Chapter 469: The Price of Peeking (2)

To say that I wasn't surprised would be an understatement.

One moment, we were in a post-coital haze of lust and fluids; the next, her hand was around my throat, and the look in her amethyst eyes was pure, unadulterated 'kill-you-and-wear-your-skin'.

"Whoa there, 'Pointy'," I managed to choke out, my own hands coming up to grip her wrist. "Is this your way of saying you liked it? Because I'm into some kinky stuff, but this is a little extreme for a first date."

"Shut up!" she snarled, her fingers digging into my windpipe. "You shouldn't have seen the tattoo. No one sees the tattoo and lives."

"Yeah, well, about that," I grunted, applying a little pressure of my own. My fingers weren't crushing her wrist—not yet—but she could feel the dormant strength coiled there, a promise of what would happen if she pushed too hard. "I've seen it. And I'm feeling pretty curious about it."

She pressed harder. I let her. Not because I had to—but because I wanted to be sure.

A familiar resonance. Faint, buried deep, but unmistakable. Like an echo of a song I used to hum in another life.

Lilith.

Even without using my divinity, I could tell that Vespera was an old follower of Lilith, my wife. And since I inherited her world, the followers came with the package.

My divine concepts had already slipped into the world, affecting Lilith's old followers, slowly shaping and planting in their hearts my position as their new goddess.

The tattoo was the best example.

It had changed from Lilith's old heart and succubus wings to my horny sigil of a womb. The sigil that marks all my chosen breeding bitches. And the change was proof of their fates shifting from being Lilith's property to mine.

However, I'm not going to tell her this. It would ruin all the fun. Moreover, using divinity outside the protective barrier is like placing a big arrow over my head with the words "I'm a goddess, come breed me" glowing on top.

"..."

That would be fun. Should I do it? Maybe... but not yet.

Vespera's grip didn't loosen, but her eyes flickered with uncertainty, just for a split second. It was enough for me to know I had her attention, even if she was still playing the 'murderous dark elf' card.

"You know," I said hoarsely, tilting my head just enough to ease the pressure without breaking her grip, "most people start with questions before jumping straight to murder. It's considered polite."

I let a little bit of a grin play on my lips, the kind of grin that says I know something she doesn't.

"Politeness is a luxury for people who aren't seconds away from having their spine ripped out through their throat," she retorted, but the tremor in her voice gave her away. She was good, but I was better.

"I'm not 'most people'," I said. I could feel the tension in her arm, the desperate strength she was putting into trying to crush my throat. But it was like trying to crush a mountain. "And you're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Why not?" Her amethyst eyes narrowed, the conflict within her a war she was losing.

"Because I know what that tattoo means. I know who it ties you to… or rather, who it used to tie you to."

That did it. I shouldn't have said that. Her face went from hesitation and uncertainty to a mask of pure rage.

Wooosh!

Vespera raised her left hand, a faint, shimmering purple energy coalescing around her fingertips—a spell.

A knife. Made from... wind magic?

"DIE!" she cried out and tried to stab me in the eye, since she knew that my skin was as hard as steel. But...

I tilted my head to the side.

The 'air' knife grazed past my ear, close enough to sever a few strands of my hair. The wind from its passing felt sharp, cold.

"A shame," I said, not even flinching. "I was hoping for more of a... hands-on approach. I like to feel my lovers."

I punched her in the guts. Not a god-powered punch. Just enough. A solid, percussive thud that drove the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh. Her eyes bulged. The grip on my throat vanished as she doubled over, gasping.

I didn't press the attack. I just stood there, watching her, my arms crossed over my chest. The water swirled around my ankles, carrying away the last remnants of her release.

"You were saying something about my spine?" I asked, my tone mild.

"You… you… bitch," she wheezed, clutching her stomach, looking up at me with pure, undiluted hatred. But there was something else there now, too. Fear. The fear of the unknown.

But to my surprise, Vespera didn't even take a second to recover. In a split second, she regained her posture and jumped back a few feet away from me. Her hands were now in front of her, ready for a fight.

"Impressive recovery," I acknowledged, genuinely a little impressed. "Most people stay down after that. You've got fire, 'Pointy'. I like that."

"It's Vespera," she spat, her amethyst eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. She was gathering mana again, the air around her crackling with purple energy. "And you won't find me so easy to kill the second time."

"Kill you?" I laughed, a real, genuine laugh. "Oh, honey, I don't want to kill you. I want to BANG! You over and over. There's a difference. A very fun, sweaty, and noisy difference."

Vespera didn't waste words. She lunged, her hands dancing through the air as she wove a more complex spell. The water around her feet rose up, twisting into jagged, frozen shards of ice—black ice, tainted with the shadow mana of the Drow. With a sharp flick of her wrists, she sent a dozen of them whistling toward my throat and chest.

"Oh, so we're playing 'Icy Death' now?" I mused, not moving an inch.

I didn't need divinity. I just had stats that made a dragon look like a wet noodle. I reached out and caught the lead shard with two fingers, the frozen shadow-magic shattering against my skin like cheap glass. The others I simply let hit me.

Clang!. Tink!. Thud!.

They bounced off my bare chest and fell into the stream, useless.

"You… what are you?" Vespera's voice was a ragged whisper. She was beginning to realize that all the 'wind knives' and 'shadow ice' in the world were about as effective as throwing pebbles at a fortress.

"I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you, Pointy," I said, stepping through the ripples. The water was steaming now—not from a spell, but because my blood was running hot, my 'holy spear' practically thrumming with the need to put this elf in her place. And that place was under me, screaming my name.

"And since you're so fond of being 'hands-on', let me show you how a real master handles a weapon."

Before she could blink, I was in her space. I didn't punch her this time. I grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up, pinning her back against the same jagged rock she'd pushed me against moments ago.

"Let go! I'll—!"

"You'll what? Catch a cold?" I chuckled, my face inches from hers. I could smell the scent of the forest, the stream, and her own arousal—which was definitely fighting a losing battle against her anger. "Your magic is cute, Vespera. Truly. But look down. Your 'brand' disagrees with your attitude."

She looked down, and her breath hitched.

The womb tattoo was glowing with a fierce, rhythmic pulse. Every time it flashed, a wave of heat rolled through her body, making her legs tremble and her own 'spear' weep another thick drop of nectar.

The womb tattoo recognized me. It's the true owner. And it was forcing her body to do the same.

"It's… It's burning," she gasped, her head falling back against the rock. "What did you do to me?!"

"I didn't do anything," I purred, my own grin widening as I ground my hips against hers. My 'holy spear' slid between her ass cheeks, hot and insistent. "I'm just here. Your own body knows who it belongs to."

My right hand slid down her belly, my fingers tracing the glowing sigil. The moment my divine flesh touched the enchanted mark, it erupted like a volcano.

"Aaaahhh!"

Vespera's whole body seized. A convulsive shudder ran through her as her cock erupted again, spraying rock with her seed. But this orgasm wasn't the main focus; this was more... an intense reaction to the vision the dark elf was having.

She saw. Not everything, not my true face. But she saw enough. She saw an image of me, a towering, divine being of impossible beauty and power, sitting on a throne of writhing, beautiful bodies, my 'holy spear' so huge it could blot out the sun. She saw a million voices screaming my name in worship and ecstasy. She saw a womb so vast and fertile that stars were born within it.

She saw her new goddess.

CRACK!

The vision shattered like glass.

Vespera screamed—not in pleasure, not in pain, but in overload. Her legs finally gave out, and if I hadn't been holding her, she would've collapsed into the stream as a puppet with its strings cut.

I released her slowly.

She slid down the rock, landing on her knees in the shallow water, hands pressed to her head as if trying to keep her thoughts from spilling out.

"N-no…" she whispered. "That wasn't… that wasn't possible…"

I stepped back, giving her space, and when she finally calmed down and looked up at me, she saw the same divine crimson womb tattoo on my own lower belly.

"It… It's the same," she breathed out, her amethyst eyes wide with a mixture of terror and dawning, horrified awe. "The sigil… it's… you're… the messenger of the goddess."

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