The golden rays of morning streamed across the ndscape, casting warm hues upon the forest around us. The crackling fmes that had danced in the heart of our campfire had now dwindled into a mere pile of smoldering embers, their vibrant energy subdued by the growing light.

  Near the camp's edge, I sat on a weathered log, my grimoire propped open, suspended midair with the fir of purple smoke. The distant crackle of the dwindling fire melded with the rustle of pages as I lost myself in the arcane text. Across the fire's dying embers, the elf leaned against a gnarled tree, her gaze fixed on me. Her eyes, a storm of wariness and uncertainty, held me while her daughter, nestled in a bundle of bnkets and leaves asleep beside her, a picture of innocence in the midst of everything.

  "You tricked her" she finally said.

  I looked up from my grimoire to her. "what?"

  "You knew there were more of us so you tricked her into making it easier for you"

  I studied her for a moment then said, "why would I, a king, go through all that trouble for cheap sves?"

  Her face contorted at the insult but she yielded and turned away. She thought me stronger than her, and that might be the case but her attack is still more than 300 above mine.

  No doubt the grimoire made me far much stronger than before, but to use a spell I would have to know it existed, which means I have to read thousands of grimoire pages.

  It's not all that bad though. All I have to do is read them once and they are forever etched in my mind, and comes any time I need them.

  "How strong is the demon king?"

  The atmosphere changed.

  "...how strong do you think a god is?"

  I looked at her daughter. "Stronger than her?"

  She looked at her daughter then gred at me like I told a bad joke. Her attitude has been getting on my nerves since she woke up but I couldn't kill her because I was afraid of setting off the nuclear bomb of a companion she had,but she didn't know that.

  "Stand up" I ordered.

  She hesitated for a moment then begrudgingly stood up, gring at me.

  "Strip"

  Her fingers moved with a practiced slowness, hesitatingly unfastening the ties that held her clothing together. She wanted to fight it, her hands trembling slightly as they lingered on the st piece of fabric. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes burned with defiance, but she ultimately yielded, letting the cloth slip from her fingers and fall to the ground. As the fabric slipped away, her figure was revealed, a blend of soft curves and defined lines, illuminated by the gentle morning light. The cold air brushed her skin, a clear reminder of her vulnerability. Amidst this intimate unveiling, her daughter stirred nearby, the young one beginning to rouse from her sleep. The rustling of leaves announced the approach of multiple figures, their footsteps echoing through the quiet ndscape, signaling an imminent disturbance to our secluded moment.

  "Walk over to that tree, bend over with your hands on it"

  The fierceness of her gre intensified, a challenge and a refusal rolled into one defiant expression. I arched an eyebrow and her gaze darted from me to the approaching figures, a visible tension pulling at the corners of her lips. The weight of her decision seemed to weigh on her, a crossroads where defiance battled against the potential consequences. With deliberation, she yielded, her footsteps measured as she traversed the distance to the tree. There, she complied with the command, the defiant set of her jaw and the intensity of her eyes contrasting with the vulnerability of her pose—the privates of her body, revealed by the morning light, a stark dispy of submission.

  I walked over to her, and stood behind her. I undid my trousers, holding my dick in my hand, giving it a couple strokes. It was mere hours ago when I unloaded so much cum into her daughter's pussy multiple times so my dick wasn't as hard but it was hard enough and getting hard with each stroke.

  I am yet to fully understand how [Copy] works so I went for her asshole. The moment I touched it to massage it she flinched and jerked away because she wasn't expecting it.

  "Under no circumstance are you to move from this position" I warned.

  I could hear her breathing as she fought to stay steady. My thumb returned to her butthole and it sunk in deep. Too tight. With no lubricant there's no way it won't hurt like hell.

  I took my thumb out and spit on the hole then pcing the head of my dick on it. I started nudging it in, slowly but it was too tight to go in. Soon the head got buried in, and the elf was squirming as more inches was tightly going in. I felt the folds give way to the now iron stiffness of my prick, and one-half of it was fairly embedded in the extremely tight sheath. I pressed forward with all my might, and sheathed my prick in her bottom-hole to its full extent. She cried out and if not for my hands firmly csping her waist she might have unsheathe me. I felt her bottom give convulsive twitches on my prick, her whole body shivering as I started moving, thrusting in and out as much as the tight sphincter would allow. It was more exciting than I thought but the elf clearly wasn't enjoying it as I pulled my dick almost all the way out then smmed loudly back in,a grunt escaping her lips smack.

  The shock murmuring was becoming more wide spread but that prompted me to go in even faster and faster until I finally poured into her a torrent of boiling sperm.

  I pulled out my dick, all slimy as the elf, trying to put a defiant front, struggled not to colpsed to the ground.

  "You told them everything?" I asked, facing the the crowd, my fingers deftly fastening the ties of my trousers . They were at least 50 of them, and for the few in front that I used [Appraisal] on they were a good find.

  "Yes, Your Majesty" she said.

  Among the faces that stared back at me, a spectrum of emotions unfolded. Subtle disgust twisted the features of a few, while others radiated simmering anger. Fear, palpable and wide-ranging, echoed through the expressions of many, as uncertainty cast its shadow over the gathered group. That's fine.

  "I guess it's time to go home" I said.

  <Αφ?στε τον ουραν? να φ?ρει το σημ?δι του Μουσταφ? να οδηγ?σει με τον δρ?μο των συμμ?χων>

  "<συστοιχ?α!>"

  ┌─────── ??? ───────┐

  Shafts of sunlight filtered through ancient trees, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Soldiers of Drakoria stood tall with weathered armor and symbols of an era long past, exuding grim determination. Just like the force before them. The air hung heavy with uncertainty, a stark difference from the urgency of the newcomers' arrival five hours earlier. The forest seemed to pause, a silent witness to the tense standoff, where words were unspoken but the atmosphere spoke volumes.

  Ulric Von Hohenberg sat atop an albino steed at the head of the amassed force exceeding 7,000, a shadowy assembly whose faces remained hidden beneath masks, and whose ranks bore no banners. Helene, Drakoria's lost demon was with him. Arriving ahead of the King's soldiers, they had silently observed as Mustapha, the King, and a fierce barbarian woman embarked onto a waiting vessel, only for the King to be taken while his companions were mysteriously returned to nd. Ulric's heart swelled with a sense of triumph, yet he recognized the need for patience. His victory had to be certain.

  Time stretched on, more than half a day passing as Ulric maintained his vigil. Assured that the King's return was unlikely, he eventually unveiled himself to the wary soldiers of Drakoria, knowing victory was within his grasp. He understood their submission was inevitable, a matter of time. But then, everything fell apart.

  A deafening thundercp resonated through the air. Instinctively, their gazes lifted, drawn toward the horizon. There, a tapestry of dark clouds converged, coalescing with an uncanny precision. As the misty shroud thickened, an ominous shape emerged, its edges forming distinct curves and angles. They turned to see dark clouds gathering in the distance, forming the word "Mustapha". It hung suspended against the roiling sky, a message etched in nature's own hand. The atmosphere, already den with tension, now carried an additional weight.

  He lives.

  Ulric Von Hohenberg stood there, his once unyielding countenance now fractured, his expression a canvas of shock and disbelief. The weight of reality had descended upon him like a crushing blow, leaving him reeling in its aftermath. His hands trembled slightly, the firmness he once held giving way to vulnerability.

  "That's a witch's spell" he muttered, still looking at the word. Then he turned to Mustapha, sitting calmly on his horse. "How long are you going to protect an imposter parading as king?"

  "...you know something the goddess don't?" came the reply of Mustapha, his voice carrying a weight that revealed he rarely spoke, each word dripping with significance.

  Ulric stared at the unyielding knight commander seeing that it was fruitless. There was only one option left and Mustapha seemed to agree for he said to the savage standing next to him. "Go find the king"

  "Attack!"

  And so it began. The second civil War in Drakoria's history.