MGM - 88

Jason Black

Invictus Palace

4 AM

The best thing about having more than one girlfriend - besides the constant threesomes and shit, of course-

Was the fact that I didn’t feel like a guilty piece of shit for leaving early in the morning for ‘work’.

There were no whimpers of lost heat or empty space, no risks of anyone waking up hours later to an empty bed and an anxious heart. The instant I teleported out of the pile of hot, naked, slumbering bodies, Cassie clung to Sherrel’s abs, Amy draped her freckled arms over Cassie’s newly tightened elven booty, and they all sighed in such blissful relief that I knew they wouldn’t be waking up for another ten or so hours, at the very least. 

Last night was a fucking transcendental experience. They’d pulled out all the stops, determined to ‘ruin me’ for any magical fantasy chick I met in the next world. And for once in my life since gaining all this magical power, even lil’ Jason was sore enough to agree with giving the constant fucking a bit of a rest. So they were victorious in their objective; I wouldn’t be Wormholing over and getting my dick wet with some seven foot tall Orc muscle mommy in whatever world I ended up in next.

… Not that that had been my plan in the first place, of course. I didn’t have some Amazonian orc lady fetish or anything.

False, Hidden Intuition hummed as I quietly swung open the doors to the Armory, you are an unrepentant pervert with several kinks and fetishes, and having your penis piledriven by a seven foot tall Amazonian is high on the list-

Yeah, that was e-fucking-nough of that back talk. This was why I kept it Dialed Down in almost every situation outside of when the hyper analysis was genuinely needed. He- It- She seemed to get off on exposing me to… myself, like some voyeuristic information broker. Which was insane, since Hidden Intuition had only been capable of fragmented words back when I first obtained the perk. 

Was it growing an actual consciousness over time due to how I interacted with it? Or was it just the effects of Dialing it Down so often, meaning whenever I actually used it it possessed an almost sentient level of sass and introspection?

…

‘Too much existential philosophy for five fuckin’ AM.’

Shaking my head, I focused my attention on the situation at hand - storing and displaying the goods. While I was all for jockeying power and grinding up, piece by piece, the truth of the matter was that making my Divine Attributes wasn’t for me - it was for empowering those around me. Mostly. I didn’t need the new shoes, or the helmet, or the watch; while they would obviously be great power modifiers, their true usefulness came from their ability to give any follower of mine an enhanced version of my Perks. 

No Power-Granting Deal. No ‘you lose access to this power while they have it’. Just power, straight up. And I could summon them, if needed, whenever the fuck I wanted.

That was badass. Like lending Mjolnir to Captain America and calling it back when you were fighting Thanos.

It also made me feel more comfortable and confident about leaving them here without me around to toss magic at all our problems. As… annoying as it was to say, I’d already internalized the fact that I was doing a lot of heavy-lifting for Invictus as far as raw power and notoriety goes. That isn’t to say the others were weak, of course; Sherrel packed enough firepower in her ‘babies’ to level entire city blocks, Trainwreck could probably have survived more than one hits from Leviathan without dying, Aisha was fucking scary, and Amy was… Amy was Amy. 

They were powerful. 

But I was over-protective at best, possessive at worse, and my constant presence (outside of the S9 attack, which occured while I was fighting a fucking Endbringer) meant that they hadn’t been properly tested on their own.

I was hoping to change that.

As a result, I was only heading out with what I considered the ‘base necessities’; the silky black tunic, pants, and boots that made up most of my Avalon costume, the black Arcane mantle, Omni-Disciplinary Mage’s gem-encrusted crown, and Quantum Energy’s sling-ring. The mantle was just in case I somehow ended up in a world with pissed off Gods who could see through my base Arcane perk and wanted me smote, the crown was because I simply didn’t trust anyone else with its power, and the sling-ring was obvious.

Everything else went on a golden, Chamon-forged mannequin (that vaguely resembles me, of course) proudly displayed in the center of the Armory. Gaster Blaster’s dragon-bone helmet, Conveyance Sorcery’s moon-studded amulet, Infusion’s Toolbelt, Soaring’s black and gold Jordans, Lockdown’s Patek watch - every divine artifact I created over yesterday evening’s godly fugue, I left there ready and prepped for training and use. 

Cassie had already gotten the rundown last night on how everything worked - or, at least, she’d recorded me explaining each artifact on her MagiLink - so she’d be running point instructing the others.

Which left me completely and utterly free to fuck off.

So I did. Expeditiously.

The thing about hopping worlds is that it never fucking got boring. Sure I'd only actually done it one time, but in that one excursion I’d met All-Might, slaughtered a hundred villains, became a dragon, fought and healed that very same All-Might, and established a relationship with that world’s most prestigious school’s Principal. Oh, and I also destroyed a yakuza organization and rescued a unicorn child who I then adopted in all but name.

If that happened in my very first world…

What would the second one be like? The fourth? The tenth? 

How far could I go?

It was that burning question that saw me sneaking back through my bedroom, the air still smelling faintly of flowers and sex, and making my way into the self-proclaimed ‘Portal Room’. One last look back provided me with a sight that Perfect Recollection seared into my frontal cortex; Cassie, pink-haired and petite with her long, elven ears wiggling in her sleep, smushed between the nearly six foot tall blonde bombshell named Sherrel and the big-titted goth witch Amy, her long brown hair spilled across both bodies and sprouting crimson roses even as she softly snored. 

I’d wiped them down after fucking them into unconsciousness, but no amount of soap and water could clean away that messy, ‘recently fucked’ look. Not that I’d want it to.

I pulled my phone (100% charged) out of my pocket, snapped a quick photo just because, and ducked back into the Portal Room before one of them felt my staring and woke up. The love I felt for those girls was unreal, but the love I felt for power and adventure came at a close second. 

It was time to get started.

‘Wormhole’s still holdin’ up strong,’ I noted appreciatively, striding over to the end of the closet and leaning in to examine the rainbow-spiraling Wormhole to My Hero Academia. 

The energy undulated at my approach, rainbow colors melding together and crystallizing for a second before breaking back down into raw magic, and the sling-ring on my finger pulsed a hot warmth back in response. I could feel the way my connection to the Quantum Energy had deepened with the ring’s power, like I was holding a lightning rod in front of bottled lightning. Hidden Intuition tickled at the back of my mind, Dialed Down but determined to speak, and I sighed as I eased up on the restraints.

The Wormhole is reacting to your presence, it… no, she stated - because that voice was definitely a woman’s now that I heard it with some emotional inflection. Which was fucking weird. The sling-ring provides significantly enhanced control and authority over Quantum Energy weaving. Remaking this Wormhole with equipped Divine Attribute would increase efficiency by over 150%. You will also be able to more finely tune the parameters surrounding the connected World. Recent enhancements to Hidden Intuition’s potency has developed more comprehensive analysis displays fine-tuned to your nerdy, modern-day sensibilities. Would you like to activate them?

…

‘First off,’ I thought back to my… power, ‘I’m not nerdy. I’m cultured. Get your shit right. Second off… fuck yes?’

Reality bled.

There was no gradual build-up to the sudden change in how I perceived the world. I’d half-expected Hidden Intuition to talk me through it, maybe give me a dramatic countdown or drumroll to activation, but my assumptions were completely and utterly wrong. One second I was squinting at rainbow energy doing its kaleidoscope thing, and the next my entire field of vision erupted with floating text boxes that looked like they'd been ripped straight out of a JRPG. It was the kind of shit you'd see in Persona 5 or Final Fantasy, all clean black transparency, cool golden lines, and neat, organized information that my autistic brain eagerly absorbed like a sponge.

[Active Wormhole]

[Destination: My Hero Academia]

[Mana Drain: High]

[Time Dilation: 2:1]

[Security: None]

What the absolute fuck.

I blinked. The display stayed. 

Waved my hand in front of my face. 

Still there.

"This what you meant by 'comprehensive analysis displays'?"

The response came immediately, delivered in a tone that was… different. Smoother. More feminine than the androgynous voice I'd been hearing before. It carried that same clinical detachment, sure, but underneath it was something that reminded me of a tired office lady dealing with her tenth customer of the day while still trying to maintain professional courtesy.

Kinda hot, honestly.

Correct. Your previous method of Wormhole manipulation relied entirely on instinctive quantum energy manipulation and 'vibes.' While functional, it lacked precision. The sling-ring's divine enhancement and my own upgrades allow for direct parameter visualization and adjustment. Consider this an upgrade from driving stick-shift to having a full dashboard display.

I snorted, grin tugging at my lips. "More like goin’ from riding a moped to driving a Lamborghini Aventador, god damn."

You requested efficiency improvements. I am providing them, she stated coolly. The fact that you previously opened interdimensional portals through pure willpower and a loose - very loose - understanding of quantum mechanics is frankly absurd. This interface simply makes the absurdity manageable.

Which was a fair assessment. Going off of ‘vibes’ when it came to breaching the fabric of space and time with Quantum Energy was fucking retarded now that I thought back on it, and I was honestly impressed that I’d managed to do so consistently without blowing up the void between worlds or attracting the attention of the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whatever else existed in that divide.

"Alright, alright," I said, focusing back on the floating display. "Let's see what kinda mess I made with my 'vibes'."

…

My grin immediately died.

"'Security: None.'" The words came out flat, unamused. "That's bad. Like, catastrophically bad, right?"

Catastrophically bad, Hidden Intuition confirmed, and yeah, there was definitely judgment in that tone. Anyone with sufficient quantum manipulation capability could theoretically access this Wormhole from either side. You have functionally left an unlocked door between dimensions. The only reason this has not caused problems is because Quantum Transition Energy is exceptionally rare, and most beings capable of manipulating it are completely unaware of this world’s existence.

So I've been lucky.

Extraordinarily.

"Right. Yeah. Fuck that noise entirely. How do I fix it? Like, obviously I know how to form the Wormholes, but-"

The sling-ring pulsed hot against my fingers, and suddenly the interface expanded. New options bloomed across my vision like a collapsible skill tree, each one branching into sub-menus and parameter sliders that made my inner retired gamer sit up, lean forward, and lock the fuck in.

Hidden Intuition made a noise in the back of my head that sounded faintly like noncommittal approval. The enhanced Quantum Transition Energy allows for significantly more granular control. You can now establish access permissions, reinforce dimensional barriers, implement authentication protocols, and adjust the Wormhole's fundamental properties. I recommend beginning with security implementation. Magically interface with the portal, and I will nudge you in the right direction.

"Say less. Let’s lock this shit down."

I raised my right hand, the one wearing the sling-ring, and made that slow, circular motion that I’d shamelessly stolen from the Doctor Strange movie but felt so right that I didn’t bother changing it. The golden band began to glow, warmth spreading up my arm as quantum energy responded to my will - but this time, instead of just feeling the energy, I could see it.

Rainbow threads materialized in the air, each one a different color representing a different aspect of the Wormhole's structure. Some pulsed with the steady rhythm of mana flow. Others flickered with temporal distortions. And running through all of it, barely visible even to my enhanced perception, were the quantum threads that anchored this whole thing to reality. My reality.

"Okay," I muttered cautiously, fingers already moving to trace patterns in the air. "Let's not half-ass this."

The interface responded to my intent, menus shifting as I focused on different options. Security protocols first. I pulled up the submenu, and-

Gods fucking damn.

[Security Options]

├─ Access Control

│  ├─ Whitelist (Entities)

│  ├─ Blacklist (Entities)

│  ├─ Password Protection

│  └─ Biometric Lock

├─ Dimensional Barriers

│  ├─ Reinforcement Level

│  ├─ Adaptive Shielding

│  └─ Intrusion Detection

└─ Authentication Methods

   ├─ Magical Signature

   ├─ Quantum Signature

   ├─ Blood Seal

   └─ Divine Authority

I whistled low. This was some premium shit. 

You are working with divine-tier artifacts and nascent godhood, Jason. Premium is the absolute baseline.

A crooked smirk formed on my lips, even as I stabilized the writhing quantum energy and kept the threads from getting ‘tangled’. "Keep glazin’ me like that and I might have to take you out to dinner."

I am a disembodied analytical function born of the Lady Goddesses and your tendency to talk to yourself and internally monologue. I do not require sustenance.

"Your loss. You’re me, so you know I’ve got good taste.”

Please. Less self-cest flirting and more securing two worlds from extradimensional cosmic-level threats.

But I was already multitasking.

I started with the basics - a whitelist for entity access control. The moment I selected it, a new prompt appeared asking me to designate authorized users. Easy enough. I focused on the mental images of my people: Amy's freckled face and her long, flower-crowned hair, those honey-gold eyes that went emerald when she channeled the Lore of Life. Cassie's brand new pink pixie cut and wiggling elf ears, crystalline blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Sherrel's sun-tanned blonde beauty, all muscle and curves and that Southern drawl I loved that could probably melt butter.

Each thought crystallized into a magical signature that the Wormhole recognized. The quantum threads shifted, and I traced alongside them, guided by Hidden Intuition - basically myself - to weave new patterns as I bound permissions into the fabric of reality. I added the whole Invictus roster; Aisha with her purple-streaked hair and Muramasa, Rachel and her pack of monster dogs (who counted as part of her, surprisingly enough), Malcolm in his ridiculous steam-punk power armor, Sabah with her elegant grace, smooth brown skin, and porcelain mask.

Then Eri and Riley, because my daughters also deserved interdimensional travel rights.

And Snowcone too, because my frost dragon familiar/son had earned that much. If he could even fit in my bedroom closet.

I paused, thinking. All-Might's healthy, healed face floated in my mind's eye, followed quickly by Principal Nezu's button-eyed grin. They were two of my only real allies on the other side of this Wormhole, and I trusted them not to walk through unless absolutely necessary. 

"Yeah, I decided, adding them both to the list. “They’re good people.”

And then-

Wait. Ken. 

Cementoss.

The realization hit me square in my chest. Project New Bay was happening in two weeks, and Ken Ishiyama would need portal access to get back and forth between worlds for the construction project. The big guy was gonna be rebuilding half the Docks alongside the DAU, which meant he'd need to commute through my Wormhole regularly. Which also meant I’d eventually need to take it out of my closet and make an official Portal Room somewhere less private, but that was for later.

I added him to the list as well, focusing on the memory of his blocky gray face and those nervous black eyes. The signature locked in, and I weaved those quantum threads to accommodate the new permission seamlessly.

Authorization parameters set, Hidden Intuition declared. Current whitelist contains fifteen entities with direct access permissions. Recommend implementing secondary authentication for added security.

"Magical signature verification?"

Optimal choice. Each authorized entity's unique magical frequency will be catalogued. Any access attempt will require matching this signature. Additionally, I suggest enabling Adaptive Shielding to prevent brute-force intrusion attempts.

God, I loved competence. Even if it came from my own magical powers. And I couldn’t lie; I was morbidly curious on how far I could push her. She was technically me, but also kinda like a… magical Siri/Cortana hybrid that existed solely in my brain and had a voice like prime Laura Bailey. 

If she gave me JOI, was that just masturbating with extra steps?

"Look at you, thinking three steps ahead. You single?"

I am a reflection of your own cognitive processes. This question is therefore directed at yourself.

"Touchy subject? Got it, won't pry. But for the record, I'm polyamorous and my roster's got room."

…

Silence.

Focusing on security implementation would be significantly more productive than whatever this is.

But she sounded annoyed. 

Which was fucking interesting. 

Was it because I subconsciously wanted her to be annoyed, so she took on the tone I desired because she worked off of what my consciousness desired, or did she sound annoyed because magic bullshit equated to her actually having emotions and I’d inadvertently birthed a sentient magical AI in my head via synergized perks and unmedicated mental illnesses?

Who knows. I probably never would. But it was fun to think about.

Grinning, I did as suggested and refocused half my attention on those helpful little screens. The Dimensional Barriers menu pulled up, and I cranked the Reinforcement Level to max. The Wormhole's rainbow shimmer intensified, its edges becoming more defined as quantum energy condensed into harder barriers. Adaptive Shielding went active next, and I watched curiously as my hands wove the threads into a responsive net that would actively resist tampering.

The Intrusion Detection was fun as hell to enable. The moment I activated it, I felt a new awareness bloom in the back of my mind; a sort of sixth sense that would alert me the instant anyone tried to fuck with my Wormhole. It was like installing a Ring doorbell, except the doorbell was made of condensed space-time and would probably disintegrate anyone unauthorized who got too close.

"Mana drain next,” I murmured, tilting my head as I reexamined the much tighter, neater-looking weave, “'High' is way too expensive for something I want running indefinitely."

The current configuration maintains the Wormhole through constant active connection. This requires significant mana throughput to prevent dimensional collapse. However, with your enhanced control, you can implement a hibernation state. The Wormhole remains structurally sound but draws minimal power until activated for transit.

Shit, it was like putting a computer to sleep instead of leaving it running. Not bad.

… Quaintly put, but precise. Estimated mana reduction: eighty-five percent.

I dug even deeper into the weave while simultaneously scrolling the mana management settings, and holy shit the level of control here was insane. I could adjust the power draw by fractions of a percent, redirect mana flow through different quantum channels, and even set up automatic failsafes that would seal the Wormhole if my mana reserves dropped below a certain threshold. The interface let me visualize the whole thing too. Rainbow threads representing mana flow shifted from thick torrents to thin trickles as I implemented the hibernation protocols. The Wormhole itself seemed to sigh, its roiling energy calming into a gentle pulse.

[Mana Drain: High → Minimal (Hibernation Mode)]

[Auto-Activation: Whitelist Approach Detected]

[Failsafe: Seal if Mana < 5%]

The sling-ring was getting hot now, not painful but definitely noticeable. I could feel the quantum energy flowing through it, responding to my will with eager puppydog energy. It wanted to build, to create, to make the connections I envisioned manifest in reality.

So I let it.

My hands moved through the air, golden light trailing from the ring as I traced new patterns and rewound old ones into a more comprehensive weave. The Wormhole responded, its structure reforming under my direction. Security measures locked into place with audible clicks that existed more in my soul than in physical space. The mana flow rerouted itself, finding more efficient pathways that would sustain the portal indefinitely without draining me dry.

Time dilation stayed at two-to-one for the MHA portal. No reason to fuck with what was working, especially since I'd already established the connection at that ratio. Changing it now might cause instabilities, and I wasn't trying to accidentally delete U.A. Academy from existence.

Five minutes later, I lowered my hands and examined my work.

[Active Wormhole - UPDATED]

[Destination: My Hero Academia - U.A. Academy]

[Mana Drain: Minimal (Hibernation)]

[Time Dilation: 2:1 (Earth Bet:MHA)]

[Security: Maximum]

  ├─ Whitelist: 15 Entities (Inc. Cementoss)

  ├─ Signature Authentication: Active

  ├─ Dimensional Barriers: Reinforced

  ├─ Adaptive Shielding: Enabled

  ├─ Intrusion Detection: Active

  └─ Auto-Seal Failsafe: Enabled

[Status: Stable]

[Efficiency: 94%]

Ninety-four percent efficiency. 

Fuck yeah. 

I was a simple man. Number go up? Instant dopamine.

Significant improvement over the original forty-two percent, Hidden Intuition murmured. Her voice almost seemed… surprised, as if me actually taking the time to follow her guidance was inconceivable. This Wormhole will now function indefinitely without requiring active maintenance. Security protocols will prevent unauthorized access while allowing your designated allies free passage. Cementoss's inclusion ensures Project New Bay can proceed without complications.

"You sound proud," I noted. "It's cute."

I am incapable of experiencing pride.

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I do not sleep.

I chuckled, the low, husky sound echoing through the closet. "’Right, whatever. Let's go find me a magic world."

I turned away from the MHA Wormhole, its newly secured presence a comfortable weight at the edge of my souped-up magical awareness. The entire Portal Room felt bigger somehow, like the space itself was being affected by the ridiculous amount of ambient magic energy floating through its atmosphere. Or maybe I was just being melodramatic and chuuni again, personifying things that didn’t actually mean shit.

That is the likeliest answer.

Fuck you.

"So here's what I'm thinking," I coughed, raising my right hand and beginning the circular motion that would tear open reality. "I want a world with deep magic. Complex shit that can take me months to figure out. But I also want adventure; actual boots-on-the-ground exploring, not sitting in some stuffy academy listening to professors drone about magical theory. Cool if they have those, love me some variety, but I ain’t go to high school here and I ain’t doin’ it there either."

You wish to learn through practical application rather than formal education, Hidden Intuition parsed.

"Exactly. I can read books anywhere. But fighting monsters? Discovering ancient dungeons? Meeting weird-ass magical creatures and learning their tricks? That's the good shit right there. Plus…"

I paused, grin widening.

"I’ve always wanted to join a Guild.”

Hidden Intuition sighed. Noted. Adjusting search parameters for worlds with: complex magic systems, adventure-oriented infrastructure, abundance of fantasy creatures, and minimal formal education requirements.

"See? This is why I like you. You just get me."

I am literally a part of your cognitive architecture. Understanding you is my sole function.

"And you're so good at it too. Really impressive stuff."

She didn’t respond with words - instead, I felt my arm flick a little bit to the right, felt my wrist rotate a few more degrees to the left, and the pull on my mana suddenly kicked itself into overdrive. I moved with the guidance, urging even more of my mana forward, and reality successfully split itself open in front of me.

But not into a single Wormhole. 

Instead, the space fractured into at least a dozen different shimmering windows, each one showing a different world within the swirling depths of magic. They hovered in the air like browser tabs, condensing down into a vaguely spherical formation that rotated around in a lazy circle, and the sheer absurdity of interdimensional window shopping made me grin like a fucking idiot.

"Yo. Now we're talking."

The sling-ring provides enhanced destination querying. You can now preview potential worlds before committing to a connection. Each window displays basic information about the destination, including ambient magic levels, potential threats, and compatibility with your existing power set.

I licked my suddenly dry lips, trying not to salivate over the massive Level-Up I was seeing unfold right before my very eyes. “That's… broken as hell.”

You crafted a divine artifact created from a Perk that already allowed multiversal travel. Everything you do is ‘broken’.

I couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult. But I was now getting to survey a catalogue of fictional fantasy worlds that I’d only ever known from behind a computer screen about half a year ago, so I guess it didn’t matter if my sassy magical Cortana was insulting me or not. This was just too fucking cool.

The rotating windows froze when my attention turned towards them, and the first one showed a sprawling city of white stone and impossible architecture. A massive tower pierced the sky in the center, and even through the dimensional barrier I could feel the magic radiating from it; foreign and potent, but alive.

[Potential Destination: Danmachi]

[World Classification: High Fantasy]

[Magic System: Falna (Divine Blessing)]

[Threat Level: High]

[Compatibility: 67%]

[Education: Guild-Based Training]

I recognized that one immediately - Danmachi. Bell Cranel's world, where Gods literally handed out power like candy and the Dungeon spawned infinite monsters. I hadn’t watched much of it, maybe about six or seven episodes, but I don’t remember being impressed by what I did manage to sit through. Hestia had big tits but she was kinda annoying, and outside of the Hephaestus chick I didn’t really like any of the characters. The Falna was sweet, but I doubted any of the Gods had the juice to brand me, and even if they did, I wasn’t one for handouts.

"Pass. Magic's too dependent on divine sugar mommas, and I already got three."

The chances of your own nascent divinity granting you access to Falna creation isn’t zero percent, Hidden Intuition said slowly. The Falna system's fundamental mechanics - soul inscription, growth framework formalization, divine power channeling - are all theoretically within your capability set. It would all depend on how the metaphysics of that world react to your particular brand of divinity. 

…

Well, fuck. That was a point in Danmachi’s favor.

But still, I’d spent a lot of time focusing on empowering my people. They were good for now. If I didn’t focus on my own progression, I’d never actually get around to it until something popped up(like Prime Yagi) to put me flat on my stomach and ream my ass for growing stagnant. I’d put Danmachi on the ‘later on’ list, but it wasn’t what I needed - or wanted - right now. 

‘Besides, Hestia’s tits ain’t got shit on Amy’s.’

I swiped my hand through the air, and the windows rotated smoothly.

Through this one, I could see a grand academy; all towering, gothic architecture, marble pillars, and magical floating crystals. Students in elaborate robes and uniforms practiced magic freely in courtyards, as happy and snobby looking as any other magical academy anime I’d ever seen.

[Potential Destination: Misfit of Demon King Academy]

[World Classification: High Fantasy/Demon Realm]

[Magic System: Origin/Elemental/Spirit/Holy Magic (+ more)]

[Threat Level: CRITICAL (Demon Lords, Gods, Primordial Entities)]

[Compatibility: 78%]

[Education: Academy-Focused]

Fuck going back to school. And fuck as is Voldigoad in particular. I was strong, but I wasn’t at the level of rocking with motherfuckers who could lift the moon. That wasn’t smoke I wanted right now, and I didn’t know enough about the setting to actively desire exploring outside of the academy’s walls.

Next.

The third window made me fucking nauseous

[Potential Destination: Redo of Healer]

[World Classification: Dark Fantasy/Adult]

[Magic System: Mana-Based Healing + Combat Magic]

[Threat Level: Moderate (Human Corruption, Demons)]

[Compatibility: 35%]

[WARNING: Extreme Sexual Content, Systematic Abuse]

Redo of Healer. The revenge-porn isekai.

"Absolutely the fuck not," I said flatly, swiping that window away so hard the entire sphere of windows did a full 360 spin. "Delete that option permanently. I ain't touching that shit with a ten-foot pole."

Noted. Removing world from potential destinations.

I cycled through a few more options, taking my time now that I knew I actually had the luxury of choice and that I wouldn't be rushing into completely random settings with literally no idea beyond a vague sense of its ‘vibe’. There was a cultivation world with decades-long meditation requirements that I had no interest in trying to cheat - pass. Steampunk mechs with minimal magic - hard pass. One that looked promising until Hidden Intuition flagged it as 'Currently Experiencing Apocalyptic Event', which, considering I already had a looming apocalypse to contend with in Earth Bet… pass. None of them had names that I recognized from any sort of media except the cultivation one- Cradle.

And then the ninth window opened.

I stopped.

The world beyond showed a genetic medieval landscape, complete with rolling hills and dense forests and villagers riding carriages drawn by horse-like creatures through grassy trails and Rocky Mountains. A massive Kingdom sprawled in the distance, architecture blending European medieval with something vaguely fantastical that reminded me of every generic power-slop isekai I’d ever watched (for two episodes). 

The name caught my attention.

[Potential Destination: Mushoku Tensei]

[World Classification: High Fantasy/Isekai]

[Magic System: Elemental Magic + Unique Skills]

  ├─ Structured Spell Casting

  ├─ Magical Capacity Growth

  ├─ Diverse Schools (Elemental, Summoning, Healing, Barriers, ???)

  └─ Unique/Voiceless Magic Variants

[Threat Level: Variable (Low → Extreme by Region)]

[Compatibility: 95.8%]

[Notable Features:

  - Adventurer Guild infrastructure

  - Multiple power systems (Magic, Touki, Divine/Demonic Blessings)

  - Gods exist, and none are as friendly as the Coven. Be wary.

  - All things are theoretically possible through magic

  - Members of the Dragon Tribe are extinct. ]

95.8 percent compatibility. That was by far the highest I’d seen out of every world. 

Mushoku Tensei possesses a magic system with significant parallels to both the Winds of Magic and TES magicka, Hidden Intuition murmured, and while it could’ve just as easily been fake or artificial, I could’ve sworn I heard a hint of intrigue in her monotonous voice. The structured casting would provide you with formal frameworks to complement your instinctive approach, with imminent potential to achieve unrestricted magical casting. The Adventurer Guild system emphasizes practical experience over classroom education, which aligns with your stated preferences.

There was a short pause, then…

Additionally, ‘Touki’, otherwise known as ‘Battle Aura’, is a mana technique deeply integrated into the world's combat culture. You would have ample opportunity to learn through both direct engagement and theoretical study-

"You had me at 'aura’ to be honest," I admitted shamelessly, an excited grin tugging at the corners of my lips. However, a thought came to me and I paused mid-somatic gestures, thumb and index finger frozen in the air. “Hold up. Riddle me somethin’ real quick; how do you know this shit if I don’t know it? I watched, like, maybe half an episode over three years ago. And half of that was while I was high.”

Her voice was as dull and plain as saltine crackers when she responded. You would be surprised at what the combination of Perfect Recollection, an abundance of magical processing power, and basic extrapolation can garner you. You’ve seen enough over the years, even if through osmosis, for me to make several accurate observations.

I hummed. “… That’s actually hella impressive.”

It is my primary directive, and I’m backed by actual divinity. I would hope it is within my capabilities to manage something this simple.

“‘Ight, don’t get too cocky now. What’s up with this ‘Dragon Tribe extinction’ thing? We talkin’ actual dragons, like dragon dragons, or…”

Accessing linguistic data from your subconscious memory banks…

There was a longer pause than usual. The interface flickered, text scrolling across my vision as Hidden Intuition dug through whatever vague memories I had of this world.

External references from your subconscious identify this world as the setting for a light novel and anime series titled 'Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation.' You possess minimal plot knowledge - awareness of its existence as a popular isekai with quality animation, but no detailed information about characters, threats, or political structures beyond what you’ve idly scrolled through on websites such as Reddit, 4chan, and Twitter.

Another pause.

However, cross-referencing available data suggests that the humanoid dragonkin of this world were systematically hunted to extinction after a brutal war. Your draconic nature would likely draw significant attention - potentially hostile, definitely overwhelming. Overall unnecessary and unwanted for your goals.

I frowned, one hand coming up to touch the smooth ebony horns curving from my skull. Their weight had already started to feel utterly natural for me, so the thought of having to ‘store’ them away was a foreign and slightly disappointing one. 

"So showin’ up looking like this would be a bad idea.”

Highly inadvisable. I recommend suppressing your draconic features before transit. Your elven heritage would be less conspicuous - elves exist in this world and are not systematically persecuted.

It made sense. Don't walk into a new world advertising that I'm the same species everyone spent years trying to genocide. While I wouldn’t be obfuscating my draconic heritage the entire time since it was yet another thing I needed to work on, there was nothing wrong with being tactical and keeping the unnecessary attention to a minimum whilst gaining my bearings.

I looked back at the other windows, the ones still hovering in a slow circle my peripheral vision, and…

Nah. This was the one. 

Adventure-focused, complex magic, Battle Aura - something I desperately needed to physically keep up with the likes of All-Might, virtually unlimited magic to get started on the first of my Epic Quests, and an overall high compatibility with my existing powers. The dragon thing was a complication, sure, but nothing I couldn't work around. I was anything if not adaptable as fuck.

"Mushoku Tensei it is," I decided.

It just felt right.

The moment I spoke the words, the other windows vanished. Only the one showing that generic isekai medieval fantasy landscape remained, growing larger before my eyes and more defined. The Wormhole would still need to be properly weaved, of course; this interface process provided me with a fancy bowl, but I still needed to provide the water. 

Excellent selection, my magical AI secretary acknowledged, sounding vaguely relieved at being through with the majority of the prep. I couldn’t say I blamed her. 

I was never one to spend too much time in character creation.

"Time dilation,” I muttered, tilting my head lightly to the side. “What ratio are we thinkin’?"

I already had an idea, but second opinions were never bad.

For extended learning expeditions, I recommend one-to-five. One hour on Earth Bet equals five hours in the Six-Faced World. This allows for significant time investment in magical study while minimizing temporal displacement from your home dimension.

I did the math quickly. Five days in Mushoku Tensei would be one day back home. That was more than enough time to get a feel for the magic system, maybe pick up some ‘Touki’ basics and establish a secure, contemporary anchor point for bringing the girls back. That was one of the biggest reasons I was going first, after all; while I did want some time to Jason all over the place alone, I also wanted to establish a baseline foundation of security for my loved ones. Especially if exploring this world would be a long-term expedition.

"One-to-five works,” I agreed unnecessarily, and felt the confirmation lock into my mana signature. It felt… odd, automating certain parts of this extremely precise and complicated process, but the results spoke for themselves. While I was certain I could do the same thing solo, Hidden Intuition was a fundamental asset for a reason; with her magical processing and insight, I was able to carve off hours of work and experimentation, and minimize any failure risks.

It was like having a jail broken ChatGPT to help with high school math exams. I wouldn’t use it for simple problems, but fuck trying to raw-dog AP Calculus.

“We’ll keep the security setup the same as the MHA portal - maximum lockdown, but I'm the only one on the whitelist until I scope out the world and establish a base of operations.”

Acknowledged. Configuring security parameters now.

Several more things clicked into place, red and green sparks of raw magic already arcing across my fingertips, and I began tracing those invisible patterns across the canvas painted before me. The sling-ring flared as hot as coals against my flesh, and I felt a triumphant smirk flit across my face as reality submitted and allowed my greedy paws access to the infinite space between dimensions.

I started weaving, and the interface appeared immediately:

[New Wormhole Creation: In Progress]

[Destination: Six-Faced World (Mushoku Tensei)]

[Establishing Quantum Anchor...]

[Progress: 18%]

Reality pushed back, oppressive magical weight that I idly recognized as dimensional barriers trying to seal themselves shut in response to my meddling. It was different from My Hero Academia. If I had to give an unnecessarily sexual comparison, breaching into MHA had felt like seducing and finger-blasting a dumb, happy-go-lucky bimbo; it hadn’t recognized what I was doing when I crossed over, and thus opened itself up to me freely. 

This felt more like trying to fuck a nun.

The magic of the Six-Faced World is automatically rejecting your invasion, Hidden Intuition surmised, sounding just as vaguely bemused about it as she always did when I was in danger. That… isn’t good.

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised that my Arcane-empowere-... that my Arcane Mantle was powerful enough to hide my presence from the ambient magic of the world itself.

Hopefully it was enough for any Gods sensitive to the quantum molestation of their world’s space-time continuum.

With no real advice from Hidden Intuition, I defaulted to my tried and true tactic of just shoving more power at the problem until it went away or blew up. Threads of Azyr and Aqshy began drawing themselves from their respective crystals, attracted by the collection of powerful magics, and I coaxed them forward into the formation - Aqshy for raw power, Azyr for grounding - while a thin but dense thread of Chamon stabilized swirled around the fractal edge in a Hail Mary attempt to stabilize the whole thing. My personal mana - gold, electric blue, and sterling silver all in one - wove through the entire mess, binding everything to my will and intent..

[Progress: 47%]

[Dimensional Resistance: High]

[Recommend: Increase Mana Output]

"Way ahead of you."

The closet was glowing like a fucking rave party, rainbow light mixing with quantum energy mixing with the blue of Azyr, the red of Aqshy, the gold of Chamon, and my own unique blend that shine brighter than all of it. That feeling of biting down on copper wire - the sensation of my magic - was so fucking thick that it felt more like getting deepthroated by a bronze bull.  The sling-ring burned hot enough to hurt, even through my draconic resistance to heat, but I could handle it. 

I was a fucking dragon-god. 

Reality was my bitch.

And this new universe was just playing hard to get.

"Open," I commanded in a deep, husky snarl.

The resistance shattered.

[Progress: 100%]

[Quantum Anchor: Established]

[Wormhole Status: STABLE]

[Initiating Security Protocols...]

And just like that the window expanded and swirled into a full-blown Wormhole, rainbow energy spiraling outward. I could feel the connection bloom in my awareness - two doors now, both under my complete control.

Through the barrier, I could see those same rolling grasslands and distant forests, only they were joined by other images like a magical. The magic in the air was thick enough to taste, rich and complex in ways that made the draconic core in my chest pulse with excitement and anticipation..

Security implementation complete.

[Active Wormhole - NEW]

[Destination: Mushoku Tensei (Six-Faced World)

[Anchor Point: Random Location]

[Mana Drain: Minimal (Hibernation)]

[Time Dilation: 1:5 (Earth Bet:Six-Faced World)]

[Security: Maximum]

  ├─ Whitelist: 1 Entity (Jason Black)

  ├─ Signature Authentication: Active

  ├─ Dimensional Barriers: Reinforced

  ├─ Adaptive Shielding: Enabled

  ├─ Intrusion Detection: Active

  └─ Auto-Seal Failsafe: Enabled

[Status: Stable - Awaiting First Transit]

[Efficiency: 91%]

I took a step back, admiring the beautiful, swirling tapestry of quantum magic with a proud, sharp-toothed grin on my face. The energy felt like static against my fingertips when I pressed my hand close to its“Ninety-one percent on the first try. Not bad at all."

Your mastery of Quantum Transition Energy has increased significantly with the sling-ring's enhancement. Anything below 90% efficiency is unacceptable.

“Good job, Jason,” I snorted, patting myself on the back. “Your breaching of the space-time continuum was fuckin’ sick by the way.”

… 

Your performance was adequate. 

“Tough fuckin’ crowd, huh?”

Hidden Intuition didn’t even bother responding, but maybe that was for the best. There was only so much talking to myself I could handle before even I began to get concerned for my mental health. 

Taking a deep breath, I ran a steady hand through my dreadlocks - white today, because I was feeling cheeky - and did one final check-up. 

My Omni-Crown was secure, Arcane Mantle draped over my shoulders and cloaking my body in an aura of complete and utter nothingness. The sling-ring was cooler now, wrapped around my index and middle finger, and I allowed it to dematerialize back into my soul now that I had no use for it. My horns had already receded back into my skull, though I kept my ebony claws and razor-sharp incisors just in case I needed to shank or bite a bitch.

My phone was already in my pocket, fully charged and loaded with photos of my girls. My Armament rested in its usual pocket space, over ten lethal feet of gilded, razor-sharp death in the form of a spear. With just the barest of thoughts, I could summon it to my hand and bore a hole through a mountain five miles away. A quick whisper of gibberish and a pulse of mana ensured my translation spell was primed and activated for any weird fantasy dialect I may run into on the other side.

I was about as ready as I’ll ever be.

‘Five days,’ I thought resolutely, taking a confident step forward. ‘Explore, learn magic, establish a secure anchor point. Then head back home to collect the girls.’

It was a workable objective. And even more than that, it was an exciting one. New world. New magic. New people. And I could live out my cringy highschool fantasies of being isekai’d into a medieval fantasy world and joining the quintessential Adventurer’s Guild as a young and magically-overpowered rookie.

There was literally no way to fuck this up.

“‘Ight. Let’s get this money.”

…

I stepped through.

______________________________

Jason Black

??? Region

Midnight

It was the scent that hit me first.

Blood.

Shit.

Piss.

Fear.

I’d barely even gotten my full body through the Wormhole before everything changed, and my mind struggled for the briefest of moments to adapt to such a violent shift. Each acrid stench shot through my draconic senses like a lightning bolt, so heavy and potent and rotten in the shell of my nose and the back of my throat that it took actual effort not to puke up stomach bile and this morning’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch right then and there.

One moment I’d been standing in the air-conditioned, vaguely floral-scented space of my walk-in closet.

The next, I was walking into some sort of satanic rape dungeon.

That was the first thing that came to mind when I blinked away the instinctive bite of tears and allowed my enhanced vision to pierce through the gloomy darkness and flickering green torchlight. The stone floor beneath my boots was sticky with all sorts of fluids, its grimy and uneven surface roughly hand-carved into a massive, five-sided star - a pentagram - with me at its center. The grooves were deep, carved with a wider circle surrounding the outer edges of the star, and flowing through them freely, glowing scarlet with what could only be magic, was a thick, viscous liquid that smelled like copper and rot.

Blood, Hidden Intuition whispered, being drained directly from-

‘Yeah, I can see ‘em just fine,’ I cut her off, only distantly aware of the ice-cold fury already beginning to suffuse my body.

I took another step forward.

There had to be at least a dozen of them, laid strategically around the ritual site in such a way that their blood could flow freely and evenly into the carved pentagram. Women, men, children - stripped completely naked, bound hand and feet with coarse rope, their dirty, bleeding bodies covered in all manners of filth - crusting blood, dried piss, and scattered flecks of dry white patches that I logged with the same cold, analytical detachment I was giving everything else. Only some were conscious, sobbing and moaning through cloth gags in agony and fear as blood streamed from several lacerations carved across their body, but most were unconscious. A few were probably dead.

None of them were human.

Horns, scales, fur, anthropomorphic features, and other distinctly non-human-like traits suggest members of the ‘Demon’ and ‘Beast Race’, Hidden Intuition stated succinctly. Likeliest region; Demon Continent. Trace evidence of blood and semen implies violent kidnapping, torture, and sexual assault. As for the five cloaked figures kneeling at each point of the star…

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what kinda fucked-up scenario I’d just walked into. I’d simply ignored the cultist freaks in my initial assessment because they would end up as chunks of bloodied, soulless meat within the next ten minutes anyway. The civilians were more important.

But now that I paid them more mind…

Yeah.

This was definitely some kind of sex cult.

“I, Salahari Evonharth, beseech thee, o’ great and virile Demon King Nxzalhlep, Immortal Demon Lord of Lust and Wickedness, to henceforth awaken from your slumber!”

The leader - at least, I could only assume she was the leader considering she wasn't the only one chanting gibberish - stood from where she’d just been kneeling at the Northernmost tip of the pentagram. Long, silky black hair with choppy bangs framed a beautifully feminine face that wouldn’t have looked out of place in some gooner’s modded Skyrim playthrough. She had a slim, perfectly-sized nose, regally high cheekbones, and a long, forked tongue that flickered like a rattlesnake’s when it slithered out to moisten her plump, black-painted lips.

When she moved, her heavy, maroon robes fell from her body to pool against the grimy stone, revealing ashen gray skin, a lean, muscular frame, and curves that seemed meant for crushing pelvises just as well as riding them. Her naked breasts were large but perky, capped off with dusky black nipples that pebbled the instant they were exposed to the cold, musky air, and her pussy was shaved completely bare, revealing a loopy red womb tattoo in the shape of a bleeding heart.

Kinky.

‘Salahari’ was objectively sexy in a ‘I’d rather chop off your dick and use it as a fleshlight’ sort of way. In most cases, I’d ‘prolly be thinking about how to charm a gorgeous demon lady like this straight outta her nonexistent panties because I was just a man and horniness was damn near a constant companion for me, especially since becoming a dragon-

“Grace your ever-loyal followers with your sinful presence, and partake in the defilement of these ten virgins, long since marked by our tainted seed!”

But in this case…

All I wanted to do was separate this bitch’s heart from her rib cage.

Her glowing green eyes, slit-pupiled like a viper's, swept across the ritual circle with growing desperation, searching for the Demon King she thought she'd summoned. Her naked body trembled, not from cold but from barely restrained frustration and a mounting panic that I could see in the way her slim abs tightened and her hands clenched against her sides. 

The other four cultists remained kneeling, hoods still drawn, but I could see their attention starting to shift and stray as well. Confusion rippled through the chamber in tendrils of Ulgu and Shyish, joining the dense cloud that already clung to the ceiling and walls, but their low, whispered chanting never stopped.

In a way, their ritual succeeded, Hidden Intuition murmured, her clinical voice sounding almost satisfied. Their magic summoning ritual somehow managed to temporarily link with the quantum energy used for your Wormhole. Technically, they did summon a God.

Just not a demon one.

The irony was almost funny. I’d be sure to laugh about it after I turn this ritual circle into even more of a fucking bloodbath.

I extended my hand forward, palm facing the demon woman, as the chanting grew louder, more desperate. The Arcane Mantle still obfuscated my presence, made me completely and utterly invisible to any and all of their senses, but I knew the power would fracture the instant I turned the naked bitch to paste. That gave me, what… ten or so seconds of chaos and confusion to kill the others before they did something retarded like taking one of the civilians as hostages?

Roughly, Hidden Intuition confirmed. However, note that the ritual circle is still active. It is safe to assume that structural integrity is… unstable due to varying factors, the most stringent being opening and closing a Wormhole consisting of raw quantum energy and three separate Winds of Magic directly in the center of the ritual circle. Recommend avoiding direct magical interference with the circle itself to prevent potential catastrophic backlash.

Long-winded way of saying ‘don’t use magic’, but I was grateful for the warning because my first instinct had been to launch a bolt of ionized destruction straight through Salahari’s skull.

“... Fuck it then,” I murmured, killing the tendril of Azyr that had started to thread itself around my palm. Golden sparks replaced the electric blue glow. “Spear up the ass it is-”

Celestial Quest Issued! 👑

“Divine Intervention”

Fate has no claim on your soul, o’ Champion, but the stars have aligned in just the right way for you to save these ill-begotten captives from an untimely and sickening final death. See to it that true evil does not prosper this day. Not so long as you draw breath.

Objectives:

Kill all demonic cultists.

(0/5)

Save the captives and ensure their good health.

(0/12)

Guide each and everyone one of them safely back to their city.

(0/12)

Reward: 

(1x) Moderate Perk

Freya.

This time, it wasn’t just words emblazoned across my eyelids; Hidden Intuition captured the divine mandate the instant it shot through my soul and turned it into an actual quest window I could see and peruse at my own pace. It was all sleek black translucency and molten gold text, small enough to avoid cluttering my immediate view but just large enough to read with my enhanced vision. As I watched, the Celestial Quest minimized itself into a small golden crown that lingered at the corner of my peripheral, joined instantly by another one; a silver moon surrounded by purple sparkles.

Hecate. Cute.

And convenient.

I wouldn’t say no to another Perk, and considering I’d been planning to kill them all anyways… Well, that was just free power. 

The Armament answered my call.

Golden sparks coalesced in my right hand as over ten feet of gilded, razor-sharp death. The spear's weight settled into my grip like an extension of my own body - perfectly balanced, reinforced by my own mana, and humming with barely restrained power. Chamon bled through the golden-orange gem encrusted into my Omni Crown, coating the Armament in ribbons of enchanted magic. I was beyond incantations for the Winds of Magic at this point, at least when it came to spells that utilized only a single Wind.

For a spell like Enchant Weapon, all I needed was sheer will.

Salahari was still scanning the ritual circle, her glowing green eyes wide and desperate as the chanting of her cult grew louder and more frantic. The other four cultists remained kneeling, their hooded heads bowed in supplication, hands moving in wide, somatic gestures, but I could see their confusion reaching an explosive head. One of them - the one at the Eastern point with what looked like scaled hands peeking out from beneath dark red robes - shifted slightly, turning to glance up at their leader.

"Missstresss Sssalahari," the scaled cultist hissed, forked tongue flickering between razor teeth. "The sssummoning… why can we not-"

"SILENCE!" Salahari snapped, her voice cracking with barely restrained panic. "The Demon King is HERE! I can feel his presence! The ritual succeeded, he simply… he must be testing us! Observing our devotion before revealing himself!"

Desperation dripped from every word. She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince them.

Pitiful.

I let the Arcane Mantle's power fade. The divine obfuscation shattered like glass, and reality reasserted my presence in this new world. The temperature rose several degrees as the Winds of Magic I'd been unconsciously channeling - Azyr, Aqshy, Chamon, all swirling around me in an invisible maelstrom - suddenly became real. My own mana thrummed like a nuclear generator within my chest, seeping out through arcane pores and filling the air with a sensation not unlike the sky before a thunderstorm. Anyone with even a shred of magical sensitivity would be able to feel it.

Which, judging by the way every single cultist's head snapped toward me in perfect synchronization, was all of them.

Salahari's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. Her perfectly-shaped mouth fell open, that forked tongue darting out in what could’ve been shock just as well as interest - I didn't know and didn't care. What I did care about was the way her gaze immediately dropped to my spear, then back up to my face, then even farther up to the crown on my head, and I watched in real-time as her brain tried and failed to process what she was seeing.

"You…" she breathed, and her voice was barely a whisper. "You're not… you're not the Demon King."

I gave her a cold, dead-eyed stare that contrasted with the wicked grin that crossed my face.

“Nah,” I agreed casually, like I was talking to some guy at the supermarket instead of a nude demon cultist in the middle of a blood-soaked dungeon. “I ain’t.”

Then I put my spear through her fucking chest.

The movement was so fast that Salahari didn't even have time to scream. One moment I was standing fifteen feet away at the center of the pentagram. The next, I'd crossed the distance in a single explosive step that demolished the stone beneath my boots, and my Armament’s gilded tip punched through her sternum with a wet, meaty crunch that echoed through the chamber like a snapped turkey leg.

SQUELCH!

Her bugged-out eyes went even wider, her mouth opened in a soundless gasp as ten feet of enchanted steel erupted from between her shoulder blades in a spray of dark crimson blood and shattered bone fragments. I'd angled the thrust upward, aiming for her heart, and I felt the moment the spear's razor edge found its target. The beating organ ruptured like an overripe grape, spraying the inside of her chest cavity with pressurized gore, and Salahari's entire body went rigid as her nervous system tried and failed to process the catastrophic damage.

I twisted the spear.

The motion was deft. Efficient. I rotated the weapon a full ninety degrees inside her torso, and the golden ribbons of Chamon’s Enchant Weapon shredded everything in their path. Ribs snapped like dry kindling. Lung tissue got torn into ragged strips. Her spine gave way with a sound like wood being torn in half, and when I yanked the spear back out in one smooth, vicious pull, half of the demon bitch’s upper torso came along for the ride.

She - or they, if you count her two halves as separate entities - collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, hitting the stone floor in a boneless heap of twitching limbs and exposed viscera. Blood poured from the massive wound in her chest - a gaping crater easily the size of both my fists - and pooled beneath her in a spreading lake of crimson that flowed into the ritual circle's grooves, joining the glowing blood already there.

Death committed in one point three seconds, Hidden Intuition hummed. Stay moving.

The cultists screamed.

"MISSSTRESSSS!"

"NO! NO, WHAT-"

"KILL HIM! KILL THE FALSE-KING!"

All four of them surged to their feet in a desperate flurry of maroon robes and (un)righteous fury. The one at the Eastern point - the scaled demon who'd spoken earlier - thrust both clawed hands forward and started chanting in a language that my translation spell rendered instantly.

"Let the great protection of fire be on the place thou ssseekessst! I call the bold heat of a torch here and now-"

They're using incantations, Hidden Intuition whispered analytically, even as I moved to intercept. Verbal components for spell activation. Woefully inefficient and long-winded, but it gives you time to-

"-FIREBALL!"

A sphere of roiling flame materialized in the air between the cultist's outstretched hands, burning white-hot and crackling with poorly contained energy. It hung there for a fraction of a second, - just long enough for me to register the density of mana compressed into that tiny space, the way it warped the air around it with sheer magical heat - and then the cultist hurled it straight at my face.

Slow.

My body folded backwards as the Fireball screamed past my face, so close that the heat seared the air and left the scent of burning hair in its wake. I felt the raw compression of mana - foreign, different from the Winds but recognizable in its fundamental essence - roar overhead like a freight train made of superheated death. The sphere of fire was maybe two feet in diameter, burning with white-hot intensity that left afterimages scorched across my retinas even through my closed eyelids. It missed me by inches.

Then it hit the stone wall behind me and exploded.

WHOOOOOM!

The detonation was catastrophic. Stone shattered into shrapnel, flames washed across the ritual chamber's far wall in a wave of orange and yellow fury, and the shockwave hit me like a physical slap that rattled my teeth. Smoke billowed outward in thick, choking clouds, and chunks of superheated rock clattered across the blood-slicked floor, some landing dangerously close to the bound captives.

But none hit them.

I'd known the trajectory the instant that bastard released the spell.

‘Potent destructive power,’ I thought distantly, even as my body snapped back upright and my boots found purchase on gore-slicked stone. ‘Verbal trigger, somatic components, mana compression visible during the build-up.’

Inefficient, Hidden Intuition repeated flatly.

She wasn’t wrong. Neither of us were very impressed so far.

The scaled cultist at the Eastern point was already starting another incantation, clawed hands weaving through the air as his forked tongue hissed out syllables in that same flowing language.

"Let the great protection of-"

I didn't let him finish.

Twenty feet separated us. I crossed it in one step.

The stone beneath my boots shattered from the force of my launch, cracks spiderwebbing outward in a ten-foot radius as I converted raw draconic strength into explosive acceleration. The world blurred. Wind screamed past my face. My Armament came up in a smooth, practiced thrust that felt more like breathing than conscious thought, and the cultist's eyes - beady, glowing yellow slits shrouded beneath that hood - went wide with the realization that he'd fucked up.

His mouth was still forming the next syllable when ten feet of enchanted steel punched through his throat.

SQUELCH-

CRUNCH!

The spear's golden tip entered just below his adam's apple and erupted from the back of his neck in a spray of dark purple blood and vertebrae fragments. I felt the resistance - scales harder than human skin, dense muscle, the cartilage of his windpipe - and then nothing as Chamon's enchantment carved through it all like tissue paper. The cultist made a sound, something between a gurgle and a hiss, as his severed vocal cords tried and failed to produce coherent noise.

Then I ripped the spear sideways, and his entire head popped off in a fountain of foul-smelling ichor. The frayed hood floated peacefully to the ground.

His face was just as reptilian as his hands, covered in dark green scales, yellow eyes already glazing over. They stared up at the ceiling as his body collapsed, empty and bloodshot and already growing milky as his soul descended down into Hell. That foul purple blood painted the pentagram's grooves an even deeper crimson-black, and I watched with a cold, grimly satisfied detachment as the mana I'd felt building in his chest during that interrupted incantation dissipated into nothingness.

Two cultists down, Hidden Intuition declared coolly. 

Three to go.

The ambient mana that had been suffusing the ritual circle seems to have dissipated into the atmosphere. They’ve broken the spell. You are free to use your magic.

Beautiful.

It was time to switch ‘em down.

The remaining trio scattered like cockroaches when the kitchen light flipped on, their maroon robes billowing as they scrambled for defensive positions around the ritual chamber. The one at the Southern point, a hunched figure with what looked like octopus tentacles flailing from beneath their sleeves, thrust both ‘arms’ skyward and started chanting in that same flowing, inefficient language. Their voice was deep and garbly, like they were trying to talk through a mouthful of liquid.

"Let the great protection of water be on the place thou seekest-"

Nah.

I didn't even give them the courtesy of finishing the first line. My right hand snapped forward, fingers splayed, and I poured a fraction of my will and mana into the air around me - except this time, I drawed greedily upon the magical energy that already existed in this world. Golden light erupted from my palm in a thick, viscous wave of raw mana, and the air itself seemed to fracture as exact replicas of my Armament materialized in the space between us - ten identical spears, each one wreathed in that signature golden glow that marked them as projections of my very soul

The cultist's eyes went wide behind that hood.

Too slow.

I clenched my fist.

All five spears launched forward like railgun rounds.

FWOOOOSH-

BOOOOM!

The sound was catastrophic. 

Each soul-shearing projection moved faster than sound could keep up, compressing the air into miniature sonic booms that rattled the chamber's stone walls and sent the flickering green torches nearly vibrating out of their sconces. The cultist didn't even have time to scream. The first spear punched through their chest with enough force to lift them clean off their feet. The second took them in the gut, obliterating their spine. The third, fourth, and fifth hit damn near simultaneously - shoulder, throat, skull - and the combined impact slammed them backwards into the chamber wall with a wet, meaty CRUNCH that echoed like a car crash.

They hung there for a moment, pinned to the stone like a grotesque butterfly in a collector's case, five golden spears jutting from their ruined body at different angles. Dark blood, nearly black in the torchlight, poured from the wounds in thick, pulsing streams, painting the wall like the world’s most macabre graffiti art. The mana I’d burned turning the projections physical and souping up their speed was already regenerating as my draconic core recycled this world’s ambient energy, each breath topping off my reserves faster than they could be drained.

The corpse slid down the wall and collapsed in a boneless heap, and the golden projections dissolved into motes of light that faded like dying fireflies.

Gleaming silver eyes flickered to the right.

The cultist at the Western point was already moving, panic overriding whatever sense of self-preservation they might've had. This one was shorter, stockier, with thick arms that ended in three-fingered claws. They slammed both palms against the blood-soaked floor and started chanting fast enough that the words blurred together into a desperate, garbled mess.

"Let-the-great-protection-of-earth-be-on-the-place-thou-seekest-I-call-the-bold-stone-here-and-now-"

Conveyance Sorcery answered before I even consciously willed it.

Reality folded.

The cultist's chant cut off mid-syllable.

They started to turn, clawed hands coming up in what might've been a defensive gesture or maybe just instinctive panic.

And I grabbed them by the skull.

My hand was easily large enough to palm a basketball, reinforced by draconic strength that could bend steel like taffy. It clamped down on their head with all the gentleness of a hydraulic press, and that was without mana reinforcing my physical strength. Fragile bone creaked. The cultist made a high-pitched, keening sound as their hands scrabbled uselessly at the bulging, steel-like tendons sticking out of my muscular forearm.

"Nah," I said aloud, my voice flat. I didn’t even feel like dropping some corny one-liner.

I just squeezed.

POP.

The cultist's skull imploded like a watermelon after twenty-five rubberbands. Bone fragments erupted from between my fingers in a spray of gray matter and dark blood, painting my hand in viscera that was already cooling in the chamber's dank air. The body jerked once, a full-body spasm as their nervous system misfired its final desperate signals, and then went completely limp, collapsing against my grip like a puppet with cut strings.

I let go.

Hidden Intuition hummed. Four down.

“One to go.”

The final cultist was already sprinting for the chamber's exit, their robes billowing behind them as they abandoned all pretense of courage or religious fervor in favor of pure, unadulterated survival instinct. They were fast, I'd give them that. Faster than a human had any right to be, moving in a blur of crimson fabric and panicked gasps that echoed off the stone walls. I could see the way they used their own mana to cloak their body, almost like a mantle - from head to toe, though the majority of it was focused around their legs. 

It was different from the way I used Magic-Enhanced Attacks to amplify my weapons and hits. More structured. More… fluid. Better in almost every conceivable way.

Touki, or Battle Aura, my eternal inner-analyst murmured curiously.

Touki made them fast.

But they still weren't faster than me.

And they sure as fuck weren't faster than lightning.

I raised my left hand, fingers already crackling with electric blue sparks as Azyr surged through my Omni Crown's sapphire gemstone and threaded itself down my arm in arcing ribbons of pure atmospheric fury. The air around my palm ionized instantly, the smell of ozone cutting through the chamber's blood-rot-piss stench like a hot knife through butter. Static electricity made my dreadlocks stand on end, white strands lifting and swaying as if caught in an invisible breeze.

I was already sighting down my extended arm like it was a fucking gun barrel.

At this point in my magical journey, Lightning Bolt didn't need an incantation. It didn’t need somatic components beyond pointing my hand at the target. With the Omni Crown hanging over my brow, with its gems acting as magical foci and grounding rods for the Aethyr, I no longer need to beg the Winds for permission or whisper words of power in ancient Anoqeyån to convince fire to burn or wind to blow. Not for this basic (to me) level of casting, at least.

I simply told the lightning where to go, and it obeyed its king.

CRACK-

BOOOOOM!

A bolt of pure electric fury erupted from my fingertips in a blinding flash of neon blue radiance that turned the entire chamber white for one single, eyeball-searing instant. The thunder followed a microsecond later, so loud and violent that I felt it in my bones, in my teeth, in the cavity of my chest where my draconic core pulsed with excitement at the flexing of arcane power. The air itself seemed to scream as the superheated atmosphere expanded faster than sound, and the lightning - thick as my forearm, branching into fractal patterns that looked like the very roots of the tattoo that crawled down my face and chest - crossed the forty-foot distance between us in literally zero seconds.

The cultist couldn’t have possibly seen it coming.

One moment they were running, robes trailing behind them, hand outstretched for the chamber's iron-banded door.

The next, they were a fucking Roman candle on New Years eve.

The lightning bolt hit them square in the back and detonated. Raw, unadulterated electricity arced through their body in a cascading network of burning power, seizing all motor control from their body and blasting them into the air. Their skeleton jerked and bulged against the meat encapsulating it, white-hot bone visible through burning flesh and robes that ignited and flaked away instantly from the sheer thermal energy. Smoke poured from their mouth, their eyes, their ears - every orifice becoming a chimney for the inferno raging inside their body.

They managed one step forward, momentum carrying their cooking corpse another foot toward the door-

Then they collapsed in a smoldering heap of charred meat and scorched fabric, smoke rising in lazy spirals from the blackened husk that had been a living, breathing demon cultist approximately three seconds ago.

The smell hit me a moment later; roasted pork mixed with electrical discharge and the acrid stink of burned hair. 

My stomach didn't even twitch. I’d smelled worse in the Shie Hassaikai compound, after I’d melted the flesh and bones of dozens of men in one cramped, claustrophobic corridor.

All five down, Hidden Intuition confirmed, her clinical voice carrying the faintest note of satisfaction. Lady Freya’s first objective has been completed.

The golden quest marker in my peripheral vision pulsed once, acknowledging the update, before minimizing back into that tiny crown icon. I let my hand drop, the last few sparks of Azyr crackling between my fingers before dissipating into nothing, and took a moment to survey the absolute carnage I'd just painted across this underground chamber.

Five corpses. 

Five different methods of execution, each one brutal and efficient in its own right. 

Salahari's bisected body at the Northern point, torso split damn near in half and leaking organs across the stone. 

The decapitated lizard cultist at the Eastern point, purple blood still pooling around his severed neck stump. 

The tentacle demon at the Southern point, slumped against the wall and bereaved of their mortal soul - now just a meat husk. 

The three-fingered cultist at the Western point, their skull reduced to paste and bone fragments scattered across a five-foot radius. 

And finally, the charred husk near the exit, still smoking gently as residual heat cooked their flesh into something unrecognizable.

Total time elapsed since you’d revealed yourself: thirty-five seconds. Hidden Intuition supplied.

Not bad. I’d wanted to get a little creative, maybe try out that crazy ‘Stormfire’ bullshit I’d discovered after combining Aqshy with Azyr, but I wasn't about to waste time making them suffer when there were people who needed me.

Priorities, Jason.

I turned away from the carnage and focused on what actually mattered - the captives. Most were still unconscious, bodies limp against the blood-slicked stone, but a few were starting to move and stir - trembling, sobbing, gasping for air through the gags stuffed in their mouths. The cuts across their bodies weren't deep enough to kill quickly, but they were numerous and precise; ritualistic lacerations designed to bleed slow and steady, feeding that scarlet pentagram with a constant stream of life force.

‘The ritual circle's gone dark now,’ I noted distantly, watching the last few traces of luminescent blood fade into mundane crimson. 

Whatever magic they'd been feeding had started to dissipate the moment I'd put a spear through Salahari's chest.

Small mercies.

My gaze landed on movement - real, active movement, and not just the unconscious twitching I'd seen from some of the others. 

It was a dog girl, maybe early twenties if I had to guess, bound at the wrists and ankles with the same coarse rope that had rubbed her skin raw and bloody. She had long, messy dark brown hair that fell down her back in tangled waves and hazel-colored eyes that burned with fury despite the tears streaming down her face. A pair of floppy canine ears twitching erratically atop her head while a bushy tail, the same dark brown as her hair, tucked itself tight between her legs - a defensive posture, fear and pain radiating from every line of her naked, bleeding body.

But she was still fighting. Still twisting against the ropes, ignoring the way the fibers dug deeper into her already-raw flesh. Her jaw worked furiously around the gag, muffled sounds of desperation and terror mixing together into something raw that made my chest tighten.

Stubborn, Hidden Intuition observed with something that might've been approval. Impressive pain tolerance. She's maintained consciousness and active resistance despite significant blood loss and prolonged torture.

I moved.

My Armament dissolved back into golden sparks as I crossed the chamber in three long strides, boots crunching over shattered stone and splashing through puddles of cooling blood. The crown on my head pulsed warm against my skull, the eight gemstones already responding to my intent before I'd even consciously shaped the spell. Hysh, the Lore of Light, flooded through the white-quartz gemstone and threaded down through my nervous system in ribbons of pure, cleansing radiance.

I dropped to one knee beside the dog girl, and her entire body went rigid. Those hazel eyes snapped to my face, pupils blown wide with terror, and for a second I thought she might try to headbutt me or some shit. But then something… shifted. The fear was still there, thick and choking, but underneath it I watched recognition bloom - recognition that I wasn't one of the cultists, that I was the one who'd just painted the chamber walls with their insides.

Her muffled sounds changed pitch. Less panic, more… confusion? Hope?

Hope, Hidden Intuition whispered. She is terrified of how you mercilessly slaughtered all five of the cultists in exceedingly grotesque and violent displays of aggression, but you also have a nice smile. So there’s that.

Wow. Thanks.

"’Ight, I’m gonna need you to hold still," I said quietly, reaching for the gag first. My voice came out rougher than I'd intended, still carrying traces of that cold fury from the fight, so I forced myself to soften it. Even widened that smile she seemed to like. "I'm gettin' you outta this. I won't hurt you, I promise."

She went still. She wasn’t relaxed, of course - every muscle in her body was still coiled tighter than a spring - but she stopped fighting, stopped twisting against the ropes. She just watched me with those wide hazel eyes while I carefully worked the filthy cloth out of her mouth.

The gag came free with a wet, sucking sound, and she immediately gasped for air, coughing and retching as her jaw worked through the stiffness of being forced open for gods knew how long. Drool and blood spilled down her chin. I wanted to give her a minute to recover, but the way fresh crimson was still seeping from the cuts across her torso said we didn't have that luxury.

"Breathe through your nose," I told her, already moving to the ropes at her wrists. My claws, still extended from the fight and wickedly sharp, made short work of the tough fibers. One slice of my index finger and the bindings fell away, revealing raw, bleeding welts where the rope had bitten deep into her skin. "Slow breaths. You're alright now."

"I-" Her voice cracked, hoarse and ruined. She tried again. "I didn't… I was handling it…"

I paused mid-motion, one eyebrow raised, and stared at her.

This girl.

She was covered in blood, almost all of it her own, naked, bound, surrounded by corpses, and her first words after being rescued were to insist she'd had the situation under control?

… I believe you would  call this one a ‘tsundere’, Hidden Intuition supplied dryly.

No shit.

I didn't call her out on the obvious lie. Instead, I just moved to her ankles and cut those ropes too, keeping my expression as neutrally kind and gentle as possible. "Sure you were. That why you still got rope burns and a pentagram of blood under your ass?"

Her ears flattened against her skull, and a flush crept up her neck despite the blood loss. "I just- they caught me off guard, that's all! If I'd seen them coming-"

"Uh-huh."

My right hand came up, palm facing her torso, and I let Hysh flow freely through the golden-white gemstone in my crown. The spell formed instantly, no incantation or somatic components needed beyond the gesture, just pure will and an intimate understanding of how the White Wind interacted with living flesh. Golden light bloomed from my palm, soft and warm, spreading across her blood-slicked skin in gentle waves that made her gasp and flinch backward.

"Easy," I murmured, my other hand coming up to carefully steady her shoulder. I was hyperaware aware of how much bigger I was, how my hand basically engulfed her entire shoulder joint. "This is gonna feel warm, maybe tingle a bit, but it ain't gonna hurt. Just hold still and let it work."

The Healing Light spell intensified, and the dog girl's entire body started to glow with that same soft radiance - like someone had placed a campfire directly beneath her skin. I watched intently as the magic did its work. The lacerations across her torso began to close, flesh knitting back together with visible speed. Shallow cuts sealed themselves in seconds. Deeper wounds took longer, but even those were mending, new pink skin growing over exposed muscle and fat.

Her breathing hitched. Not in pain, but in shock.

"What… what are you- Healing Magic? N-no incantation?!"

I arched an eyebrow at the raw, naked shock and awe in her hoarse, raspy voice. “That’s what you’re focusin’ on now? Really?”

Fresh heat spread across cheeks that were already beginning to gain a healthy peach color, and I knew she would’ve crossed her arms over her chest if I wasn’t actively healing her body. She was staring intensely at me, but not in my eyes - her attention was focused solely on some point in the middle of my nose.

“B-but this is at least Intermediate-level casting…”

“And you have intermediate-level internal injuries. Hush up and lemme work, woman.”

I could feel the White Wind working on more than just the physical damage too. There was something… wrong in her mana channels; a dark, oily residue that clung to her life force like spiritual tar. Corruption from the ritual, most likely - whatever fucked-up magic those cultists had been channeling had left its mark on everyone in this circle.

The Healing Light burned it away.

I felt the corruption dissolve under Hysh's radiance, evaporating like morning dew under sunlight, and the dog girl's expression shifted from naked shock to something that looked almost like pleasure. Her shoulders, which had been hunched up around her ears in defensive tension, slowly lowered. Her breathing evened out. The trembling in her limbs eased as the pain faded and her body realized it wasn't actively dying anymore.

And through it all, she just… stared at me. Those hazel eyes stayed locked onto my face with an intensity that would've made me uncomfortable if I wasn't busy making sure I didn't miss any internal injuries.

‘Why's she looking at me like that?’

You're a supernaturally handsome six-foot-six High Elf with glowing silver eyes, a literal crown on your head, and hands that just pulled her back from the edge of death, Hidden Intuition pointed out. Also, your nascent divine aura is emanating a sense of protection and safety that she's almost certainly responding to on an instinctive level.

‘… My what?’

Later. Focus.

Right.

The worst of her injuries were sealed now - no more active bleeding, no more corruption eating at her life force - but she was still covered in blood, piss, and… yeah. The cultists' ‘offerings’. My lip curled in disgust just thinking about it. No one should have to sit in that filth, especially not after what they’d all just been through.

It was time to fix that.

I pulled my hand back, the Healing Light fading as the spell completed its work, and she immediately wrapped her arms around herself, instinctive modesty kicking in now that the immediate threat of death had passed. Her tail curled around her legs, and those ears flattened again, but this time it looked less like fear and more like embarrassment - the same type of embarrassment that matched the increasingly red flush spreading down her face.

"Hold up," I said before she could try to scramble away or say something defensive. "You’re still covered in all types of nastiness. Lemme clean you up real quick."

Her eyes widened. The flush turned absolutely nuclear. "I can- I- I don't need you to-"

Fucking anime girls.

I didn't wait for permission. My hand touched her shoulder again, just the fingertips this time, and I channeled Hysh through a different matrix. Cleansing Glow was simpler than Healing Light, less intensive, but just as useful in situations like this.

Golden light pulsed outward from the point of contact, washing over her entire body in a single gentle wave, and the effect was immediate. Blood evaporated. Grime dissolved. The dried semen that had been clinging to her skin flaked away into nothing, taking the stench with it. Even her hair, which had been matted and tangled with filth, smoothed out into clean, shiny waves that fell perfectly past her shoulders.

She looked down at herself, at skin that was suddenly spotless, and her mouth fell open.

"I… how did you…"

"Magic's useful like that," I said with a shrug, already standing and turning toward the next captive. "Stay put for a second. Gotta get the others."

"Wait-!"

I glanced back. She was struggling to her feet, bracing her hands against her lean, athletic thighs for support, and I could see the way her legs trembled with the effort. Healed or not, she'd lost a lot of blood. Her body needed time to replenish what it had lost, and standing up this fast after being healed was asking for a one-way trip back down to the floor via fainting.

"Sit your ass down before you pass out," I told her flatly.

"I'm FINE," she snapped back, and yep, there was that stubbornness again. "I- I can help. I’m not useless. There are others-"

"And I'll get to 'em. But you ain't in any condition to be playing medic right now."

"I said I'm fine! You elves always think you’re so perfect. So graceful! Well look here!"

She took a confident step forward to prove her point.

Her legs immediately gave out.

I moved on instinct, crossing the distance between us in one long stride and catching her before she could faceplant into the blood-soaked stone. My arm wrapped around her waist, and I hauled her back upright with enough ease that it probably would've been embarrassing for her if she wasn't too busy gasping for air and clinging to my bicep for support.

"Yeah," I said dryly, keeping my grip firm but gentle. "Real fine. Very convincing."

She made a sound that was half a warning growl and half a pitiful whimper, and I felt her tail lash against my leg in frustration.

Definitely a dog girl, Hidden Intuition confirmed unnecessarily.

I carefully guided her back down to the floor, making sure she was actually seated this time instead of just pretending, and fixed her with a look that I hoped conveyed exactly how much patience I had for this particular brand of tsundere nonsense.

Which was to say: not fucking much.

"I get it," I began, keeping my voice low and even. "You're strong. You're tough. You don't need help. Cool. Got that. But right now, you just got rescued from a blood ritual that was about to sacrifice your ass to Demon King, you've lost enough blood to warrant a whole fuckin’ gallon of apple juice, and your body is runnin’ entirely on fumes. So do me a favor and sit. Here. While I handle the rest. ‘Ight?"

She glared at me for a long moment, jaw set, ears still flat against her skull.

Then, finally, she nodded. Barely. More of a jerk of her chin than anything, but I'd take it.

"…Fine," she muttered. "But I'm watching. If you need help-"

"You'll be the first person I call. Scout's honor."

I didn't wait for her response. I just turned and headed for the next captive, already assessing their condition as I moved.

It was an older woman this time - or at least, she looked older, though it was hard to tell with demon physiology. Pale lavender skin, short-cropped silver hair, and a pair of curved horns that swept back from her temples like a ram's. She was conscious, eyes tracking my movement as I approached, but she hadn't made a sound. No sobbing, no struggling. Just… quiet endurance.

Her injuries were worse than the dog girl's. Deeper cuts, more blood loss. One laceration across her abdomen had nicked something internal, and I could see the way her breathing had gone shallow and thready, her body trying to compensate for the damage.

"Hey," I said gently, kneeling beside her and reaching for the gag. "I'm here to help. Gonna get you cleaned up and healed, alright?"

She didn't nod. Didn't even blink. Just watched me with these ancient, tired eyes that were slightly uncomfortable to stare directly into.

The gag came off. I expected her to gasp for air like the dog girl had, but instead she just swallowed, worked her jaw for a second, and then spoke in a voice that was surprisingly deep and steady.

"The children first," she rasped. "Please."

I paused, hands hovering over the ropes at her wrists.

"There are three young ones," she continued, nodding toward the far side of the circle. "They stopped moving a while ago. I don't… I don't know if they're…"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and something in my chest clenched tight.

"I'll get to them," I promised, already cutting through her bindings. "But I gotta stabilize you first. You got internal bleeding, and if I don't patch that now, you ain't gonna last long enough to see me help anyone else."

"I can wait-”

"You can't. Trust me."

I didn't give her time to argue. My hand pressed against her abdomen, right over the worst of the damage, and Healing Light blazed to life. She gasped, back arching slightly as the warmth spread through her torso, and I watched with clinical focus as the spell went to work.

I sealed the internal hemorrhaging first; couldn't have her bleeding out into her own stomach. Then I moved the spell in through the deeper lacerations, the ones that had carved through muscle and fat to scrape against bone. Finally, the shallow cuts, the ones that were more about pain and blood flow than actual lethality.

The corruption came next, and this time I felt it resist. Whatever dark magic those cultists had been channeling, it had sunk its claws deep into this woman's life force. Maybe because she'd been here longer. Maybe because she was older, her defenses weaker. Either way, Hysh had to burn hotter, brighter, to scrub it clean.

She whimpered. Just once. A tiny, involuntary sound of pain that she immediately bit down on, jaw clenching as she forced herself to endure.

As tough as fucking nails, this one was. I felt a spark of affection.

The corruption finally dissolved, and I felt the spell complete its work. Her breathing deepened, healthy color returning to her lavender skin, and when I pulled my hand back I could see the way her eyes had regained some of that sharp, intelligent focus they'd been missing.

"Right. Hold still one more second," I murmured, already channeling Cleansing Glow. The light pulsed, and just like with the dog girl, all the blood and filth evaporated, leaving her clean and whole.

She looked down at herself, then back up at me, and something in her expression shifted. Softened.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, I… what's your name?"

"Jason," I replied coolly, already moving toward the children she'd mentioned. "Jason Black. Yours?"

"Jason? … Odd name for an elf. You may call me Mirana," she said, struggling to sit up now that she had the strength to do so. She didn’t bother covering her breasts and genitals, but neither did I allow my gaze to linger in the slightest. "I'm a… I was a baker. In Rikarisu. Before they…"

Her voice trailed off, but I could fill in the blanks.

"You from Rikarisu?" I called back over my shoulder, already kneeling beside the first of the children - a boy, maybe eight or nine years old, with gray skin and small, nubby horns just starting to grow from his forehead. He was so still he almost looked straight up dead, but my enhanced eyesight caught the slightest swelling of his chest. Breath. "That’s where all y'all are from?"

"Most of us, yes," Mirana confirmed, her voice getting stronger now. "They raided the city two nights ago. Took anyone they could grab from the outer district. We've been down here ever since."

… Two days. 

These people had been tortured for two straight days.

The fury that I'd barely tamped down earlier roared back to life, and I had to actively force it back, shove it into the same mental box where I kept all the other unproductive emotions I felt on a daily basis. I had to focus on the living for now, and be pissed about the dead I hadn’t been here to save later.

The boy was alive. Barely. His pulse was thready and weak, his breathing so shallow I had to press my ear to his chest to confirm his lungs were even moving despite the swelling I’d clocked before. But he was alive, and that meant I could save him.

"Come on, little man," I muttered, cutting away his gag and ropes with quick, precise movements. "You ain't dyin’ today. Not on my watch."

Healing Light washed over him, and I poured more mana into it than I had with the others. Children were fragile. Their bodies didn't have the same reserves, the same resilience. I had to be careful not to flood his system with too much magical energy at once, but I also couldn't afford to go slow.

His wounds sealed. The corruption burned away. Color returned to his gray skin, and his breathing deepened into something that actually looked like proper sleep instead of a coma.

Good. Next.

The second child was a girl, maybe six years old, with cat ears and a tiny tail. Beast Race. She was already awake, staring at me with huge, terrified green eyes, trembling so hard her entire body shook. When I reached for her gag, she flinched backwards so violently that she nearly fell and cracked her skull against the hard stone floor.

"Whoa, hey," I breathed softly, freezing in place and keeping my hands where she could see them. "I'm not gonna hurt you, ‘lil lady. I'm the good guy. See?"

I nodded back toward Mirana and the dog girl, both of whom were now sitting up and watching. "I already helped them. Just gonna do the same for you. Get you all cleaned up and healed. Then we're gonna get you outta here and back home to your fam in Rikarisu. That sound good?"

She didn't answer. Just stared at me with those huge eyes, breath coming in rapid little gasps that bordered on hyperventilation.

Shock, Hidden Intuition supplied quietly. Possibly disassociating. Approach with extreme caution.

Fuck, man.

I was never that good at this shit.

I moved slowly. So slowly it felt like I was underwater, every gesture deliberate and non-threatening. My hands went to the gag first, and when my fingers brushed her cheek she flinched again, but this time she didn't pull away.

"That's it," I murmured, working the filthy cloth free. "You're doin' great. Almost done."

The gag came off. The ropes followed. And then I laid my hand on her shoulder - just barely, the barest hint of physical contact - and let Healing Light and Cleansing Glow flow simultaneously.

She gasped, eyes going even wider, and for a second I thought I'd fucked up, pushed too hard too fast. But then her shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, and she sucked in a proper breath for the first time since I'd approached.

The magic did its work. Wounds sealed, filth evaporated, corruption dissolved.

And through it all, she just… stared at me. Like she couldn't quite believe I was real.

I didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to make this better beyond what I was already doing. So I just gave her the gentlest smile I could manage - which, given how fucking angry I still was, probably looked more like a grimace - and moved on to the third child.

A boy again. Ten, maybe eleven. Horns like Mirana's, the same lavender skin. He was conscious but glassy-eyed, staring at nothing, and when I removed his gag he didn't even blink.

Catatonic, Hidden Intuition confirmed grimly.

I healed him anyway. Sealed his wounds, cleaned his skin, burned away the corruption. And when I was done, I wrapped him in a thin layer of Ghyran - just a whisper of the Jade Wind, enough to encourage his body to produce a little extra serotonin, to nudge his nervous system back toward baseline instead of whatever traumatized shutdown he'd been locked in.

His eyes focused. Not much. But enough that I could see awareness creeping back in.

"You're safe," I told him quietly. "I got you. All of you. You're gonna be okay."

He didn't respond. But his breathing evened out, and that was enough.

I stood, turning back to survey the rest of the captives, and found Mirana already on her feet, moving toward the unconscious ones with the kind of determined efficiency that hinted that she'd done triage before. The dog girl was still sitting where I'd left her, but her eyes were tracking my every movement, sharp and analytical despite the exhaustion written across her face.

"How many are still out?" I called to Mirana.

"Five," she called back, already kneeling beside one of them - a middle-aged man with green skin and small, sharp tusks extending out from his mouth. An Orc, maybe. Or an Ogre. "This one's breathing but won't wake up. The others…"

She trailed off, but I could see the worry in the set of her thin shoulders.

"I'm on it."

The next fifteen minutes blurred together into a rhythm of kneel, cut, heal, cleanse, move. Each captive got the same treatment - ropes removed, wounds sealed, corruption burned away, filth evaporated. Some woke up immediately, gasping and crying and clinging to me or Mirana or whoever was closest. Others stayed unconscious, their bodies too exhausted to do anything but sleep now that they weren't actively dying.

The middle-aged man Mirana had pointed out - his name was Kell, he told me in a rough, gravelly voice once he'd regained consciousness - immediately tried to help. Insisted on it, actually, despite the fact that he could barely stand.

"I can carry the young ones," he declared, already reaching for the catatonic boy. "Get ‘em away from… from this place. Keep ‘em safe."

I didn't argue. I just nodded and let him do what he needed to do to feel useful, to feel like he had some control over the situation again. Trauma did that to people, made them cling to whatever agency they could find, even if it was just carrying a couple kid across a blood-soaked sex cult rape dungeon. 

I wouldn’t rob him of that feeling of power.

By the time I finished healing the last captive - a young girl with long blue hair and equally blue eyes that Hidden Intuition kept insisting was older than Mirana - the chamber had transformed. What had only just been a crime scene of horror, death, and misery was now… well, it was still a scene of death, the cultists' corpses were still scattered everywhere, and it stank like Satan’s armpits - but the living were clean, whole, and gathering together in a loose cluster near the iron-banded door, as far from the pentagram as they could get.

Twelve people. All alive. All accounted for.

The golden quest marker in my peripheral pulsed once, updating.

I turned to address the group, opening my mouth to ask if anyone needed anything else, and found myself chest-to-face with the dog girl. She'd gotten to her feet at some point, probably while I was busy with the last few healings, and now she stood directly in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tilted up in defiance.

‘Still naked,’ I noted distantly. 

They all were. The cultists had stripped them before the ritual, and I'd been too focused on healing to think about clothes.

Shit.

"Uh," I started, very deliberately keeping my eyes on her face and nowhere else. "Y'all gonna need clothes. I can prob-"

"Remi," she interrupted. "My name is Remi. And I just… I wanted to say…"

She paused, jaw working like the words were physically difficult to get out. 

"…Thank you. For saving us. I know I was… difficult. Earlier. But you didn't have to do any of this, and you did anyway, so… thank you."

She bowed abruptly

It came out stiff. Formal. Like she was reading from a script she'd memorized but didn't quite believe in. Her ears were still flat against her skull, and her tail was tucked tight, and everything about her body language screamed discomfort with the vulnerability of gratitude.

I felt my lips twitch despite myself.

"You're welcome," I said simply. "And for the record, you weren't difficult. You were scared and in pain and trying to hold onto whatever dignity you had left. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

Her ears twitched. Just slightly. The blush returned with a bloody vengeance.

"I- well- yes. Obviously! I'm a C-rank adventurer, I don't just fall apart under pressure," she half-yelped, straightening up out of her awkward bow tilting her head to the side to avoid looking me directly in the face.

"C-rank, huh?" I filed that information away for later. "You with the guild in Rikarisu?"

"I'm a receptionist," she said, and there was pride in her voice now, confidence replacing the earlier defensiveness. "I help coordinate quests, manage adventurer records, provide information on monsters and regional threats. It's really important work."

I grinned lazily. "Sounds like it. Means you probably know the city pretty well, yeah?"

"Better than anyone," she confirmed. "I've lived there my whole life. Why?"

"'Cause I'm gonna need someone to show me how to get there," I replied, glancing back at the group. "Don't know where the hell I am right now, and I'm assuming y'all wanna go home."

"The Petrified Forest," Mirana called out from where she was comforting the blue-haired girl… woman. "We're in a dungeon somewhere beneath the forest, I heard one of the cultists say. Something about the ambient mana making their rituals stronger."

"Shit. Sounds dangerous," I muttered, already forming a plan. "Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna get y'all some clothes - give me like two minutes to figure that out - and then we're heading to Rikarisu through this ‘Petrified Forest’. I'll escort the whole group, make sure nothing tries to fuck with us on the way."

"You're… coming with us?" Remi asked, unable to hide the rush of relief and gratitude that spilled openly across her face.

I gave her a bemused look. "Yeah? I’m not about to heal all y'all and then just dump you in the middle of a monster-infested forest. What kinda logic is that?"

"But you don't even know us!” she insisted as if that was any good reason to abandon a group of innocent and weak(to me) citizens. “We can't pay you, we don't have anything to offer-"

"Don't need payment," I said flatly, cutting her right off. "Y'all just survived some fucked-up shit. The least I can do is make sure you get home safe."

She stared at me for a long moment, those hazel eyes searching my face like she was trying to figure out the catch, the hidden angle.

There wasn't one.

I just… didn't want them to die. Simple as that.

Freya coulda offered me negative Perks and I still would’ve saved them.

After a few tense seconds, she nodded. Slowly. And when she spoke again, her voice was softer. Almost embarrassed.

"Okay. Okay, I’ll… I'll show you the way. But first…"

She glanced down at herself, then back up at me with an expression that was equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.

"Clothes would be nice. R-really nice, actually."

…

“Pfft.”

I chuckled. Couldn't help it. The deep, husky sound echoed through the chamber, startling a few of the captives who’d already started to drift off now that they were safe and healed by Hysh’s light, but Remi's slim lips twitched like she was fighting her own smile.

"Yeah,” I smirked, already going through a list of spells in my head. Nothing jumped out at me as immediately useful for creating outfits for a group of naked, shivering demon and beast folk, but if I learned anything over the past week, it was that the Omni Crown allowed me to do things with the Winds of Magic that I was never able to do before. And before, I’d conjured an engine-powered drill the size of an entire city block to carve through and destroy a fucking Endbringer.

I’d fucking kill myself if I couldn’t make a few warm outfits.

“‘Ight. Lemme see what I can do."

______________________________

Quests Received:

Divine Intervention

Reward:

(1x) Moderate Perk

OOC: Yooo, wassup guys. Hefty ass chapter here! I just wanna say sorry for being gone for a month; life is rough and it’s been kicking my ass, but I finally found a pocket in-between working ridiculous hours at a dead-end job to write up a big ass 16k chapter for you guys. Gonna work on moving two of my other fics over to here as well because I really, really want to start knuckling down on releasing Patreon content on a consistent basis. It just feels like whenever I get that motivation to do so, life just gets so fucking busy all over again.

Hope you enjoyed. We’re in MT now baby, and I’m excited to see how it goes.