Through The White Fox's Eyes Volume 2

by Kratos 57 naruto

"The stars have fallen, blade of the dark moon. Downed like lightning, our endless night became noon. Our beloved fell god, come back soon? Your legacy embraced our lives, like a boon. Your home here has been hewn so come back soon, our fiery god of the black moon." The folksong of Daedalus calls to him... The boy, who despite casting aside his mantle of heroes, saved them. Harem.

1. He Who Commands The Stars

Hi. I'm back. If you don't know me, my name is labeled as the author of this story. This is the second volume of my series. Quick warning, my AN does not reflect the story regarding mechanical writing. I'm waaayyyy more lax here and stuff.

If you are new, let me warn you that my writing tends to be crackish and not take itself seriously, weakening the effects of certain scenes. There's anachronism via memes and I sometimes take describing things to far. Of course since Eng not my native tongue, this is not an excuse, everyone says it, and I want to say it, but since Eng is not my native tongue, there will be lots of grammatical errors.

Expect spliced commas, run-on sentences, and more; I apologize. I did my best to fix these during my hiatus, but I didn't do much due to its nature as a break. Played a bunch of games, though, lol.

This Naruto is from an AU set within my AU (See my fanfic God of Shinobi for details). Circumstances have been changed, so he will be out of character sometimes; most times. He difference by action but similar by result and no not an OC. Vol 1 explains why he like this, so if you didn't check it out, feel free to but gotta warn you, the shitty grammar will make you want to rip your eyes out.

It has been a while since I wrote something, so I ask for your mercy, only in this chapter but regardless, I would appreciate any reviews you might have, whether they are critical, praise or not. Flames don't affect me because of certain circumstances in my life. Not the sticks and stones bullshit, it's just that I simply don't care bout senseless hatred. If you flame give no sense, the most you'll get from me is a blink.

Did a bit of work over my holiday. I revamped the regalia and learned my lesson from last time (fanfiction website messes up links).

If you don't know, Regalia are Naruto's main, four weapons. Here's the link n stuff https/

bit.ly

/3Brkeu7

There's no spaces. This shit gets fucked by fanfic cuz it hates links.

Hope you know how to get past link shorteners or whatever. if the link does work, feel free to PM

My super duper thanks for 1k follows on the other story. I'm surprised I have that many because I assumed my hard cap would be 200 considering my writing style. But then again, I tend to think a majority of my readers are peeps who aren't familiar with English and come clicking follow at the slightest hint of harem even if their English more broken USA's politics (It's a joke people, jeez)

Also quick warning, I make fun of people a lot. Just how I am man.

Tags: Humor, Romance, Dark Humor, Harem, Gore, Friendship

Formatting

"Speech"

"Thoughts or hearing someone from a distance"

"Inhuman speech"

Jutsu and Spells

"You get the idea."

-Flashback of someone's words(Note, only applies if italized)

-Telling a story

Chapter 1 : He Who Commands The Stars

Trigger Warning

Memories. Records of one's past that elucidated highlights that were the foundation where bricks of decisions would be set. Snacks, piggybacks and laughing to falls, scraping and weeping. Memories… Rememberances were ancillary to causality.

Causality is the relationship between cause and effect.

A parent fed a child a snack, and the child became obese. The tyke enjoyed it, and the effect was a joy that their guardians lived off. This was like a drug, so they naturally sought their next fix. Snacks came in pairs, then trios, then suddenly the dozens. Mental depictions of their child dewy-eyed rent their nails.

Memories dictate how people choose to live by exposing experiences and forcing them to contemplate choices and imagine different paths. Portfolios like these forced teenage boys to take baths instead of just rubbing in a deodorant stick and calling it a day – everyone can smell it. They caused children to stop touching stoves and sharp objects. They inspired caution and forced people to aspire to be better.

They tied people to the past and devoured progress. Chains of their terrors halted mining just as diamonds were about to be struck. They cursed generations to oppose each other, even if they had nothing to do with their ancestor's machinations.

Memories, like dreams, can be bad.

The remembrance of the baleful haze's acquisition of her rights haunted the young woman. If an insect was an icon of freedom then her circumstances would be a lubricated jar. It was pink and hazy, yet, somehow, rigid in structure; its inflexibility rested its crack threshold beyond what she could scourge.

Eternal imprisonment was veracious. If the situation was C, then what caused A and B? These are the records as branded in her life's archives.

Hailing from a noble family bedraggled with the responsibility for many lives, she readily and enthusiastically accepted her nurturing to being a kind and gentle girl. The beau was segregated from her peers and lived wondering about the world's colors – scripts in books whispered to her like wind. Curiosity stymied her guardians' teachings and convinced her to acquiesce to being surreptitiously taken from her family's manor to play with children from a nearby shrine.

When her father found out, he ostensibly raged and reprimanded the shrine. In reality, he was ecstatic, and his halcyon heart led to his informal support of the "offending" shrine. While he was grateful for his daughter's newfound friendship, he could not support it outwardly because of the instability in politics born from the region's ongoing conflicts.

Farmhands and parsimonious nobility were gapped by riches, making it near impossible for peasants to appeal to their superiors. Peasants were naught but oxen to the aristocrats, animals to flood their coffers and polish their holdings. Blood and tears were spirited away by proxies and their delegations, eager to satisfy the hands that inflated their bellies with gold.

Amid the countless helm smashing and vertigo-inducing obligations, this was one he chose to take upon himself, and that duty was being a middleman. He was amative to the people who sacrificed their bodies for the land and his and his family's comforts. Letting them toil away was a gold and silver ring he was unconscious of.

The head and his family encountered a palisade when atavism manifested a vexing characteristic in their daughter. Its association with an ancient and evil enchantress altered its beauty to an omen of misfortune.

The witch's fate was unrecorded; rumors and legends claim their family was her descendants. The little renard could beastify, and with it came multiple tails, which were causal to the doors of her childhood being fortified with locks accompanied with stone wedges.

Her isolation faced escalation because word of her gene was gorged by the auricles of nobles and common folk alike. The family found themselves fending off an inundation of swords, sometimes literally, leading to weathering of the people's livelihoods.

The straw broke the camel's back when someone framed her for eating an offering to a venerable great spirit whose blessing had been with the lands since the twilight of their culture. The creature cared not, and its will matched its care; the family's contrived enemies took to sophistry, and as one can imagine, circumstances became inflamed. The pus of this swell was her father, with great reluctance, repudiating her.

The wheel of fortune, with its convenience, benedicted the family with an auspice through a relatively simple solution. A close family friend, a prum merchant, offered to take and raise her. The child-sized man was a respected and beloved merchant in the territory as he was eleemosynary.

He, like the peasants, was a child of rags. His story was decorated with confects, Sakura petals, and dried fruits. The man parted with his rickety shack and valiantly fought alongside, logistics and relief, the land's lord.

The matriarchs, soldiers, and patriarch had no roadblocks to refining a concord. The question of who should raise the girl had a sole answer that surrounded the benign merchant with green arrows. Pleased, the head of the clan, with delight, relinquished his daughter's fostering rights to his brother in all but blood. As a father, he couldn't send her to the wilderness; he loved her.

A quick canvass of the future veiled the beingness of a reunion with her friends. Causality's unholding fangs beared on her, but flunked the swamping of her mood because of the merchant who proudly garbed a golden fleece of unclehood.

It was natural because Kronos himself had seemingly promulgated periods of their company causal to a boundless trust that could threaten even her guardians' place.

Family is not limited to blood.

Premiere viewings of her achievements in the great martial arts observed by her family – kenjutsu, sojutsu, kyudo, and jujutsu – her art and poems often fell to him.

The remains of her father's siblings had long since dissolved in the belly of the scion of the Kirin, a regnant dragonoid purportedly felled by Isshin Ashina in ages past. Her uncles and aunt injured it enough that one of the Octagram's heroes, Genichiro Ashina, fed its corpse to the earth.

Her father and mother had taken some time to explain the situation to her in a way a 9-year-old could understand, and understand she did.

Her flowery departure was tinged with tristesse; on one side, she would be leaving her loved ones, but on the other, she wasn't cast to the wilderness to be devoured by scary monsters; instead, an amenable man who she loved dearly would conform to all her needs. By the laws of causality, things would never be the same, but it was okay.

If chaos broke out, War's agents would sign away the lives of innocents to death. The kind old lady who tended to the flowers and the maids who made her yummy food with warm smiles plastered on their faces. The old, brusque sellsword who mentored her in swordsmanship and secretly taught her other things – he taught her flower pressing, dancing and painting to name a few – and the friends who introduced her to the outside world she loved so much.

There was a time when a vagabond – from a rival faction – virtually converted the strands on her father's head for voluminous gold but was thwarted by a mistress – the brave woman gave her life for her lord and their people's future. The sight horrified her as a witness and a selfless little girl.

Dreams, hopes, and ambitions went down the drain within the manor's atrium. She watched them disappear like water from the peoples' shishi-odoshis – boar/deer-frightening devices – when tipped over, except… nothing would refill them.

She didn't want anyone to disappear because of her, so she did not dither. She was a strong wee lassie.

One might point to her father and say, "He should have done this!" or "Should have done that!" in ignorance of the tragedy of a noble. Their bodies had no hearts and were marionettes plucked and swayed along by their logic – their decisions had to benefit the people they served, their people, even if it meant playing chess.

Chess is not a game that teaches strategy because everything is the same; the same number of pawns, while everything in life is different. It's a game that balances the suppression of an enemy while plucking away pawns, including those closest to you. Your friend, your acquaintance, your wife… your daughter. They could stab or poison you with ease through your ignorance, but your enemies, you know they will lash out at you when given a chance. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

To keep his chest hollowed, the sky rained boulders in the form of his family being under the watch of the great shinobi, Hayabusa Ryu. With that albatross around his neck, he could not eschew his duties. The emergence of someone with similar characteristics to the witch was a vat for anxiety, so their surveillance by a figure of great power was a dependable pacifier.

Leaving was a scary thought, but her resolve subsisted and crushed her hesitation. Debris of hesitation, alongside regrets, weighed her heart; she worked to bid her circles farewell, then departed with the cherubic man.

The first few hours of the journey were uneventful. There were green trees and grass. Casting languidly moving shadows on them were white, puffy clouds. Avians soared overhead, and dragonflies dipped their tails into ponds then darted past magenta lilies, tussling their pendulous petals. Startled by crunching leaves, Rabbits and squirrels rushed to their burrows and trees.

At some point, education and acquittance to maps narrowed her eyes at his chosen path. It had dense overgrowth and crooked humanoid prints characterizing it as a monster-infested area – this greatly contrasted with the clear intelligence in the unblessed Prum's eyes.

Despite the apparent signs of monster activity, none were present; the warriors in her former home were due a few weeks later.

An outsider and non-combatant like him knowing there would be no monsters was strange, but she attributed it to his networking circles. Choosing not to comment on it and trust him was her life's worst decision.

Pain.

She thrashed, begged, and wept, but he would not listen. He apologized fervently but continued regardless of the searing pain he inflicted upon her.

Her mother and the maids explained that boys would want to touch her chest or slide their hands between her legs. Practiced warriors considered the atavist strong enough to kill a goblin, and she took pride in that. She was strong. She could protect herself from anyone, including ragtag boys. She was strong. Or so she thought.

The squall of boulders was guarded by her family, preventing them from squashing a single hair on her head. When it rains, it pours, and the clouds were never on her family. They were on her, and this cogitation brought the reality of her weakness. All her training was for naught as the prum made quick work of her then awarded himself a prize for his victory.

Her confidence shattered like the expensive vase she once knocked over, and her purity lost its existence; he marred it like the white dress she spilled tea on.

She could still feel those skanky, slimy hands slithering over her skin's surface, softly showering her with caresses. His blazing eyes scathed her with tongues of flame.

Recollections stiffened her body, dredged, and plunged it into Tarturus' countless bogs.

She was used as a plaything, leaving scars that none could hold to erase for a lifetime. Various feelings swirled about like a whirlpool of mud and corroded the girl like a vicious maelstrom. She couldn't even hold herself in her embrace, meaning the one person who was supposed to be there for her was absent.

Herself.

Recollections afflicted her ears with tinnitus that resembled his laughs and grunts.

It was over. Despite being chanced with an open path, she couldn't move. The idea couldn't reach her because her heart snapped and clung to her mind, which too was still in the process of comprehending the occurrence. Like an evil spirit, he took her away from her home, family, and friends.

The fiend cleverly chose sparsely active paths and blathered on and on about how he would save his own family using her. He confessed his twisted love for her but said he needed to sacrifice her for an auspice, then told her someone special would receive her. Once that special person took her, he would never see her again, so he had to leave his mark while he had a chance.

Had she been in the correct state of mind, she would have realized there was an unnatural madness in his eyes; it was as if he was in rapture.

The prum's apologies lost meaning as they were endless in quantity, and he would repeatedly crumble back into his lust...

Soon, he staged a bandit attack and surrendered her custody to his cohorts. Following that act, he mangled his arm for credibility and returned to the Far East in tears, weeping streaks of silver from his practiced tongue, weaving tales of wyrms, wanis, and wanyudos.

In the brigand, most pitied the girl as she and dozens of others got to 'know' the crew leaders but could do nothing except let it happen. The bandit maxim stated, "living only accepts compensation in blood gems, yours are no exception."

Its derivative idiom was, "soldier dies at work," which means if you are likely to die in your chosen career. If you were a soldier, you would die as a soldier. If you were an adventurer, you would die as an adventurer.

The bandit's maxim's cynicism elucidated people's lives and livelihoods were theirs to take just as theirs were others' to take. Their worry was exclusive to the continuation of their own lives than the lives of others.

Of course, this didn't mean there was no loyalty. To some people, their brothers and sisters were life.

They would be chained in an alternate universe where the maxim didn't exist. What could level ones do to a level three? Only one stood up for her, and that person never returned from their toilet break, and monsters hiding in the abyss sang of a feast.

The transition from the arrival to the fabled city and the beeline to the Red-light district was nonexistent. The sum of the purchase by goddess Ishtar caused a frenzy in Orario's economic body.

The frivolous goddess left no time to pervade by marking the girl with her blessing. Divine script on the girl's dorsum forced camaraderie with the economic branch on Ishtar – but it was inverse as she had given to frivolity. She canceled all existing arrangements to pen one of her subordinate empires; she needed a particular stone prepared immediately.

Afterward, the goddess conscripted the girl and forced her into a hidden concentration camp in the Pleasure District, where she was "trained". Contents of her grooming annihilated the pillar of hope designated to thoughts of reuniting with her family.

"A prostitute must do this and that," they said, and "she must always be like this," they claimed. 'A woman's duty is to tame men's aggression so that the number of crimes they commit will be reduced,' they added.

If their profession was so heroic, then why did she not feel good about it?

No passing day was destitute of indoctrination and "training," but she didn't fall.

Despite her brittle ramparts.

Despite the endless beleaguering.

Despite the loathsome, envious coteries generously plying profanities like cards.

In as much as some men caused her pain, not all men were like that. Her honorable father was not like that. Or was he? Reality had become a kaleidoscope; nothing seemed right anymore.

The person she was was gone…

She didn't want to see her family again. She didn't want them to see what she had become. For her, it was better they thought her dead.

The frequency of prison break attempts – even by death – were so numerous that her tear-reveling goddess branded her with a curse, the charm.

Goddess Ishtar was infamous for her jealousy of goddess Freya; a grudge that preceded the age of gods. Ishtar drugged Haruhime. The girl's injured mind was cured like an egg, yet the goddess added peppers. The reason was simple; Freya attracted the eyes of their peers and forced them to abandon her. Haruhime loved not in return, for she was never loved, but nevertheless, love she did and...

She won the hearts of some among Ishtar's Berbera.

She had become a replacement for Freya.

On the topic of Orario's queen, Ishtar actively encouraged her warriors to strengthen themselves so they may contend with the dame of valkyries, leading to the renard committing herself to the dungeon so she could level up.

Though some time had passed since she touched a sword or spear, she was able to prove herself worthy of being among Ishtar's elite by defeating the one known as Antianeira.

Her delight came with reduced concentration camp time, inviting progress' bewitching aesthesis. An obsession with the dungeon led to her mid-level three status. Whispers of a golden-haired demi-human maiden ensconced themselves into social circles. Her name was unknown – not unlike a particular abyssal hero – so her appellation inclined itself.

Tamamo-no-Mae.

That was the title the gods granted her and the name of the witch whose characteristics manifested in her.

Inconspicuity rivaling the sword princess was one of her worst miscalculations. Her power as an adventurer only created a demand for her back in her prison, Belit Babil, guaranteeing the trimming of her dates with the dungeon.

Cursed and collared, she found herself helpless to the stream of wealthy customers seeking to sate their lust with the most gorgeous and powerful courtesan. Most did not even bat an eye at the goddess who had a penchant for envy – most people considered it immoral, even the wealthy, to gaze at the divine with lust. One could accurately guess the orientation the gradient of her treatment sloped towards.

The only positive she could see was because she was so attractive, the brothel reserved her for the wealthiest, and information among the affluent was a molasses, especially regarding the red-light district; people's views relegated visiting the Quarter to shameful. Her parents wouldn't find out; even if they did, it would likely be too late.

She didn't want to disgrace them and their family name.

At some point, tycoons began describing their experiences as surreal, which was, funnily enough, almost true – they were surreal because they never happened. Sanjuono "Tamamo-no-Mae" Haruhime manifested illusionary magic that could fool gods in its refined stage.

Haruhime, leveraging her talents to protect herself from further patron abuse, went unnoticed by her goddess and familia because of her wit. The familia was due to sacrifice her and her soul for power, so the fractured light in her eyes consolidated to authorize her to live the remainder of her life on her own terms as one of her final acts of defiance.

Much of Haruhime's life was like a doll's, an object for people's desires and tumbleweed to be driven by the winds of their whims. It was unfair, and to rectify the injustice, she sought to grasp even the tinniest wisps of freedom with her dainty hands.

Even though her illusions were nothing but a lie – she and lies were like oil and water but her illusions were an emulsifier – she bore no guilt because she grasped a dove's feather after years of confinement. The taste of liberation, exemption, and unsusceptibility embraced her tongue like ambrosia and evoked tears that bore no fragment of resent. She pursued the preservation of the neoteric line, and with her bran-new power, circumstances aligned and morphed into malleable puzzles a genius like her could fudge with ease.

The wheel of fortune's caprice seemed to align with her desires, but previous experiences earned it her scrutiny. The last time she supposedly struck gold, she found it was pyrite.

The renard possessed three magics; one was Uchide no Kozuchi, another was Kokonoe, and the last was Genshou no Dendou. The first of the trio was passage to her due consumption by a killing stone; her premiere sorcery empowered donees with power akin to a level-up.

A killing stone is an object used to store a soul to avail its power to a throng. Bestowing the level boost effect – in the case of Haruhime – is done by sealing the soul into the stone and shattering it. The size of the fragment does not matter, as the power granted will remain the same.

The formula "Uchide no Kozuchi Killing Stone" would allow Ishtar and Kali greater chances against Freya.

To protect Haruhime, Antianiera – Aisha Belka – and others plotted and successfully shattered the first killing stone brought in by Ishtar, leading to severe physical and sexual punishment antecedent to being cursed – a goddess of beauty's charm can only be described as such.

Haruhime's curse teleported platforms below her every time she tried jumping off bridges. Moreover, it caused her to fall into a lustful haze when certain conditions were met, tormenting her with memories of promuscurity. In comparison, Aisha and the other's curse made them incapable of trying to save Haruhime and made it difficult, if not impossible, to disobey Ishtar.

Acknowledging the inevitability of her life coming to an end, the renard indulged herself in one of her most favorite pass times – since childhood – while her would-be rapists fooled around with her illusions; reading.

To her, reading was a magical mirror that allowed her to view the/a world from the perspective of others and join them on their adventures. Sometimes she was the villainess, sometimes the heroine and sometimes the anti-heroine/villainess. These exhilarating experiences freed her from her bleak, lonely reality.

While Haruhime had a particular fondness for those that featured a hero saving a damsel, she did not want to be saved. While the thought stimulated her heart and mind, her desire to be saved was as dry as a fountain in a desert. The demi-human was hardheaded about her worth.

No one scrutinized Haruhime more than herself, so she had to free herself to prove her notions true then perhaps... she would attempt to salvage and consolidate the fragments of her ruined life. The idea of someone bringing her to safety was reprehensible. That would be another wind driving her tumbleweed of a life. Her buoyant life would shiver at the slightest breeze.

Something deracinated willy-nilly was worthless. The world ranked people by achievement; therefore, if she achieved something, then she possessed something to give or, in other words, had worth.

Her dreams yet lived. Aisha and her band used bring in souvenirs from various towns and cities in the world that revitalized her hope; however, it didn't alter the fact that she was an animal trapped in a cage, waiting for its captors to butcher it into a fine feast.

Her vile goddess had gone to great lengths to ensure her hands and feet were tethered to her mithril cage, even taking away her sisters. Ishtar ordered them to minimize their interactions, and both parties immediately felt the damage.

Soul-crushing loneliness. Her heart's bastions shivered, but they loomed over the contrived goddess' ploys.

Her nightmare drifted idly until a hint of excitement jumped to her eyes from a divine mirror. The familia's executives had a meeting, and the goddess' senses alerted her to her kind's use of arcanum. With no time to dismiss her subordinates, the goddess of love peered into what numerable gods were viewing.

Storms shook the city, and stars oathbound by the heavens were on earth. Pyres of flames and a blade of hell's embers. A holy sword. Azure flames of sanctity. Haunting semblances of diabolism. Breaths of chaos. It was as if multiple fairy tales were performed one after the other; they were destitute of transitions.

The actions of the sole adventurer facing a dragon seemed contrived by art – the monster would have given her trouble, and he was two levels her junior!

His lightning and form ensconced her eyes; they held her spellbound, and her heart's literary wings left her fantasy's realms .

A childish squeal saturated with excitement escaped her lips when he compacted his resolve and uprooted a cross spear from piles of weighty debris. (AN: Wasn't it a glaive? Answer: good question). His resolve emboldened itself with a flame hungering for victory.

The lingering lightning clouds responded and became a full-blown storm when the polearm reached the peak of its ascension – she saw white roses dancing around rivulets of white ash – knocking the beast back. Asking anyone if it was Astonishing, whether a seasoned warrior or novice, the answer would be a bold, yes!

The boy was serene, even while on the cusp of death. The tides of battle were like a raging river; it was easy to get swept away by the ever-changing currents – hesitation was defeat. He had every reason to hesitate because of fear and uncertainty: the monster's physical attributes were level 3, and it possessed features that dramatically escalated its base threat if one was unprepared – which he was.

He came out on top. He did not use the forces of nature – he was a force of nature given human form—level one but stronger than a Level three, battle experience and ingenuity-wise. Hesitation was defeat, but what effect could hesitation possibly have on him? Ever-changing tides? He was the tides, the ever-changing storm – he touched the hearts of the crowds by being one among them. He was also stellar, draconic, divine, demonic, and holy – he was not of their realm, so he could answer their prayers.

He was a hero.

A few days after the incident, a group claiming to be the vestiges of Evilus goadingly announced their authority over the new species. Their smugness blindly sprinted to a wall when the aforementioned hero appeared, defeated them, and unrooted their associates.

The threat, with the addition of rumors of Rakia, who had annexed a nearby powerhouse of a country recently, preparing to invade Orario again, the group's wild claims caused great unrest.

If one strolled the streets of Orario, they would notice population group deficits. Despite the city's medical superiority, there were scarcely any elderly people, and the number of registered adults was less than in previous centuries. The city also had a shocking number of recorded recovering alcoholics and drug addicts.

Flames. Corpses. Rubble. The period of the Evils had passed, and the streets were speckless, but people would flinch at the mere sight of discolored wood. It was strange to see common folk displaying attentiveness whose only place was the dungeon's deep floors when they saw a pebble out of place and/or other paltry things, but Orario's history granted understanding.

The age of the Evil, while truncated in comparison to other wars, was so awful that people felt time being lengthened tenfold. Stroll anywhere in Orario's bounds, and an obsessive cleanliness would confront you. Efforts to forget included this action, but all that was different just a few years ago.

A garden of flowers surrounded by cafes radiating soothing music from minstrels was framed differently during that period. Orarians could still see them – entrails draped over windows located in the middle of the road, their loved ones piked from anus to mouth, and even rivers blackened from congealed, rotten, blighted blood streaming and festering in cracks of their beloved pavements.

The macabre show of cruelty haunted the minds of every citizen present. It was a wonder how the hatred and suffering did not spawn demons. Orario prevailed, but the scars of the Evils remained; the group whose agents could be anyone in the lives of many.

The announcement of their return had torn off the populus' scabs and then rubbed salt and peppers into their wounds. Top Familias, at times, took too long to mobilize; because of that, many were lost to the hands of death – they couldn't be relied on.

To counter civil unrest, the Guild initiated a campaign – to the dismay of a certain prum – that made it look like eight people would subvert the Age of Gods for the Age of Heros – no Hero can exist in the Age of Gods. The fever welled to the point of rumors that some were the reincarnations of legends long passed.

They were not the Boaz guarding the tower or danseuse of swords living in a flaming castle nor the Prum wielding a spear of gold. These eight were different and exceptional, each far stronger than their level suggested and typically operated on their own; they could mobilize at a moment's notice. They were named the Octagram.

It had been two weeks since the events of East Main Daedalus, so the craze was at an all-time high. The Guild, recognizing the wave, decided to surf it and brought the newest star to their group.

Despite none of the Octagram's members being first-class adventurers, they matched or exceeded their level-up seniors in popularity with their potential alone.

Lion Knight Ornstein, the Dragonslayer. Like his namesake, he slew countless dragons and repelled one of the four dragon lords, eclipse dragon Apophis with the help of his divine beast familiar. He was a golden hero who liberated numerous territories from the fear of drakes and their spawn.

Digression, the four dragon lords are;

Eclipse Dragon Lord Apophis

Diabloism Dragon Lord Azi Dahaka

Crescent Circle Dragon Lord Crom Cruach

Abyss Dragon Lord Kalameet

Hank. J Wimbleton, Tartarus. A man known for taking down one of the world's most established criminal syndicates after he nearly killed Riveria Ljos Alf, she was a victim of false accusations.

Sanford Dytis, Beowulf. He dragged a galleon out of a storm before killing a great monster said to have descended from Leviathan. He also assisted Hank in nearly assassinating the elven princess.

Hawk eye Deimos, Robinhood. A man who freed numerous territories from the rule of dictators and defeated multiple dragons alongside Ornstein, Hank, and Sanford. He was one of the key players in Riveria's near-death experience and the fall of the crime syndicate.'

Genichiro Ashina, Sword Saint. He mastered all forms of Eastern combat and slew a monster thought to have been killed by Isshin Ashina, his ancestor, before sending its scion after it.

The mortal god of light and victory and the Golden Warlord Abel, Bahrān. A monstrous specimen who wiped out a horde of demons capable of giving a state with significant military might exponential losses. He also terraformed a territory on his own within four months.

Smough, The Executioner. A bounty hunter who is typically seen working alongside Ornstein. Individuals in his portfolio include great villains; however, his great fame is due to his work with Ornstein.

The last was her favorite, just like a countless number of people in Orario and around the world. Everyone witnessed the raging battle between the lightning dragon and the adventurer in black. As a highly experienced adventurer, she was vigilant of how close he was to death with each elapsing second of the battle. While well-timed, his dodges were slow and ended up with him being scored and filleted like meat, but he pulled through.

The situation's resolution was a tall order for anyone below level 4, but he did it at level 1. He was someone who blurred the line between fiction and reality.

A sword of stars and a sword of fire. An azure sword wielding holy and heavenly power. A staff bearing the lore of calamity and many other weapons scattered across the battlefield were dexterously wielded to the nth degree. Each was his regalia.

She wanted to be like that, capable of overcoming what felt impossible so she could save her life. Her beautiful mother did not labor to birth a cabbage, after all.

He was her favorite. A nameless hero whose formerly questionable existence could only be validated by grey, desert cosplaying dungeon hallways and rooms. There would be so much ash that a prum would sink to their calves if they carelessly walked across a room he was in.

The Super Rookie was commonly known as the Fell Omen – Fell God of the Darkmoon in Daedalus. The monsters that faced him were felled, revealing their destiny to be death. His hands brooked no quarter, and his opponents, without fail, would fall. That is why he was known as the Fell.

One could imagine her surprise when the now popular Nameless strode into her quarters. While it was nigh impossible to sense him, it was easy to sense the power of the cane he held in his hand.

It resembled the black and silver catalyst he wielded after his bout with the dragon, except the serpent wrapping around the shaft had sunk into the ebony shaft to become engraved embroidery. The ensconced, ivory magic crystal was shaped like the handle of a cane.

To match the cane's theme, his cloak had transformed into a black form-fitting, knee-length, woolen trench coat, granting his striking figure a noble's air. Under said coat was a brown waistcoat with three golden buckles whose shared reach stopped below his heart.

There was another belt. It was worn diagonally like a sash and was made from leather, just like the leather boots harboring the hem of his black pants. Black gloves were on his hands – his left had silver embroidery to represent the moon while his right had golden embroidery.

Obfuscating his snow-white spikes of hair was a black tricorne worn to raggedy feathers at the back, and doing the same to his face was one of his most iconic possessions besides the seemingly sentient cloak, the ivory mask. His outfit seemed out of place in Orario as it was a cross between noble and adventurer attire.

Even her illusionary self's breath hitched at the sight of him. Thousands of thoughts jumbled in her head, making it difficult for her to know what to think.

"I-I have been awaiting your arrival with great anticipation, master."

"Mmm," he responded blasely, displacing his tricorne to a nearby hat stand, revealing spiky, trimmed white hair. Observing the Eastern theme of the room, he slid his feet out of his boots and left his socks within by scrapping them off with his heels.

The girl who had called out to him knelt on the other side of vertical, rectangular panels- shoji. They were not limited to just being thresholds but were also capable of redefining a room's spaces. Several green tatami mats were stretched across the floor, prompting him to gaze upon his feet to ensure cleanliness.

He knew from experience that the mats were a pain to clean, and just because he wouldn't have to clean them didn't mean he wanted to trouble employees unnecessarily.

His addressor was a gorgeous young woman who rivaled or exceeded Syr Flover in beauty. Her long, golden hair's shimmer bobbed back n forth when she perfectly executed a dogeza. It was a move where her dainty hands were placed on the floor in front of her, slanted inwards and forming a triangle before her head was lowered in a servile fashion.

A long golden tail, matching the vulpine ears on her head, emerged from her tailbone.

"Oh dear, she is more attractive than Antianiera described. Very well, I will carry on as agreed," he thought before commanding the staff of sealed sins to return to storage; he had read his second grimoire. Naruto's foot paused mid-air, noticing a peculiarity. The lag in his steps went unnoticed by the renard who began leading him towards-

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! BZZZTTT!

Sparks blossomed like fireworks on new year's eve. The reticent room was suddenly deluged with the echoes of thousands of whips and sawing clings. The renard he followed popped into golden particles and faded to the aether, and an invisible assailant stormed at him when he reached out to them.

"An illusion. So this is Tamamo-no-Mae no… The Gentle Blade. How fitting," he thought as he airily tracked her even when she surreptitiously employed guerilla tactics. For her blade to be invisible, she had to surround it with her illusionary magic. This fact allowed him to tell where she would attack from.

Genos Valum, at its maximum capacity, barely allowed him to match her eye-twisting speed. Naruto ducked, weaved, and twisted before parrying, deflecting, and repelling air-howling attacks. Her attacks were incredible; their weight was more than enough to blast him a few stories down should he block; he was forced to make it a point to avoid or redirect.

Her blade control outclassed a violinist who had mastered intonation, and this factor, combined with the weight of her attacks, made for a particularly fierce opponent. If it were anyone else being attacked, they would have been on the floor choking on their blood.

He could feel wind on his neck as he barely squeezed away from her blade's path. Thoughtlessly, his sword flew to his free hand and lashed out to blindside her while he palmed the flat of her blade. As he expected, she fled to the side and poked at him.

Her fluid motions drew incisions to now vacant pockets of air and levied caution born from her silver flashes' company; streaks of navy blue.

His instincts throbbed at the powerful warrior's stimulating interactions with his body and blade. One of the finest warriors he'd ever faced pressed every advantage conceivable and denied him blood time and time again with her unerring blade work.

"Excellent! Let's see how you handle this." If he were any other person, he would be grinning despite his forearms' numerous cuts and knicks. Ryūmon, reflecting its master's mood, converted its streaks into haze-like auras.

His blade suddenly cascaded dozens of times, drawing showers of burning meteors before springing up into wells of geyser-like strikes. His body perpetuated the ramping impact of swords, twisting and flowing with dance-like movements.

Light hops on his right leg were passed to his left. He ducked and spun as if he were prancing on the clouds, baiting her into attacking by giving her his back before redirecting her sharp cleaves in a showy fashion.

He skipped forward and delivered two diagonal cuts – a cross, then retreated. She kept the pressure.

Naruto leaned and ducked away from a gorgeous cruciform cut moving at the blink of an eye before dropping a savage overhead strike on now vacant air, leaving a bluish-black mist. She approached from his flank and sheathed her blade – an illusion Naruto saw through.

He weathered a flurry of cuts.

The electrical magic that wreathed the surface of his body churned, and jerk-like deflections whirled into counterattacks.

The pair were locked in a rhythm, plucking trills with sailing cuts and forthright pokes. The Fell, however, had no rhythm, or rather… it was broken. Their notes could not alternate because of this, disposing of the girl's templates and forcing the rapid gestation of new ones.

Her blade buzzed hundreds of sparks but found no purchase, and despite her experience, the hackneyed sensation of iron-on-iron became familiar. Her desperation seethed like boiling water and plumped itself like well-fed yeast.

A dagger manifested in his free hand, and it was waved, then two swords were flailed before a rounding slam from a hammer nearly blasted the shirasaya from her hands – he repeatedly switched out his freehand's weapons. Each move he made raked cascades of sparks, orange and fiery, contrasting with jagged lines of lightning racing over his body.

His blade stuck to hers repeatedly, forcing her attempt to choose whether or not she should resort to hand-to-hand combat; Naruto never gave her that grace. He maintained the aggressive attack style he was famous/infamous for – he was challenged to many duels.

His smith created the cloth he wore. In the smith's own words, if Naruto received an injury and he counterattacked fast enough, he would regain, "rally", a fraction of his lost health. It was the enchanted fit for an enthusiastic attacker such as him. In addition, it reduced his need to rely on his self-regeneration, which Welf didn't know about.

His erratic aggression was what pestered the Gentle Blade.

Only a moment had passed, but they clashed dozens of times with no clear victor presented.

The black, somewhat translucent, double-edged katana – decorated with silver depictions of trees, a moon tsuba like a dragon's head, and more- released a cloud of black dust.

A whoosh alerted him to a shift in her body's velocity, and the slipstream directed the sword's dust to him. "She is good," he reminded himself, saturating the image of her frame in his mind's eye.

His aloft left hand wielding Ryūmon clenched, tightening its grip around the katana's hilt, heedless of the stardust that had settled into his cloak's fabric.

"Bastard's Stars."

The dark particles flared into a miniature nebula and unleashed dozens of small, bubble-like explosions that drenched the room in shades of blue, pink, purple, and white. The force shifted the tatami mats below and buffeted the girl's body into a perpetual and blurry floor and blurry ceiling transition.

She miraculously did not hit any furniture or damage the mats during her tumble.

Haruhime's green eyes were wet with tears as she gazed up at the teenager who had managed to defeat her. Naruto made no move to approach her; instead, he willed his storm regalia to fade while he sent Ryūmon back to storage.

Her shirasaya had been embedded in a nearby wall, and she had no way of getting to it.

"I-I."

"Do not fret." Interrupting her, Naruto raised a hand. "I will not engage in intercourse if my partner does not desire it, even if she is a prostitute." He reminisced a moment in his past when his grandfather decided to give him the talk… even if he knew all about sex since age 4.

While perverted, the old man always insisted that while the act of sexual intercourse felt great, its purpose would die when one of the participants was unwilling because, like it or not, sex is a level of connection. If both partners enjoyed themselves, it would be a blast, and no regrets would be had. Naruto agreed.

He found Ishtar's machinations reprehensible and wanted nothing more than to tear down the slave ring she had that no one could prove, but making her feel good made him feel good, and her making him feel good made her feel great and made him feel great, and so on.

It was quite an experience. Would he repeat it? No! Even if it was a mission, it did not change his act of infidelity. He may have warned his girlfriend and gained her approval, but that did nothing to abate the guilt.

If someone tried banging Ais, he wouldn't hesitate to kill them. Ais, like him and anyone else, had feelings, so jealousy and anxiety would affect her as they did him. Naruto didn't like the squeezing sensation in his heart when he thought about the next time they'd see each other face to face.

-Naru, I need to have sex with this guy; it's for a mission. I promise my heart only belongs to you.

Or a certain grey-haired vixen who had taken the role of his therapist and, by her own words, "Harem manager."

-Hey Naru. You know that mission I am helping Ryu with? I gotta have sex with this guy and-

His astute marking of his hypocrisy nearly enticed him to lash out at random, innocent objects and people. He hated to admit it, but he really liked Syr. Having a crush on someone while in a relationship was supposedly normal, but he couldn't classify it as a crush due to the intensity and familiarity he felt.

He wanted to take both of them, not before taping the mouth of one shut and just relax beside them. Peaceful sleep was impossible, for his body cursed his mind with horrific nightmares that would bring him to tears and on the edge of madness with each experience, but relaxing with them, especially with one of them's mouth shut, was extremely appealing.

"Fleeting hours for my pleasure and comfort while they have the potential to suffer for the rest of their lives… I hate this. I-" Naruto placed a bucket over his more intimate thoughts and shoved it to the back of his mind.

"Cease your anxieties. You have other duties to attend to," he coldly chided himself before moving.

Behaving like he had not just been attacked, Naruto conducted a seiza and faced the downed woman in a gorgeous, crimson kimono.

"O-oh. My deepest apologies, that was very unprofessional of me," she flew into a dogeza, forcing her forehead into the ground.

"Nay. The fault is mine, considering I reached to touch you instead of questioning your reason for using an illusion. It is a lark on how I missed the incense with aphrodisiac and hallucinogenic qualities. I reckon this increases the effectiveness of your illusions," Naruto's eyes darted across the room, bringing home every possible detail.

"Nay, I rescind my statement; it is not a lark; they are well hidden, and the scent this palace uses has been scattered strat- ah, I apologize it would seem I have upset you," Naruto said, being quick notice each word that left his mouth landed and weighed on her brow, tail and ears.

Silence reigned until the renard mustered up the will to speak. "I apologize," she repeatedly weakly, averting her eyes and reaching her shivering arm to undo her kimono's obi. "I will accept any punishment you deem necessa-"

Thud!

She jerked her hand back, in time to eschew a projectile she identified it as a chopstick's trajectory. Mouth open and brows furrowed, the renard peered into his lax yet unflinching gaze. His eyes were beautiful, bringing the question of why he usually had them shut. Him showing her his eyes flipped a switch in her heart, galvanizing her being to twitch to action.

"Make us tea." Naruto allowed for one of his fickle desires to be known to her.

"Tea?" The courtesan repeated, almost quirking a brow at the demand.

"Yes."

"Don't you want to-"

"Yes, but no... I will not have sex with an unwilling partner. I did not come here to waste my time, so I will have to settle for the next best thing." Naruto held a sigh, and the air's weight pulled his eyes from her frame. Discussing his feeling was tedious, but the fact he could do it with a stranger was an excellence on Syr's part.

-You are a prickly cat not used to attention.

"Admittedly, up until recently, I have been socially avoidant; still, due to continuous exposure to new friends and allies these past few weeks, I have found that sitting down with someone every now and then is… magnificent," Naruto explained while leaving his seiza and relocating to a nearby table.

"B-but… The money and the refund poli-"

"I can make back that money in time 'Plus, I didn't spend any money'. Time, however, is something I will never get back. So much to do, such little time to live, and my little time will not be wasted on guilt." Cutting her off, Naruto politely and adamantly refused.

"O-oh, I see." Her dainty fingers met their counterpart's digits as she worked to unfix her gaze from the lime tatami mats. A breath of air left her lips with a short, weak, warm gust before her legs hoisted her body up to perform the demanded service.

Her heart's tremoring disunited from perpetual uncertainty and vulnerability; one side was disposed to being grateful while the other was trapped in a cold night teeming with lupines and panthers. Contrition reared its ugly head despite his assurance.

With practiced strides, she traversed the room and collected the necessary tools for tea while harbouring a troubled expression on her face. His form, like a dark apparition, lingered strongly in her peripherals. This time she was fully prepared not to resist when he inevitably pounced.

Nothing, he just stared at a nearby, neatly stacked pile of books, magazines, and new papers.

Deracinating her mind's focus, the shivering, young renard turned her back to him before suddenly relapsing to her anxieties and wheeling her head. She did it like she was hastily unlocking a complex door while giving her back to a tiger – tigers rarely attack prey looking at them.

Nothing again. The courtesan couldn't tell from her standing angle, but a magazine was in his hands. A barely audible utterance left her lips before she went back to work. "He understands Eastern etiquette so much it makes one question his background," Haruhime pondered, allotting a moment to get a read on him.

His mask, tendencies, and personality befuddled people's perception of him.

"What kind of tea does he want? I should ask… But," she passed the kneeling masked adventurer a cursory glance which blurred suddenly from her head's shift, advancing her eyes to her hand.

The teapot had overflowed, drenching her hand with seething water, dragging out a frown – it didn't hurt because of her falna. Her displeasure sourced its presence from her hands and their incessant shivering.

The girl veiled her eyes with darkness and pressed her teeth before unconsciously abandoning the inquiry. She went for a more traditional choice, sencha. He wasn't specific and seemed to be a doormat.

The fallen heiress allowed herself a moment; the shaking in her hands was settling. Attacking him was a horrible reaction; adding her spilling tea on him would escalate the tensions distinct to her. Haruhime was at a loss on addressing her behaviour because that had never happened before.

The urge had always been present, but she always nibbled on her tongue and lip till the conclusion. She later got her magic, Genshou no Dendou, which she was quick to master and use to escape the clutches of her forced duties.

Every time they reached for her body, their limbs suddenly became prum-sized, causing her immense distress. Even if her client was cordial and respectful, she couldn't help but loathe them because of a single experience.

The resentment she harbored was too vast; it eviscerated the little devil's body and flooded the masculine world. She knew more than anyone how unfair it was to people who had nothing to do with her suffering, but the heart was slow to learn.

Haruhime built barriers to border it and her life, but scars, like cement, had set. She hadn't had any form of contact with men outside of work. Men who had nothing to do with her experience were hated simply because they were men, and Haruhime loathed that aspect of herself.

"Why didn't he kill me when I was in the phase of regaining clarity? Why is he pretending like I didn't almost kill him? My back was turned to him, and I can't sense him. He could have easily…" Her mind used previous occurrences to emulate fate's machinations, and produced simulations of what she believed should have happened. None of those happened. The hero admitted he harbored lust for her but did not act on it. It was… strange.

The concentration camp she attended hammered in the "correct" and most optimal reactions into her mind and body. Like a muscle unused, her training lapsed and failed to stop her from lashing out. The surprise from being caught despite her masterful craft, threats of her being reported and then punished, and her trauma stymied logic. This was why she was tormented by contrition.

The room was devoid of sound sans the turning of a magazine and the whistling magic stone kettle. The one allotted to the room was fairly dated, making it the reason it took long for the high-pitched wheeze to die.

Haruhime directed her eyes at him and watched him like a "warp into a violent monster" timer was above his head.

?hrs:?mins:?secs

Nothing.

Just like in the past few minutes, he didn't spare her a single glance; instead, he vested in a day – old magazine delivered to her quarters. Though she couldn't see it – mask and emotional restraint that extended to his body – she felt something was subject to his displeasure.

A step back revealed that he had come across a page of himself. With the orientation of his eyes, it was easy to figure out he was looking at his popularity ranking in various categories.

First place in "Marry early to get rich later."

First place on "Most promising futures list."

First place on "Adventurers to sponsor."

First place on "Hottest gothic-themed adventurers."

Twenty-second "Place on people not to mess with."

First place "On adventurer outfits to cosplay." "Seriously people, why do this to me? Y'all don't even try to cosplay Ais! Stop stealing my style!" He suppressed groans from memories of weirdos walking around in masks and black cloaks. It made him harder to spot, sure, but for some reason, he felt like something had been stolen from him… And it made him think back to a section of a nightmare he once had featuring two men in hideous, green jumpsuits.

The stupid, obsequious Guild made things that much more difficult for him, acting as his hypemen.

"Money is welcome, fame is not." Naruto's aloof features contorted to a grimace. The days following his victory against the black dragon had become those of annoyance. Antecedent to the monsterphilia, people generally left him alone, but now he was subjected to all sorts of harassment.

People challenged him to duels, thousands of mini hims spawned like roaches, and an unbelievable amount of letters were delivered to his annoying advisor, who would annoy him even more with her incessant bleating.

Amazons… children and aspiring mages and solo adventurers. The latter pair was more tolerable because some posed questions that were worth his time. Typically unsympathetic and anti-social, he deigned. He was the one who wrote a guide on magic and equipment for the Guild's new syllabus for new adventurers, so he didn't mind addressing concerns and inquiries now and again.

It was natural for them to have questions, so he could not fault them. Besides, they were the community that came up with the theory that he always keeps his magic pre-cast- in the form of clouds which he would presumably obfuscate with his clothes- which is how he could always summon lightning without chanting.

How else was he supposed to deal with fans and enemies, some a level or two higher than him, quickly without it? It was his own excellence in obfuscation, but he was thankful to them for insisting his magic was always pre-cast to skeptics. With this in mind, he didn't mind giving back to the community from time to time.

Besides, the idea of a Guild employee teaching magic, even with regurgitation, was inherently disastrous, but Naruto liked to think that he was exceptionally clear in his guide. For damage control, just in case, he took it upon himself to answer any potentially dangerous inquiries – he could answer anything, for he was an uncertified scholar; he didn't go to school.

The headache with adventurers was most couldn't read, but aspiring mages tended to be able to, if only a little. Orario was nurturing potential powerhouses, and they recently fortified their efforts as if spurred by something.

"I have become soft," he thought, nuzzling memories of his dear's echoes. Being with – romantically - the Sword Princess was unlike anything he ever had or thought he would have apprehended, even the kickoff left his porcelain skin a shade of pink.

They couldn't meet each other on account of their responsibilities, her mountain of duties as an executive of Loki familia, and his own as a hero, but they still spoke over pen and paper. They utilized one of Naruto's most trusted middlemen.

"Thank you," he muttered, eyes still fixatedly reflecting the publication's images. The fox-eared demi-human incepted his fingers wrapping around a porcelain cup. A light splash was consort to bubbling and pittering sounds, and an ivory, translucent cloud unfurled. Unconcerned about poison and drugs, he took a sip.

"Mmmm." This meaningless sound expressed his satisfaction with the tea's taste.

Drugs and poisons were generally useless against him because of his immune system. In addition to that, a panacea he had taken prior substantially bolstered his body's defenses. The panacea's sourcing from his body caused its effects to elongate when working with the body's defenses. No place better than home, right?

Why would he use a resource as valuable as the panacea? Underground research on the rotten goddess revealed her knowledge of Freya's affability and affection? – the regal goddess went to great lengths to protect him from repercussions from the Guild and many establishments. They disputed him because of the hundreds of millions in damage he caused. Whoops?

Digression aside, Ishtar would kidnap people if they were interesting enough or if they were close to her arch nemesis and vulnerable.

During their copulation, she drugged him a dozen or more times before sending her Berbera after him. They were defeated in an altercation that destroyed a portion of the Amazonian palace.

After their loss, the only – and one of the survivors- conscious amazon offered him an accord he couldn't refuse.

There were multiple reasons why Naruto was a character of interest besides his acquaintance with Freya familia. Information about him was in exceptionally high demand in Orario and worldwide. He knew he would become a golden carrot to the warmongering pig if he used one of the tickets his grandfather left in the journal.

Scarce couldn't describe their rarity. The power they granted was so great they allowed filth-covered beggars to demand a night with the dark-skinned goddess of beauty – and her refusal had to be of good reason. Naruto chose this night because Androctonus and the Telyskyuran amazon twins and a number of high-level adventurers were absent thanks to one of his Council of Cock colleagues.

Antianiera's accord was to visit the renard sat before him and stave off any potential lonely-somberness. In exchange, possession of an item of interest was passed to him and promises of a facsimile Ishtar ledger, a list of some companies and persons under Ishtar's finger, and more. The item of interest, to be plain, was a Daedalus eye.

Noting that her rump was on her heels, Naruto carefully raised the magazine in hand to prevent her from seeing him drink his tea; weird shit happened every time someone looked at him, consuming something. The events were so ridiculous that his grandfather once joked he would summon an entity known as "Truck-kun".

Naruto didn't know who or what Truck-kun was as his grandfather refused to explain, only saying that even Albert the great would get slaughtered by it. Something that dangerous had no place in the world, even if he was sure it was a meme.

To assist him in training to network with gods, his grandfather taught him about pictures with captions called memes. He was told of fairy tales of people making fools of themselves and their peers making fun of them for it. He found memes very strange but loved them, especially a certain anthropomorphic frog.

His peculiar affection for the media was simple; they humanized him. Naruto didn't need to eat or sleep, and a core part of human nature is convening to overcome threats. For example, one of the aforementioned dangers was hunger; because his hunger was non-existent, part of his humanity was taken from him.

Losing himself to stupidly drown pictures with equally stupid captions was great because he seldom laughed or smiled. They pointed out the light grey on his white canvas – it was hard to see, but was there–which was critical to his socialization. Memes were one of the best gifts his grandfather gave him.

Haruhime and the Fell Omen sat silently, dredging pops of green goodness from their mouths to their throats. The act stamped down thinking – negative connotations were suppressed – cleansing the atmosphere and emboldening the room's Eastern theme.

"This… This is familiar," Haruhime thought, recalling moments in her childhood when her father would have so much work he'd be forced to do it at the table during meal times then one of her mothers would brew him some tea. With his baggy eyes, he'd look to them affectionately and thank them, to which they do the same.

The little girl, then, mimicked her guardians, tea and all, and tripped. The tea she brewed ruined hours worth of work but he didn't anger; he laughed instead and did his best to comfort her.

The scene was similar to a family table without children nagging their father away from the newspaper.

When her cheeks twitched upwards, her eyes followed with a closure that dragged her neck back into a retroflexed crane, easing in the comforting scent of sencha. Pervasion advanced further than she thought, so a lone eye abandoned the dark then landed on the moon-haired adventurer. In accordance with time's regenerative maxim, she saw the crinkle on his brow gone and unostrusive aura about him immaculate.

His carefree attitude was infectious, and she found herself relaxing. It was… nice.

A few moments passed, with the two occasionally pouring each other more tea in silence until the sorceress spoke up.

"Why?"

Naruto lowered his magazine to allow his azure eyes to peer into her green ones

"You are not angry with me. Why? I attacked you with the intent to kill, yet you are not angry or cautious. Why sir, Fell?"

Naruto's eyelids smacked against each other, and his throat lurched to suppress the influx of air forced out his lungs by his heart. "Combat… is a conversation. A conversation… is the exchange of views, ideas and information. When one side is… ignorant, there cannot be sensible talk. Therefore, they get dealt with quickly. When you attacked me, you were…umm… hysterical? But you still gave enough information to get the point you don't dislike me; it was a case of… misguided self-defense?" he responded haltingly, betraying a mite of commiseration – his tone of speech was notorious for its lack of character.

Haruhime's hand darted to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide from his answer. Appropriate words were a needle in a haystack, rendering her lips into a state of unreadable automation like a suffocating fish. Not wanting to make a fool of herself any longer, not that he cared, she closed her mouth and attempted to lock an unaffected expression that was betrayed by random facial twitches.

"You are most kind, sir," she said, lowering her head from genuine gratitude. Worries of the whip so to speak, not her were hurled into a gutter with toads.

Haruhime locked eyes with him expectantly, only for him to raise the magazine and take another sip.

"There he goes again," she wordlessly concluded with a slight shrug, eyes narrowing in bemusement.

"…" Naruto went back to paging through the magazine and drifting over its paragraph.

"May I ask you something?" she called out after another moment of quietude.

"?" He looked at her with a tilted head.

"Do you know how to pronounce this word?" she shyly asked while tentatively turning over the novel she, at some point, picked up to read. Naruto leaned forward and followed her finger, then a wry smile made it's way over his face in recollection of the time Jake met his current girlfriend. Naruto approved of the girl because she was a sweetheart even if she… weird.

"Ah, I told this story two weeks ago, didn't I?" He snorted internally.

"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch," he answered succinctly.

"Excuse me?" The accent suppressed by trained shattered its bounds.

"Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch." Hearing the same thing from Naruto's mouth happened once every blue moon. The sole reason he deigned was sympathy – he had been thrown off the first, second, third, fourth, you get the idea, time.

"… That's. Llain-fair-pwwi-pwllgwyngsafs$ $ #e- n-nani?" Her mother tongue slipped out, painting the faintest of pinks on her cheeks.

"It's Dwarvish. Caution, mispronouncing it might summon Cthulhu," he warned dryly, causing her to lurch back with her eyes threatening to jump out of their sockets and mouth opened to a silent, "wow." People familiar with fairy tales were sparse, and those with Lovecraftian horror even more.

"Hmmm. No, I am sure it is Dagon I'll summon. This sounds silly, but I think the Dwarven language may be a cover-up. I suspect they are all some alcoholic cultists in disguise. Even their sheep. No… Especially their sheep," she said, attempting to match his joke while probing him.

"I'm pretty sure you mean the goats, young miss." A memory of a Dwarvish goat munching on a virulent snake-like gum before slurping it as he did with ramen caused him to shiver.

Haruhime felt she could have a meaningful conversation with him if she tried as she, for the first time in a while, recognized someone as a person before a man. She decided the best approach for her was to talk about something she was familiar and comfortable with, fairy tales and folklore.

"Hey, at least Dagon isn't as half bad as Cthulhu. I once mispronounced Taumata-whakatangihanga-koauau o tamatea turi pukaka piki maunga horo nuku pokai whenua ki tana tahu, and then Yog-Sothoth came to me asking what I wanted to know. I asked what Bobama's last name was, and granted Yog-Sothoth did. Now I know what it is, but that knowledge has driven me insane," he replied smoothly before lifting the magazine and taking another sip of his tea.

"Pfftttt." Haruhime quickly covered her mouth to rampart against the laugh charging from her mouth. The bland tone in which he spoke made the joke multiple times better. Feeling great, Haruhime didn't want the feeling to disappear. "P-please, let me know his last name," she requested with a quivering smile.

"You risk your sanity."

"Please," she repeated, leaning in while the ears on her head twitched- she had human ears- and her tail wagged.

"Very well, foolish woman; you have been warned. His last name is Mikeala Bobama's husband, but some pronounce it as former Altena resident," he replied casually, causing a cacophony of chortling chuckles to escape her lips.

"O-oh dear, it would seem I worried for nothing. Strange… I have the urge to put pineapples on pizza."

"There's no saving you now. Not even I'm that far gone, and you are speaking to a teenager who enjoys avocados and wheat biscuits coated with chocolate and peppers. I thought I was crazy but you just walked into my mind and slapped my ignorant face with the Council of Cock's Moby Huge 3 Foot Super dildo before rubbing it all over my face to sink in that musky smell of cock and balls. It feels like you hit me with a pick-up line as cringe as,'hey baby, are you spaghetti because I want you to meat my balls' before harpooning that thing's triple-basket ball-sized nutsack at my face."

Haruhime desperately held in a laugh and choked out, "w-w-why would I have somethiiinng like that?" she wheezed out.

"Dunno. Your crackhead sisters practically worship that fiend of yours. Entering her room met me with a harrowing discovery; a forest of sex toys. How the fuck can one person have that many dildos? It's like she is trypophobic staring at cheese and trying to uh… using dildos to stuff holes must satisfy her or something. I was afraid to ask, so I concluded you and your familia offer them to her. With how wild and idiotic some of your colleagues are, I am pretty sure they say something like '1 dildo makes lady Ishtar's day, but one Moby Huge makes her hole weak.'" Naruto said, ending with a perfect imitation of one of the Berbera he fought.

While suppressing tears from sliding out of her eyes and simultaneously struggling to maintain her composure as a lady, Haruhime made the mistake of looking at Naruto right as he lifted the cup to his mask.

A salt shaker somehow ended up falling off a shelf. It somehow ricocheted off dozens of objects, forcing a surprised squeal out of Haruhime's mouth that immediately unleashed the geyser of suppressed laughter.

As she lost herself to amusement, salt dissolved into the steaming concoction. Her tea was beyond saving.

"This is why in every article about him, it is insisted that you never look at him while he eats," she thought, finally managing to suppress her giggling fit.

"My apologies; I erred in my rhythm," Naruto said, faulting himself for moving the cup before the magazine. "No, it's quite alright," Haruhime replied politely before moving to deposit her cup's contents.

"Allow me to amend my fallacy," he said before. The gentle, pink nightlights illuminating the princess' quarters suddenly met company in the form of a glorious shade of blue; there was no adversity between the pair. The soft echoes of wind chimes lilted as the azure, crystalline blade pulsed and radiated gossamer filaments.

As a snow globe would hold snow, the crystal blade held the blue sky and the lore therein. Stars, faith, hopes and blessing were the principles representing the sword of guiding light, Claiomh Solais.

Paying her captured expression no mind, Naruto activated one of the sword's most useful abilities before gently waving it over the renard's cup like a deacon would when blessing a chalice. The mentioned ability to remove corruption- pineapples on Hawaiian pizza count.

Satisfied, Naruto loosened his grip. In accordance to its master's will, the cosmic channeling blue light saltating the blade's dimensions divorced the room's pink luminescence. The golden double quillon withered to silver, and the blade became a plain yet pleasant grey with tapestries depicting bandage-like trees and buildings. (Think holy moonlight sword base form but with more clearly defined detail combined with Claiomh Solais' design).

Noticing her gaze falling onto the weapon, which could easily be passed off as a ceremonial sword, Naruto recalled a rare book he read a few months before his tenure as Hestia's captain.

"Indeed, this child does resemble Luminary Ludwig's holy moonlight sword," Naruto said, yanking her gaze back to him. The courtesan's eyes glazed over in a reserved type of glee, prompting Claiomh Solais to puff up wiggling, auric filaments briefly.

"Even you like her, hmmm?" Naruto's flicked a blink-length gaze at his regalia in amusement.

"Padre Ludwig… I never got to finish the story…" Her ears and tail drooped, recalling her mother reading that book to her a day before she left. It was the last she had seen of her parents. It was the end of summer.

"I have time," Naruto replied simply before looking at her quizzically. "You are unhappy?" he questioned in his ever unchanging bleached tone. "Fret not, my memory is more clear and smooth than the philosopher's stone," he stated before reaching his hand out to her shoulder before halting it when a sound invaded his ears.

The cup held in the girl's hand cracked.

"You are a hero are you not?" she whispered.

"… I… am," he replied slowly, not denying the reality. His existence had been branded with the mark of a hero, so even if he didn't believe it and denied it, it wouldn't matter. He was a political hero, one meant to keep the public at ease at the behest of the Guild. Political or not, a hero was a hero.

A hero was someone who brought change for the better through sacrifice. His quiet life was in Gahenna, resulting in a happier public. Sure, hero usually meant mass murderer – which he qualifies as – but the results spoke for themselves.

The crafty lot had Naruto go on a series of missions that ended with the extinction of dozens of monster nests outside of Orario, the termination of numerous irregulars terrorizing the 7th and 14th floors, and the proper documentation of the newly emerged monster rex on the 12th floor. And, of course dealing with random Evilus activity and ghosts at 3 am- Naruto understood the deities' jokes about the matter.

As one would imagine, the Guild kept records that were continuously fed to the hope-hungry public.

"Then… Why are you so kind to me? You are learned, are you not? Surely you have read many tales about prostitutes and heroes, have you not?" She almost shouted, forcing her eyes to face her knees, clenched by white fists decorated with see-through globes of liquid.

When talking to him, she felt like her mind had been a bolder's Atlas. Quivering muscles tentatively inched up the weight, but one breeze caused it to crash down. The seemingly random outburst was causal to her heart lurching and begging for her mouth to shut itself, but it could not.

Naruto, unsurprised, sipped on his tea.

"You understand, don't you? Your kindness is wasted on me, especially when all you get in return is the flames of hatred as someone of your status exchanging frivolities with a prostitute is unacceptable. There will be no consequences to you having your way with me and lea-"

Clink!

The soft sound of a teacup meeting a table could freeze a dragon. The tides gushing out of her heart ceased, for their existence was futile against one who did not need to heed the saying "hesitation is defeat".

"Is your profession my problem or yours?" He interjected coldly; the holy sword became a black staff with a silver snake coiled to its top. Despair in all its shades drifted out of the staff, suppressing a potential outburst so that her mind might return.

Rattled to silence, Haruhime was forced to delve into her thoughts. "He never once announced himself to be a great warrior; he always disappeared at chances of glory during his fledgling days as an adventurer. The Guild pushed the title of hero onto him, so he couldn't care less if he was hated."

"I-It's mine."

"Then why should I care? Mind you, the mantle of hero interests me none. The burdens of the self-righteous. The legacy of champions. Let them all fade to nothing. Their justice is the purloiner of my freedom and horizon; I will not have them sully my path. If my mantle as the hero of night and flame becomes lump, then it shall be felled," Naruto spoke with composure. He was savage yet dignified, young yet possessed boundless wisdom – he had the aura of a king.

Something about him enticed people like honey to bees.

"You remind me of my younger brother. You have no resemblance to him; surely, if he made it to your age, he would not sound like you, look like you, or even talk like you – he'd juxtapose you. A country bumpkin and a princess but… something in me just can't help but lump you lot," Naruto slowly opened his eyes, and the demonic staff of pandora morphed into the abyssal blade of night and flame; the bewitched dragon sword Ryūmon.

"My dearest deity, my beloved princess, my sweet fairy, and my bewitching valkyrie then... the odd one, you. Turning my back on you feels like turning my back on him; however, sentiments aside, it is a fact that you will become my enemy; therefore, it is within my and their best interests to kill you," Naruto stated, raising his katana and resting it on her shoulder.

Luna Ferbis Draco

The likeness of a cloudless night sky with a full moon usurped the pink magic stone lamps' luster. It was as if the light of the cosmos themselves had been forced into the blade.

The girl, relaxing her limbs, leaned on the blade, drawing a nick on the side of her neck. "Great hero, pray kill me? I am a threat because I will be used as a weapon. I am weak, and I cannot escape this hell."

"My legs are tied, and my wings are clipped, and I cannot even sing. I am at the mercy of a cruel goddess whose jealousy is more precious to her than the lives of all her children. I have magic that gives a boost in power equivalent to a level up, and I will be tossed into a ritual that will allow hundreds of people to be granted the benefits of my power."

"I do not wish to shame my family any longer. Not only did their beloved heiress, the one they tenderly raised, become a whore, but she enabled genocide, just like the nine-tailed witch, Tamamo-no-Mae," Haruhime ended slowly.

Her kimono suddenly tightened as a lump slowly grew above her tail. The obi on her gorgeous, Eastern dress strained before giving in.

"I have tried everything, but in the end, I was and forever will be powerless but you… are not. You have said it yourself, I am a great threat … I can't do anything, but you can." She lowered her head in acceptance of her fate. Her lilting voice died and replacing it was one as hoarse as a sled being dragged across a rocky desert.

Naruto, not outwardly showing any reaction, leaned in. "Have you tried talking? Have you tried asking for help? Just because you have failed doesn't mean you should relegate yourself to being a weakling, and just because you are strong doesn't mean you have to do it alone." Ryūmon's Luna Ferbis died into a shimmer of stars.

While all the people in his life influenced him to a certain degree, two prominent people were at play at that moment. The pair was his goddess and mother, Hestia, who always taught him to pass auspices along where possible, and his girlfriend, Ais Wallenstein, who taught him it's okay to rely on other people.

"I-" She tented her fingers and tittered unevenly. Words lodged themselves into her throat. She never actually tried asking anyone for help, even Aisha. All that happened was the amazon and the other tried to protect her on whims.

"No. No. No. I am weak and the weak are devoured by the strong." Like a broken record, Haruhime muttered through tears as the remainder of her dress left her body; her singular tail was joined by three others. Her pupils became slits; her fingernails elongated into claws while her canines lengthened into fangs.

"I-If I was strong, then I wouldn't be here!"

"A battle is a conversation. I heard your voice and comprehended its words despite insulation by hysteria. I, the Fell Omen, the hero of night and flame, saint of depths and walker of shadows or whatever people call me, heard you, and I am strong. Or are you saying I am weak?"

"No… No, I didn't-"

"Then how did you give me trouble? Is this an insult to me or…" Naruto peered at her emerald jewels, "tell me the answer to the equation." He brandished the cuts and scores and his sleeves.

"I… I am… stron- SNIFF!" Speaking those words was like introducing candy to aborigines. The redolence and taste were overwhelming at first but as they settled, her tongue unwinded. It was odd. Nevertheless, it was the correct answer, and a lie she told herself crumbled.

"Opposed to doing this, I am, but I will make an exception. Let's take this opportunity to talk. Haruhime-dono, tell me. What is it that troubles you? While I am unfit to be a hero, I am willing to lend you a hand to free yourself."

A blink of an eye felt like watching a pebble racing down a mount. The paroxysm left her defenseless, and she swam her watery gaze left and right as if seeking an escape.

Sophistry weaved an additional question, "Who or what hurt you to the point of this"

Blue mirrors of a future with a collapsing kingdom arrested and immobilized her absconding pupils. A shadow-veiled moon and abyss pitted -like a peach- sun glared at Hippolyta's legions. The august adventurer massaged her heart with such comfort she didn't register his Far Eastern speech.

And there was blue. Calm. The sky unfurled. Free. The blues gazed into her soul.

He opened his arms, and her mind crumbled.

"I was so scared-" she cut herself off and leaped at him, shoving her face into his chest. Speaking felt like bathing in the pools Thera, but her mind and heart had left her body.

"To defy the gods. To deny fate. To purloin destiny. To long for the dream. To surpass infinity. To take the throne of dawn. To usurp the throne of twilight," Naruto thought, reciting a fraction of the core parts of his way of life. His mouth opened, and his regalia shifted. (AN: I revamped Claoimh Solais' chant)

"In the name of all that is holy.

For the sake of all that can be blessed.

For the cessation of endless conflict.

For the lost and damned.

By your sacred decree and your master's law of absolution, I command thee to free that which cannot be unbound,"

Naruto slowly muttered as he held the girl in one arm and raised the other to receive the holy blade of guiding light. A prayer-like chant left his lips, and the power of his sword converted the secluded space into a place of religion.

Fueled by the pain cascading from the vulnerable demi-human's heart, Cliaomh Solais pulsed baleful white light as if roaring in indignation, cursing the monsters that had driven her into this corner. Then there was faith. She believed in its master, so it converted that power into a tool of cleansing.

"Those lords whose names beguile evil, they shalt be exterminated by our own golden blade."

"It was so painful. I didn't know what I did wrong, but I apologized, and he didn't sto-"

Her oration overlapped with his chanting and the humming of the stone-steel blade. The quillon shifted and became a shining silver as the blade's grey surface turned into a precious stone, azure in color, bearing the sky and the lore therein. The sky within the blade shifted then the room was bathed in rays of gold. Her heart churned, and the holy sword's power escalated.

Something within her shifted as if intimidated before lashing out but she stood her ground. She will not let this go on anymore.

"Awaken, o- venerable hand of heroes, chalice of champions and scourge of the wicked."

His voice twisted, spilling venom onto the deity his thoughts sublimely festered on. As the woman in arms spoke, he was fed ample fodder for contemplating the cruel whimsies of gods and the fortunes forced upon people.

"You who hast sworn against the abyss and journeyed the hell of a thousand nights."

The recitation of the next line stripped him of his thoughts, leaving his hearts indignation to reign.

Become their moonlight, holy blade of guiding light and

Become mine golden blade. Rend all which obfuscates justice.

Cliaomh Solais." The prayer-like chant ended, and the hero's blood in the blade billowed like fanned fire. Bolstered by the holy blade's sacred power, Naruto was instantly bludgeoned with a foul presence he failed to properly scale in power, even with his exceptional sensory abilities.

Locked in her embrace, Naruto brought his golden sword closer and closed his eyes.

"This is no fledgling curse." He reminded himself as difficulty was easy to forget if you could not experience it. Naruto was immune to the whiles of beautification found in certain deities. If he wanted the finest results he had to treat it like it was the worst he had ever experienced.

"And I need to ensure she doesn't fall back to square one." He instructed himself, imprinting his objective not only to his mind but to his heart. He swapped Sacred Blade for Ein Sephira. (AN: Claiomh Solais' balance breakers if you will. Explaining for the sake of those new – check out this link for detailed explanation of all his regalia's abilities(I revamped it) (https/

bit.ly

/3Brkeu7.)

"O' Holy blade of golden light, by your decree, I am the venerable hand of heroes. You who is the hunter of omens and their detestable scourges, turn this hand to a vessel who shall serve as a temple of profanity

Beauty

Beauty

Beauty

By the power of this omen birthed from hatred resounding, I shall gorge on vexations and sever doves' chain. I shall call forth the sacred beast and march the path of eternal light.

Omen Reversal!"

"Ugh!" Naruto winced, watching the sword of gold become a murky crimson like a swamp whose water had been swapped for blood. Immense power corroded his body as a testament to the power of a god. Coquettish voices blared in his head, but a maddening bloodlust immediately restrained them.

A sweet-stenched puddle drenched the tatami mats as Haruhime was bludgeoned with the effects of the curse but it wasn't something she couldn't handle. Ein Sephira's Omen Reversal used the power of a curse to bolster Naruto's power while eroding his body and radiating the curse itself. If someone, for example, cursed him with rotting skin, he would passively make people around him's skin rot but not anywhere at full strength of the curse.

Haruhime weathered the lust like a champ as it was nothing compared to its effect when it was still within her. She paid no heed to the boy whose body was rapidly being turned into a factory for crimson and black mist.

"Begone, you revolting curse!"

The renard paid no heed to the boy being surrounded by a crimson and black aura.

"I will not let you have her again!"

"ARS! COME!"

Naruto, currently incapable of swapping weapons, verbally called out to the catalyst. The blood sword crumbled away and replacing it was a long ebony staff whose top half had a snake coiled around it. It appeared in its multicore form, which had multiple magic stones, unlike its primary form. The hand's fingers had elongated and gained a dozen more joints than any normal hands, allowing them to bend at multiple angles crookedly.

It was a twisted, leafless tree. Where the joints would be was where the catalyst's crystals were ensconced.

"By decree of this profaned vessel, let this child bear the mark of the Fell," he chanted, causing the staff's numerous crystals to drain the crimson aura surrounding him.

It was over. He had just cursed/blessed her with a technique that required both the holy sword and the staff of sealed sins. No, curse/bless was the wrong term; it would be better described as he turned her into a vessel for a curse/blessing that would react to someone attempting to mark her with a curse.

Ars was a prideful weapon that rooted its avarice in Naruto, and Cliaomh was a compassionate weapon that detested suffering. Both weapons agreeing to cooperate created an amalgam of a curse and blessing.

Haruhime now bore the mark of the Fell, and Ars would valiantly protect its master's lore while Cliaomh kept any corruption from invading her mind again. Their mixed powers were forbidden, but the bridge was crossed when they found middle-ground. Both wanted to serve their master but could only fulfill different purposes and both those purposes were instrumental to their master's will being carried out.

Peace for the girl and violence for offenders.

Naruto stumbled slightly, and the girl held him even tighter. She felt it disappear. Tears fell from her eyes as she gazed upon the man she chose to depend- not cling- on. To cling would be to be useless but to depend would be to trust him to aid in her journey to freedom.

He was not saving her, he was merely opening the door which was fully prepared to walk through.

"Daijobu desu ka?" (Are you okay?")

"Hai." (Yes.")

"Thank you for helping me. Won't you… let me help you? Because you have granted me a great boon. I don't want what happened to me to happen to other people. Goddess Ishtar… She targeted me from the start and has done the same to many others because of her pettiness. I will not let this slide. I won't let her get away with this just because she is a god," she stated resolutely.

Uncaring of her nakedness, she stepped back and watched the boy slowly fade into clouds that diffused into the aether. She respectfully lowered her head in gratitude. "Words cannot even begin to express my gratitude. I won't let your efforts be in vain."

"Good. She will fall." He said plainly.

Lighter objects in the room trembled at a woosh that snapped open the windows, puffing the curtains. The scent of the night's air juxtaposed that of a forest with its perfume. There it was. A lunar eclipse was peering through the vacant gap, watching over the entirety of the pleasure quarter.

The rumbling of distant clouds resonated with the power emitted by his slowly parting eyelids.

"The winds… weep." Spoken in Koine, the quote rumbled like it emerged from the depths of Tartarus. Exposure to the moon and stars smoked the fabric of his long coat. An ebony squall decorated with whisps of black clouds coiled around him like a serpent as the clouds ominously flashed lightning. Lamps dimmed and flared spontaneously.

"O' vile goddess of beauty, know this, your blood shall be my revelry. This omen is writ upon your meager prospects; you shall live in fear when the eclipse monarch's nascent winds awaken." His voice echoed as his body finally faded, blanketing the room in darkness as every magic stone shut itself.

Haruhime rose to her feet, and revolved to reflect the stars in her eyes.

---

"YES! I finally got to use my 'the winds weep' line. That's another one crossed out off my shit-to-say list. Now, to find that pesky Amazon for my compensation to begin preparations to fulfill my promise. Hmmm, Manifesto next time? Maybe? Tonight could have gone a lot smoother. Oh well, no nick off my hide."

---

Earlier That Night

The passage of two weeks was a transit for numerous events, most notable being: being labeled as a hero and rising to fame/ infamy depending on where you asked, his level up, and the accidental- and embarrassing- acquisition of a girlfriend.

True to the countless simulations he cogitated, his days of peace crashed and shattered against a harsh rampart fortified by fame. Waves of men, women, and children approached him to, with grins drawn on their faces, gleefully announce their hearts' investment to fanhood.

Out of all the Octagram, he was apparently the most approachable.

The conclusion of the battle for Daedalus and East Main erased the "Super Rookie" to pave the way for the "Fell Omen". In his opinion, it was pretty cool sounding, especially when erected beside Nameless, a name people used when conversing with him. Nameless The Fell.

His style of dress made him stand out like a green thumb in a desert, leading to stares that he strongly disliked. Antecedent to his tenure as a hero, he could wait in line like everyone else – he kind of liked it – and cogitate on topics he was read on.

Lacking in formal education he was, the imperative task was he assess, compile and challenge every thread of information weaved into and around the ball of yarn that is his brain.

Presently, he was surrounded and chased by noise… more than usual and what he was used to. All he did was weather down a powerful opponent by dropping a few dozen… maybe hundred buildings on it and reenacting fairy tales with lightning reversal, then defeating it.

That was impressive and proved his superiority over all, if not most, adventurers in level one and two categories. He didn't dare pretend he was weak and stupid. It would be an insult to himself and everyone around him to parade around in a cloak of false humility. He was strong and saw it as just that… he was strong. Period.

The prowess he presented led to people questioning their limits; they were inspired to work themselves to the dirt and swirled about by tornados.

Ornstein the Dragonslayer had repelled the Eclipse Dragon Lord Apophis, and most adventurers knew they would never be able to do that. The difference between Naruto and Ornstein was, people saw Naruto jump into a live blender and come out with shattered blades and grievous wounds.

Weak he may have been, but he more than compensated with strategy that technically anyone could execute. It made him easier to relate with in a way and causality dictated that Naruto become one of the most popular people in Orario.

Fortunately, his winter was not perpetual as spring deluged him with opportunities. For one, he was invited to various institutions to give talks on magecraft as confirmation of his expertise was in the Guild's syllabus and publically approval of by the princess of elves herself. He decided to decline/postpone them due to his duties.

Another four-leafed clover came from the Guild. Acknowledging his service and talents – more like contrived pandering – the organization decided to allow him to exchange his items at stations where only second to first-class adventurers or members of B to S-ranked familias were allowed to trade. He was also put into a group the Guild called the Octagram with seven other members who were all his seniors in level.

The black cat, known as two weeks, crossed his path.

His priorities were delayed when he got special orders from the Guild to exterminate groups of monsters outside Orario's borders – going as far as sending him to a town whose distance from Orario was relative to Melen – and put the new twelfth floor-born monster rex to the pen.

It was difficult to reconcile the image of a boss with its stature; it looked like a grotesque silverback. Its eye fryer was the massive gash exposing its crooked and gnarly dentition. It guarded a particular flower earning it the appellation, Guardian ape.

Its strength would leave it with four infant dragons to feast on and said strength escalated when its head was lopped off. One hand would carry its head, and the other would hold a tachi-shaped landform. The headless monster could release a powerful shriek that forcibly converted its targets' emotions into fear which accumulated to a potentially lethal madness – victims either committed suicide or would just collapse like a marionette without strings.

With a maddening shriek being a subset of its powers, it was a pain to battle, but because of his and Naazha's efforts, the lives of many weaker adventurers would be saved.

Naazha was responsible for creating a pacifying drug that would make its consumer resistant to the howls of powerful monsters like dragons and minotaurs – the ape was no exception.

Giving that the complete stamp, Naruto went on his journey, and to his surprise, Syr, the vixen that elected herself as his personal therapist, followed. Naruto's troubles were derived from Ais' anxiety expressed through their letters, asking why he didn't tell her anything about the girl.

Denying his relationship with Syr would be difficult because the girl not only followed him but stayed in establishments a light hop away.

Damn minstrels and journalists!

Yes money! NO FAME!

Finally attaining reprieve from his duties, Naruto immediately set out to initiate the first stage of his mission. The mission was simple- suppress Evilus before Rakia attacks.

Night unfurled from the east, clouds drifted languidly, and the stars saw Orario. As if acknowledging the one nicknamed the saint of Night and Flame, the cosmic mystery tied to them was imprinted on him – he had no presence, but he stood out.

Donning a black, oddly worn tricorne, it would take the passersby a moment to register who had passed by them. He wore a heavy black coat associated with a style the gods dubbed as "Victorian" and wore black slacks whose ends were tucked into boots. His hands were gloved and colored black; his left was silver to represent the moon, while his right was gold to represent the sun.

In his hands was a walking stick that strongly resembled the staff of sealed sins, Ars Goetia – the protruding serpent was absent, and the magic stone was a cuboid bent at a 90-degree angle. He dressed in a way that would barely qualify as formal wear and adventurer wear.

He entered the eastern edge of the fourth district of Orario, adjacent to Southeast Main Street.

Naruto, without allowing himself to be stationary, frowned. The magic stone lamps emitting pink flushed out the light of the stars – at least more than the lamps from other districts.

He paid the elf, whose calm veneer was torn off beneath the realization of the entrance of an influencer, no mind. She, like her colleagues, was gobsmacked by the silhouette of the adventurer who fanned the hearts of many as a dragon would spray ash-invoking napalm to a forest.

The streets were packed with lascivious and salacious women, most of whom were amazons, but every race was present… prums too. Strumpets in "clothing" waved their hips and jiggled their tits as their legs fell forward like dropped curtains.

The lips were as curved as their shapely figures – their bosoms and bottoms flaunted to flustered, gruff men passing by. The plumpy assets threatening to spill out of their confines ensorcelled visitors to mulish cloddishness.

It was a river of bobbing boobs and a cascade of nipples that rippled with promises of milk. Many fathers were present. Normally, Naruto would be baptized in elation, but alas, many factors aided his displeasure – perfume permeated the air, and hunting amazons attempted to sink their fangs into his hide.

As usual, he walked through them like he would a wall of bedraggled paper all while dismissing the predatory hunger swirling in their eyes.

Somehow popping an orange pill into his mouth – he was masked – Naruto attached his attention to the construct of interest.

As Babel is to Orario, the tower yonder served as a hub for the Pleasure District's ventures and housed the covetous, baneful goddess of love's, Ishtar, main regiment, the Berbera. Every other building was a lesser brothel, dotting the streets and making up the multiple pink belts that stretched away from the tower.

Tipping his hat downward, the boy drifted in and out of crowds unnoticed, up and away from predatory Amazons – they were an assertive bunch who approached and nabbed men like a tiger would to a deer.

The designs on the boy's mask reflected his interest in them, none.

---

[-]

---

"Welcome to Belit Babil. We offer a variety of services starting at-"

The conclusion of her sales speech went unheard as Naruto blocked it by plucking an expertly designed ticket drawn of black, silver, and gold hues. The dark-skinned receptionist let out a brief gargle that spewed a drop of spit and wrenched open her dark, thickened eyelashes.

" *!$! (" She muttered in the amazonian tongue before ducking under her crescent-shaped, elven-grown mahogany desk. With quaking hands wrapped around a grey object shaped into an oblong spheroid, she moved it over the ticket and the purple magic crystal ensconced to its center flashed green, sending her body reeling.

"D-d-dear c-customer… h-how do youuu h-h-have this?" Her voice tremored and slurred. Her quaking arm disappeared under the desk and emerge with a stamping device that she quickly fiddled with, waving the egg device over it and whatnot.

"…" Naruto, as usual, paid her no mind and just freed then exposed his right hand to receive the stamp before sliding the glove back on.

The nearby foyer's occupants' gazes were trained on their partners then a new focal yanked their gazes to reception. A strangely dressed merchant who stood tall despite being weathered by sludge from numerous amazons' melting gazes.

To the unblessed, adventurers were in another realm, so they had to bow their heads so as not to offend the demi-deities. As gods walked in a different realm for adventurers, the same was the same for the unblessed except adventurers were included.

The man in a tricorne was unconcerned about being walled in by demi-deities. In a rainforest, one does not thump their chest. Within a meadow, one does not make eye contact. In the savanha, one does not turn their back.

But there he was. Amazons preyed on strong and upstanding men, yet his ramparts remained erect. No amazon attempted the siege. Eyes captured a mask, and the man was immediately delegated to an infamous group of cosplayers.

Cement met water instead of heat when even the most pacifistic of mortals drafted the form of his cane to their mind's eye. Power. Raw, magnificent, sinister, and fearsome in all its glory. It clicked. He didn't stand in that manner to veil diffidence; he stood in that manner in assurance he would easily defeat them.

It was the truth.

Verily, the one who commandeth the stars, flames, and storms stood before them. Eyes suddenly found the rich, matted carpets more intriguing.

Another river of tarty regards fruitlessly pressed against the rock in black. A subset boldly sauntered over, swaying her hips, and reached over to grab his wrist, only for her fingers to jerk back from lightly crackling clouds.

Naruto spared her no glance, hammering in the message that he was not interested. She was gorgeous. A purple band of cloth was all that held her bountiful bosom, leaving her navel, shoulders, and arms exposed. As for her legs, they were dressed in puffy, see-through pants that ended at just above her ankles. She was barefoot.

Both amazons- the prostitute and receptionist- quirked their brows at his behavior. The receptionist signaled for someone while the prostitute attempted conversation, discreetly squeezing, rubbing, and wobbling her assets in all their intimidating allure.

She was one of the most beautiful and experienced in the entire district, yet his voice remained rigid and his eyes lacked prurience – they closed at some point during their one-sided conversation. This wasn't a sign of winning, he was just known to walk around with his eyes closed.

"Famously antisocial, huh?" she thought, observing her gleam-eyed sisters have a go.

The surrounding prostitutes blathered endlessly at Naruto, who gazed up at their familia's emblem, a naked woman whose body was obfuscated by a veil.

"Please come this way," said the disheveled receptionist. She had just squeezed herself through a warzone.

Bringing a cursory gaze to her and then looking at the prostitutes surrounding him, Naruto's body dissolved into wisps of black smoke pregnant with flashing lightning. The mass of clouds sailed over the amazons and dove into the gauntlet of perplexed prostitutes before plucking out the clearly underpaid woman.

The cloud put her on her feet and then faded away, revealing Naruto's body postured in a crouch that disassembled into a stand.

The adventurer almost recoiled when his calculative eyes were overloaded with expenditure. He had a habit of pricing things as he tarried. Sheets of gold, blankets of silver, and diamond-crusted vases. The radiance emitted by even common objects assailed him with vertiginous anxiety.

His training was the greatest lottery he had ever won.

The building resembled Babel, except there were no ceilings to obfuscate the multiple floors. The design choice commanded eyes to travel up the donut-layered construct and be maddened by wealth – every layer was just as if not more decorated than the ground floor.

"You girls down there! Why aren't you working?" A pleasant voice rang like a bell; it originated from one of the higher floors.

Sexy. Just. Fucking. Sexy. If her proportions were to be sculpted, numerous generations of enthusiastic artists whose expertise rivaled Daedalus had to work in perfect harmony. Her form resembled an amazon's and the crowns and trinkets worn on her body spoke of an exotic but regal monarch. Beauty oozed from her body like honey from a hive, and those caught could not escape; not even the insects- creatures incapable of comprehending human beauty.

Her features were so immaculate that calling her beautiful was a sacrilege.

Her dark purple hair was tied into braids, and her clothes were… ummm. They left little to the imagination.

"Proceed as planned. It's a mission I cannot abandon." Tightening his grip on his cane, Naruto goaded himself for the umpteenth time.

His catalyst, with its personality-altering properties – just like the rest of his regalia – failed to render the benefits of a mission well-done. The bitter taste in his mouth allied itself with unwarranted remorse; no offense was committed… yet.

Holding his heart and submitting to his wanton desire, Naruto's gaze was pulled to the eyes of the receptionist. His blue eyes azure like his famed holy sword communicated resoluteness.

"Have you found someone that has caught your eye, sir?"

His coated arm leashed her eyes, and his uncurling finger was like a toy thrown at a dog. She froze. The receptionist had been trained to read people for a long period, so she deciphered that he was hardly one to lark with ease.

The goddess' painted eyelids narrowed, and her lips curled into a sneer, vindicating her from potentially showing interest in the boy.

Surrounding mortals threw gazes of condemnation at the hero. They were all decorated by the most bountiful of riches and properties yet none dared to attempt to lay with the goddess, so who was the country bumpkin who dared point at her like she was some lowly whore.

Lese Majeste. Blasphemy.

Entering Belit Babil was easy; however, it was known that the prostitutes had tiers. Ishtar was the highest rated with a single minute with her capable of bankrupting kingdoms. Add the fact she was a goddess, a being beyond any mortal race, whose beauty exceeded most other gods, like a queen overshadowing peasants and noble maids.

The queen secreted more wax into her eyes and was about to avert them – she would not lend an ear to the drivel of a mere brute – until something clocked.

"This human… ho!" Her sneer shifted as her amethyst eyes locked onto the masked boy's frame. No one in the city didn't know of him, and there was an extra fact that raised his value significantly. The lady of Folkvangr openly expressed a fixation on him.

"Lady Ishtar, he has… the big one." The receptionist's voice crashed into her reverie.

"The big one!?" Fantasies of trouncing a certain silver-haired goddess reached a screeching halt, launching her jaw to the floor and with it her pipe. A collective gasp was heard from the adjudicators who were either blessed or close enough to hear her call.

"Tammuz!" A handsome young man leaped from the balcony beside her and landed beside the receptionist who handed over the ticket. Giving no thanks, he lept back to his lady and offered the ticket.

"I-It's the real one. My, I have not seen this since- Boy, who are you?" she cut her thoughts feverishly. The demanding tone, while calm, shook the air with the sheer enmity it contained. She restrained lurch when the boy disappeared from her focus and appeared in her peripherals, leaning his back against the railing. His left hand held a crimson cocktail and his right rested on his cane.

"I am… who I am," he demurred softly, swirling his burgundy beverage. Naruto tipped the glass, making sure no one could view him, and allowed the alcohol a moment to conclude its pilgrimage to his depths. A lingering gaze picked apart the deity. He closed then opened his blue eyes to ensconce them to his drink as if trying to cool it.

His lightly chapped lips parted again, "that is an infraction of your guidelines."

The familia's vice-captain bristled beside the goddess but was leashed by his goddess' raised hand – her orders were absolute.

"Very well, sir Nameless of the Octagram. Pardon my infringement. I am Ishtar, custodian of the Pleasure District. This humble maid shall be your company for the remainder of the night, and whensoever you desire," her lilting voice japed. Briefly, the whorish, whimsie woman wore a rapacious, ravenous visage.

Naruto's cane let out a dull, quiet thud when it kissed the crimson carpet, calling over a serving girl – a humebunny dressed in a black bunny suit- and placing his empty cup on the tray. The populous accused adventurers of being overly complex with how they did things, but when counting the number of times a dragonfly beats its wings in a minute becomes a joke, a lot of what was complicated also became jests.

And civilians didn't have to fight and adapt against a hateful, divine basement. One could never know when a seemingly naive monster would suddenly get a read on callouts or strategically dissemble adventurer conglomeration rotations.

His cane created a dissonance in the soft, plucked strings' ambiance, flaring up the instincts of the blessed servant.

Naruto, with a quivering decisiveness, not from agitated nerves, reached out to caress the goddess' plump and meaty rear. "I am horny," He nailed desire to his mind's blank canvas. His mind captured and comprehended the magnitude and nature of his catalyst's response to his unspoken command.

As the sword of heroes caused him to be kinder and virtuous or the bewitched dragon sword pacified his feelings to allow for cold, brutal efficiency - Ars Goetia caused him to embody the seven deadly sins; when wielding it he was more prideful, wrathful, lustful and so on.

---

[-]

---

"Leave."

The uttered command that drafted a mirage was not spoken by the goddess but by he who sat on the throne of Nox.

Stretching out and away from their peripherals was a room built like a garden. Coquettish voices accompanied bodies writhing as candlelit shadow plays. They were hidden by veils draping dozens of gazebo-like structures surrounding a massive bed. It was a lesbian orgy.

Pink and purple were the room's twin monarchs.

Naruto's voice inflicted cold burns that had them scurrying away like squirrels in a wildfire. He ejected his cane to the aether and approached to bed as eye-catching women of all ages barrelled out of the room.

He then tackled the lustful woman to the bed.

"Oh my, bold, are we?" She licked her plump lips seductively and made no struggle when Naruto pinned her hands above her head.

Naruto, hardly considering the background – it was irrelevant – liberated his extrasensory perception and focused on every magic tool within the vicinity. While doing that, an uncharacteristically randy and animalistic growl pervaded his hidden lips.

To Ishtar's confusion, he leaned in and claimed her lips… with his mask still on. Sloppy lip movement and awkward, uncoordinated tongue flickering forced her to arch her back to ease the acquisition of her lead. His osculation didn't match his combat prowess.

"Oh dear, is he a virgin?" The stray thought was not developed as semblances of reason were scrambled when his nail – opposed to its texture – feathered on a journey from her knee to her inner thighs. A hot breath chased ghosts of her pipe's smoke, and a sensual cry trailed after; her left breast had been fondled.

"Virgin or not, he has a good idea of what he is doing… And unlike a number of men I have seen, he seems to understand the language of a woman's body… I shall let him have his way for now," Ishtar thought, enduring a blitzkrieg of kisses ravaging her neck and trundling to her navel.

She refrained from arousing suspicion. While capable of communicating details impossible for the mouth, body language risked its owner's privacy. A master, however, could communicate false details. Languages had an archive of methods to hide intentions.

"Why isn't he charmed?." Her figurative heart lost its neighbor, the diaphragm. Corrosive and appalling emotions found no purchase on her face. His white hair. His disregard for her beauty despite being on top of her. The sheer arrogance. Her heart bristled, but logic tempered her.

Silver was not white. He was not competing with or belittling her; it was just his character. He was confident. And most importantly, he was not a woman; he was not her. Her tongue traveled her dentition's curvature and ducked behind her molar, massaging an object ensconced to its width.

In anticipation of a succeeding cycle of kisses, her mouth made no obvious moves as the pink appendage wiggled within.

With the old donkey's advice in mind, "prioritize your partner's needs", Naruto reenacted scenes/followed instructions in books and held their railings for a short while before reluctantly straying from his rigid approach. Tearing the orange cloth off, plump breasts jumped into his eyes. They would be unnatural on someone with even slightly lesser beauty.

Leaving her plummy, plumpy thighs, his free hand wiggled free her orange pareo's knot and then flicked it away, treating its owner to an unimpeded, tantalizing sight of crooked, creases wiggling a futile war against gravity; they too were enchanted by her thighs. A pair of jerking shifts unveiled scandalous underwear woven from the finest silks. Naruto's breath hitched, unaffected by her charm, as his mind was assaulted by a body beyond any teenager's wet dream.

The nape peeking through her now unpinned and disheveled hair, the contours of her shoulders and her narrow waist; an ornament in her belly button complimented it. Her authoritarian figure was hurled into the aether and what remained was a dainty woman who inspired fear of breaking her if held too tight. The ass imprinted into the massive bed had an abundance of flesh and provided enough appeal to force men versed with carnal pleasure to be roused like fresh virgins.

The protrusions on her chest caught his eye, and in response, he leaned into them and suckled like he would on a straw.

"Ahhhhn~~~" Mewls careened into his ears. The intensity was meager than when he bombarded her alluring nape and shoulder blades with kisses. He could do better. Naruto's tongue slid under the dark brown thick straw and dragged it on a voyage across his wall of teeth, earning him the squeal he wanted.

Fearing it may harm her experience, Naruto stayed his enthusiasm. Instead, he opted to release her arrested breast to cover her mons pubis with his palm and softly caressed it to enjoy how it felt. The other hand, free from duty, was conscripted to attacking her free breast. Her turgid nipple was squeezed and twisted between his thumb and forefinger.

On her lower half, his middle finger played with the hood of her slit while his ring and pointer stroked her labia, drenching them in her flower's nectar. While he couldn't see it as a result of his position, he knew the light color of her hole was inviting.

The light sound of a sizzling buzz was the only warning Ishtar got before she unleashed a throaty moan. Naruto made use of lightning magic. While directly stimulating the bean composed of a seemingly infinite number of nerves with electricity, Naruto's middle digit and its adjacent brothers vibrated with the swiftness of a hummingbird's wings.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK!"

Pride and lust swelled in his bosom, then metamorphosed into vocalizations. "I will not brook any disobedience from you," he whispered, his light tone of voice spiced with masculine harshness, and leaned over her body to access proximity to her ear.

"You BRRRRRRTTTTZZZZZZZ! AHHHHHHHNNNN!" Her protest devolved into a sound that resembled the crackling of teeth in winter. Gashes of fluid might as well have been walls of paper to a trundling carriage; the storm's rage rained true and eternal. Her hateful, lust-filled gaze bore into his blue eyes, refusing to submit to his ministrations.

A goddess of beauty and sex submitting to a virgin? The thought was humiliating.

Bemused, his gaze fell away from her eyes and admired her form again, her slender throat, chiseled and outstanding collarbones, her perfect brown peaches that wobbled in defiance of gravity, and the browner areole decorating the tips.

Fighting off her nervous system's paralysis, Ishtar raised her knee, attempting to bar Naruto from further assaults, only for that action to backfire. He pressed and rubbed his throbbing mast over her shin bone. Meat. It was at least 5 inches, which was impressive for the estimation of his age in length. In girth however it showed more promise than the average, large adult Dwarven male in Orario(largest average internationally).

His grandfather had warned him of the infamous Shit Test. Basically, it's a challenge to gauge a man's reaction to something to help a woman get a read of them. Pressing her leg with his girth was the correct answer because it displayed how serious he was about this. She agreed so she couldn't bow out.

What both she and he didn't know was that his thickness was an adaptation a lot of shinobi from his world had. A kunoichi's body was notorious for breaking lengths so to adapt; shinobi started getting thicker down there to keep the vagina from constricting at its full strength.

The goddess, fond of heavier packages, couldn't help but lick her supple lips in anticipation. Naruto, reading this grabbed her knee and forced it down before leaning in for another kiss, ignoring her pushing of a drug dissolved in saliva into his throat. This was the 3rd time she had attempted to drug him. The first two attempts were aerosols.

The adventurer removed himself from her and snapped his fingers, dispersing his coat into a pale cloud leaving his buckled waistcoat. He then sat on the bed, beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before caressing her breasts as if poking fun at the hideous rage boiling from her core.

Working his hands into lever actions, he dropped his gaze and twinkled his eyes; his handiwork was great. And just like that, the pressure was gone.

Red of face, the goddess held her charm. In its passive state, it had no effect on him and said effect was strongest when she was naked. Her pride was on the scale, so she didn't dare allow the use of her beauty to break his mind, instead, she would do it herself. She was not going to lose to him!

The lust faucet pathed lakes of love juice to her previous dry bed.

Ishtar, forcing a smile – one that was well practiced – slid off the mattress and brought herself to her knees. She placed her hand on his thigh and gazed into his eyes with an intimidating amount of lust to which he responded with a wink. "He winked. Who winks in situations like this?!" Ishtar suddenly felt like plucking her hairs from their roots.

"Your silence isn't exactly a turn-on."

"Noise… Noise… Nois-"

"No! Dirty talk!"

"… Your breasts are big and slutty…"

"Unbelievable," she muttered in exasperation. Her right hand pried open his trousers and pushed his boxers aside for her left hand to dive into the crevice and quickly, but carefully, fished out a thick mast leaking a gelatinous liquid from its tip.

"6.4 and properly circumcised. Practices good hygiene and doesn't seem like it will prematurely ejaculate. Very well, boy. Let's see if that confidence of yours is a sham."

Naruto's breathing experienced skips and lags, despite the act not being initiated. A feeling that couldn't be worded but be empathized with; it was like something bludgeoning his guts repeatedly but without the pain.

Masturbation was normal, but having a gorgeous woman between your legs was different. Fraught inducing it was because the idea of your wiener being laughed at was fraught inducing. And course, there is the fact you are entrusting your prized, fragile jewels to someone who could tear them with ease.

Smooth, velvety hands caressed his prick, and his fears blasted off. His john was not lubricated with his favorite brand of oils or anything; yet, it felt dozens of times better than when he did it himself. The dainty fingers caressing drifting along his length had a softness that communicated the absence of bones, yet the bending and curving of the digits said otherwise

.

"Ahhh," he groaned, clenching his eyes shut, gripping the sheets, and shoving his tremulous heels into the bed's underside. "F-Focus!" His mind nearly wandered from his true task, almost shifting to the defense against a nonexistent enemy.

"Oh! Ahhhhhh!" Naruto failed to process what it was that was going through his head. Every time her fingers moved, each as their own entity, wiggling and slithering over and across his length, his brain felt like it was being rubber-balled into his cranium.

Her hot breath brought shivers, and he nearly jumped when the tongue slid out of its orifice.

"Thank you for the meal," she whispered sensually before inhaling the member.

Naruto's eyes blew open as he felt his prick seemingly tingle with what could only be described as sizzles; gods couldn't be diseased or vectors. The sizzle was not uncomfortable. It was great… it was divine. When reading about biology, Naruto took for granted the tongue's structure.

It was like when he touched reaper peppers and then whipped out his John to wiz or got punted across a forest by a draconian monster. The heat and wetness of her lips stimulated every nerve on his shaft and glans – especially the glans. The wetness of her mouth exacerbated the gamut of sensations; the pleasure, in volume, was comparable to plunging into a hot spring in winter and going for a walk.

Poking oneself with a needle hurt but falling and scraping your skin was worse due to a multitude of receptors reacting simultaneously. It was the same here, but the stimulus was swapped. Hums vibrated not just his eardrums but also the building blocks of his phallus.

Ishtar's head went up and down, then left and right, before swinging her throat in circles as her supple lips massaged his anatomical structure. The alternation between powerful stimulations of the entire shaft and playful sucking of the head made the brain unpredictable and enjoyable – an understatement. Ishtar was a scholar!

As an adherent of love – or rather, love was an adherent of hers – Ishtar slowly drew her head back and carefully allowed a line of spit to form and droop.

"T-That's hot." No sane man hated grilled cheese except lactose intolerant weaklings(AN: IT'S A JOKE PEOPLE, JEEZ!). She made grilled cheese with his wiener, and he suddenly felt pride wiggling out from the fringes of his glacial heart. The goddess showed love to his winkle doodle and produced a replica of grilled cheese.

She was enjoying herself just as she would enjoy a good grilled cheese and-

"What manner of nonsense is going through my mind?!" Naruto's alarm burned in his mind and crackled into his thoughts. Distress or not, Naruto was being obediently rewarded for his efforts, just as his grandfather had told him. He watched the cat jostle and toss the mouse, taking her time to allow him to enjoy the experience instead of attempting to be competitive and making him cum early.

Her eyes fitted up to his and were beholden by his soul, leaving his body's confines.

Drugs or not, it was clear the bitch wanted dick, and Naruto would reluctantly provide, perhaps giving a tip for her efforts.

Ishtar, bemused, didn't destroy the line of "cheese"; instead opted to lean in and part her lips to reveal her pink tongue. Running the muscle over the edge of his glans, Ishtar's nostrils flared before the entirety of the girthy boi disappeared.

Expectation was disappointed when she pulled away from it, looking up to give the adventurer a teasing smirk. She returned her focus to his prick.

When she licked, it jumped up and away and her face followed. Tiring of the cat and mouse game, she had her slender fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft to keep it secure before diving in, splashing a tsunami of stimulus so powerful, it crumbled the wall that served as a barrier to his cogitation and lust.

Warm breaths twitched his nociceptive hairs, and her plump lips stroked the shaft. The penis was rolled round and round like a log and swung back and forth like a lever. One of her hands caressed and applied the perfect amount of pressure to his jewels, showcasing her care rivaled a committed jeweler's.

"A-OH-AHHHHH, o, o," he strangled and choked into a groan, clamping his eyelids to bar his eyes from winging or crossing. With tramontane herculean – considering her stature – she pressed one of her elbows onto his quads to halt his spasmodic jilts. It was simply too much for the young virgin. He had been foolish to challenge a goddess with eons of experience in this – not really because he outlasted her.

SLURP! SLURP! SLURP!

A number of lewd octaves fanned and swelled the exothermal pink mist sweeping across his brain. A sweet tingling splashed from his manly hub to the remainder of his body. He crammed his teeth together like his mouth had no space and performed a kegel to drive away the ejaculatory urge.

A coy smile could be seen on her face even as her jaw was on the verge of dislocation. One look into his eyes almost allowed Ishtar to humiliate him, but a clever move on his part was masturbating thrice before visiting the pleasure district.

Her head flew back and forth and twisted at the neck while her right hand vibrated on his pelvic floor muscles, emulating clit rubbing. Behind the scenes, in the cramped space within, her tongue wagged like a pup's tail. Ishtar nuzzled and nuzzled and nuzzled until her nose met his neatly shaved, white pubis.

Jake had warned him of teeth, and Naruto assumed it was because they were painful, forgetting Jake's girlfriend was a scholar; the head she gave was out of this world, apparently. The adventurer now understood what he meant.

Those teeth scrapped and skipped onto his dick without being painful. This forced him to endure vibrations from three fronts, one from his… G spot?- caused by pelvic floor muscles' stimulation, one from her hums and wonderful chokes, then the last from well… the teeth.

Her breasts swung around like ripe fruits on a branch as she administered divine punishment.

"H-Ngghhh!" Was the only warning she got before two sharp splashes of his baby butter exploded into her mouth.

"What the? I've never had some that tasted this… good. It's almost like-(AN: I don't even wanna describe this. This is nasty) but with the semen after taste (AN: I hate myself) Oddly enough, it's unnaturally cold but suddenly heats up as it travels (AN: I'm done describing this shit!).

Ishtar pulled herself away from his crotch and, while doing so, extricated her tongue from its confines and dragged it over the cock now covered in saliva-homogenized-semen. Placing the cliché line "not go to waste" on a pedestal, especially considering the odd nature of his spunk, Ishtar darted after cascading drops and scooped them up with her pink ladle.

His cum being wasted on bed sheets was just not it!

Dilated pupils exploded in size, hurling her head into an incline that focused her eyes on the stiffened member. As if on cue, Naruto answered the uninquired question. "No refractory period."

Ishtar looked like she had won the lottery. Her cunt churned and yearned to have her labia squished against her thighs but… Parting with her reverie, Ishtar craned her neck to annex her eyes to his.

"You know yoga?" Her voice could turn piles of chocolate into sugary rivers. Wanton arousal and gluttony played across her face, pitching a blink-contending fastball.

"How's your downward dog?" Naruto responded, sledging his bat to the ball; it was a home run. Ishtar, who couldn't remain her domineering self in the face of perceptive men, was delighted. He passed another Shit Test.

Naruto darted behind her and stretched his limbs in front of her before locking. A squeal was heard as the goddess traveled the air from Naruto's backward, caber toss. "Hup!" Naruto all but tore his clothes offs, revealing a conditioned body, then acrobatically flew after the dark-skinned goddess.

She had gotten into a seiza and opened her mouth like a loyal dog, catching his member. Because he had a falna, it didn't hurt when he lodged his member into Ishtar's wonderful throat at high speed. Using his momentum, dick still in her mouth, Naruto executed another wrestling move, one similar to a suplex, except he was upside down, in front and holding her shoulders.

He lightly tossed and twisted her before twisting himself beneath her. She fired her toes to the side and raised her ass like a tent, performing a perfect tripod that placed her close to his member. It was a perfect downward dog. Naruto did a sit-up and held a slight grimace as bee'ed into her honeypot for nectar.

His fingers pried the labia apart and saw a tight-fold crowned vaginal opening. Her labia, unsurprisingly, was a tad bit darker than the rest of her body, but it wasn't unpleasant like he had seen in magazines as there was a natural gradient that ended on a soft tone. Her amazing, smooth skin played a part too. He also liked pussy cleanly shaved; bold.

Naruto, without pause, assailed the pink, fleshy little bean hiding in its pod, resulting in a vibrating groan that caused him to groan as he rubbed his teeth and tongue against it. The cup-shaped petals of her flowers were rubbed and humped by digits that were not diving into the "fun house".

AHKKHLLL! KHLLL! AACKKKK!

SLURP! SLURP!

Chokes and wet slurps dominated their light groans as they maintained their magical triangle.

The groaning and moaning pair created a feedback loop that resulted in the goddess wiggling her hips, sending her gorgeous, plumpy bottom sashaying left and right.

He and the boys always said, "A good ass deserves a-"

CLAP!CLAP!

"A good ass deserves a-"

CLAP!CLAP!

"Wack! Wack!... Wack! Drop it like it's hot."

And drop them like they were hot he did.

Wet with her fluids, Naruto's hand imprinted crimson glares and actuated gratified squeals – brought the heat. His actions didn't deprive his member of a gamut of tickling, sweat-jerking stimuli. The goddess pushed the adventurer to the edge with expert, rhythmic bobbing and sucking.

Proving Ishtar's being the dean of sexual intercourse, the one-eyed snake's shaft granted her lips more space while the head crammed her ladened jaw – like peristalsis. Her head plucked itself back to run the strange, and her tongue creased despite the tiny room to prepare a little reservoir. Her teary eyes gazed into his, wielding intimacy and pitiability native only to pups and kittens.

"Bless me with a bountiful feast," they seemed to say, which was pretty ironic.

"Arrrggggg!" Naruto groaned as his hips twitched to the tingling in his balls and the scalding sensation that left his penis. Controlling himself came at the cost of him having to bury his face further into the goddess' honeypot.

"OOHHHHH! FUUUCCCCKKKK! YEEESSSSSS! AHHHHNNNNNNNN!" Between the oddly pleasant taste of his spunk and the intense and creative stimulation she was subjected to, Ishtar's body lost to the invading stimuli.

He discreetly activated his water magic and saw to her fluids watering her bed as usual – he was not a fan of the taste. Ishtar wheeled to him in a fluid slither and gently placed her left hand on his chest to convert the right angle into a line.

"You are such a good boy," she muttered haughtily, pressing him under an alluring gaze that would have sent any other person into the depths of madness. Her charm, her beauty, did not affect him and this knowledge, while initially frustrating, excited her. She couldn't just control him as that would be boring; instead, she would have to work to dominate him and his mind.

"…" Naruto's fabled response, while quiet, echoed like a cacophony of cicadas, drawing a frown from Ishtar.

"Come on," she teased, dropping herself on his chest. Her manicured finger started drawing lines circular lines before the motion into one more linear. She traced lines from his chest to the nape of his neck down to his crotch.

"…"

She pouted like a child denied a treat, sighed, and rose into a crouch. "I'm gonna make you scream for me," she said, using her free hand to direct his phallus to the folds dripping like a compromised artery. As his phallus pried open her flower, Naruto's ruminations halted to lament why it had come to this.

Although he considered the thought stupid, he genuinely wanted to give his virginity to someone he liked but alas, during his missions, his body was naught but one of his tools. You kill someone in your drunkenness. It doesn't wash the blood off your hands even if you argue you were drunk.

His mind then drifted to the person he was betraying. He shut the thought out. This was not the time because he had access to Ishtar's chambers and couldn't afford to waste this chance.

The effects of Ars Goetia's lust ramped up and became a bastion for his mission. His body lost itself to the haze and succumbed not to the goddess but to the catalyst who sought to assist its master to achieve satisfactory results.

"Fuck!" he groaned, tilting his head back at the countless folds squeezing and massaging his prick. Each fold massaged with the expertise of a masseuse. Tight was not an appropriate word to describe it – it was tight but not tight, like sliding his willy into a sponge ring fastened by his digits.

There will be parts where shift-changing fingers would have a presence and others where fingers were absent, except these masseuses exchanged shifts at no discernable interval. And, of course, it was an army that worked on him

It was like watching a snake get devoured by another snake as the goddess' incredible pussy dragged more and more of him into her furnace. His john was curved, forcing the vagina to curve with it, and her upper walls worked to push it down and led to more sensations.

Naruto didn't know he could feel that much in a single instant. His ragged breathing quaked his tentatively reaching hands, and the mewling goddess took them, held them, and placed them on her hips. "Congratulations," she said, leaning in and warming his frosty-tipped ears, resulting in his cock twitching and her vagina quivering more chains to ensconce the stake.

In spite of the lesser part of his length finding no purchase, her nether lips had been stretched nearly to their threshold. "The world's most beautiful woman has claimed your virginity. Lose yourself to my beauty. It will be okay, let Mommy take care of you," she breathed her message like a breeze, slowly rocking her hips, tearing growling cries from her throat.

It wasn't just the folds but the juices. No books told him about how the nectar would affect the experience sans lubrication. Inverse and proportional to being wet in winter, the oily texture opened a heat exchange hub, and Naruto's prick traded with the clarity of a marimba.

His cock throbbed in elation, jostling his hips into attempting to force the rest of it into her body, wrenching a sharp cry from her, stunning Naruto's heart. His muscles tensed from the sight of his partner suppressing a writhe.

"Bigger is always better, they say; it isn't true because there is only so much space in our pussies," she choked a whimpering whisper while stroking his hair. Heeding his inquisitive nature, Ishtar spoke, "For most women, cervix bruising is painful. I cannot blame you, as most reads detail harsh drilling without mentioning the potential pain it could cause. Worry not, it's an easy detail to miss."

Naruto's dick inched in and out of her meat hole, relishing the moist, twisting coils. His mind went blank at the soft, squishy, yet potent pull of her cunt. Humps were chained when but she placed a hand on his chest and gave a vicious, teasing smile.

He lost it. He executed a transition not many people knew about, catching her by surprise. They sat in the cowgirl position, so Naruto used his legs to lock hers, then performed a roll that transitioned and forced them into the doggy-style position.

"Wha- AHHHH!" Naruto jerked his hips back and twitched forth, relishing the response from her vagina. "You-" Ishtar's voice devolved into heavy moans of pleasure. Weighty, wet smacks moved the bed back and forth in tiny motion as if in vellication.

The rhythm was introducing itself to him. He measured his tempo and dedicated his ears to her moans while his flesh and eyes recorded changes in her figure's slightest twitches. A volley of pistons haled with them unchaste wails.

"Oh! Ahn!" She cried, futilely aggressing her leg for another twist, all while lashing at him with the brightest of reds like a chameleon. Immolating humiliation burned in her heart and sparked out of her mouth. A queen like her being used as a mere facet to some child's lust. Unbearable. She squealed, feeling a sharp stab in her depths when his remaining length vied viciously as a vagabond for his volition.

It was no accident. His moves were unnaturally fluid and controlled, like a team of talented marionette directed them.

He plowed her superb cunny roughly, annexing the room's audibility with lewd smacks. Ishtar's arms collapsed beneath her, sending her face down into the sheets. She pushed her lips to her elbow to suppress her moans, but the heat and pressure in her chest exploded, squalling vocals to displacing her lips their vice.

His pelvis crashed and smashed against her plumpy, peach-shaped rear, blowing enchanting ripples across. The girth and shape of his penis forced themselves to the forefront of her mind, quelling her foolish ambitions. Every time she tried resisting, he would drive his cock deeper, and that caused a psychological effect that led to her raising her hips and her vagina tightening despite the pain and shame of their master.

His masculine strength kept her hips immobilized, so she could only stay prostrated and accept his pistoning.

Naruto's grunts and her animalistic cries dueted and echoed over the sloppy slips that resounded stickily when his scrotum bashed against her inner thighs.

Each time he pulled, she felt her organs being dragged out, and she felt an intense heat galloping over her core each time he entered.

She ended up just accepting the rough treatment, awarding her with a firm slap to her wobbly, ripply bottom. His hips flashed back and forth, exorcising an infinite number of animalistic howls and cries.

"Yes, Daddy!" She screamed when he swatted her bottom. Her regal expression had melted like candle wax; drool dripped out of the corners of her mouth while her erotic motions rattled and pleased the grunting animal holding her body in place.

Naruto found a sweet spot and didn't dare alter the pace because the one he used was most pleasurable for her. A black, wispy cloud tufted crackling with lightning flew over her bean, and the goddess suddenly gained strength in her arms and sprang to his chest.

He caught and held her jelly-like breasts in his hands and squeezed, twisted, and yanked on her areole. The sloppy look on her face was made even more horrendous by the seemingly melting mascara and lipstick, yet it somehow made her sexier. Naruto forced him and her down to the bed and continued his vicious pounding, grazing his glans over her A and G spots.

His dick, girthy and vibrating from magic, suddenly found access to her clit with the dawn of their new position.

"AH! AH! YES! YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT! AHHHHH!"

Anyone who saw her would no longer suspect she was queen as she was used like a common whore. Her pussy, in service of his cock, dedicated everything to making sure every contour of his member was pleased and rewarded for the stirring of its depths.

The bed had long since collapsed under them, and they were an eighth of the way through the revolution of the bed's perimeter. "AGGHHH!" Naruto growled, feeling the pressure building at the base of his cock lead to him spewing another round of spunk into her.

He didn't stop thrusting. Cold fluids trickled into Ishtrar's depths, drawing even louder cries from the goddess' tiring mouth.

"Mmmmmm." He welled into a long groan, trapping his hips in a molasses and swatting her ass. He pulled out of Ishtar, and like the professional she was, she read his desires and weakly but quickly turned and grabbed the base of his cock and opened her mouth as wide as she could.

Naruto exercised a firm grip on the back of her head and jabbed his phallus into her throat like a substitute for her cunt. Tears spilled out of Ishtar's mouth, but she offered no resistance and worked her hands to his balls to maximize stimulation. Moans and glurks escaped her lips.

"I'm almost done. I just need to grab the other four," Naruto thought. Ishtar gazed into his eyes. The goddess' divinity ran amok, warping her mind with animalistic desire. Her loins ached at the thought of his departure and found an easy solution; the irony of her accusation of men thinking with their phalluses was startling.

She breathed a squeaked choke, eyes opening like dinner plates. A kaleidoscope of black, white, and red superseded the pinks of her chamber and held no gradient; the space was amorphous. As if she were trapped in a sensory deprivation tank, her body felt useless, so her eyes devoured details in a desperate search for the contours of existence.

The kaleidoscope paused at black.

There it was; a massive fox with a human's torso, elongated rabbit-like ears, and humanoid paws. Its most striking features were its crimson fur and long flowing nine tails. Adjacent to the length of its paw was a cross bound to it with golden, shining chains was a boy whose back was turned to her.

Black rods were embedded into his torso and pinned his hands to the horizontal part of the cross.

Twitching, pale wooden tendrils sprouted from his back in the dozens. His most striking feature was moon-colored hair exuding gossamer strands of gold and chilling mist secreted by his skin.

Power. Power beyond mortal comprehension. Both of them. The boy's power had no discernable character, while the fox's was wanton destruction.

The amount of strength they each possessed rivaled or exceeded her own with arcanum and in her territory. Something snapped a twig in her mind, tearing her in awe and pulling her gaze; she saw possibility. She saw endless flames caressing mountains of gold. An army of men and women at her beck and call.

The sweet nothings whispered in her ear rendered a silver-haired beauty heaving up globes of blood, groveling at the possibility of death's eminence. The goddess' authority flared; her beauty, like chains, sailed out like shooting stars to capture them.

She beckoned it, moved to conquer its mind with a toothy grin plastered on her countenance.

The world was finally seeing who was superior. It finally saw that only she deserved to be a queen. Forget the pathetic renard and amazons, all her dreams were met here.

The wooden tendrils twitched no longer, and a lone giant eye snapped open, submitting her to an iron maiden.

"Be gone vile goddess. Thy throne mayst exist but tis not here. Thy kind are not welcome here." Its voice shook the heavens themselves. Ishtar snarled into a hideous countenance and lept at it. Narrowing its eyes to slits, the vulpine wrenched its maw, and a shrill, rattling roar disturbed the entire space.

"NO!" Ishtar screamed as she was unceremoniously plucked mid-air and dragged into the abyss.

The power was gone, and her senses were overwhelmed with lust and pleasure. The hero's mast was firmly rooted in her throat, and she had been looking into his eyes. His left eye briefly flashed red while its pupil elongated vertically.

"Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆ Ṕ̴̨̢̢̢̢̧̧̛̛̛̠͍̼͚̠̺̪̩͔͚̳̜͙̲̮̠̟̹͉̗̠͍͚̲̘͓̜̫̟̻̼͉̓̀̈̆̎̌̀͂̿̾͋́̽͋̆̉̆̅̓̒̓́̔̈́̑͆̎̍͛́̽͛̃̈̿̉͌̚͜͠͝͠͝͠͝͝ǫ̸̛̛̛̛̟͙̹͔̥͖̩̗͔͔͖̻̦͕̼̲̓̾͋̐͐̎̀͊͛͊̈̈́̀̏͗̊͌͑̐̎̀͆̽͋͑̅͊̆̑̀́͗̓̈̕͘͘͜͝͝͝ͅẁ̶̡̡̞̭̻̲͙̯̻̰͈̮͓̪̙̰̮̻̘̬̮̫̪̖̭͈̙̤̹̝͚̲͕̺̹͈̖̝͔̥̙̟̟̜̤̺̔̀͑̄̓̒̒̽͛̕͜ͅę̴̨̼̪͎͎̤̘̟̭͚̦̬̙͉͈͔̮̭̱̬̮͍͚̰̭͚̝̞̮͈͚̪̤̹̱̩̳̂͆̍̓̄͊͂̏̒͐͛͐̾͑̋̽͗͒̀̈́͑̊͂̄͑̅́́͂̚͘͝͝ͅṙ̴͓̈́̀̃͆"

Naruto suppressed a shiver at the greedy, wanting gaze she swept at him with. It was as if she desperately wanted to please him, judging by the enraptured look in her eyes as she blew him, debasing herself as a mindless whore.

Their activities continued into the night

---

[-]

---

The dressed hero found himself in one of the palace's towers overlooking the cheap imitation of Orario in pink. Wordlessly reaching into empty air, the pocket of space before him deformed and warped, then swallowed his arm. He extricated his hand, and with it came a paper, a talisman, with indecipherable engravings and ciphers – only erudite magic esoterics could comprehend its script.

"Spirits. Why is it she covets their obedience this much?" Naruto questioned with furrowed brows. "This is serious," he thought, then pondered. The night was quiet, but there was much noise in his head. Thinking was nothing but a headache, especially in the face of his heart's pestering.

Had it not been for Ars, Naruto wouldn't have been able to carry out his mission because of self-reproach.

Because he had the ever-faithful staff of sealed sins, Naruto had been able to break one of his taboos. Now that the effects of the staff of sealed sins had faded, Naruto was hit with the gut-wrenching sense that he had committed an offense. Infidelity. Unfaithfulness. Cheating.

Ais had said it was fine when he warned her that he would have to cheat, but it wasn't. It really wasn't. He chose cowardice by choosing to enter Ishtar's bedroom as her sex partner. Naruto got the job done but that didn't stop it from feeling terrible.

Never before did he imagine that an entanglement of strings would become his heart.

He supported his leaning body with the white quartz railing of the palace.

"And I can't go see Syr right now," he muttered, placing his hand on the tip of his tricorne to protect it from being taken by the night's light breeze. Naruto could hear light whispers and moans from the rooms below his balcony and the halls' activity from behind him.

He sighed and looked at the starry sky. The adventurer quickly drafted an account in his head and consolidated the facts for analysis to solve the equation of his vexation; he wound up making it worse. The facts were enjoyed himself; how else could he explain fucking Ishtar on the ceiling or making her ride dick and scream, "Yeehhhaaaawwwwww!"

He enjoyed himself…

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the creepy motherfucker!"

"Blow off, Andre," Naruto responded dryly, successfully restraining a jolt at the familiar voice.

"As crabby as always, Mr 'Nameless'. Wait till Jake gets his arse here," the voice's owner stepped into Naruto's space and secured Naruto's shoulder into a one-armed bro hug. The adventurer raised a hand and lightly tapped the man's back.

"Your stench is as revolting as always, Fishgulper."

"Fuck you!" Andre's nostrils flared dramatically.

He was a gruff-looking man in his twenties wearing a three-piece grey suit. His arms and legs were packed with protein because he was a dwarf. One just like Mia Grande, tall and could pass as a human. His species' signature beard was absent, leaving him with his curled, brunette locks of hair tied into a short pony tail.

Andre De Santos' nickname, "Fishgulper," came from an interesting incident with fish and he and his boyfriend were caught lacking.

"How's the elf?" Naruto inquired, paying no heed to Andre, leaning against the same railing as him and pulling out a cylindrical, wooden-looking object.

"Oh, he's fine. Owns a number of establishments and doing pretty well fer 'imself. I'm proud plus he says he's ready to adopt. We ready to have a brat." His facial expression was characterized by his lips drawing back to reveal his pearly teeth.

"Huh?" Naruto uttered, "congratulations," he said, nodding.

"Thanks," he responded while patting his pockets; his brows shot to the roof in realization.

"I got you," Naruto said, reading him like a book and lifting his finger. Hot lightning sparked and earned the mage a hump of approval.

A cloud of white smoke puffed out of the dwarf's mouth as he held his cigar between his index and middle finger.

"So, what brings ya ta a place like this, kiddo?"

"You know… poppin my cherry with a fine bitch… Like super duper fine. Her ass was like soy marinated, hard-boiled eggs," Naruto trailed off. The man's mouth opened to unleash a silent, "wow!"

"How fine we talkin here?" Andre leaned in, not bothering to mask the glint in his eyes.

"This district's steward and all courtesans' M.I.L.F," Naruto responded simply.

"Damn! But… you don't sound happy bout it," Andre answered, identifying his drooping shifts in his close friend's tone. Naruto shifted slightly and tented his hands on his stomach while peering at the stars.

"I… have a girlfriend and my relationship with her impeded my agenda so I had to make a choice. I told her. She understood but…"

"Ya still feel like shit."

"Yup," Naruto said while popping the P.

"Hmmm, I guess I know how ya feel. The elf's gay, but I crave pussy sometimes, n he doesn't mind. Wait a minute! You have a girlfriend?! N ya didn't tell us?"

"Octagram duties. Guild's running me rugged." Naruto sighed in exasperation.

"N here we thought that barmaid thing was a huge misunderstanding." Andre boisterously laughed and slapped his knee.

"It is… kind of." His voice dried into a whisper.

"RRRRomance?"

"RRRRRRRomance." Naruto answered.

Andre whistled, "So you feel like shit cuz not only you getting ass from another lass and like it, but you came here and actually cheated... On one, but feel like you cheated on both of em."

"You make it sound worse than it is." Naruto's regarded Andre with an annoyed stare.

"…That's… fucked up," Andre said after a pause.

"Tell me something."

"Shoot," Naruto responded.

"Ya mentioned an agenda. Ya schemes were always complex back in da day n I'm guessing they worse now. And of course, I ain't talking about your little huha, shit pranks-"

Naruto started smacking his lips.

"What? What's that? What are you doin?" Rapidly questioned Andre.

"Fishgulper… I taste something strange. Something sharp and tangy like… salt. Is that salt I taste."

"That's your tastebuds tripping on themselves," Andre responded, regarding the teenager with a blank stare.

"Whatever. Yer shit was always complex n over da top. If ya connivance warrants ya betrayal, then is it that heavy?"

"Unfortunately…"Naruto responded in thought of the resurgence of the Evils and the tools they had.

"I see… Remember that time you sided with an army of bandit wantin to raid da village?"

"And I lead them to Bell's grave where, with the help of a Saurus rider, slaughtered them all?"

"Dat's the one. Think of it like that. You betrayed us to protect us n ya didn't feel guilty even after making a buncha people disappear. In front yer brother's grave no less," Andre said, bringing his cigar to his mouth and drawing on it sharply.

"Huh? Well… If I think of it like that…

"Yea! Now, enough of this depressin shit! I gotta tell you about this nasty ass elf bitch I'm fucking here. Yes, it's a lass," Andre laughed.

"Please don't…"

"She is da nastiest bitch I have ever met. I'm talking about she is disgusting. Da filthiest girl I've ever been with, I promise ya!"

"Fishgulper," Naruto begged.

"I promise ya! This hoe got the coldest spin cycle I've ever seen n do ma boi. It ain't just sloppy, like wipe your ass sloppy. I'm talking bout she be throwin up on ma shit. Like... she regurgitates on the cock!"

"Hestia's tits," Naruto muttered, rubbing his forehead and clenching his eyes shut.

"N-n-n-not just that! The bitch eats ma ass… with the dookie still in it." He said proudly.

"Lovely…" Naruto responded dryly.

BANG!

"AHN! AHN! AHN! AHN!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Naruto and Andre paused at the sound of a door being blasted off its hinges. Since both had falnas, they could hear the happenings of the room with clarity, even at a distance.

"God dang it! Drake!" Andre muttered.

"That's Drake? Wild as a dragon as always I see," Naruto stated, earning a snort from the tall dwarf.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Huh! You like that? Mmmm? You like that?"

"OHHHHH! GOOOODDDD! YEEESSSS!~~~~"

Huffs and grunts then synchronized with halting, powerful smacks, sounding like he was inching a heavy object forward.

"Oh smack me, daddy!~~~"

"Oh, you want me to smack your shit like that?"

"Smack me harder."

Wack!

"Harder!" The prostitute's voice suddenly became masculine.

WAck!

"HAAAARRRDDDDEEEEERRRR.~~~~"

Wack! Wack! Wack! THUMP! THUMP!

"HHHHAAAAARRRRRRDDDDDDEEEEERRRR! DESTROY ME! DEEEEE….STRRRROOOOYYY….MEEEEEEEEE!"

Wack! Wack! Wack! THUMP! THUMP! Wack! Wack!

Over the top, labored breaths accompanied the smacking sounds, causing Naruto and Andre to stare at the hall owlishly. Both were mute, unsure of what to think.

"Ahhhnnnn~~~" the prostitute's voice suddenly became feminine. "Ohhh!Beat me~~~"

"Oh, I'mma beat the shit out of you," Drake immediately responded, overlapping his speech with the first words of her next utterance.

"I want you to beat me! I want doMESTIC VIOLENCE!" Her voice became masculine near the end.

WA THUMP! WA THUMP!

"OH YES!~~~"

WA THUMP! WA THUMP!

"YESSS~~~~"

WA THUMP! WA THUMP!

"YES! YES! I'M BRUISING! FUCK YES~~~!"

Drake aggressively yelled gibberish as his pounded her with his fists. At this point, both Naruto and Andre sported "what the fuck?" looks.

THUMP! CRASH!

The sound of a wall collapsing echoed through the brothel.

"Th-Throw me on the ceiling~."

"Finally!" Drake responded with swiftness.

"I want you to throw me on the ceiling, and I want you to fuck me on the ceiling~" She begged breathlessly. Naruto averted his eyes because he did, at some point, fuck Ishtar on the ceiling of her chambers.

"MMRRRRRRRRRR AHA!" A grunt of strength was heard.

THUD!

"Ahh!~"

Naruto and Andre's necks craned to peer at the sky as if staring at a ceiling.

"HN! HN! HN! HN!" Drake grunted, smacking his hips into her pelvis.

"YES! YES! YES! BABY! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT!" She shrieked. "B-B-Baby~"

"Yeah, wassup baby," Drake responded.

"Get the axe!"

"AXE!" Naruto and Andre mouthed, brows to the sky and jaws to the floor.

"Hmm, you want the axe."

"Baby, please get the axe~!"

"You want the axie AXE!?"

"I want you to put the axe in my pussy!"

"You want me to cleave dat POOOOSSSSSYYYY!"

"Oh yes, baby!~"

"Mmmmm, are you ready?" The sound of metal being sharpened echoed, making Naruto and Andre look into each other's eyes from their peripherals to confirm that that was happening.

"Open up the magi-wall!" Drake screamed, "RIGHT! NOW!"

Wack! Wack! Wack! Wack!

Meaty smacks at ferocious speeds and cries were heard.

"OOOOHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOODDDD!~~~"

"TTTTTTIIIIMMMMMBBBBBBEEEEERRRRRRR!"

Naruto and Andre covered their mouths with their hands, eyes wide in horror.

"Oohhhh! Fu-~ ah!"

"Baby! I'm gonna get the carriage. I'm gonna get the carriage and drive it in your pussy!"

"Get the carriage, daddy~"

"I'mma get the carriage and drive it in your puusssyyyy!" A neighing horse loudly announced its presence causing the duo to facepalm. Why was there a horse this high up in the tower?. Then they it. Trundling. Naruto held a cross in his hand and seemed to pray.

"ARE YOU READY!?"

"Oh, I'm ready daddy~"

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The halting sound of turning wheels and hooves echoed.

"I'M GONNA CUM! RIGHT… NOW!"

"MEEEEE TOOOOOOO~~~~!"

Squeltch! Squeltch! Crunch!

"OHHH MYYYY GOOOODDD!~~~~"

An amazon carrying a soundproof door sprinted past the hall.

"…"

"…"

"Oh… this is the freaky fetish section of the tower…" Andrei stated.

"That was… something… Hey Andre." Naruto opened his eyes.

"Yeah?" The dwarf answered.

"Remember the time we chased that Chupacabra?" Naruto said.

"Yeah! That was fun. Thanks for da talk. Good luck with your girlfriend. Need to get Drake n do something! See ya around 'Nameless'." Andre bid him farewell and retreated.

The adventurer, left to his devices, watched the Dwarf retreat into the eye-narrowing light of the hall. His eyes shut and his legs carried him to a nearby oaken chair saturated with puffy wools and cottons; the finest in the world.

The trailing of his steps bopped his trench coat, and it twitched and smoked itself to a side cape. At the pace of a trailing cloud, he crossed the garden-sized space that couldn't fit into his peripherals.

A fleeting touch to a chair snow-balled into him rounding himself and gracefully – masculine – sitting. Left knee over his right and his thumb and middle finger glided noisily over each other.

Crack!

They sounded, and on cue, a brunette serving girl leisurely bisected the space between them at rapid intervals until none was left.

She departed as quickly as she came.

Holding the flute glass of a golden, frothing bubbling liquid, Naruto's wrist gently revolved, swirling its contents. A quiet utterance puffed a cloud into a being.

Elden Ring OST- Beast Clergyman

"The time is ripe… The dark moon watches over us tonight," Naruto started, displacing the cup and resting the palms of his erected, tented hands on his crossed legs.

"An ephemeral world of shadows is upon us, and the age of night is nigh." Surrounding magic stone lamps blinked shut, and the clouds far above the district seemed to abscond from the rapidly cooling air of the night.

"I can see it. A field of rime… stretching expansively as a forest of snow. The journey of a thousand nights will be a cold and cruel voyage, but… worry not, the existence of cold depends on the flame. Revel in the majesty of the night the dark moon conjures. Esteemed warriors, daughters of queen Hippolyta, the lord of night and flame will face you now." He slowly rose from his regal seat as amazons appeared from every nook and cranny, climbing over the railing from under the balcony.

Bushes snapped to arms, and muddied persons crawled out of spectacularly large pots.

"Hey Andre, remember the time we chased that Chupacabra?" Were his words of admonition. Close to a decade ago, in the village they lived in, a cornered Chupacabra slaughtered a throng of goats because of a stupid adventurer's error. Naruto and Andre were quick to chase after the monster when it barrelled to the forest with a few goats in its maw.

It was slaughter and Andre, the nifty solver he was, understood the message and went to distance himself and Drake.

Revolting scents bludgeoned his nose. The scantily dressed, perspiring warriors had wet, dripping on their crotches and smearing, brown sludge at their rears. "Ah... yes, human and demi-human bodies secrete as much substance as possible to lighten loads so they can run faster." Naruto mused.

Amazonian pride was blazed in their eyes but their bodies failed to reflect them.

"Leave."

Half a dozen women darted away, despite a powerful curse in conjuction with pride in their species compelling them to stand and battle. He was an Omen. The Fell Omen. Ishtar had made an enemy of him so it was written in her destiny.

The glory of a dead god meant nothing, likened by her pitiful intents. The goddess had made far too many enemies and maintained a successful streak. It was bound to end soon, which looked very likely with her desperately attempting to take a person capable of mobilizing Freya familia. It was his orders that, while causing more destruction, reduced the loss of life. He ordered the Gulliver brothers.

A slimy, black mass cascaded from his left wrist and morphed into an obsidian, curved, double-edged blade known as a Kogarasu maru sword. (AN: Also revamped Ryūmon's chant)

"Blade wreathed in moonlight awaken and take thine stellar throne.

Thou art the luminary of stars

Custodian of the black moon

And retainer to I, the hunter of fate's omens and destiny's scourges.

Luna Ferbis Draco, rend all that divides us from the stars

The old lords of heaven, may they be lost in an endless nightmare of the blackened sky we conjureth.

We shall despise fate for all eternity; open the gate so we may reach the stars and take the thrones of dawn and twilight.

Till the hunter's night ascends, devour the end."

Naruto's frosty chant came to a half, and filaments of white starlight twinkled out the blade. The abyssal dark shifted and revealed a galaxy trapped within the blade. The breathtaking sight shifted once more. There was orange light. Floating embers cascaded and intermingled with twinkling particles of light.

"Ryūmon." He finished.

Then there was fire. The universe replica had serpents of hazy, orange flames that slithered away to find a home in his free hand. Another sword appeared; it blared like the sun. The flame had a hint of darkness within them, the abyssal type. It hunger was made palpable by twitching crackles it unleashed, overpowering them like a starved tiger while the serene chiming of the dark moon blade tempered it.

An image immortalized by fans was before them. The left half of his body was bathed in a caressing purplish-blue light, while the right was in an outstanding, fiery orange light.

"…" Silence held for a moment, secreted so much tension it could be cleaved with a knife. To civilians, adventurers walked in a separate realm just like the gods. This was similar to the relationship between lower-leveled adventurers and higher-leveled adventurers. Fish who cleaned the jaws of larger fish were at the mercy of their mood, for it would take one gulp to make them disappear.

The gap in strength afforded by one level was massive, and the opening afforded by two was even greater. The one who stood before them had overwhelmed a monster two levels above him. That is why, when the level 3s in the group looked down on him, all they saw was a mirror whose contents were something far above them. They knew they would be gobbled up yet… didn't move to escape.

"AHHHHHHH!" There was a sudden scream. A petite amazon, a monster tamer, ran alongside a quartet of crimson imps. Her body ran past him, and the halves of the imps plummeted to the floor, failing to withstand a darting crescent that left the tip of Naruto's blue sword. The severed imps boxed their master's still snarling head.

"Do you covet death, so?"

Harsh breaths tossed drops of sweat sailing through the air. A battle cry echoed through the balcony and the halls of the establishment.

He was too fast. One slice from him turned them into portions of meat to be thrown into a freezer. Curses, barriers and debuffs were used, but his flickering cloak revealed a protective talismen.

The amazons of the Berbera were fed fodder of the silly assumption he was unprepared. Lightning and winds pushed some away and forced impossible one on ones.

They did their best.

Fired their most glorious magics and utilized their finest magic swords and tools but each was neutralized by him suddenly disappearing, not with his acceleration magic, but teleportation, which he used with repose. He swapped places with their allies and forced the shock of friendly fire to restrain them.

Injuries inflicted on him healed immediately when he counter-attacked. The twin blades' wills throbbed, bludgeoning them with oceans of indignation.

His cape billowed, and his body drifted about, in and out of their attempts with easing glides like dandelions. Each action on him was recompensed with a tenfold reaction, robbing them of the time to ponder what happened to their limbs.

To put it simply, it was a slaughter of pigs. His footsteps sent no ripples through the lakes of blood decorating the ruined, garden-sized balcony. Reconciling the image of a hero with the approaching apparition was impossible.

"You monster," sneered the amazon who had been hitting on him earlier. She inched away from him, clutching the seam where her butcher arm should have been.

"Antianera, the death of your sisters in arms nears. Won't you save them? Because I will not let you go when the next wave of Berbera arrives," he addressed, lightly kicking an object encased in ice. It was her arm.

"I want to make a deal. You want that stupid eye, don't you?"

Naruto opened his eyes and narrowed them.

"Talk."

[-]

Death could not move the moon-haired adventurer; he moved it.

He was cold, not cruel.

Naruto knew more than anyone the evils he was capable of committing and would gladly commit himself to the task of protecting his people, even if the lore of a demon lord was stapled to his memory. Defense failing left one option. Claims of violence never being an answer irked him; if someone approached you with a knife, fully intent on killing you, would you try talking them down and offer butterflies and kisses?

It wasn't always the answer, but it was an option.

He was cold, not cruel.

Naruto was powerless; he couldn't protect his people. His dreams showed visions of a gallant man dancing on toads speaking of peace and understanding but… it was beautiful but… Running the world on one philosophy would bring with it an ocean of problems – on account of things like undermining different cultures, social structures, and whatnot – understanding someone didn't automatically neutralize tensions.

Amazons kidnapped men, for example, and by causality that meant a lot of things. The death of generations of that species' clan – remember, amazons can breed with any race like humans, but unlike humans, they birth only their species – depression of families and more, but that was just fine to the kidnappers.

Naruto couldn't protect his people, so he had to strike first. Raze their cities and plunder their supplies before his enemy's armies can be mobilized. If he stuck to defending, someone would inevitably die, just like countless siege defenses scattered through the annals of history.

His enemy not being monsters didn't change a thing. The result of a monster horde appearing in his house would bear the same results, so he could not afford sentimentality. Naruto killed countless monsters and therefore was always prepared to thwart an equivalent threat with the same method.

It worked, didn't it? If something dies, it's gone for good and won't come back to haunt you.

Striking at your enemy's testicles meant damning the innocent at times but funnily enough, them attacking him meant his innocents were damned. Should he let them attack his folks just because they had innocents on their side? It was either compromise or blood.

To him, the mantle of heroism was far crueler than that of villainy. Being a hero meant he had to sacrifice his beloved for the world, but being a villain meant he would sacrifice the world for his beloved.

He felt nothing for his enemies. He was not compelled to watch them get toasted by hot coals nor observe their skin getting plied off by wild beasts, after all…

He was cold, not cruel.

Elden Ring OST: Beast Clergyman – End

Chapter 1 End

Hope you enjoyed and stuff. Longbeachgriffy great, I just had to. I'm sowwy. Also lemon? I know, I suck at them but in my defence. I wasnt trying. You see I swore to never tackle the pickle again so uhhh... Had to write in a way that wasn't stimulating to me. But be grateful ya shitty brats. Ask my beta, he knows how much I suffered for y'all (crying emojis) read dozens of smut books for... Research.

And yes, I parodied Obama. I love Obama jokes.

I know some of these questions gonna come so lemme answer what I can think of.

Discord server? – maybe when I get wifi back. It's gone again.

? – Don't feel like it plus it would make this feel like a job instead of doing it for fun and shit. Plus I genuinely think this isn't worth paying for. But maybe I will to fund airtime (it's rough lmao, so many things I wanna download) or mountain dew (I'm addicted)

Update Schedule? – When I feel like it or when Beta isn't busy and works quickly. He has a life

Beta? – Dunno. Guess you can if you think you can quickly go through grammar shit(minor duty) and quickly do literature stuff(you know talk about your feelings and shit in a two- five days. Having 3 peeps look at it would be cool.

Girlfriend? – There are no girls on the internet

JOJO! – WRRRYYYYYYYY

Sauce? – I am a connesieur and a lover of MILFs but I don't mind virgins and stuff

Why write about rape? And why so cringe – A whim *shrugs*. Tell me how to improve, thanks.

Fav food? – Fries with spice n hot sauce. Dunno what kfc puts in their shit but their spice is fantastic. Chips are shit though. No McD here

Fav game? – STEP MIYAZAKI!

Favorite types of jokes? – Dark humor. If you don't know what dark humor is…

Boys play video games to get their inner child out, girls do abortion instead.

This joke was so dark the cops shot it.

Anyway, I would really appreciate detailed reviews. Don't tell me to update. I'm gonna do it anyway. If you tell me to update, I'll be discouraged. Stop it you filthy trolls, I see you.