14xx/05/25 Johannes Calendar
25 days since arrival…
Shit got weird again.
As I told you reader before, sometimes I just want to hug something, something soft, cuddly, anything other than my rifle, and the world decided to give me just that.
I remember something soft in my arm when I was at the verge of consciousness. My hand was grasping something that was round and soft, like freshly mixed dough. I remember smelling something nice as my consciousness crept toward me; a pleasant smell penetrates my nostril. I remember a certain weight and mass that was foreign, yet welcoming in my grasp.
As an early riser, I woke up just at the same time the sun peeked out from the horizon, intent on dazzling the inhabitant of Earth with her dazzling sunlight. My eyes adjusted to the sight in front of me, and my hand retracted faster than the speed of sound.
What greets me is an incredibly pale woman with a fair complexion. Her eyes were like sun and moon, completely different yet beautiful in their own way. Her left eye was a colour of scarlet red while her right eye was the colour of bright intelligent blue. Her nose was delicate, so were the rest of her features. Her small lips were tightly closed to match her stoic expression on her face. Her hairs cascade in a long curtain of blonde and scarlet from her head to her chest, obscuring her modestly sized bosom. Looking better at her hair, I realise that her hair while mostly blonde, there's a sizable scarlet hue at the tips of her hair.
I cursed loudly before crawling away from my sleeping bag in a hurry. How the hell did a naked woman get in my fucking bag? My eye desperately searches for my rifle. Where is it? Where did she put it? Who is she? Why is she here? Why was she sleeping in my sleeping bag, especially naked?
My scream alerted Latina, who was sleeping nearby woke up at the sound of my manly girl scream. She saw the intruder, and by some flawed logic thought of her as a Monster Girl, so she picked up her spear and charged toward the new intruder. The new girl simply rolled underneath the blow and stood in guard from her new position, which is around a few feet away. Her eyes stared at Latina's brown eyes. I asked her to stop attacking. Latina stood her ground, unsure what to do.
Who the fuck is she? I asked her. She stared back at me and replied in English with a German accent. Why German? I was under impression that Mithra is more like UK than Berlin judging by the accent of the monarchs back there. Maybe the original owner is German?
Her English is remarkable, to say the least. Her voice is mature, but pertains a strange softness to it, like a younger sibling that hits puberty like a heavyweight boxing champ. I'm actually surprised by how soft it is. She made German accent sound so refined and sweet!
Guess what? She's my rifle now. She's Sophie, my modified Kar98k, the one the skelly couple back in Mithra infused with magic before? I knew my rifle was beautiful, but this takes the cake! She got one hell of a body displayed to me. The Kar98k was lauded as one of the nicer-looking rifles of old, beside Mosin-Nagant and others. I personally liked the design of the M1911 or a simple Luger P08 pistol, but I always joked that the woman I'll date would be as pretty as a Karabiner.
And she's not only pretty as a Karabiner, she's practically Karabiner98kurz itself!
She was naked, so I told her to become a rifle again. She nodded once, and with a flash of white she turned to become the beautiful rifle she was. I carefully held the rifle in my arm, the weight of my action became stronger at the knowledge of a living thing in my arm has entrusted her full trust on me. I suddenly felt shame from all the day I used to swing that rifle around irresponsibly like a fucking maniac.
I quietly stroked the handle of the bolt, admiring the platinum finish of the receiver. Now knowing that this rifle is a person, the sensation of my cheek grazing the wooden stock of the rifle is much more intimate than before. As if enjoying my attention, a slight buzz gently nuzzled the surface of my cheek like a warm caress of a lover's hand.
I raised my rifle to eye level, looking through the scope of my rifle. Through the scope I can see the wildlife of the Forest waking up, the denizen itself preparing themselves for a fresh new day. Most of them were light red, indicating somebody who will attack me on sight. The rifle hummed in my hand as I scanned the perimeter of my area. I smiled. This could come in handy…
After a nice breakfast from my MRE and some rice balls from Latina's pack, we decided to take a hike through the forest to find Hito with the help of my new rifle. The scope allows me to watch out for any hidden enemies or item in the thick forest. It cut down our detection rate at 50% that day, but the other 50% was a pain in the ass to deal with. Take an example of my first enemy, which is a pair of minuscule fairies with flower as tails, I would've found them cute if they're not naked with their female asset pronounced. It turns me off effectively. Don't let their minuscule size fools you, they hit like bricks. Maybe because they were literally throwing blocks of earth from thin air. How, magic, I don't need to explain shit, but I want to.
In a lull, I asked Latina how the holy hell they are so fucking strong. She said that the inhabitant of the forest is highly attuned to the power of nature, giving them much stronger control and flow of their magic show. Holy shit that rhymes. Pun aside, it means that they have a wider arrange of elemental attacks, and significantly stronger spell to replace the basic spell. But like always, nobody is immune to bullets, especially fairies that are barely bigger than the Mauser round.
Hitting a stationary target requires training, hitting a moving object is another story. I have lots of experience in hitting a moving target WHILE moving on my own. Thing is, I usually do the 'run-dodge-shoot' tactics with an automatic weapon with high magazine capacity. Hitting a butterfly-sized opponent with a bolt-action rifle while both parties are moving as erratically as a drunken fool? I'm not that good!
Yet, the bullet struck the minute fairy square in the chest, leaving behind a pair of butterfly wings still floating in the air, before falling slowly onto the ground. That was a very lucky shot! I was swinging my rifle around like a maniac when suddenly I just shouldered the rifle and then pulled the trigger! I wsan't even aiming, I simply raised it, felt a strong feeling in my gut to shoot, and the rest is history.
After the fight, I attempted to ask Sophie using my mind. Her reply came back in the form of subconscious thought, like a little voice at the back of my head that used to haunt me back in the early days. She told me as because there was a telepathic connection between me and her, she can lend me some of her magic energy to make me faster, more agile, and more perceptive. She told me that through training, I can unlock more powers lain dormant inside this type of weapon. Sophie is unfamiliar with this type of weapon, but in time, she'll master it with lots of training.
To be fair, training is something familiar to me. And she took on the form of my primary weapon, so there's no way in hell I can neglect using her. I asked her if she can conjure bullets out of thin air, which she replied as negative. For all her magical power, she's still practically a weapon, so she requires ammunition to imbue with her magic. She said that in time, she can conjure bullets right inside the chamber once she's incredibly familiar with her new form, as she was originally an imbuement for a sword. She said that once she understood how a bullet works, she can make one by sacrificing some of her magic reserve. But of course, she requires magic to survive, so she will leach off my own magic reserve to replace her own spent magic reserve. But the more familiar she was with the weapon, the less magic she'll consume.
I can provide her with training; she's golden once we find a place to rest.
After 2 hours of trekking, dodging enemy patrol pattern and admiring the forest view I take a wrong turn and find myself at a beach. The green carpet of the forest shifts in a straight line to a vast expanse of white-hot sand. Unlike some other beach I went before, it was a long carpet of pristine, soft sand that gently slope into a horizon of blue sea. The beach is clean, and the smell of salt was strong and crisp in the air. The weather was nice, a clear sky that was perfect for a trip to the beach.
It was tiring trying to dodge so many enemies, so I decided to have a break here.
Latina smiled. She then produces a simple blanket. She then produces a basket of bread a bottle of wine she has been saving for a rainy day. We ate the bread with some butter and strawberry jam. I don't drink when I'm in the field, so I settled for another swig of my beloved soda. I invited my rifle to eat as well, so she transformed back into a girl again. It felt strange having lunch with a buck-naked girl, so I took out a small blanket from my pack and gave it to her. It didn't do anything except makes her more alluring to me, so I took it away and opted to let her remain naked.
I lend my knife to spread the buttery goodness on the bread Latina brought. Latina likes the jam while Sophie prefers butter instead. I like butter too, but I prefer adding something else to the mix to spice it up. Latina liked the idea of a butter/jam combination, so I make one for her. They both drank from the same bottle of wine, which I politely declined.
To spice up our picnic, Latina shared some of her old stories. She told of some battles she fought in the past, a random skirmish here and there. She also says that she has met countless amounts of men who find her just to lose purposely. She was a Monster Girl, so she never turns down any semen opportunity. Sophie asked her how does semen taste like, as she just reincarnated and didn't really remember her past life. Latina then stared at me knowingly, followed by Sophie who has a look of curiosity on her face. Fuck…
The atmosphere was light with humour and joy, the meal was simple yet nourishing. At that moment, I felt like we are not a group of travellers in a hostile territory, but a band of friends who was enjoying the day with a picnic at the beach.
The water looks promising, so Latina took off her armour and shirt, showing her buxom bosom to the world. She then ran toward the water, yipping with glee as the waves lapped up her ankles. Sophie joined the fun, so she followed Latina's footstep. Her pale skin shines in the sun, giving her a heavenly glow as she tentatively walks across the sandy beach naked. I was left behind to guard their stuff, which is my decision. A female centaur with chest the size of two watermelons and a blonde German girl with a heavenly body that were wet with seawater…
I'm not doing it in public, no matter what.
After several hours of uncomfortable yet beautiful display, they returned back to shore, tired and wet from their frolicking. Latina bounced her boobs in front of my face, as if trying to incite me to ravish her alongside with the newest recruit. Again, I have pretty good self-control, so I manage to resist her advance with a straight face. She said that sooner or later, I have to train my body to resist pleasure, and the only way to train my body is to have sex over and over again. Sophie assured me that my mental strength is strong enough to resist any temptation; it was the physical act that I have no defence against.
After they have fun at the beach, I pulled them both to the side and decided to impart some of my unorthodox knowledge onto them. For Sophie, I decided to teach her how a bullet work and looked by giving her a pistol and a rifle round to explain in detail on how does the bullets work, how do the firing pin in a gun trigger the primer in the bullet that triggers the explosive in the cartridge that propels the bullet outward.
Sophie was curious about the weapon she now inhabits, so I taught her the history behind every bullet's creation and their role in many wars back in good old Earth. I taught her about the war and the theatre which the rifle once served. Using my journal, I explained how every element can strengthen a certain weapon to give them an edge in combat. I busted out the marbles I intend on using to imbue my weapon, giving it to her instead so that she can understand more.
Her face was always an impassive mask of aloofness, a certain detachment from her inner feeling and the feeling she decides to display to the world. Her eyes lit up as I explained how reliable the rifle was and what happened to its craftsmanship as the Second World War was nearing its end. She asked me if she can visit her supposed home (Erfut, Germany) as I told her where the rifle was created. In the end, she told me that she was interested on learning how to use her form much better and perhaps, may surpass even her old sword form.
I was curious about her side as a Weapon Girl, how the hell did she changes from a sword to a gun so easily, and how it felt for her. Sophie said that while it is true that Weapon Girls are fixed to their type of weapon, they are in their most basic essence, simply strong spirits that possesses weaponries similar to how a mimic possess a chest, and like that mimic, they also can change container if needed to be. However, it was much harder for her to do it, and it is virtually impossible for a Weapon Girl to possess a different type of weapon without outside world help and consent, and some part of her can be lost in the process, notably memories in some cases.
Sophie said that the connection between master and weapon is very important as they tend to share consciousness when in weapon form. True, her mind and power still reside in the weapon, but as long as I'm in contact with her, she and I can always share the same telepathic connection.
I asked what she meant by, watching my memory. It seems that Sophie is addition to be able to communicate telepathically, can also access my memory. In essence, everything I learned can also be learned by her barring muscle memory. Naturally, some memories are locked away from her, but as our mutual trust in each other grows, my memories will also be hers, and she will be able to do everything I do.
Now that we are finished our lesson, we decided to hit the forest trail again with extra skills and knowledge in hand. But even with the life-seeking scope we still encounter lots of enemies along the way thanks to Latina being as quiet as a pack of mules. Okay, I cannot diss her much. I myself would have a bad time trying to be sneaky when I'm a 7-foot-tall centaur with flashy gold armour on. Sometimes I wonder why I make things much harder for myself.
Improvisation was the strength of mankind, so in order for me to mask her shining golden armour I decided to paint the armour with green camo. How?
Water plus dirt equals to mud.
It was almost comical seeing how pissed Latina is when I grabbed a fistful of mud from a nearby river and slathered it all over her shiny golden armour. It was a promise of me plugging her throat tonight is what kept her from rioting right then and there. But for extra spice, I decided to collect branches, leaves, grass, mosses and other plant stuff to affix on her body.
In the end, she became a walking, talking, horse-shaped mud statue.
We moved through the forest, and thankfully Latina didn't end up attracting so much attention now.
Suddenly, we stumbled upon a simple arrangement of stone in the middle of a small clearing in the forest. Normally I would leave it be because stacking stone is high art and I will castrate any fucker who kicks down an arrangement of a stack of stones, but the object on top of the slab in the middle of the flint circle throws my love for stacking stones out of the window and into a grandma's head.
It was a Luger P08 pistol embroidered in gold. It was still in good condition, despite finding it on the forest floor. I remember the story where Nazi soldier would booby-trap a discarded Luger pistol for any Allied soldier to pick up. As if the forest knows of my thoughts, I was suddenly assaulted by a pair of fairies. A brief fight later, I inspected the pistol properly.
I remember buying the pistol as a birthday gift for lady Patchouli that day. I admired her, I loved her, she was gorgeous, reserved, refined, unlike me. We kept our relationship professional, but we bonded over our love of historical firearms and its mechanism in the conflict itself. We would dissect Italian rifles, discuss about the otherworldly sophistication of German engineering, explore the idea behind combat doctrines of armies of the past, so many hours of intellectual discussion, with a severe undertone of repressed desire between the lines.
She admired the pistol aesthetic, so I procured a copy using my meagre payment and painstakingly embroidered it by hand. It was a good make, came straight from Mauser themselves. I inspected the grip of the gun. Servus Scientiae, or Servant of Knowledge in English was inscribed at the slide. I smiled quietly to myself. Better than fucking Excalibur, that damned overrated blade! My thumb brushes over the engraving on the pistol grip, recognizing each callous and pore the gun have. With my help, I engraved the word from her mouth into the gun, effectively imbuing it with our memory. This pistol was a gift to her, to commemorate the day she was born, but any day is an anniversary when I'm with her.
I remember the sadness in her eyes as she lost the pistol many years ago. She blamed Meiling normally, but her alibi was airtight. She ordered the maids and the worker to scour the whole mansion for the missing gun. Despite our combined effort the gun is still missing. We finally put it down to a burglary. Remilia commissioned me to buy her a new pistol as a replacement for her collection, but it was not the same. It has not the connection we have together as a master and servant. To others, it was just a prized antique pistol, to us; it is a symbol of our friendship. The day I gave the gun to her is the day where we finally work out where we stand, and decided that friendship is the most viable bond we could ever have. That's why I cried happy tears on my left eyes and grief from my right.
But this provides a whole new question, not all of them are pleasant. How did it get here? Why it is in good condition? Why it was missing in the first place, only for it to be here? Who carries it before me? What happened to it? The pistol never left my mistress's hip and was always concealed under her purple dress. She put the Luger at a small table beside her when she goes to bed. Then it hit me, if my mistress's missing pistol can end up here, what else could end up here? What happens if whatever the thing that sucked me and Hito here was the one who took the pistol?
What happens if they took more than a pistol?
Without thinking, I shouted her name.
It was a stupid move, and I knew it, but I can't help it. Surely there must be a reason for this! There's no way my mistress can end up here, can she? She was not important for this world, is she? She means the world for me, but is she important for this world, important enough to be sucked here? She can barely run with her asthma! How the hell can she survive this world? What if she never did, that this is the only thing that was left of her?
I was hyperventilating that time, my mind in a bigger mess of chaos than normal. I felt fear, impotence, despair, but most importantly, rage. Rage against whoever was thinking about using her, rage against the world, rage against the White Rabbit. Who else would think about this other than her? She told me that she has a hand in all this mess, she could've been the one who took this gun, just to taunt me! Hell, she even took Richo away right under my nose straight to the trafficker's lair, knowing that I cannot abandon her on a good conscience!
She might have already suck everybody in the mansion, hoping that at least one of them would do the job. I think I am doing quite well honestly, why would they be more people joining later on? Would that create a paradox, something that she was trying to prevent? I do think she might be the type that just say 'fuck it' and YOLO her way through. I mean for fuck's sake; she could've just paid me and I'll gear up with much better shit than what I carried now! Instead, I have to deal with this bullshit with nothing more than a suit designed for civilians and an antique rifle!
I asked Latina what would happen to any Human girls who were defeated by the Monster Girls. She said that men will become their partner forever, the women will be consumed, or vored as she called it as nourishment. That heightened my fear back then. What happen if she was here, only I never saw her because she has already been consumed?
I tried my best to banish my fear away. No, it can't be, there must be a sign of struggle at least! Like, like scraps of her clothing or, or her hair, or at least some bullet casing or knives! What happens if the one who consumes them were so ravenous that they even ate up the evidence?
Two hands smacked me at the back of the head, bringing me back to reality. The first, gentle blow came from Sophie, her face expressionless but her eyes full of concern. The next is a force of nature in a hand of centaur women warrior that rocked my head to and fro from sheer force. The blow hurts, but it was enough to bring me back to reality.
In the end, I decided to continue the route to Enrika, hoping that if Hito isn't there, I'll settle for Patchouli. She could be somewhere nearby, could she? It doesn't matter, whining won't help. I must take action, she needs me.
I knew I was being a little bit reckless in my approach, but fear can do wonders in the mind of men. I tore through the forest, slaughtering everyone in my path as I wandered aimlessly through the forest. Fairies, elves, gnomes, pumpkins, nobody manages to stop us, and I didn't let them have the chance. I was angry at myself, angry at the world, angry at the fucking bitch that brought me here. My mind was on autopilot, following the path of most resistance. After all, if I keep finding enemies, then I'm on the right path.
Latina was having an utter blast with me; skewering and trampling whatever in our path. Sophie was silent, not even when I smash a sorry excuse of Lovecraft's grape-tinted dream girl into a bloody pulp with her rifle form. I was honestly surprised at how good it felt using her as a weapon. Shooting, smashing, stabbing, she moved as if she was my third limb purposely made for war, my fury and hers are inseparable, our bond grew stronger with each corpse on the pile. But the real fun begins when I started getting closer to them. Don't get me wrong, shooting with her feels very good, but smashing with her feels orgasmic. There's just something immensely satisfying every time I swung her, she was never out of balance, even when I'm swinging her with one hand.
Our path of violence revealed the way. Perhaps a god of war witnessed our carnage and wished to reward my brutality and thus subtly led me to a strange path, to which I found myself overlooking a small village hidden at the outskirt of the forest. It was quite a strategic point if you want to be hidden from prying eyes. The large forest provides covers in a crescent moon formation while their back was hidden by a ridiculously high and steep mountaintop. The village itself wasn't too small, but it wasn't big either. For some reason, I felt compelled to travel into the village itself even with all the warning bells inside me is ringing like hell.
I then decided to approach the village on horseback, or Latina's back to be precise. Sophie is locked and loaded and ready to rumble, but I rather not unload my bullet to anybody. My bullets are in the red already, can't play around like before. Sophie's only weapon was the Luger I found, and it only held 8 shots left. I made my peace with my past, and thus ventured into the village.
The first reaction of the villagers toward me was unpleasant. They were not openly hostile, but there was a certain aura of dread that surrounds me as I slowly made my way to the centre of the village. Everybody was doing some kind of work, but their stares never left my body. They were staring at me like they were all reading a joke compilation only rapist would understand and I'm the only one laughing at the joke.
The inhabitants were made up of purely girls (Of course they were!). I and Latina were on the edge as we saw no male member of the species was present in this simple village. After hearing about the horrid fate that awaits me if I succumb to any enemy Monster Girl, I signalled to Latina to run if shit hit the fan. She shared my sentiment; her steps were careful as if she was walking on a sheet of thin ice. Sophie however, was ominously silent. Not sure why, but I can feel the utter discomfort she has when the angels were looking at her.
The inhabitants consisted of female angels with several different variation of colour. We got our simple, pure blonde angel with blue eyes and fluffy feather wings. Then, we got ourselves an edgier version of angels which is dark purple in flesh and hair. Their wings are a leathery pair of bat wings attached to their back. Then, we got ourselves a vampire version, with fangs and all. The vampire one was a little bit tricky, I found one who was strolling through their neighbourhood were staring at me so hard like I owed her money. The problem is, her stare felt like not only she was undressing me, she was raping me too!
One of the angels who can no longer contain her curiosity, approaches to speak to me. She was a dark angel, her purple flesh wafted with strange dark purple mist as she walked toward me. She asked me what brought me to the hidden village of Enrika. Yep, I reached Enrika by flailing and running like a headless chicken with PTSD through a slaughterhouse.
I told her that I came here to find a friend who may have passed this area. She told me that this friend of mine has already left and I should leave…Unless I gave her something as a gift of sort. For extra flair, she levitated to my face level and pointed her small dagger to my throat. The dagger was a nasty curved purple blade with several exaggerated saw teeth at the back of the blade. Even better, the dark purple blade was carved with some runic inscription which was pulsing with dark magic at the beat of my heart.
I have the strongest urge to swipe the knife away and punch the smug grin off her face, but I knew better not to aggravate the whole fucking village on me at the tip of the hat. I don't have enough bullets for everyone.
Just as both of us was about to descend into chaos then a voice appeared out of nowhere. I turned around to see my saviour, whom I identify as a Lamia. A Lamia is a half-serpent, half woman types of monsters. She has a long, slippery snake tail that shone like silver in the sun. Her hair is light blue, with several parallel streak of yellow hair between the curtains of blue. Her eyes were blue too, a light cobalt attached to her eye sockets. She wore a short dark blue robe that hugs her human abdomen like a warm jacket. The jacket was decorated by countless amounts of indecipherable runes that hurt my mind as I uselessly wondered what purpose the runes fulfil. She has a single sling slung over her body from the shoulder to her waist. I did not see any generic sword sheath behind her.
She asked me if I knew anything about Pornof's Mountain range. I told her that some son of bitches thinks it's a good idea to kidnap one of my companions to complete their harem collection. I told her that I went in there and killed every kidnapper in there, no question asked. There were some hostages killed in the process, but the rest is fine.
She smiled, telling me to open my fucking eyes wider. I stared deeper, searching deep into my mind for any form of recognition. Guess what? She's one of the girls I rescued back then.
The revelation blew my mind that day. Damn, is this what they call as Butterfly Effect? You know, one cause creates million effects? Is that the right definition? Even better, she is the forger that Latina heard of.
She told me that she was actually a Lamia, not a mermaid as I remembered her before. Give me a break, how can I differentiate between a mermaid and a Lamia? Aren't they practically the same thing?
Didn't matter, thanks to her my presence is now tolerated here. Apparently, it was a good thing as the village was filled to the brim with powerful angels and elves of varied kind. The one that threatened me was a dark elf, an elf that succumbed to the dark side of pleasure.
Before I am allowed to roam around in this place I have to chat with their leader, another elf like I encountered before. Seriously, every MG in this place has a serious case of same-face syndrome. She has a long, flowing blonde hair and sparkling green eyes that I always saw in other elves. She has a pair of pointed ears, which is pierced with a pair of ivory earrings shaped in the form of an angel. She wore a pair of short green skirt and green shirt that may function more as a training bra for all its concealment of her skin. She wore a simple sheath at her waist to keep her sword. She asked me what the fuck I am doing at her village, especially carrying a cursed weapon of some sort.
I told her the highlights of our adventure, making sure to pepper it with enough jokes to keep things light-hearted. She chuckled at some of the funny moments in the story, then her eyes widened as she heard a familiar name within my tale. She asked me if the name Luka and Alice means anything to me. All I knew is that he was a hero on a quest, that is all. The elf told me that she knew Hito, she spoke with him when Luka and his crew rolls in to Enrika. That was a relief, at least I knew he was travelling with companion, and they are quite capable if the rumour and story was any indication.
From what the White Rabbit told me many days ago, I'll be the hero's companion in Chapter Two, and as Hito is the hero's companion, I don't think he'll go anywhere. All I need to do now is survive and wait until Chapter Two, whenever that might happen.
Anyway, I crossed out that task from my to-do list. I only need to explore and find the exit of this world. While this world is beautiful, I miss my mistress. I miss the maids, I miss my friends, I miss everybody in the mansion. How could I not? They gave me a reason to live when I found myself wishing death, they clothed me when I was naked, and they fed me when I was starving. They are a family, my family. I owed them everything. I am a child of the Scarlet Devil, and the Devil never forsakes their children.
The chief felt something is amiss with my rifle, and asked to have a look. She was surprised that Sophie's species were still alive in this continent, let alone in an unpopular form of weaponries. She told me that guns are very new to this world, yet they are accessible to anybody willing to use it. She even said that the local blacksmith sold one of the new gun-thing they found in Tartarus pit. Now that's something I really knew well.
Anyway, she also said that as Hito was a companion of the hero Luka, she was obliged to do him a favour. Hito told her that somebody of importance might end up in this village, and she should help him. As because he was just a tag-along, she has the option of honouring his favour. She said that I am now welcome to walk around and use whatever facilities this place has, as long as I don't reveal their position to the world…
Deal. We shook hand on that. Off we go to explore the village!
The village was a traditional middle age village made out of logs and woven plants as roof and windows. I also saw some houses equipped with some pen with a couple of cows inside. Yep, real cows, not Monster type. I never thought that I'll be surprised to see a normal cow at all. Many angels kept the European cow type with their usual white and black coat all over them.
I spoke to one of the angels who were tending to her cow, whom is chewing on the green pasture of the angel's lawn. She said that before she thinks that everything that has to do with mortal being is filthy, that is until the angels were stranded. Now, she enjoyed the taste of fresh milk in the morning. She said that while it was a step-down from their usual position, they find themselves oddly content with their current mortal lifestyle. She also said that it was lucky that the magic essence of this world increased. The angel's holy essence was so powerful that it renders their skin toxic to any mortal. Not anymore.
Anyway, I found Rav's house, which is a simple cabin log, which is now radiant with some kind of a holy glow. I entered the house. The house was furnished with simple, yet elegantly carved wood furniture. I ran my fingers on a table where my glad host was sitting by. The smell of oak was calming, and the smooth lacquered finish of the furniture felt good in my grasp. I quietly sit on one of the chairs available, facing my smiling host. The chair itself was a work of art; the headboard of the chair has an intricate runic carving imprinted on their surface; their meanings mean nothing to my addled mind.
She was attended by her friend, who was a fallen angel by looks. She has a pair of purple feather wings which were tattered in age, yet was kept clean by near-perfect grooming. She has a pair of deep purple eyes which matched the purple aesthetic of her skin. She also emits a certain glow as she sips on her cup of tea. She wore a maid's apron only, not a single thread was on her except the white maiden's apron which hugged her voluptuous form dangerously. Aside from that, she wore a simple silver necklace around her neck, which is unremarkable in appearance. Hanging at her waist was a sheathed sword at her side, ready to tear into me if I overdue my welcome. From what I gleaned from Latina; angels are so strong that they only require their own fist to rip an opponent's limb by limb. I wonder how strong that weapon was that the fallen angel would rely on it instead of her own fabled strength.
Latina told me that she knew the forger, how the hell did she elude my grasp when I'm the one who rescued her?!
Turns out, Latina only heard from rumours and hearsay from another centaur. She told me that she never expected for the forger to end up in Pornof's smuggler hideout. I slammed my face on the table and groaned hard. Next time woman, better fucking makes sure whatever you heard is the absolute truth…
But hey, we found her finally. Her friend was cooperative, thanking me for saving Rav's tail many days ago. She went straight to Enrika after the successful rescue op I done. I asked her how the hell she ended up there. Rav smiled grimly, and narrated her tale.
Rav was originally an artist, a goldsmith to be exact. Then a hit was placed on her head so she was forced to abandon ship and hide away in Enrika where her fallen angel friend is hiding. She hid there for a few days and set out to find the culprit. Lo and behold, she didn't get anything. As her supplies starts to dwindle, she panicked and accidentally killed one of the guards coming to arrest her. She stole his golden helmet and ran back to the Slum. Having no money, a working makeshift forge and a perfectly good gold helmet she did what she did best; smithing. It took her quite a long time, but she manages to create some counterfeit that was good enough to fool a cursory examination. There, she spent her life perfecting the quality of her coins in the Slum to trade with some of the traders in the Slums for protection and supplies. Her skill with the forge does not dwindle from time, and her prowess was known beyond the Slum. Alas, that fame is what brought those human smugglers to her humble hovel.
She smiled grimly at the memory. She said that when the mercenary came for her head in all their golden glory, the bandits she paid to protect her literally gave her over them just to save their pathetic skin. She fought well, but she lost due to their superior magic control. From there, she was trussed up like a turkey ready for slaughter and was transported all the way to Pornof's mountain, unknown by her friend in Enrika.
She asked me for opinion for the matter. She said that she has no enemy and she was an upstanding citizen before the bounty was put on her head. She asked me whether I have a theory about it, for she longs to find the one who wickedly destroys her life.
I told her that I knew jack-shit about it. I told her that I wasn't there, and making pointless speculation would do nothing in the end. I told her that action speaks louder than word, and if she desires truth, she must be willing to dirty her hands for the answer.
She told me that she had enough of adventure for now, so she'll settle down with her friend here in Enrika. She thanked me for my service, which I still believe was something that a better person would've done in a heartbeat. She gave me a few pouches of gold coins, which I merrily accepted with thanks. She told me that the first batch is free, but the rest would require something that only worth to both of them; semen.
Wanna know something even better? Her friend was a tailor. Her name is Sacrina, the fallen angel tailor. She said that she was a very skilled seamstress, and her sewing was simply divine despite her currently corrupted status. She told me that she'll offer to repair my clothing for free this time round. She said that Rav is not by any mean, a weak Lamia. If I can take down the whole gang who overpowered her it means that I am very powerful. Yeah, several decades of combat experience tend to do that to a person.
Anyway, this is quite a good opportunity, so I asked her to make a dress for my rifle. She was surprised that my rifle was sentient and both a Monster Girl like her friend. She then whipped out a notepad and a pencil to take her measurement. Rav left the table and returned with a long roll of measuring tape. After taking Sophie's body size, she asked me what outfit she would make for my wife.
Ignoring the comment, I wrote down the specification for her new outfit. Struck by morbid humour, I decided to order for the closest thing I can get to a Nazi Party SS uniform within acceptable prices. People's goodwill has their limit, and I prefer to not push it too hard in one go.
They didn't expect me to ask for a specific combination of simple clothing and equipment. I can literally see their gears working hard to understand that they have to make a uniform that doesn't involve excessive skin exposure or overcomplicated flower-patterned bra-armour for the last decade. They asked me lots of questions, asking me why would I choose such a simplistic outfit from a literal angel when I could get the best piece of art I've ever seen in my entire life.
Our discussion naturally led to the nature of the uniform I chose. To demonstrate the type of person that have shot the notoriety of this clothing as high as the stars, I decided to pull out my marker pen from my pack, paint a small toothbrush moustache on my nose and start reciting Mein Kampf with the same fluency of a tone-dead opera singer and the fervour of a bomb-strapped religious fanatic.
Both of the angels blanched at my stupid antic except Sophie, who was hanging on to every word I spoke. Every word I spoke make her eyes lit up with something unknown, and seeing that eye filled with vigour in turn invigorates me to continue my inarticulate speech.
My ranting would end up taking the whole day if Latina didn't stop me with her famous bitch slap. The slap was so strong; I felt Hitler himself felt the blow in hell. She told me to grow up and act my age, and wondered loudly why she even bothers following me around. I told her that she can just leave anytime soon and I can return to my merry, lost way. We bickered for a few seconds before we were interrupted by Rav who told us to get rid of our old-married-couple shtick.
Why the hell everybody ships with the silver Centaur?
Latina thinks that a fine warrior traipsing along a dangerous territory with a pretty Monster Girl beside him when he is not a Monster Tamer is uncommon and ridiculously dangerous unless the Monster was a close friend or lover. As I am a male and she was a woman it was natural. Sophie doesn't give a fuck; she was too busy being a model for the fallen angel tailor.
I don't know what happened inside the room; all I heard is flashes of magics behind the door as Rav do what she does best. I normally would be alarmed at seeing a cheap Frankenstein's Lab light effect flashing behind the door, but Sophie's telepathic words calmed me down long enough for Rav to finish the job. After several hours, the door swings open and Sophie walked out confidently with Rav in tow.
By the Devil, Sophie is so gorgeous that I choked on my saliva at first sight. Sure, she looked more like a businesswoman than an actual SS officer, but I'll take what I can get. She wore a black blazer over her sharp white dress shirt with a black tie. To make it look closer to its source, she also has a large white belt around her waist that held some pouches for extra ammunitions and a red armband that was inscribed with a white Elven Rune to bring good luck.
Her high black officer boots marched over the wooden floor soundlessly much to my surprise, I was expecting her to make a racket what with the heavy-looking footwear. Her black cargo pants are loose and baggy enough to be comfortable for long marches, and the pockets are actually not for show only for once.
I remember seeing the rifle in its true form in my youth, a simple gun shows somewhere in Texas. An old man was showing off his collection of rifles, ranging from sporterized Remington all the way to the tricked-out TOZ-106. The Kar98k grabbed my attention at that time, when the surplus market was still overly saturated from the arrival of Mosins and 98k alike. There was something elegant from that rifle, a sense of danger and awe like how one would describe an experienced female martial artist. Just from a single glance, I knew the rifle would never abandon me and her beauty never cease to amaze me.
One of the best purchases I have of my entire life.
Seeing she in her uniform brings back the memory of seeing the Karabiner for the first time, it was like falling in love, except with a rifle. Your eyes were drawn at it instantly and locked to it, your heart starts to beat harder, and your mind cannot stop thinking about it, a wave of passion overcome your common sense and from that on, you know you must have her at all cost.
She was what the Nazi Empire strived for, the very model of true Aryan race of the world. And I almost believe this is why many Nazis died for this philosophy. She held her head up proud and her stance is sharp and strong, daring anybody to undermine her authority. But with the gun at her side and the infamous SS uniform on her she was the embodiment of the dream; a blonde haired, blue eyed German soldier leading the world to a better tomorrow. Of course, while I admire many things about German people and their history, I still cannot accept what Hitler and his doctrine has done to the world. Not the German people, but him. The civilian, especially after the war has nothing to do with Nazism, and an overwhelming majority recognized it's evil and willing to destroy it to prevent it from happening again.
But nobody can deny that Hugo Boss makes evil sexy as fuck.
I also got myself some more money from them, enough to last us for a while. I thanked both of them as much as I can, but Rav said that if it was not for me, she might end up being a toilet for a scatologist. We all agreed how fucked up those sounds. The idea of burning the fucking town down to the ground sounded more appealing by the second…
Anyway, I decided to have a quick stop to their local shop where they sold lots of rare items. The keeper was an angel with long flowing blonde hair. She wore a pair of blacksmithing aprons only; the rest was exposed to the outside world. If I did not know there were such a thing as a Monster Girl, I would've assumed this whole village is a nation of nudist. She beckoned to her shelves which were filled to the brim with unknown paraphernalia and curious gadget befitting a fantasy timeline.
I found a boomerang consisted of a shaped ivory with gears and cogs attached to its surface, and through observation the cogs were anything but useless. I found several menacing bows adorned with spikes and carapace to the point where I cringed on even handling one. Each of them was coloured with their own respective element; red and yellow for fire bows, light blue and white for ice and deep blue with light blue for water. I also found several bottles of unknown chemical that glows unnaturally displayed side-by-side to a row of bottles filled with pickled herbs. I found herbs, feathers, roots and everything a household need to cook the perfect meal, or the perfect poison.
And among the pile of magical items, I found a gun.
A simple, 9mm Glock-18 semi-automatic pistol, in a shelf, selling medieval fantasy crap.
What the fuck?
Imagine this; you are a traveller of dimension that ends up in a medieval fantasy world where magic was real and real men plays dungeon and dragons with real sword and daggers. You fought off countless monsters and survived many encounters using your wits and skill of swordplay, you made friend with host of wonderful mythical creature whom are now a faithful companion to your adventure…Then you found a semi-auto pistol in a weapon shop. The setting and the location of the weapon was so wrong, it's like King Arthur threw down his Excalibur and whipped out an Uzi from his robe to style on Mordred like it was some kind of ghetto dispute. Doesn't make any sense, even though it sounded cool as fuck.
I asked the shopkeeper where she found the handgun. She said that somebody offered her the gun as a form of homage to Ilias as she was an angel before she ends up here in Enrika. She said that she never knew how and what the gun was for, but she knew someday the goddess might give her direction. Still waiting so far…
I asked her if she forged the weaponries behind her. She said that she can synthesize and make any weapon asked for; nothing was out of her range. She doesn't even need materials; she has an ability to sacrifice some of her manna to transmute into materials such as Mithril and such. I told her that I knew exactly what the gun was for, and was willing to teach her more if she would be willing to make me some bullets.
It seems that every blacksmith has a shared trait of curiosity every time a new item was shown. Transforming Sophie back to her human form, we both started to exchange information on weaponries. Latina joined in too, being another student for the weapon lecture in the shop. We discussed about different type of weaponries and how they were used. I taught her about firearms and what differentiate one from the others. She taught me the finer tune of magic manipulation in weaponries.
Some of what she taught me was so ridiculous; she has to demonstrate it to me and Sophie. What kind of projectile that can heal any wound through high-speed impact into soft flesh surface? Healing bullet can; she said a healing projectile can be created by combining healing magic with synthesized water bullet, the bullet will splash on their target harmlessly but the healing essence inside the water will heal the target. She demonstrated more about the importance of status effect, and how a battle was won by a devastating combination of effects on an enemy and friend.
In return, I taught her the basic of firearms and basic knowledge for any firearm owner. I taught her the essential essence, that a gun is ridiculously simple; a projectile, a propellant to propel the projectile forward and finally a barrel to contain both the projectile and propellant and direct the general direction the projectile must take. I taught her basic handgun handling with the Glock she sold and how to make the bullet for the Glock and my rifle. I taught her to never say clip for any bullet magazine. I taught her how the Glock works and how she can modify it and still keeps its basic core intact. In the end, she will not be that clueless when she got a rifleman as a customer.
After buying up her stock of pistol ammo, me, Sophie and Latina decided to hit the sack in the local inn owned by a female elf (is there any MALE elf in here?). We bought ourselves a cheap room with bed and breakfast for three people. Today has been quite an exhausting day, and I want nothing but to sleep off my problem tonight.
Then Latina barges in and locked the door with a creepy-ass smile.
She was all about wanting to help me resist pleasure and shit, but she just horny as all hell for some reason, and our deal has to do with me dicking her down in exchange for her service. Tired as I am, Momma didn't raise no bitch, so I dutifully take out my dick for inspection.
Suddenly, Sophie turned into human against my order and decided to tag-team against me in a three-way buck-naked pro-wrestling match. The Horsewoman of Lust and the Blonde Terror of the Dead Third Reich against the Scarlet Devil Triggerman, now that's a wrestling match I'll pay to watch!
Let me tell ya, on paper this was a dream come true; two bombshells in heat on my bed willing to do anything I told them to do? If you're a strong man in bed, good for you. But we're talking about Monster Girls here, whom loved semen as if they were the gift from the gods itself!
Yes, the first round is amazing, too amazing in fact. I know I haven't bedded any fair maiden for a long time, but this pleasure was indescribable. Honestly, it was illuminating and scary for me. Is this why Monster Girls are so successful in their hunt? Is this why many whom has tasted them fall into their clutches?
I've remembered one of the guards back in Ilias Temple claiming that the MGs simply pour their dark essence into you when they bone, so after the deed is done you are basically under her control. Was this what they meant? Was the dark essence the insane pleasure, or was it far more literal?
Nevertheless, I soldiered on and enjoyed myself. That is, until the last round.
Sophie was a beautiful maiden, on par with the ladies in Gensokyo. Yet, she was at core a Monster Girl, so her lust outpaces mine in leaps and bounds. I felt weak, but as the final blow comes closer, I felt something within me swell. It felt warm, comforting. Like the first time I've used magic. Then suddenly, I felt a massive rush of adrenaline as I finished deep in her. Warmth flushed through our bodies as magic long repressed awoken deep within me and flowed toward Sophie in a soft red glow. Sophie laid there on the bed, glowing with both love and power while I stand above her completely shocked at what just happened.
What the fuck?!
Why the fuck did it unlock when I boned Sophie, not Latina? Do you know how many litres of seed I poured deep in her throat ever since she joined my crew? Do I really need to be a horse-fucker to get strong?! Do you know how easier shit will be if I unlock it earlier?!
I've been meditating, kicking ass, eating grass, hitting the trails, getting hit, yet none of those manages to unlock my magic power! I thought it was because this world's logic is different than the one back home, why is it when it was back in my hand, it was almost identical? It's like some fuckwit who thinks that adding 'bazinga' at the end of every sentence in English is equivalent to an entirely new set of language!
…Oh well, at least I can now access my magic, or what's left of it. Its deep in the red, probably because Latina and Sophie keep mooching off mine like a deadbeat son. Not only that, Sophie now can level up and learn how to shoot fireball or some shit. Baby steps Alex, sweet tiny baby steps.
I'm going to sleep. That German pussy got me acting unwise, better sleep it off before I make things worse.