We didn't move through the village like a relief squad. We moved like a fantasy brought to life.
It was a display of absolute dominance.
Kara led the way, but she wasn't clearing debris. She was strutting. Her mature single mom frame swayed the fabric of her maid uniform to its grace. Every step was a heavy, rhythmic sway of hips that made the local men stop in their tracks, their jaws hanging loose.
Step. Sway. Step. Sway.
Sofia walked behind her. She wasn't guarding the rear; she was basking in the afterglow. Her cheeks were still flushed a deep, rosy pink from our session in the alleyway just an hour ago. She looked pleasantly ruined, her hair slightly mussed, walking with the loose-limbed grace of a woman who had been thoroughly satisfied.
And beside me walked Pearl. She wasn't just glowing with holy light; she was radiating, her aura wasn't just "divine"—it was intoxicating. It smelled like vanilla and arousal, drawing the eyes of every man and woman in the street.
And then there was me.
I walked in the center, my regeneration was not yet complete. But not the armless creature from the ocean anymore. The village women didn't look at me with desperation. They looked at me with thirst.
"Oh my... is that the new Priest?" "Look at his shoulders... "I heard he creates miracles... I wonder what else he can create?"
I could hear their whispers. I could smell their sudden spikes in temperature.
But the people who weren't affected by this erotic parade weren't the villagers. It was Julienne.
The Lady of the House walked in the middle. She kept looking around, her face pale. Judging from the look on her face, she remembered this place as vibrant—full of flower stalls and bakeries.
Now, the shops were boarded up. The people were gaunt, huddling in doorways, watching us with hollow eyes. The "Village" was no longer different from the "Slums." she muttered enough for me to hear.
"Please... Priest-sama..."
An old woman approached, holding a child trembling with a violent fever-rash. Behind her, a group of younger women—widows and farmers' daughters—gathered. They looked at the child with pity, but when their eyes landed on me, the pity shifted to something else entirely.
Hunger.
My regeneration had fixed my face, my skin, and my posture. I stood tall, radiating health in a place filled with sickness. I was a beacon of vitality.
"I am here," I said, my voice projecting calm authority.
I didn't use my tentacles. This wasn't a missing limb; it was a sickness of the blood. Regeneration wouldn't help here.
I reached into my robe, accessing the System Inventory.
Clink.
I pulled out a small, hexagonal glass vial filled with a glowing pink liquid. [Lesser Panacea – Cost: 50 DP]. Cheap for me, but a miracle for them.
"Drink," I commanded gently, tilting the vial against the boy's cracked lips.
The liquid flowed. The effect was instant. The boy's red rash faded into healthy skin. His breathing slowed. He opened his eyes.
"A miracle!" the mother wept, grabbing my hand and kissing it.
But she wasn't the only one. The younger women pressed closer.
"Priest-sama, my hand hurts..." one murmured, brushing her chest against my arm. "Priest-sama, I feel faint..." another sighed, batting her eyelashes.
They were captivated. In a world of dirty soldiers and broken men, I was a god.
But I wasn't watching them. I was watching Julienne.
She was standing a few feet away. She was amused of how the flock of people came to ask for my aid.
Then a shift on the wind she wasn't looking at the miracle. She wasn't looking at the cured boy or the divine figure this villagers spoke
She was looking at me. And she was looking at me as if I were stark naked.
Her eyes traced the line of my jaw, the width of my shoulders under the robe, and finally, settled heavily on my groin. Her pupils were dilated, swallowing the iris. Her breath hitched in her throat.
She remembers, I thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
She was remembering the slithering of my tentacles this morning. She was remembering what she saw the instant we arrived at the village square.
[Flashback: Two Hours Ago]
It was right after we arrived at the village square. Kara, Julienne, and Pearl were greeted by the villagers like idols brought into the square at that moment. I had pulled Sofia into the narrow alleyway behind the kitchen for a quick "release."
Sofia was desperate. I shoved her forward, pinning her chest against the rough brick wall, her face mashed against the cold stone. I didn't waste time; I hiked her skirts up to her waist, bundling the fabric in my fist.
Beneath, she wore silk—pink lace adorned with delicate erotic flowers, a perfect match for her hair. A noble's vanity, hidden away. I didn't strip her; I just hooked my fingers into the delicate fabric and yanked the panties to the side, exposing her waiting slit.
My cock was already rock-hard, aching and twitching with the need to be sheathed.
There was no foreplay. I lined up and shoved the tip in.
"Hhhng!"
It was tight. The initial entry was rough—a dry, friction-filled drag that made her hips jerk. But Sofia wasn't in denial; her body was screaming for this. Two short, teasing strokes were all it took for her composure to snap. Like a dam breaking, her natural slickness flooded down, instantly coating me.
With the path greased, I anchored my feet, grabbed her wide hips, and drove it all the way home.
Squelch.
I felt the suffocating heat of her insides clamp down on me, milking me instantly. I didn't give her a moment to adjust. I began to pound into her from behind, a rhythmic, wet violence that echoed in the confined space.
Plap. Plap. Plap..
My hips slammed against her soft ass cheeks, the sound lewd and unmistakable. Sofia wasn't screaming; she was biting her own hand to muffle the moans, her other hand clawing at the wall for purchase.
"Master... fill me...!" she gasped.
And that's when I felt it. Eyes.
I glanced up. At the mouth of the alley, frozen in mid-step, was Julienne.
She had seen everything. She saw her quiet, deadly maid being ravaged. She saw the sheer size of me. She saw the way Sofia's toes curled in her boots.
I kept the pace stronger and faster as if pummeling sofia from behind would rip her pussy open
Plap. Plap. Plap.
Julienne didn't run. She didn't look away in disgust. She watched. Her hand had drifted to her throat, flushing a deep crimson. She wasn't thinking about "perversion." She was thinking about how heavy I looked. How warm Sofia must feel.
She wanted it.
[Present Time]
"Hey! You! Hand it over!"
The shout snapped Julienne out of her trance.
We turned. A few yards away, two town guards—men wearing the crest of Julienne's husband—were shoving a baker against his own boarded-up shop.
"That's the last sack of flour!" the baker pleaded. "My children—"
Crunch.
The guard armored gauntlet connected with the baker's jaw. The man crumbled to the cobbles, spitting blood.
"The Colonel needs supplies!" the guard spat, kicking the sack of flour. "Your brats should be thankful. God of war protects this village!"
"Stop!"
It wasn't me. It was Julienne.
She rushed forward, forgetting her fear, forgetting the mud ruining her silk shoes. She threw herself between the guard and the fallen baker.
"My Lady?" The guard froze, recognizing her. But he didn't bow. He smirked. "You shouldn't be out here, Lady Julienne. The streets are... dirty."
"You are hurting him!" Julienne screamed, her voice trembling with a rage I hadn't seen before. "These are my people! This is a tax collection, not a raid!"
"It's all the same to the Colonel," the guard shrugged, resting his hand on his sword hilt—a subtle threat. "If you have a problem with how we collect, take it up with your husband. Until then... stand aside, or we might mistake you for a sympathizer."
Julienne froze.
She looked at the guard. She looked at the baker bleeding in the dirt. And then she looked at the village around her.
The illusion shattered.
She realized the truth the one i showed her: The slum? The village's current condition? The truth that I flooded her this morning. Her husband wasn't protecting the village; he was consuming it.
She trembled, realizing she had no more power here. A Lady who should be the one responsible for her people. An heir without power. A wife with no voice.
I stepped forward.
My shadow engulfed the guard. I didn't say a word. I just let a single tentacle unfurl from my robe, hovering near his face like a cobra.
The guard paled. In his mind as if he was eaten by a monster. He grabbed the flour sack and retreated, muttering monster.
Julienne turned to me. She looked broken.
"I... I didn't know," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "It's all... rotting. Everything is rotting."
"Ignorance is a luxury you can no longer afford," I said softly, stepping into her personal space.
I leaned down, my voice a low rumble meant only for her.
"You saw the truth of the village just now," I whispered. "Just like the truth I showed you."
Julienne flinched, her face burning. She looked down, unable to meet my eyes.
"Ten… Priest… sama please..."
"You want to save this baker? This village? This heritage" I asked, gesturing to the man and the maids was now helping up. "You want to stop those guards? But you don't have the power and you don't want to hurt them. Only Faith can change them, The choice was given to you be the powerless queen or be the savior queen"
Julienne looked at the retreating guard, then at me. The conflict in her eyes was dying. The desire—for justice, and something inside her swells
"Please give me more time to think about it" she whispered,
As she walk out of us