How's it going, everyone?! Back again with a faster-than-expected upload; glad you all liked the last chapter, judging from the amount of traffic I'm getting not just from this story, but throughout my bio as a whole. Not too many curious questions, too, which I assume is because I'm going quite a good job answering all of your wonderment with my ANs and in-story explanations. Let's get things started!
As always, I welcome discussions regarding the story.
The now-small mailbag is here!
AlternateReality: Achilles won't show up as a main or supporting character. I plan on having him on the fringes for now. Also, regarding Penthesilea, remember that in the Trojan War, she's already Queen of Amazon because of Hippolyta's death at the hands of Herakles. Now that that's changed in my story, of course the War's happenstance is tentative. I'll just have to let you wait and stew on that.
superpierce: Well, it's kinda his job, isn't it? Or he'd be dead a long time ago...
Warning: This chapter contains M-rated scenes. Read (and possibly enjoy) at your own risk.
Medea surprised herself by how much she'd changed over this past year – or perhaps in a slightly shorter amount of time than that. What's even more surprising was the changes she experienced and realized were… all mostly good things, with the very few in between being neutral.
No negatives. In life, this was as rare as a blue moon – not zero, because Selene once actually did that in response to one of Hephaestus's antics. In reality, the goddess was simply too late to intensify the moon's light after a particularly large volcanic explosion caused by the latter, refracting the usually silver light into a blue haze.
The unconfident young maiden from all those time ago was now a past memory, a dissipating shadow. Those few fumbles when executing Magecraft, cracks in the wall, were all improved to the point of invulnerability – she attributed this particular change to her experience with death, both on herself and her aunt Circe, because a magus couldn't be considered to have truly mastered their particular craft without walking side-by-side to it. The shy, daydreaming girl was now literally living her ideal life, with plenty of thrilling adventure and a loving family life, married to the man she idolized.
Case in point was how she's shaking her hips and bouncing up and down perfectly on top of Shirō's cock – no mean feat, given their respective physical size difference, as well as the stroke length her legs' and buttocks' had to go because of his girth. Animalistic moans escaped her lips, far more gruesome and raw than the times she touched herself innocently.
Thinking of the her from beck then, she thought her actions were cute when she had thought it to be a shameful action just to touch herself occasionally.
- Squelch… Squelch… Squelch…
"Ah~ Ah-Ah-Ah~ Kuhah… Hah~ It… It's so… biiig…" Slurring heavily, she spoke with drool flying everywhere from the corners of her lips. "Ih won' go in… anymoohre~ "
At the very least, this time, she could fit him all inside herself, instead of sharing Medusa's frustrations of still having a good few inches of him outside of her pussy. The sensation of his firm and full balls bouncing off her own crotch was a relatively new experience, and one giving her a small sense of achievement, similar to how she mastered a new spell under Hecate's teachings.
And similarly to her teacher, her husband wasn't particularly talkative during their… sessions. And not just to her, either – Atalanta had spoken of the same thing privately.
He most often simply gazed at her with those dreamy eyes of his – another particular thing she loved him for, though others might disagree – and took in all of her reactions, physical and mental, and responded with the optimal amount of fore to produce the strongest stimulation. She was one of the first 'subjects' who could attest this process was working wonderfully, but the body-wrecking orgasms usually took more than a day to peter out, leaving her annoyingly useless for a long period of time.
"U… Ufw… Uu… Ah~ Ah-A-Ha~ " Having gotten somewhat used to it, she still couldn't hold in several sultry and moist moans from escaping her lips, as the movements of her hips began to feel heavier and heavier with the increasing spread of numbness across her lower body. "D-Dear… I-I-I… AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!"
A small tap around the circumference of her anus provided her with just the right amount of surprising stimulation to make her lose control of her bearings. Naturally, it made her entire body lose its strength, only burying Shirō's cock head into her womb even further, and overwhelming her with a second wave of orgasm even before the first one had passed its peak.
He held her limp upper body in her arms, kissing her eyes, nose, lips, and perhaps other unsavory places where juices she didn't want him to see her secreting too, and patted the back of her head lovingly to allow her to fully embrace the waves of pleasure without passing out.
Oh, they tried that one before, plenty of times, and while there's certainly temptations of images of her being fucked silly until her mind broke down, there's very little practical application afterwards, and they unceremoniously decided to hold off that level of sex until everything's settled down. It's even more graphic when she's a bystander to the act – seeing her new 'sisters' losing control over their exquisitely beautiful faces and turn into a howling beast, regardless of body size and experience, allowed her more circumspect over this decision.
From the haze of the climax, she felt a feminine body pressing up from behind her. Logically, this meant one of her fellow wives had just climbed over the two of them and laid flat against Medea's back – surely Atalanta, because of Medusa's recent miniature form.
The queen's hands reached over from behind, wedging their fingers in-between her squished breasts and Shirō's pectoral muscles, and began massaging both the flesh and the rock-hard tips, eliciting a moan which was soon covered by a wet kiss from the man.
"Even these became larger… What useless lumps of fat," she heard Atalanta mutter coldly from behind her, a drip of envy in her words, though she couldn't fathom what they were because of her current mental state. "You like them big too, do you not, my husband?"
He smiled through the kiss, and with Medea out of the count, he sat up and wrapped his longer arms around parts of Atalanta's back, pecking her nose with a kiss. "I love their owners, not necessarily their own appearances."
"Liar."
Despite her accusatory tone, she nuzzled cutely against him in a manner similar to Medusa's spoiled self, both herself in the past and the current her.
Because as Medusa's size reverted itself, due to her far thicker inhuman nature, Medea's more natural body went the other way, ripening deliciously into the adult form she saw herself from the Dream Cycles she shared with Shirō. It's rather annoying she's the only one who lacked any knowledge on what her final form would be, since Medusa could already transform into that anytime she wanted and Atalanta had matured fully.
However, discussing that right now wouldn't be productive, chiefly because the related party was half-unconscious, drooling from both her upper and lower lips.
- Poke. Poke.
Medusa gingerly poked Medea's cheeks with her short, stubby finger, before giggling at the apparent unconscious state of the older girl.
Well, 'older' in relative of life experience. Due to living isolated in Sarpedon for so many centuries, her social interaction mostly consisted of verbal sparring with her late sisters, while Medea had been living and growing normally among a real, blood-related family. A halfway messed-up one, due to King Æëtes's poor decision-making, but a complete one nonetheless.
With Shirō's front lap now occupied by Atalanta's demanding form, the small but lithe Medusa climbed over his shoulders – her miniature size having reverted to only be around as tall as his seated form – and stole his lips from behind, earning her a good pinch on the hips from the green-haired girl, though it's done in jest. What did grow was solely her hair, now clearly sweeping on the floor with her current height at such an excess it looked more like a violet modern wedding gown than prehensile, lethal appendages, able to be controlled to the smallest strands and sharper than any heroes' blades.
They all now knew their scents were overwhelmingly pleasurable to their husband – both physically and Thaumaturgically – and couldn't pass up on the opportunity to gain control for themselves, instead of turning into a pile of steaming, melted flesh under his caress and thrusts and everything else in between every time. Therefore, using their nubile and slim bodies, they coiled around him with every limb they could, while also deliberately overemphasizing the wet sounds from their saliva, lips, and pussies near his ears to enhance the sensory overload.
The three of them stood side-by-side among the arid fields of Ancient Mesopotamia, where occasional forests and human settlements dotted the background. The air around them was clearly foreign – they could feel it – one steeped in Mystery even denser than their own era.
It's nature at its very best – enchantingly calming, yet hiding a ferocious wilderness behind the sleepy façade, ready to take one's life when they're least prepared for it.
In short, an environment where Atalanta felt most comfortable in, and one which brought back bad memories for Medusa. Medea, being the most neutral of the three, held the younger girl's hands tight to calm her down, though the latter had already had it well under control.
Because what arrested their attention wasn't the vista, or the weight of the universe itself pressing down on them – Foreigners! – but the battle occurring across the clear, gold-and-purple-tinged sunset skies.
Flashes of alien steel, itself far faster than what they could comprehend, erupted alongside thunderous clashes, loud enough to make the two inhuman women wince in pain at their irritated ears, before Medea covered them with just the right amount of soundproofing spell to prevent damage.
She herself had chosen complete and total silence, to be able to focus on her other senses better and react faster with her spell, just in case. She perceived Magecraft differently than her fellow wives – and completely the opposite of her beloved husband – so this choice could only produce good things.
Hopefully.
Because at the speed and strength the combat above them was occurring, even at this distance, nothing was truly certain. And judging from the scale of shockwaves emanating through the atmosphere, along with the denser Mysteries propagating the energies instead of weakening them, there's a very good chance a clash happening about a mile from their location could've pulverized the hill they're spectating from.
The three of them watched the fight with differing methods. Atalanta and Medusa had naturally keen eyesight – the former more so, the latter using Cybele's quirks of spatial visualization – while Medea both Reinforced her eyes and utilized a scrying spell, giving her two screens to watch the battle from more angles.
However, all of these weren't really necessary.
This was a dream, after all.
The first few times this had happened, both Atalanta and Medusa shrugged it off with surprising casualness, earning themselves an earful of speeches and theoretical lessons from Medea on how important and rare this event was. The magus, predictably, was ecstatic for many reasons – to get closer to her husband's heart and study what made him tick, along with the intellectual boons she'd get from analyzing the phenomenon itself.
No human or demigod should have this ability, not even Morpheus's descendant. The power to inadvertently enter one's past, while perfectly preserving the observers, didn't exist in all but the most secretive legends. Said male god never confirmed nor denied he was capable of the same prowess, and not even Zeus could pressure him to answer. Other Divine Spirits who were said to be able to grant similar things were also similarly silent, meaning Dream Cycles held a mysterious power – enough for them to be tight-lipped about it in fear.
However, given it had little to no other apparent functions beside giving one an insight into another's psyche – and with both in incapacitated conditions – Olympus's desire to understand and wield this power soon waned.
Therefore, the conclusion was simple. Shirō wasn't human. Or, at least, he had an inhuman part in him, one which allowed the advent of this phenomenon.
The three of them had sensed this quite a while ago, with Atalanta having the most concrete explanation residing inside her head. However, since their husband had never brought this up, they respectfully held their tongues and didn't demand any answers on this occurrence.
So what if he wasn't human? He's a person they loved – and that's enough.
Additionally, since they could see his past – both dark and light, grim and happy – who could deny he could see theirs too?
But he accepted them for what they were, even after they underwent many changes. Every strengths, every flaws, every annoyances, every temptations.
So they should do the same.
Before she knew it, her two audiences had already drifted off to sleep, despite the magical hourglass only displaying five minutes had passed.
Ever since that time, she vowed to create the world's best megaphone just to wake these two up.
Going back to the issue at hand, it wasn't as if they're now scared of the collateral damage coming their way. It's how they couldn't move, at all, because a Dream Cycle paralyzed all guests… to enjoy the show.
Their husband's form and red hair flitted across their vision every so often, tangling with an all-gold being. While the latter's finer features alluded them from this distance, they did see what the female actually looked like in another Dream Cycle.
And they envied her.
For her looks. For her riches. For her charisma. For her power.
And for being Shirō's first.
Warriors throughout the lands and ages all spoke of the level of intimacy sprouting in the midst of a heated combat. Through an exchange of wills, bodies, and tools, an inexplicable mental connection would suddenly spark and form a stable bridge, and at its basest form, would allow each combatant to gauge the other's intentions and read their moves ahead of time. Naturally, it went both ways, creating a stalemate of powerful hurricane often spoke of fondly in sagas and songs.
Higher-level combatants would instead start to empathize with each other. They might not agree on many things, such as basic principles, morals, motives, and so on, but after the fight, any survivor would feel a sense of loss, because of the euphoria this mental bridge instilled upon them during the heightened sensory input in combat. Those more powerful and experienced could even feel the emotions radiating from a clash they're not a part in, giving them an expert's commentary on everything that's going on.
The three of them certainly qualified for the last part. Even Medea, with her lack of actual combat experience, had the talent to quickly bridge the gap as soon as she was involved in one – literally stepping on and over the line of [Death] would do that to someone.
And what they felt was an emotion all too familiar to themselves.
After all, they felt it every day, and craved it every waking moment, and dreamed of it in their sleep.
Love.
A twisted, different kind of love, but love nonetheless. It's clear their husband's relationship with this… queen was different than them, perhaps because of his immaturity at this time as well. However, it's a relief it's not significantly stronger than what they received all the time – if nothing else, this one felt primal, and theirs more refined.
A petty point, but a good one to make nonetheless.
Even they had to keep up appearances and dignity.
Then, the scene changed.
Gone was the visceral wilderness and raw scent in the air, replaced by a misty, cold surroundings and floral aroma. They could feel this world's construct was more sophisticated… and yet weaker, as a descendant was fated to be. Clearly, this was a far more modern era than the previous one, but also obviously in another location, culture, and among different people.
A flash of blonde hair, a different shade than the powerful queen from before, caught their attention amidst the gloomy forest. In fact, it formed such an atmosphere that even Atalanta scrunched up her nose at the sight. Yes, she loved nature – and also this place, too – but the way nature itself contorted and shifted and grew was in complete disarray to everything she knew and had learned before.
This reaction kept repeating itself even as she visited this scene several times, and even after Medea's insistence that this was great! Everything's interesting and unique!
Yeah, right.
Her emotions were likely also feeling the somber tone encasing their environment, thicker than the lingering mist, because they're witnessing a funeral.
Solemn, yes. But there was a distinct lack of emotional screams, cries, and unnecessarily large ham-ful oaths.
Respect. Adoration. And also sadness, but just enough to prevent the ceremony from turning into a dramatic, rain-filled sob story.
The blonde hair actually belonged to quite a few people, as it seemed this place birthed many children this way. Just like the other times they were here, though, Atalanta, Medusa, and Medea transfixed their gazes onto the one blonde occupying the elaborately crafted coffin, eyes closed and face serene.
'Just like when she's going to sleep,' the three of them assumed.
However, despite the relative silence and lack of explanation, they did know one fact after being presented by this scene several times.
This woman was still alive.
Unconscious. Comatose. But alive. And it didn't look like she entered this state forcibly, either – the worship and love apparent in the people around her answered that question.
Especially the one now kneeling devoutly near the coffin… with the exact same face as its occupant, though slightly different body shape.
The latter was far more mature and… bountiful than the former – much to Atalanta's annoyance – and quite a bit taller. However, comparing their beauties were futile precisely because they're so different, along with the powerful queen they saw previously.
They saw a familiar red mop standing to one side, folding his arms and closing his eyes coolly. The tree he's leaning on was some way to the rear, as the location was around a lake in the middle of an evergreen forest, enabling every single participant to be present in his field of vision.
The very first thing he taught Atalanta as a hunter.
Somehow, he looked equally out of place and part of the scenery, since they could feel his senses not leaving the kneeling blonde, clad in a red armor-dress reminiscent of a blooming flower.
- Srrt.
With a gentle push, she moved the coffin off the shore and onto the surface of the water. Magically, just the slightest contact pulled it quickly into the lake's center, despite no wind or waves being present.
Serenely, it sailed there and stopped, before it, along with the entire scenery, faded away in a gentle white light.
- You have grown faster than the predicted model.
Given Medea had the most experience in Bounded Fields and their interesting applications, she's the first one to calm the other two down, since Atalanta had been trying her hardest to summon Tauropolos – or the newly-processed Calydonian Boar Hide – and Medusa exerted similar effort to transform into her full form, despite the warnings she'd received from Shirō and Medea regarding the dangers of doing that so soon.
They were all standing underneath a gigantic ball of light, pulsating with power unlike anything they'd ever dreamt of. Beyond Poseidon's all-encompassing threat, beyond Hecate's all-conquering power, and beyond whatever their husband or Herakles had every shown them. Around them, the walls – or lack thereof – were a mixture of white, silver, and grey of various shades, with floating triangular shards and prisms hypnotically cordoned off the room.
With outstretched arms in front of her fellow wives, Medea tried to spread her oversized robe to the sides in order to shield the two glaring women – or girl, in case of Medusa's current form – from the sphere's… 'eyes', no matter how futile it looked.
Hey, she's still a human, with all the reflexes and quick assumptions which came with it.
"This… is Shirō's patron deity. Stand down," she calmly said, though everyone present could clearly see her shoulders were trembling heavily. However, no sense of nervousness or fear could be felt from her; instead, it's clearly something else which was hauntingly familiar to the two behind her.
Excitement.
They distinctly remembered the various times when her eyes lit up in glee and her pointed ears twitched crazily. Those almost always involved either one of them – including Shirō – to be strapped into a makeshift bed and have Medea draw complicated ritual runes across the entire room… including on their own skin, and poke them with various tools. At that time, they could often detect her Od fluctuating wildly in accordance to her emotions – a cardinal sin in some practices, though Hecate never specifically scolded her for it – indicating a breach in her sanity.
Right. She's a magus, after all.
It's almost she's taking after her master, how her personalities could change at the snap of a finger. It was tame at first, during the initial periods of accepting her into their family, but as her inhibitions lessened and she herself settling down, it grew unchecked, primarily because of the insane amount of magical energy she's ingesting almost daily from Shirō's, Atalanta's, and Medusa's various bodily fluids.
Because, unlike them, her body was no different than a normal human being, instead of being Alaya's champion, a holy divine priestess, or a literal daughter of Athena.
From their position, they couldn't see the expression on Medea's face apart from her earlier tone. However, they were ready to bet their wedding bands and oaths she's pulling the exact same face.
Only this time, in front of a being far, far more powerful than anything they'd ever had the pleasure (or the other one) of meeting. Or even seeing. Or hearing…
"Nihihihi…"
The two of them made eye contact, silently dreading. 'Oh, crap… She didn't just make that noise, did she?'
Of course, that was just their minds playing with their senses.
Because Medea's doing something far worse.
She prodded Alaya with her magical senses, oblivious to the fact it knew everything which had transpired in the three ladies' minds.
- Threat detected. Commencing counterattack…
""NO!""
It had to admit, having to feel amusement on two separate occasions, so soon after the first one, was a novel sensation.
…as the sight of Atalanta and Medusa dope-slapping Medea behind her head and tackling her to the ground provided it.
Of course, there was no way it'd admit its words earlier was a joke.
Because Alaya did not joke. It just did.
The two women breathed a sigh of relief, but soon paled once again as they felt Medea didn't even bother shifting her posture to ensure a softer landing. Or, more importantly, they could feel the radiant happiness not lessen in the slightest… as if she's already happy to analyze the floor, if not allowed the grand prize itself.
"Can I hit her already?" Medusa mumbled darkly, but with no intention of hiding her voice from anyone. "If she loses consciousness, then… maybe…"
- Confirming location. This is your consciousness.
Hearing that, Atalanta's ears twitched, before silently shaking her head at the younger girl.
At the same time, they eventually removed their bodies from Medea's back, and the magus stood back up instantly like nothing ever happened.
"Nihihihi…"
This time, that laugh certainly wasn't a figment of their imagination.
"Can I build a Temple here?"
- Negative.
"Spoilsport," Medea snorted, though this time already conjuring her long staff, holding it diagonally across her back. "Just wait until Shirō gets here! I'll nag him for it!"
"I don't think that's how it works…" Medusa shot back sullenly, using a rare deadpan tone.
Nodding, Atalanta placed one hand on Medea's shoulder, intent on keeping her in line. "Indeed. You must not be callous."
While anyone who knew Atalanta superficially would retort with how ironic her words were just now, she had changed from the rude lioness in the past. Just… not too much. Therefore, she at least had the caché to say these things.
Given that, Medusa immediately shifted to the front, trying not to project any more animosity in her glare than necessary.
She could feel it. Cybele was gone. Tauropolos was gone. She had no doubt Medea's Magecraft wouldn't work here, either.
Just like how they all were in the past: powerless.
Medea was too lost in her own world to realize the irony, while Atalanta was busy stretching out whatever non-magical senses still functioning to pre-empt any attacks on them. Therefore, it fell on her to attempt the first proper steps of negotiation.
Because immediately probing someone of their deepest secrets with brute-force Magecraft wasn't a proper step.
"Did you… summon us here? May we ask for the reason why?" Medusa continued Medea's first line of thought, before the surrounding completely captivated her. "Did we do anything to be rewarded? Or punished? Or… did something happened to Shirō?"
- Two out of three, correct.
She narrowed her eyes, because she's certain one of the things she guessed correct had a 50-50 chance of being the 'punished' option.
There's no time to shudder in fear, however, as the glowing sphere in front of her talked once again in its monotonous tone.
- Intrusion detected.
"Who-?!"
"I think this is too early for them, Alaya," her husband's casual voice answered from behind them, causing the three of them to beam up instantly and move closer to him.
Just like dealing with Olympians, it's best to snuggle up to any single individual a deity preferred or held in high esteem. It greatly reduced the chance of being fatally smote, for one, because most deities' single-target attacks were still wide enough to engulf buildings. Therefore, because events ending in their wrath usually happened far too quickly for them to prepare their champions with the proper blessing, friendly fire was certainly possible.
Thus, the silent public secret of clustering around those champions, so the latter could be used as a pseudo-meatshield.
- Thus, task relegation?
"Yes. Let me talk to them first," he said while frowning. "While I know you mean well, you are a master in creating misunderstandings."
- Pot → Kettle Black
"Oh, shut up, you."
"I sincerely apologize for showcasing such an embarrassing side of mine…" Medea weakly whispered, her face completely crimson and visible through the thin curtain of her hair. "H-Husband… U-Uuu…"
Her fellow wives were snickering to one side, eager to take advantage of the rare situation and bully the magus.
Usually, with her methodical and stable common sense – when compared to Atalanta and Medusa – she's always on the scolding end, typically backing Shirō with facts and barbs whenever all of them had an argument. Not that it ever debased into something ugly – he made sure of that – but the other two were annoyed for being at the losing end most of the time.
However, their attempt was prematurely killed by a soft hug from Shirō, who's… shivering?
"I'm glad you're alright."
Even though his tone was as calm and comforting as ever… they'd just realized he was afraid of their condition.
"I was worried."
Now, their intention of bullying Medusa had completely evaporated. Instead, they huddled together close to his shoulders, and draped another layer of bodies on top of the now-sweating Medea – for various reasons.
One, of course it's going to be stuffy and hot underneath the hugs of three people, two of which were physically larger than her in size – though she's catching up to Atalanta. Two, Medusa's body warmth was higher than the average person in this size. Three… well, the outburst of emotions, which she long thought was frowned upon as a magus under Hecate, was making its way to overcome her embarrassment, causing tears to well up in the corners of her eyes.
To feel the love her family was giving her, physically, mentally, and spiritually, was the greatest pleasure in the world for her.
"No… I'm sure it… doesn't intent to hurt us…" Medea softly replied, patting his wide back lightly.
"How about unintentional power outburst? Have you thought about that?" Shirō interjected, causing her to twitch.
Medusa did, too, but for a different reason.
He sighed, releasing his grip on her body. "Alaya meant well, and it always took care of all of you. However, a human being's soul wasn't supposed to be able to survive in its immediate vicinity without the help of that room, and even then it's close to 50-50. Without me there…"
His brooding face was forcefully turned to one side by Medusa's superhuman strength, before she rocked her small head forwards violently to headbutt him.
- BANG!
"O-Ow…" The impact left her entire body to tremble, as per how it should be when a normal skull met a steel wall.
However, her gesture was appreciated, as shown by a small smile finally emerging from his face. "Thank you, my dear wife."
"E-Ehehehe…" The small girl could only sway in happiness, though her unsteady footing was more from the attempted cooldown headbutt than her giddiness.
Atalanta adeptly caught her, before chiding Shirō. "See for yourself what you have done to us delicate ladies, my husband. Do take responsibility and explain."
"I will," he resolutely said, before adding, "Medea, could you teleport us back home?"
Their current location was an unknown point near Arcadia Castle, having been summoned forcibly by Alaya from various geographical points when they're doing their own tasks. How Shirō brute-forced his way into that room was still a mystery to the magus, though she hoped he'd explain things far clearer than before to quell all of her worries.
He's worried. She's worried. Atalanta's worried. Medusa's worried.
Really, what kind of family was this, having to worry about each other like they're children?
With a nod and a flash of light, the four of them returned to their royal chamber in Arcadia at the peak of day.
Medusa is taking her customary position deep inside my lap, sitting on my crotch like it's her throne. Indeed, her recent reversion in size has made her even clingier than usual, perhaps reaching close to Atalnata's younger years, though this time armed with the mature knowledge of her past growth.
As a result, her tiny, bony butt is gently wrapping itself around my hardening member, despite the layers of cloth between us.
Usually, such subtle movements won't be noticed by any bystander even when they're paying attention. However, my other two wives clearly aren't normal people, and they narrow their eyes at almost the same time and launch themselves forward to wrap their bodies by my side.
How can I start my storytelling at this position? Contrary to popular belief, aside from the overwhelmingly sensual scent coming off the three of them, being draped with actual female human beings, no matter how soft their bodies, will end up with sharp joints and taut tendons poking and strangling my limbs at odd places, severely hampering any blood flow apart from the one going to my cock.
"Can I start now?" I interrupt the sudden glaring contest, to which the three of them instantly changed expressions into all smiles and loving gazes towards me, with the myriad levels of maturity their bodies have gone through.
Truly, women are terrifying creatures.
Not that they haven't done this countless times before, and I did the same in return. These exchanges have become so frequent I'm beginning to suspect this is just a banter – a way to bond with each other and myself – and none of them is taking things too seriously.
Like puppies eager to hog their master's attention to themselves, so too they visibly compete every single time, though it's nothing serious.
Just like soldiers, having gone through blood and sweat under duress with each other have forged an unbreakable bond among them, one even a serious fight won't be able to test, much less crack. Once, again, I don't see the point of displaying antagonism towards each other in front of me if they love each other like sisters behind me.
I attribute that to them being… themselves, really. Can't say much more.
Shaking my head at their antics – the mischievous gleam in their eyes confirming my earlier thoughts – I begin, "Like you said at the beginning, Alaya is my patron deity. And yes, before you asked, I arrived early as soon as I feel the three of you were taken into that room, but I had to go through time-consuming process to reach you."
"Are you going on a guilt-trip again? Because I'm going to slap you in place of Medusa's forehead!" Medea exclaims heatedly, though I only find her expression incredibly cute.
Enough for a surprise kiss on the lips, eliciting a yelp from her.
"I'll go on a guilt-trip whenever I want, woman," I darkly reply, though from Medusa's giggles, it's apparent none of them buys my performance. "But, in a way, I wanted to reach all of you even an instant earlier because of the dangers I mentioned previously."
"Was it so terrible? None of us have paid a visit to Olympus yet, but I heard 'tis not as intense as you described in that room," Atalanta asks.
Pointedly, I stare at the three of them.
"I am the 10th generation. The previous nine… all didn't make it because of that room's procedure."
The three of them gasp with mouth agape.
However, I quickly quell their worries with a soft rub on their three heads. Enjoying the different textures and scents for several seconds – especially the soft fur near Atalanta's beast ears – I continue, "Before you imagine something worse, it's not nearly as horrendous at it sounds. They're merely incompatible, that's all, and they're all powerful – so they're still alive after all this time in some form or the other. Well, apart from #02, but that's a special case."
"Wait wait wait wait wait! Don't just dismiss things as being 'incompatible'! Surely that meant they're all eliminated and recycled into something else, right?! E-Even you must be in great pain to s-succeed!" Medea cut in, her face contorting into a genuine worry. "Don't be a hypocrite to us and dismiss your pain! Didn't we swear an oath to indulge in each other's pain?!"
"Yes, yes, dear, I understand," I try to placate her, though it's clear the other two are now quite agitated by her words, despite not understanding the technical terms fully. "It did hurt quite a bit, but the process wasn't torture – it's similar to how steel is forged. From the outside, it looks horrendous, but it's reforming its existence into something stronger and more beautiful each time."
"…you left out the part where you felt better some way through the process. That… didn't happen, did it?"
I silently curse Hecate under my breath for producing such a sharp and brilliant student.
Shaking my head, I relent, "No. Only the thought of gaining the strength necessary to save those important to me allowed me to hold on to my soul, sanity, and eventually regain my full body. The others before me… were perhaps more powerful and gifted, but their want was less – or so I was told by Alaya."
"And is it correct?" Medusa perks up after being silent for some time, her crown nuzzling my chin. "Or have you discovered some mistruths from its words?"
"None whatsoever. That's why I trust it much more than I do to your parents and patrons."
"So… it's like your own mother?" Medusa innocently asks, Cybele's mature form temporarily manifesting in an instant flash. "Why do you sound so… unenthusiastic when speaking of it?"
I chuckle. "When did you learn such a big word behind my back? Hm?"
"Muu… I'm not a kid forever!" She pouts, her tiny fists pounding my leg playfully.
While before, when she first departed Sarpedon, not even her serious punch could make me feel anything, her current condensed strength could easily shatter my leg if she puts her mind into it. Her previous headbutt was instinctual and rash, done with a playful intention, and that's why she's the one who's hurt. Therefore, she is far more careful this time.
- Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Your Majesty, there's-"
The maid's words die off quickly under Atalanta's murderous glare, still from her huddled position close to me, before she squeaks and runs off while crying in fear.
"You should be more relaxed around them, my dear wife," I softly chide, though she harrumphed in return.
"Then they, too, should improve themselves to read the mood better. I have not received any satisfactory answer from you. Before that, no one may interrupt!" She declares heartily, flaring out her royal authority like the queens I know so well from my previous deployment. "Therefore, speak, you heathen, or feel my wrath!"
- Nom.
Now, it's Medea's turn to laugh at the sight of Medusa nibbling on Atalanta's outstretched finger, extended by her ridiculously forceful stance.
Her figure will be more imposing if her ears and tail aren't twitching playfully, surely.
"Y-You…!" She jumps at the nibble. "Do not interrupt my pose! Shaming me in front of Shirō; h-how dare you!"
"Alright, alright, come here," I beckon with my palm upturned.
Atalanta stiffens at the failure of her joke attempt shyly, before diving into her previous spot on the bed, wrapped around my arm.
"To continue from my earlier explanation, it's… complicated. Alaya is something… you can call as the one who holds Authority over the concept of [Human]. While I agree with its end goals – the salvation of all humanity – I disagree with it on some of its methods."
"What are they?" Ever the curious one, Medea quickly answers her own question. "Don't tell me… it's forcing you to kill innocents?!"
"Not me, but the group before me. They're now… a failed project, and was scrapped." I look into her eyes seriously. "And yes, this time, they… really were gone. Forever."
"Ah…"
"…can you explain in more detail? I'm confused…" Medusa gingerly requests.
"Why don't you explain your understanding first, Medea? I'll correct things as you go on," I offer, to which she nods.
"The one who holds dominion over [Human] have long had a task force assigned to it, born in a similar manner to you, Medusa. The 'Counter Force' of [Human], as they're called, is gathered from the collective consciousness of humanity who wishes for their survival and prosperity, though primarily the former," the magus slowly explains to her fellow wives.
Seeing that now, with the presence of their husband, none of them dares to sleep off during her rants, she picks up the pace. "Within it is an elite group known as 'Counter Guardians'. They take on humanoid forms, holding condensed power to combat specific threats, instead of pressuring a phenomenon generally like the World's own Counter Force'. And then… they destroy themselves, taking out any remaining threats with them like suicide bombers."
"That's… awful…" Medusa whispers, her eyes flickering between my face and Medea's.
"That should be Shirō's group's predecessors, no?" Atalanta quips, to which the magus nods.
"Glad to see you haven't dozed off, dear sister."
- Pinch…
"Atalanta."
"Apologies. 'Tis an ingrained instinct."
Medea tearfully glares at the Arcadian queen while holding her reddening side, having been pinched painfully for an instant earlier.
"However, that… should be all, no? I haven't heard this 'Alaya' creating a newer force," Medea finished, before she suddenly remembers something and adds, "Oh, and for the two of you, this entity should be deeply connected to the Akashic Records, where everything exists and goes extinct at the same time."
"The one place you wish to dearly study? That one?" Medusa asks.
"Yes. Which means…" Medea suddenly jumps up and assumes the same position as Atalanta earlier, shouting, "T-The gateway to it has been i-in front of me all this time!"
"Precisely. Though I don't have the authority to give you access, Medea," I complete her sentence. "Perhaps you can study me in turn?"
For a moment, the magus in her leaps up at the offered chance… before the girl in her clicks with my innuendo, blushing profusely as a result. "A-Ah… t-then… some private sessions…?"
That is immediately shot down by my other two wives, both exclaiming at the same time, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!"