THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

From the side, David used his left hand to support the exhausted Vivian's leg while the other pulled and teased her hardened pink nipple. Vivian's eyes were heavy and full of ecstasy. David had taken her to a different dimension, pulling her into the realm of oblivion.

The only reason she could withstand David's stamina was because of his skill, which amplified their desire and enhanced their emotional connection, allowing both partners to share a deeply intimate and harmonious experience.

David's hard-on was positioned in front of Vivian's maidenhood. Her cave resembled a gushing fountain that had been unclogged by a masterful plumber. With one swift thrust, David's hot and devouring dragon found its way inside Vivian's cave.

Her folds gripped David's hot rod as they squeezed him aggressively, pushing him to the edge of intoxication as the sensation overwhelmed him. With every ounce of his strength, David pulled out, leaving only the tip inside, only to ram his dick back in.

"Hngh-Hngh-Hngh."

PAH-PAH-PAH.

David drilled Vivian from behind, savouring the taste of his newly acquired redhead. Her ex-virgin hole was tight around David's cock, drowning him in pleasure.

"Ahhn-Ahhn-Ahhn-Ahhn."

Vivian's mind threatened to collapse, her breasts jiggling vigorously while one was under David's brutal mercy as he pinched and kneaded her nipple. David felt Vivian's insides twitch, foreshadowing her release since she lacked the strength to warn him verbally.

His breath, warm and inviting, caressed her ear. "You're squeezing the life out of me," he murmured huskily. A playful glint danced in his eyes. "I'll fill you with such ecstasy, you won't remember your own name."

This was Vivian's last straw; she felt used, like a cum bucket with no rights at all, and a strange sensation gripped her heart. With the final thrust of his dick continuously hitting the walls of her womb, David released his load deep inside her.

Vivian felt David's super thick semen shoot straight inside her cave. Her pussy trembled, and she followed suit with a minor orgasm that clouded her mind. Her world became inky black as she lost consciousness.

"[Sacred Essence Cultivation is being used on target]," the holographic system window materialized before David, its presence now a familiar yet unsettling companion. He considered dismissing it as he had before, but a glaring red window burst into view, its bold warning impossible to ignore: "[If host delays the cultivation process of his essence on the three targets detected, targets may go through severe symptoms.]"

"What!" David exclaimed, his thoughts racing. Sacred Essence Cultivation had once again shackled him with an outrageous prompt, forcing his hand. With a sigh of resignation, he gently placed Vivian on the bed, careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber. He could no longer afford to postpone the process; the stakes were too high.

The system had always been a source of strength for him, a tool that had never given him reason to doubt—until now. But with the ominous warning that his women could be in danger if he delayed any further, David knew he had no choice. His focus sharpened on the window displaying his skill, and another prompt appeared, asking, "[Begin essence conversion]."

With a deep breath, David mentally agreed, the word "yes" reverberating in his mind. A cascade of windows flooded his vision, their messages clear: "[Beginning cultivation]." As the final prompt concluded, "[Host will have the option to use Harem Bond on his partners as no side effects will take place]," David's gaze softened on Vivian, who continued to sleep soundly, unaware of the tension coursing through him.

Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, as David waited in tense anticipation. But as time passed, nothing happened. The room remained still, the air thick with an unspoken uncertainty, as David stood by, his thoughts a turbulent storm of worry and resolve.

David exhaled a deep sigh of relief as he lay down beside Vivian, his mind still reeling from the stressful ordeal. As he watched the serene rise and fall of her chest, he couldn't help but reflect on the system's declaration. It had mentioned detecting three people with his essence.

"Wait a minute," he thought, confusion settling in. The first time he gained that bonus skill, he had only slept with Katrina and Vivian. Could the third person be Shay? The thought seemed too surreal, yet it made an unsettling amount of sense—those were the only women he'd been intimate with.

A sense of relief washed over him at the realization. He had never used protection with Shay, and while the idea of being a father wasn't something he feared—in fact, he had always wished for a family—his current circumstances were far from ideal. The looming apocalypse and the burden of stopping the novel's plot progression weighed heavily on him. He had never seen himself as a hero; he despised those who sacrificed what was dear to them for the greater good. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, he found himself in a position where he had to become exactly that—a hero, if only to prevent the world from unravelling.

Pushing those thoughts aside, David decided it was best to retire for the night. There was much to do, and he needed his strength for the battles that lay ahead. As sleep began to take hold, he felt a renewed determination settle within him. The path forward was unclear, but he would face it with the same resolve that had carried him this far.

****

In the dead of night, a heavily armoured soldier cautiously entered the dimly lit tent. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, the only light emanating from a pulsating magic circle inscribed on the ground. The glow bathed the interior in an eerie, spectral light, casting elongated shadows that danced along the fabric walls.

At the heart of the tent, seated alone at a small table, was a figure of unsettling presence. His hair, a cascade of shadowy silver, framed a face that was both youthful and haunting. Crimson eyes, glowing with an unnatural intensity, stared intently at the chessboard before him. Each piece, meticulously arranged, seemed to hold the weight of life and death in their carved forms.

The figure's gloved hands, clad in sleek black leather, rested lightly on his temples, fingers steepled in a gesture of deep contemplation. His posture was one of casual authority, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air—a predator's patience, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

The soldier hesitated at the entrance, his breath caught in his throat. The figure's gaze, though fixed on the chessboard, seemed to pierce through the soldier's very soul. There was a quiet power in the way he sat, a silent command that needed no words.

As the soldier took a tentative step forward, the figure's eyes shifted ever so slightly, acknowledging his presence without breaking his focus. The glow of the magic circle flickered, casting an ominous shimmer across the polished pieces of the chessboard.

"What news do you bring?" the figure asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of authority and the promise of retribution. The soldier, now standing at attention, could feel the gravity of the moment. In the presence of this mysterious strategist, he knew that every word he spoke would be a piece moved on the board of war—one that could tip the balance in ways he could scarcely comprehend.

"Message from the castle, my lord," the soldier stammered, his voice betraying the tension that gripped him as he spoke. The moment the words left his lips, the figure's crimson eyes, burning like twin embers in the dim light, snapped up to scrutinize him. The intensity of that gaze was too much to bear; the soldier immediately dropped to one knee, desperate not to provoke the wrath of the figure before him.

"A message, you say? What of it?" The voice that emerged was smooth but carried a sharp edge, a hint of annoyance that warned of the consequences should the message fail to be of importance. The soldier, struggling to keep his composure, quickly continued, "Yes, my lord. The coming of age is upon the De Gor household. The Earl has summoned you with immediate effect."

The words, though bold in their command, seemed almost insolent when spoken in the presence of this crimson-eyed monster. Yet, even the figure had to acknowledge the weight of the Earl's authority. With a dismissive wave, he sent the trembling soldier scurrying out of the tent, leaving the figure alone with his thoughts.

Three years. It had been three long years since the prodigy of the De Gor household had ventured into the outskirts of Neil, known to many as the Dead Lands, in search of unparalleled strength. The first heir of De Gor, now a man whose power was whispered of in fear, closed his eyes, allowing his aura to flare up—a tempest of raw energy, sharp and lethal, ready to cut down anything that dared stand in his way.

The Blood Whale, a name that had become synonymous with death and destruction, was about to make his return to the castle. Was this a looming threat to David, or perhaps a potential ally? It mattered little. The Blood Whale, with every step he took, would bring with him a trail of death, and the world would tremble in his wake.