minute or two behind him. This was why there was zero shame in Greg as he led the poor mage on a merry chase all around the battlefield. The mage's inability to keep up with Greg made it so that Greg would have reaped the lives of three to five bandits by the time they caught up.

Greg could understand why the mage didn't surface even if just for the added speed of not having to wade through sand. The bandits and caravans seemed to have a mutual understanding. Don't bring out the big guns and we won't either. If mages were involved, the scale of destruction would sharply rise. Winning the battle after the whole caravan was destroyed would hold very little meaning for either side. But since when had people abided by rules perfectly? Especially when greed was involved. Both Greg and the mage after him were playing in the grey area of plausible deniability. Greg had been fighting with superhuman strength and speed but hadn't cast any spells, meaning that the bandits couldn't point to him as justification for bringing out their mages. They, on the other hand, had chosen a mage that could remain entirely hidden even as he went after the one decimating their more mundane allies. Unfortunately for them, the need to remain hidden meant that they had no hope of catching up to him. Greg's kills were fast approaching a hundred by the time the bandits finally sounded a horn for them to retreat.

In the course of the battle, Greg had probably crossed the battlefield about seven times. For him, his sole focus had simply been surviving. A superior foe was after him and he needed to run away to remain alive. The unintended result of this, however, was that almost everyone in the caravan had seen him in the course of the battle at one point or the other. Greg didn't know if the other guards truly hadn't detected the mage after him, or if this was a case of people retelling the story in a way they liked better. But rather than running to save his life, Greg was portrayed as a bloodthirsty harbinger of death that moved through the battlefield delivering death to all their enemies. A good number of guards had lost their lives, and several more had been injured, but a few hours after the battle was over, he was all that everyone in the caravan spoke of. That was how he'd ended up here, in the tent of the leader of the caravan. While several small traders had joined in on their journey, almost seventy percent of the goods in the caravan belonged to the man before him.

"Roka, Krethna," Greg replied with a smile and a bow. Krethna wasn't the man's name, but a title given to the leader of any caravan. Different places around the desert had different laws but while you were part of a caravan, the Krethna's word was law.

"And what is such a decorated warrior doing as a common guard?" He questioned.

Despite the relaxed air inside the tent, Greg wasn't fooled. The man hadn't grown to achieve the wealth that he had by being a fool. Greg was almost certain that the man's elite guards had surrounded the tent the moment he walked inside. Heck, one of them might even be disguised as one of the women so openly ogling him. An anomaly had appeared in his caravan, one big enough to have earned his attention and he was trying to get to the bottom of it. If the man liked his answers, chances are that he would gain a higher rank than the one he currently occupied. If the opposite was true, however, Greg would have to fight his way out of this tent and probably out of the caravan itself.

"A jewel need not beg a discerning eye to see it," Greg replied with a confident smirk. "If I had approached you and spoke of my prowess, you would have doubted me. Thought me some upstart trying to oversell their skill. The onus would have been on me to prove myself worthy of your time. As a common guard, I have nothing to prove, I can simply play my role as a normal guard, and when my time is done, move on to the next caravan. Eventually, I am certain that someone will see my worth," he explained with a smile. Greg had remained carefully neutral in his explanation. He wasn't overly subservient and didn't try to downplay his skill and value as a guard. His words made it clear that he knew he was a cut above the common rabble. At the same time, however, he didn't display any arrogance, making it clear that he wouldn't be bothered if he didn't get his way. He'd just move on until someone else saw the value in him.

The very fact that he was even in this tent, however, to begin with, meant that the Krethna could see the worth of having him as an elite guard. That he was even being vetted was further proved of this. "Ah, a man that knows his worth. As a merchant, I can respect that," the Krethna acknowledged, bringing a chubby hand to one of his multiple chins. "But tell me, are you not a mage? From what I have heard of you, you should belong to the kind that, rather than exerting their power on the world around them, instead focus all it inside their body," he stated plainly.

"A wise man doesn't seek knowledge that will harm him," Greg replied with a smile. There was sudden tension inside the tent at his words. Greg could almost feel the way the man's hidden guards tensed up, ready to jump him at any second. Noticing the fact that his words had been taken the wrong way, Greg was quick to clarify what he had been trying to vaguely hint at. "If I happened to be a mage, I'd be forced to sit idle until our foes allowed a mage onto the battlefield. But if I were just an elite guard, then I could act any time the caravan was under attack. Now, tell me do you really wish to know if I am a mage or not?" He questioned.

It took a second, but eventually, a gleam lit up in the man's eyes as he understood what Greg was trying to convey. "You're right, I shouldn't concern myself with exaggerated rumors," he stated with a conspiratorial smile. "My love, what do you think of Roka," the man questioned, turning to the woman seated beside him.

Greg had to suppress the urge to smirk as he turned to regard the woman who'd been visually eating him up right from the moment he'd walked into the tent. "How long is your sword? " The woman asked.

An innocent enough question, or at least, it would have been if not for the fact that, for a moment, her gaze dropped directly to his crotch, before coming back up to his eyes, quietly communicating which sword she was actually interested in.

Greg lost his fight against the smirk as he replied. "Long enough to reach one's deepest parts," he replied cryptically.

A snort of amusement left the Krethna at his answer. The man clearly assumed that he was making a play on words, given that swords, especially gladiuses, were used to stab one's enemies. But while he wasn't wrong that Greg was making a play on words, he seemed to have completely missed the subtle innuendo. From the way the woman's catlike smile grew, she clearly hadn't missed what exactly Greg was communicating. "My love, the length of the man's sword doesn't matter, it's how well he can swing it that matters," the man declared with the patronizing air of one who was explaining what should have been obvious.

Greg couldn't help but feel sorry for the man as his wife blushed lightly and licked her lips her gaze once again briefly dropping to the prize in his pants. "And just how good are you at swinging it?" She breathlessly asked.

"No one I've swung it at has ever complained," Greg answered with a confident smile.

This time, a burst of laughter escaped the corpulent man. "That's only because the veil separates the living from the dead. If the dead could speak, I'm certain that more than a few would complain," he said looking amused.

Greg just smiled, casting a glance at the man before turning back to his wife who'd unconsciously bitten on her lower lip. "Would you be willing to show me?" She asked daringly.

"I'd be glad to. But I'm afraid that if I pull out my sword here, the men your husband has positioned just outside the tent would cut me down before I can even begin swinging," Greg replied with an easy smile.

"Skilled with the sword and observant too," the Krethna stated with clear approval in his voice. Not only did he not bother denying Greg's words, there wasn't even a hint of remorse on his face to begin with.

But while a casual listener like the man would assume that Greg was trying to convey that he was aware of the guards ready to attack him at a moment's notice, the man's wife seemed to understand that the first statement of his reply was the actual answer. "Well then, I guess I'll find you when you're not inside this tent for a demonstration of your skill," she declared, the smoldering look she was sending him causing Greg's cock to twitch.

"Well, it would seem that my wife approves of you. Now, on to business..." The corpulent man spoke, his expression turning serious.

It would be another hour and a half before Greg was allowed to leave the main tent. The first twenty minutes were wasted with them haggling over exactly how much he would be paid. Greg wouldn't be around long enough to actually be paid anything. After this, the women were sent out of the tent, and the elite guards that had been hiding just outside of it were asked to come in. About fifteen men walked into the room, each dressed in various kinds of armor. Some looked at him with a measuring gaze, as if trying to determine who would come out on top if they got in a fight. A few others regarded him with a hostile gaze as if they didn't think he belonged there. The vast majority, however, regarded him with respect. Greg suspected that those in this last group had probably seen him in action personally rather than just hearing about him.

Of those who walked in, Greg took note of four particular individuals. The first was Anuk, a giant of a man who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the guards. Giant with him wasn't a figure of speech but a simple descriptor. The next tallest man in the elite guard only came up to the man's solar plexus. And that guard wasn't by any means short, about six feet seven inches, by Greg's reckoning. Anuk had to be about eight feet bordering on nine feet tall. He had a stern but friendly demeanor about him. He gave Greg the impression that he was the kind of person who would be all smiles and laughter until it was time to fight, then he'd go stone-faced and start reaping lives with no remorse. He wielded a large halberd, which, ironically was shorter than he was by a few inches.

Kori caught his attention because all the other guards seemed to avoid him. He was one of the few who looked at him with hostility, but then, he seemed to look at everyone with the same amount of hostility. From the way his gaze kept shifting from one guard to the next, Greg suspected that he was always planning how he'd kill everyone around him should the need arise. The fact that he held a curved dagger in each hand and was constantly twirling them was another thing that stuck out to Greg. No other guard had walked into the tent with their weapons drawn. Anuk couldn't exactly stow away his halberd, but even he was holding the thing with one hand and using it more as a walking staff rather than with both hands, as such a weapon was usually wielded. While other guards had given Greg less-than-friendly looks, Kori was the only one from whom Greg felt a palpable sense of danger.

Fahn caught Greg's eye, not because of anything particular to him, but rather the weapon he wielded. Of the elite guards who walked into the tent, he was the only one who had a long bow slung across his chest. Ever since he got the soul bow, it's been little more than a trinket for him. If what Olivia had told him about it was true, it would grow to be a really powerful weapon the more Greg grew in power. Unfortunately, Greg was still in the lower tiers. Against the kinds of enemies that he had been facing, it simply wouldn't have been up to par for what he needed. Because of this, he had neglected to put any time into learning more about using a bow. Seeing the man, however, Greg immediately recognized that this was an opportunity that he should take full advantage of. After all, a weapon that you don't make use of is a weapon you might as well not have. Even if it wasn't during this run, Greg could see himself repeating this dungeon run many times just for the chance to learn from the man.

Visha was the only female among the elite guards. When Greg first caught sight of her, he couldn't help but think that a model had somehow lost her way and ended up in this tent full of brutes. Her golden blonde hair was tied back in a tight ponytail putting her beautiful face on display for everyone to see. She had large doe eyes that only conveyed innocence, a small button nose, and soft pink lips that Greg couldn't help but want to kiss. In an alluring contradiction, while there was an underlying innocence to her facial beauty, her body was almost sinfully sexy. Her double-D cup breasts seemed to defy gravity with how perky they were even as they pushed against the light fabric of her clothing. Greg couldn't see her ass given that he was looking at her from the front. If the way her hips flared out from her narrow waist was anything to go by, however, then Greg couldn't wait to catch a view of her as she walked away. But, even more than her mere beauty, the one thing that stood out most about her was the fact that she was completely unarmed. Not a dagger, sword, spear, mace, or even a crude club on her. Furthermore, she wasn't wearing armor of any kind. She was wearing a light outfit meant to alleviate the heat of the desert, an outfit that also coincidentally hugged her figure most tantalizingly.

The thing that gave Greg pause and caused his sense of danger to tingle was the fact that none of the men around were approaching her. She wasn't avoided by the other men in the same way Kori was, but they all kept a respectful distance around her. It wasn't that they didn't find her attractive. Greg saw more than one man looking in her direction from time to time. The looks ranged from pure longing to lecherous leering and everything in between. Everyone, however, remained a proper distance away from her. Greg strongly doubted that the men in this group were all just gentlemen who didn't wish to bother a lady. If some of the looks he saw were anything to go by, some of these men would love nothing more than to just pin her down and have their way with her. For some reason that wasn't immediately obvious to Greg, however, none of them tried to make a move on her. Had he not had Olivia as a familiar for close to two years now, Greg suspected that he would have been tempted to try and make a move on Visha. Having what was probably the next best thing to a succubus, however, had tempered his ability to resist the allure of feminine wiles. When their gazes met briefly, Greg only offered a small smile and a respectful nod before turning away to study other guards.

Once all the guards were inside about ten minutes were spared for introductions which is how Greg learned the names of the four that caught his attention. Once that was out of the way, the reason for this meeting was laid out. Apparently, this caravan would be merging with another six caravans tomorrow. The seven caravans would be working together to try and cross the Death Seeker's canyon. A canyon so named because anyone who went in was thought to be seeking death. No one knew what lay inside the canyon as it was the only place in the desert that was perpetually covered in fog day and night. Worse yet, no one that had wandered inside had ever come out.

As he sat listening to the Krethna lay out the road ahead of them, a question immediately popped into Greg's mind. Why was a group of wealthy merchants interested in traversing through such an ominous-sounding place? Looking at the morbidly obese man before him, Greg strongly doubted that he was the adventurous kind. He seemed the kind to be more interested in indulging in whatever pleasure he could get his hands on. If there was a danger to be faced, he'd probably prefer to have it handled by one of his many employed guards rather than take it head-on. So, what exactly would compel such a man to try and traverse a place like the Death Seeker's canyon? It was only just a hunch but somehow, Greg suspected that the answer to that question would be the key to beating this dungeon...

***

Greg's eyes snapped open, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword which lay under his pillow as he heard the flap to his tent be pulled open. There weren't any zips in this world, but there was a weak adhesive used to keep the tent flaps closed at night. When one needs to leave the tent, it can easily be pulled apart. The adhesive, however, dries quickly and makes something akin to a cracking noise when pulled apart, which is how Greg detected the intruder. Showing her inexperience in infiltration, the veiled woman on the other side was looking around at the outside of the tent. She was probably checking to see if she had been spotted, neglecting to look inside the tent to see if she had roused its occupant. This was one of the Krethna's women sneaking into his tent after dark. A mischievous smile flashed on Greg's lips for a second before he closed his eyes once more and pretended to still be asleep.

As one of the elite guards, Greg had been given a much bigger tent than the common guards. The size of a small room, it was furnished with some creature comforts, like soft carpets and pillows to rest upon. None of it was anywhere near the quality that the Krethna had, but it was far better than the simple tent and bedroll that common guards got. The best feature, however, was the noise-canceling enchantments that had been sown into the tent itself. As a member of the elite guard, he was allowed more perks that the common guard had to do without, like privacy. The tent allowed noise from the outside in, enabling Greg to hear if anything happened outside. Nothing of what was happening inside his tent, however, would be heard even if someone pressed their ear to the tent. Just how Greg liked it.

Tingles traveled up Greg's spine as he felt a hand lightly trace its way up from his calf up to his knee before slowly gliding along the inside of his thigh. Greg was out of his armor and in loose robes that would allow him to sleep more comfortably. Not in any way modest, the woman's hand hadn't gone over the robe but rather, had glided under it even as she reached forward to wrap her hand around his rapidly hardening cock. A light gasp left the woman even as she got to directly feel the girth of his rapidly hardening monster. "It would seem you weren't lying about the size of your sword," she muttered to herself with a nervous giggle. There was no hiding the breathless arousal in her voice even as her hand slowly started to glide up and down its length.

Unable to take the teasing, Greg made his move. With his prodigious strength and speed, he reached up, grabbed the woman, pulled her onto the bed, and had her pinned under him even before she could yelp in surprise. "That's a dangerous weapon you're playing with. If you aren't careful, you might end up impaled on it," he warned in a lust-filled voice, his eyes hungrily roaming her sensuous body.

"I am the Krethna's woman. You wouldn't dare take me, would you?" The woman put up a false fight. But despite her words, Greg didn't miss the way she slowly pulled up her dress before parting her legs for him. Even in the low light of the tent, Greg could see the way her labia glistened with need and anticipation. The hand that wasn't pinning her down had been liberally groping her bountiful bust and pinching her nipples through the light fabric of her top. By the way she was arching her back and pressing more of her chest into his palm, she was enjoying the rough treatment. This woman hadn't come here for soft touches or a romantic evening. She was burning with desire and wanted to have that fire quenched with raw passion.

Lining up the thick head of his cock with per pussy, Greg watched the woman's lips make an O even as he pushed into her tight depths. "Not only will I take you, I'll make you moan and scream in ways that overly-fed swine cannot. I'll plow depths that he can only dream of. I'll take you any way I want and when I'm done, I'll fill you with my seed and send you back to him. You can sit in his tent and smile at him while my seed leaks out of your pussy and spreads onto your thighs," Greg declared even as he began to pump his cock in and out of her. It wasn't long before screams of ecstasy filled the tent, the woman shaking and writhing beneath him in orgasmic bliss. Greg didn't stop or care, continuing to ravage her until he too reached the peak of pleasure. Keeping his word, Greg buried his twitching cock to the hilt inside her even as he emptied his balls into her womb...

"My sisters were curious how good a warrior you are. They sent me to fight you and find out," the sweaty woman spoke, a sultry grin playing on her lips. "I'm pleased to say that you are a worthy adversary. However, I am afraid that some of them will not believe me when I tell them this and will wish to test you themselves. How many more battles do you think you can fight," she questioned, a sly twist to her lips and a naughty gleam in her eyes. Greg smiled already foreseeing that he wouldn't be getting much sleep today...

***

At some point, Greg had lost track of how many women had come into his tent. The first woman snuck into his tent at about nine. And by one, he was still plowing another of the Krethna's women. Given that they all kept their veil through it all, Greg didn't even know their faces. One thing, however, was clear with every single one that came to him, the Krethna's money didn't make up for his failure to satisfy them carnally. Every single one of them that came to him was burning with desire and Greg was all too happy to sate it. At first, Greg had still been cautious, ready to react if anything went wrong. By the tenth woman, however, most of his caution had faded and by the twentieth, it was all but gone. This was why, Greg was completely blindsided when a blade swiped across his neck causing his blood to spray onto the woman's face.

Greg had once again hit the peak of pleasure, this time managing to do it at the same time as the woman. They'd both been lost in rapturous pleasure when he felt the cold blade go through his neck. Greg's eyes flew open in shock even as his cock continued to twitch inside the woman. The more shocking part of the situation, however, was the fact that it was the woman still shuddering from her orgasm that was holding the blade. Her moans of ecstasy didn't abate in the slightest, if anything, they seemed to intensify even as his blood soaked the veil covering her face. What her motivations could be, and why she would want him dead, Greg couldn't even begin to puzzle out. Still, molten anger welled up in Greg, partly at the woman but mostly at himself. If he hadn't let his guard down, this woman was nowhere fast or strong enough to have killed him. She had waited until he was vulnerable to strike, and like a horny fool, he had given it to her.

But while she had managed to take him at a moment of weakness, she remained far weaker and slower than him. Which is why she was powerless to stop him when Greg reached under his pillow, pulled out his sword, and ran her through with it. Greg could still feel his cock twitching inside the woman, and her body still shuddering with pleasure even as his vision quickly turned black...

YOU DIED!

***

Hope you enjoyed the Chapter. If you did, please consider supporting my work. And don't forget to favorite, vote, and comment.