Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 99

Truly, nothing is more sacred than the love between two women imparted with youthful bodies, forced to fight each other.

A tidal wave of emotion had washed over the pair, during their brief reprieve from the heated back-and-forth battle. A sudden spark of uninhibited romantic lust, between the two battered, beautiful maidens: each in pursuit of comfort and a fleeting escape from their woeful reality; each finding it in the arms of the other, while the men were wrapped in their discussions about sportsmanship, and the ethical considerations involved in sharing potions with your fellow [Pocket Maid Trainer].

Normally, a proud Norn bride would never think to mate with a Forbidden savage. But then again, Lorica’s mind wasn’t working straight; jumping from one extreme emotional state to the next was simply the tumultuous type of existence she’d been conditioned to. From the quiet, soul-crushing void that is the abstract reality within a [Maidé Ball], to the battlefield.

Whereas Cindy, though a neophyte in comparison, also had no qualms: having been harboring strong feelings for the valiant, yet kind little woman either way…

“This is the life of a [Pocket Maid],” the [Town Executioner] mused sadly, seeing the shock reflected on the other two’s faces. “I’ve come to accept that my sweet, pure Lorica must find relief in the arms of other [Pocket Maids] at times.” He looked upon her, their tearful gazes connecting. “For I simply cannot bring myself to make love to her, while she exists in this form.”

“Dude…” Akira simply whispered, distraught, shaking his head as the girls resumed feeding their voracious sexual appetites; ceaseless as long-lost lovers in their entanglements.

“So, do we simply allow them to continue?” Vash questioned anxiously.

“It would be the more civil option, I feel.”

“But aren’t you strapped for time today?” Akira interjected as she glanced around at the seated Norn prisoners. “There’s still a lot of executions for you to get through.”

“All these are small fry, compared to Yorick Stormfleece.”

“Why’s he so important?” Vash questioned.

“Well…” The [Town Executioner] sighed. “He is the leader of the Stormfleece Rebellion, seeking to rid Seaspan of both the Cultivator dominion and foreign influence of the Fae.”

Vash gave a skeptical look. “Wouldn’t that entail…removing the treaty you mentioned?”

He paused for a moment, with a caught look. Or at least, insofar as a man with the head of a bear could express the look of one who has just been caught with his pants down.

“I-it does. But you see, it’s far more complex than you’re thinking—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Akira chimed in with a devilish smirk, his bullshit detector reading off the charts. “You’re sitting here, lamenting the fact that your wife has been changed into a freaking little girl and forced to fight, and sometimes making sweet love with other little girls since you can’t bring yourself to even touch her anymore”—he let out a brief laugh, barely able to contain his amusement—”but you’re also going to be the one to execute the de facto leader of a group of rebel forces, currently fighting to bring an end to all of it.”

The executioner shook his head. “They’ll never win. Our foes, combined, are far too powerful.”

“A real man would fight anyway,” Akira replied quickly, intensely. Thinking back to all the times he’d risked himself to save his women. “Because you should never stand for a world…where someone you truly love is being mistreated.”

The [Town Executioner] said nothing. An air of shame about him, as he slid one palm downward against the outside of the [Battle Dome] turned [Fornication Dome].

“Lorica…the boy is right,” he said. “But what am I to do?”

She watched him intently as she was laid atop Cindy, their lips united: a long-withheld bitterness, toward her useless cuckold husband, welling up within her; unbound by Akira’s words of harsh denunciation.

Because Lorica had decided, at that moment, she was a married woman no longer…

Rather, she would devote her heart—her entire being—to this savage Forbidden girl! As well as to any other fellow enslaved little girl, sharing in the unending existential tragedy that is life as a [Pocket Maiden], who might strike her fancy; never another man!

However, it was then—as she was thinking, gleefully, of how the imminent divorce proceedings would twist her coward husband’s heart—when a resounding roar pierced the skies.

Elsewhere…

Zhao and Chunhua had been reminiscing about their hardscrabble history…when they heard the roar as well.

“What in the Dao was that?” Zhao asked.

“It sounded like some kind of animal,” Chunhua said. “But that wouldn’t make sense—the worst we get around here are Norn raiders, and Yorick Stormfleece can’t have escaped.” She rose from her seat, on the hay bale, headed for the door to check on things outside. Pausing, when Zhao asked ominously:

“So the rumors are true, aren’t they? Yorick Stormfleece really did ‘shout the Holy Emperor to pieces.’”

Chunhua turned to him sharply. “No one must know. It would be in the Cultivator Dominion’s best interest if the rumors are kept just as they are: mere rumors.” Her brows furrowed, in a deathly serious glare. “Am I understood, Officer Zhao?”

Zhao nodded, for he instinctively knew the cause for such secrecy: were the native population of Seaspan to learn that the leader of the Stormfleece rebellion was as the rumors suggested, divinely bestowed with some awesome power, it would only further bolster his cause and lead to greater bloodshed. And though he was keen to grant parlance to a couple of stray travelers, simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it wasn’t to say he bore any intentions of dismantling the Cultivator Dominion at large.

On the contrary, he believed that the Cultivators were—on the whole—the best choice for Seaspan’s leadership at this time, in terms of innocent lives spared.

The unidentified roar could be heard again, sounding closer now.

Screams, along with it.

A scent of burning wood and straw.

The cell door was then suddenly flung open, as a pair of Cultivator infantrymen barged in with pale expressions. “Commander Chunhua, ma’am!”

“Soldiers! What the devil is that noise outside?!”

“We are under attack, ma’am!”

Gawking, she quickly exchanged glances with Zhao before returning to them.

“Who is our enemy? Is it a Norn uprising?”

“N-no, ma’am!” said one guard, as the other averted his gaze to the floor, his lip fumbling with apparent fright. “Th-the attacking force is a…a…”

“Out with it!” Chunhua demanded, drawing her blade like she was going to cut him.

Back outside, in the town square…

The prisoners that had all previously been patiently awaiting their executions were scattered, running amok amidst a sea of growing flames and rising smoke as it spread among the humble village’s closely-knit buildings.

Chunhua had freed Zhao from his chains and quickly ran out of the prison, to behold:

“Is that…a fucking dragon?!” she yelled.

Indeed: a great, black-scaled winged creature, as was spoken of in ancient legend, was swooping back and forth through the skies above Helga, releasing tremendous breaths of blazing fire from its mouth to shower upon the helpless ants scrambling for cover below.

Akira, Vash, and the [Town Executioner] were clinging closely to the [Battle Dome]—hiding behind its impenetrable barrier to shield themselves from the repeated blasts of fiery breath.

“It’s that fucker Fly Guy!” Akira growled.

The executioner looked at him with wide eyes. “You know this beast?”

“Yeah,” he explained, “one of my—former—wives ran off with him when she got impregnated by the soul of an undying lich that later turned him into a dragon. And I guess, he got warped into this world along with us.”

“Oh.”

Akira scoffed. “Why am I bothering to explain it to you? It’s obvious you’re not important, ‘cuz we don’t even know your real name yet. Since the author would rather keep calling you [Town Executioner] just to pad out a word count.”

“N-no!” the [Poor, Sad, Recently Divorced Town Executioner] pleaded, suddenly filled with ominous dread. “You want my name? It’s—”

Before he could finish, fate dealt its hand against the poor self-aware NPC.

The upper section of the Cultivator guard tower crumbled from the impact of the draconic Fly Guy’s massive, swinging tail; hurling a giant stone that unceremoniously flattened the floundering [Town Executioner].

However, with their opponent now dead, and a raging dragon on the loose, this left Akira and Vash with one rather urgent dilemma…

In their attempts to find a solution, Vash kept clicking the [Flee] option on the battle HUD, only to receive the same message of “You can’t run away from trainer battles!” As Akira was simultaneously trying out different methods of employing the [Maidé Ball]—holding it at different angles, whilst issuing voice commands like “Return!” or “Activate!”

However, none of it would work. The [Pocket Maids], meanwhile, trembling as they held onto each other for dear life, inside the dome.

“It’s alright,” Lorica said, turning back to look at them. “I know a way to end the battle and lower the barrier. However, I’ll only tell you if you promise to take me along with you on your journey.” She stared, lovingly, into Cindy’s eyes. “So that I can be with my beloved.”

Akira at once shot an annoyed glare at Vash, seeking consultation. “You’re more knowledgeable about this than I am.”

“I say we should definitely take her, to increase our strength in future battles. Because if this game is anything like most RPGs, then having more party members is definitely a plus.”

Thus, it was settled, as Akira turned back to Lorica.

“Fine. You’ll be my [Pocket Maid] from now on—but don’t try any backstabbing revenge bullshit on me, or I’ll choke you with my bare hands. Got it?”

Nodding, she followed it by bowing low; her head against the ground.

“Yes, my new Master.”

As then Cindy, watching her with a cute, mystified expression, followed suit—imitating the obsequious gesture of utmost loyalty and obedience, with a tiny voice still struggling with the language:

“Ye…sh…my noo mash-tar.”