The Ember Plains refused to let Ethan depart without etching their mark deeper into his legend.
High Priestess Kaara declared a full moon cycle of "deep immersion"—a sacred period where the Breeder would bless not just the elite priestesses of Obsidian Heart, but every woman in the scattered villages and outposts. "Our bloodlines must burn as one," she said, her flame-hair crackling with determination. "Only then will our daughters wield fire unbreakable."
Ethan agreed. The need was clear: void breaches had grown more frequent in the unprotected edges of the Plains. Stronger Amazons were required, and quickly.
The days dissolved into a rhythm of travel and unrelenting passion.
They moved from temple to temple on lava-steeds—massive beasts with hides of cooled rock that galloped across molten rivers without sinking. Each stop brought new women: bronze-skinned warriors with scarred, powerful bodies; lithe flame dancers whose movements hypnotized; curvy hearth-keepers from remote villages, their tits heavy with milk from previous ritual births.
In one volcanic cavern temple, cooled by ancient wards, twenty priestesses awaited on beds of black silk. They oiled their bodies until skin gleamed like polished obsidian, nipples pierced with glowing rubies. Ethan took them in waves—first pairs riding him together, pussies alternating on his cock while mouths sucked his balls and neck. Then groups of four or five, bodies pressing close in the heat—tits smothering his face, asses grinding against his thighs as he thrust deep into one slick cunt after another. Cum leaked in rivers, mixing with sweat and oil, the air thick with moans and the wet slap of flesh.
Kaara joined every major ritual, her commanding presence ensuring maximum devotion. One night in a lava-ringed arena, she pinned him beneath her powerful frame while ten priestesses formed a circle, fingering their dripping pussies in rhythm to her ride. When Ethan came inside Kaara—thick ropes flooding her scorching womb—she rose triumphantly, cum dripping down her thighs, and invited the circle to lick it from her skin before taking their turns.
Vaeloria's role remained torturous devotion. She carried supplies on her broad shoulders, organized the endless lines of women, and stood watch during orgies—her silver hair glowing in firelight, enormous tits heaving as she resisted joining. At one point, during a particularly intense session where Ethan fucked three priestesses doggy-style in a row, their asses high and pussies gushing around his pounding cock, Vaeloria's hand slipped between her thighs. She caught herself, pulling away with a frustrated groan that drew sympathetic smiles from Thora and Brynja.
The Amazons guarded fiercely, but the heat affected even them. On the seventh night, they joined a private hot-spring ritual—riding Ethan in steaming waters, their pregnant pussies taking him deep while priestesses massaged their heavy tits and swollen bellies.
By the twentieth day, exhaustion crept in despite the revitalizing lava-fruits. Ethan's balls ached from constant release, his cock tender yet still rising eagerly for each new woman. The count in the Ember Plains alone reached one hundred and ninety-two new pregnancies—bellies swelling almost visibly under the land's fierce magic.
Total across Elysara: five hundred and four.
But on the night of the full moon—the final ritual—the plains erupted in chaos.
Molten horns blared from every watchtower. Messengers on lava-birds screeched the news: a massive void breach at Ashfall, an unprotected outpost village three leagues north. The rift had torn wide, spewing shadow beasts larger than any seen before.
Kaara's face hardened. "They strike where we are weakest. We ride—now."
The force mobilized in minutes: Ethan on the lead steed, Vaeloria running beside with earth-shaking strides, Thora and Brynja flanking, Kaara and a hundred priestesses mounted behind. Fifty young Amazon daughters—born from earlier blessings in the Plains—joined, their bronze skin gleaming, muscles rippling despite their youth.
They arrived to a nightmare.
Ashfall burned. Simple homes of cooled lava rock crumbled under tentacled assaults. Void beasts—massive, writhing shadows with maws of razor teeth—rampaged, dragging screaming women toward the glowing rift.
Local defenders fought desperately: spears shattering on void hide, fire magic fizzling against darkness. Bodies lay wounded, some dragged halfway into the rift.
Vaeloria charged first, a silver goddess of war. She seized a beast's tentacle and yanked, slamming the creature into the ground. Her enormous tits bounced with the impact as she crushed its core beneath her heel, shadow essence splattering.
Thora and Brynja carved paths, greatswords flashing, protecting fleeing villagers.
Kaara hurled balls of flame that burned brighter than before—fueled by her new pregnancy.
But the turning point came from the young Amazons.
Three stepped forward—daughters conceived during Ethan's first caldera ritual, now warrior-sized in months.
They fought like myths reborn.
One leaped twenty feet, landing on a beast's back and pounding fists until shadow flesh ruptured in black ichor.
Another shielded a group of children, her body absorbing claw strikes that left only shallow scratches.
The third hurled boulders torn from the earth, crushing tentacles and sealing smaller rifts with raw force.
The village watched in stunned awe as the tide turned. Priestesses rallied, flames burning purer. The main rift shuddered under combined assault.
When the last beast dissolved and the rift sealed with a thunderclap, silence fell—broken by thunderous cheers.
Kaara approached Ethan, eyes shining with tears. "Your daughters… they saved us where we would have fallen. Proof of the ancient strength returned."
A village elder, wounded but alive, knelt. "We were fools to stay unprotected. Bless us now, Breeder—so our daughters may join theirs."
That night, amid rebuilt homes and cooling ashes, Ethan blessed the survivors—fucking them tenderly on beds of salvaged silk, cum filling wombs that would birth the next guardians.
As dawn rose red over the plains, the procession prepared to depart.
Five hundred and thirty pregnancies overall.
The Ember Plains secure—and fiercer than ever.
Next: the depths of the Sunken Groves, where water nymphs waited beneath the waves.