A little fun

Travis looked into Leaf’s eyes for a few long, tense seconds. The woman was leaning on a tree, her hands and ankles tied together, making her unable to take her shirt off entirely, but enough to let both her large girls out. She squeezed them together a little with her elbows and gazed at him with need.

“Oh no~ somebody found me. I wonder what he’s going to do to me~...”

‘…should I?’ Travis thought briefly as he took a long step closer to her, standing about 2 meters away now. The situation... tempted him, but as aroused as he was, he couldn’t dismiss the careful side of him. ‘If she wanted to do something to me, she’d have already summoned Berry…’ he thought, taking a look around. But it seemed Leaf didn't intend on bringing her summons out.

“All alone in this deep forest, and he’s packing a weapon~ is he going to hurt me?” she made a wide smile at her question, swaying her chest a bit in an inviting motion.

He got closer, still unsure about what he actually wanted to accomplish through that. Of course, he did find Leaf’s body alluring, but that didn’t mean he could just lose himself in it. But the situation she was in, compiled with her sultry look, won him over eventually.

As he got within range, he noticed how Leaf raised her hands but didn’t reach out to him instantly. Instead, she gave him a choice. Or was she still teasing him?

For a few short seconds, the two of them were not moving, only staring at each other, until finally, Leaf decided to push forth and reached over to Travis’s belt. Feeling little resistance, she pulled, prompting him to step even closer.

She wasted no time and exposed his erect penis. Taking it in her hand, she smiled coyly and looked at him.

“Oh my, what a spear~! I wonder… where will he put it?” she asked in a seductive tone, but clearly, she was giving Travis some pointers to what she wanted him to do.

Within seconds, he helped Leaf lay on the ground, her breasts swaying to either side of her chest. She made a small moan as he grabbed them both, kneeling over her stomach, his shaft above her sternum. She didn’t even say a thing.

Travis got hold of both her mammaries and burrowed his dick in between them, and almost felt his eyes widen involuntarily. He couldn’t describe how it felt. It was both soft and warm, dry and yet very, very pleasant. He breathed heavily for a moment, reveling in the feeling until he felt Leaf shift in her position a bit as if telling him to start moving.

Slowly, he rocked his hips a little to the front and back and repeated the motion. Getting a better hold of Leaf’s tits, he played with her areolas a little and soon brought left one to her face. Without even a word, she sucked for a few long seconds, and her nipple uncovered itself, standing proudly. Releasing it from her mouth, she turned her head to the other side. Travis instantly understood her intention and gave her the other boob to suck on. Meanwhile, played with the first one and played with its nipple. A throaty sound left Leaf’s mouth as she shivered, clearly enjoying herself. He responded by twisting the nipple in his hand, to which Leaf almost squirmed.

He reached his release in within a minute or so more, not able to withstand the immense pleasure. Feeling his orgasm, he rocked his hips as far forward as he could, the tip barely piercing through the mountain of Leaf’s cleavage, and shot a few lines of cum onto her throat and left collarbone. The elf woman moaned again, feeling his hot load on her. Releasing her tit from her mouth, she formed a smirk.

“Oh, my~ such a load,” she winked toward Travis, and he could swear that the sparks in her sapphire eyes didn’t wane one bit. “How about one more?”

‘I'm not sure if I can go on…’ he thought but didn’t voice his worry.

“Come closer,” she prompted him, and as he knelt next to her head, she got hold of his hand and brought it to her crotch. “Here,” she said, returning with her hands to his tool. Getting hold of it, she felt how soft it became, but didn’t fret. In fact, she only chuckled a little. “Hello, there~,” and then, she licked it a little.

Within seconds, Leaf was sucking on the tip of his shaft, and Travis felt surprised when he felt his dick become reinvigorated anew. Was this an effect of increased Endurance? Hand still on Leaf’s crotch covered by her pants, he felt a brief moment of clarity. Even if he could, should he go on? He asked himself for the moment between Leaf’s kisses on his tip.

…of course, he would go on. And to ensure that everything played out properly, he had his now signature skill.

<I like his taste.>

Again, in the back of his mind, there was uncertainty about whether or not this <Suggestion> would connect, but it didn’t seem to fail. It bounced around her mind a little, but once it found a crack, it was already in the next moment, and seeing how Leaf didn’t stop or even flinch for one moment, he was certain: she didn’t even realize what he’d done. ‘Good.’

Feeling as she took his dick into her mouth fully, he worked his way down her stomach and under her pants. He pushed them a little down and stretched the underwear she wore a bit as he unlocked access to her nether regions. For a few seconds, he felt her clean, shaved skin, rubbing his fingers around her hot slit. Leaf, in turn, moaned loudly on his dick, bobbing her head forward a little as she was licking it all over with her tongue. She was most definitely experienced.

Travis traced one finger on her pussy lips feeling it wetting his hand slowly. With little hesitation, he pushed inside, and instantly, Leaf quivered in pleasure. Momentarily, she stopped in her tracks, but as he placed a hand on her head, she resumed what she was doing, moaning occasionally as he pushed and pulled his finger in a rhythmic motion.

They kept on going for a few minutes until Travis felt himself blast a load straight into Leaf’s throat. Taken by surprise, the elf backed off slightly but quickly swallowed. She kept on sucking him some more, but there was little reaction from his cock anymore. On the other side, Travis started fingering her even faster and was soon enough rewarded with a constricting feeling as Leaf finally came, a powerful jolt of electricity traveling through her body.

Leaf's head spasmed as she let out a long moan. Finally, she seemed to calm down. A quick, weak laugh escaped her mouth, and for a short moment, she seemed to almost drift into sleep.

-5 minutes later-

He was lying on his side, staring into the forest. The outlines of the trees were visible, standing like dark observers of the events that had just unfolded.

“Thanks for that,” Leaf spoke with a somewhat calm tone. “I really needed it.”

“…”

“…are you mad?” she asked with a little worried tone.

“…not mad,” he ascended a little on his elbows and looked toward her.

Her face was still a little flushed, but her serene eyes emanated a bit of pleasant chill that contrasted with it. Leaf had already fixed up her attire, still tied, but ready to sleep, leaning on a tree once more. In the campfire’s small embers, she looked both inviting and a little ominous, or at least gave off such sense to him. There was a stain over her left breast and partially over her cleavage. Yet, she didn’t seem to mind it, or perhaps couldn’t fix it up herself, not that she was complaining anyhow. Travis continued his thought:

“I’m just surprised why you did that.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head a bit and chuckled a little. “You’ve not been traveling too much on your own, I see? Try a few weeks without a soul in sight. Doing it on my own got old quick. And you know, tying me up really adds to the fun a bit, I wanted to see how it’d go,” she smiled.

Travis nodded a little and then looked up a bit, staring at the night sky. As the campfire was dying off, the celestial bodies visible in the sky glistened with light, creating a star map of their own. Travis never really took much time to stare at them, but… he wasn’t going to sleep just yet. Might as well use that time a bit.

-Meanwhile, somewhere far away-

*CLAANG!* *CLAANG!*

Rhythmic sounds of hammering could be heard deep under a mountain. It was a clear, loud, defined sound with clarity rivaling that of the cleanest crystals. It was a beautiful sound despite its ear-ravaging volume, carried over for kilometers in the underground tunnels and caves where one of the dwarven clans resided.

Greta raised her head from a pillow and looked around the room. Once again, she confirmed that her husband was out of home, his hammering not finished despite being continued constantly for nearly an entire day. Slowly, she got up from her bed and stood up to her full 130 cm height. Stretching her arms a little, she could only groan a little as the sound kept on attacking her ears. With a sigh, she left her home and ventured to the nearest smithy, exactly the one that the sound was coming from. However, she was startled when she saw a dozen or so familiar faces standing just by the entrance, looking at what was happening inside.

“Greta!” one of the dwarves called out to her. “Your husband’s lost his mind! Again!”

“…what did he do this time?” she asked, a little tired of even hearing the same thing over and over.

“He’s mixing titanium-cobalt alloy with mithril!”

“Ugh… what has he come up with this time…” she closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.

“He said that he’s going to reinvent the wheel,” another dwarf came up to her. “This is a blasphemy of our techniques! It took our ancestors hundreds of years to perfect that alloy, and he just called it trash!” there seemed to be fumes coming off of the man’s ginger beard. “I beg you! He may listen to you! Just stop this madness!”

‘…why the hell must you do this to me, Edgar…’ she thought as she started making her way through the dozen people.

Setting her foot inside, she noticed a muscular dwarf slamming a hammer onto an almost finished sword. In reality, she had seen it finished twice already. It was quite unlike anything she’d seen him do before. A slightly curved blade was a concept that dwarven craftsmen had never thought to try before. The amount of the curvature itself was very small and it appeared around the mid-point and toward the tip of the blade. It didn't seem to do much for the weapon's function, though it did give it a nice, clean look.

The man didn’t stop or even glance at her from over the anvil. Beautiful, colorful sparks filled the room as he continued his hammering tirelessly, a blend of blue, silver, and teal fires emanating from the sword he was finishing again. Everyone gathered was familiar with the tempering and strengthening of the blade, but Edgar took it to another level with this one. One tempering was enough to ensure a blade or armor would survive a hundred battles, and yet, he was already doing it for the fourth time.

He’s been working on this blade without a minute of rest for the last two days. Just why? And on top of that…

“Edgar,” she called out to him strongly. “I heard you are profaning our sacred techniques.”

“Not profaning,” he replied between swings, not even bothering to turn toward her. “Upgrading.”

“It took our ancestors generations to perfect the titanium-cobalt alloy we use for weapons. Mithril is used for armor! Why do you think it’s a good idea to mix it there?”

“Because the weapons we create with that shitty alloy are sharp but brittle. How many swords have you seen that endured more than a hundred spars without a need for repair?”

“And how would mithril help? Can you imagine what Logar’s face looks like right now?”

“Wish I could see it,” he smirked a little as he put his hammer down, seemingly finished. “But there is no time to be sulking, now,” he continued with a somewhat detached expression, fixing dark hair that fell onto his face. He raised the red-hot blade into the air and blew a bit of air at it. It appeared to almost vibrate at the air current. Edgar smiled.

With utmost care, he took the nearly-finished sword and carried it over to a large, furnace-like structure. Greta knew, however, that it wasn’t it at all; this was an automatic whetstone, powered by the mana of the user. Originally devised by elves to ease the burden of blacksmith’s jobs, it was gifted to dwarves after an age-old war had ended long ago.

The structure was nearly entirely mechanized, and thanks to that, Edgar only had to place the sword inside and close the door. Then, he pulled a lever next to the door and reverted it back to its original position after a few seconds of metal grinding noises coming from inside. Swiping sweat from his forehead, he opened the door again, and slowly, carefully, pulled out the finished blade.

It was about 70 cm long and ended in a small handle to which he would later affix a proper, leather handle (or maybe something different, Edgar was strange among dwarves). The curved blade was now dark silver in color (as it had cooled off in the machine), and while it retained its feeble looks, Greta had to admit, it looked kind of nice.

“Mithril is a strong material, but only on armors,” Edgar continued his thought. “But after affixing it with a bit of dark steel, it becomes bendable, and can be used to strengthen the weapon's spine,” he explained slowly. “With that, the structural design is decently flexible while retaining the resilience of the titanium-cobalt alloy. It even is somewhat durable.”

“…this is madness,” Greta shook her head, taking a step back. “How can you say such a thing? Durable?! I can just bend it on my knee like it's clay!” she got hold of the sword. Forcing it out of her husband’s hand, she placed her hands on it properly and slammed its side on her knee.

However, she was surprised when the blade bent slightly but bounced right back to its proper shape once she let go of it. A vibrant sound rang in the air as she looked at the blade with surprise. Edgar chuckled a little.

“Dark steel gives it just enough flexibility to not be immediately destroyed after rough treatment like that. I will need to thank undines for coming up with it.”

“This doesn’t prove anything! How can this piece of junk stand the test of time?! What about sharpening?! You can't tell me that it will resist even a dozen proper sharpenings!”

“The point of the design is for both blade's sides to converge quickly. It won't require frequent sharpening,” Edgar shook his head with another chuckle. “And as for the test of time…” he walked over the smithy to a large table. “Why won’t we test it with this?” he turned back to Greta, holding a large cube of a dark gray color.

Greta looked at him with ridicule for a long moment, then shook her head. “…you should really stop this, Edgar. This is getting out of hand,” placing the blade on the anvil, she took her steps toward the door, where the group was still waiting, watching what was happening.

“I just want to--“

“I mean it," she snapped, turning toward him. “I understand, you mean good. But can’t you see how this affects our reputation?! All the time, you’re experimenting with things, and how does that end up?! You’re committing clear blasphemy on sacred techniques of alloying that were perfected by our ancestors, and for what?! What's the point of this all?!”

“I’m upgrading those rusty techniques! It’s called progress, Greta!” Edgar hit the anvil lightly. “It’s not my fault all of you are so old-fashioned that you can’t look for new solutions!” he yelled at her.

A second of silence ticked between them. Then, a second one. Edgar felt sweat trickle down his nose, seeping into his thick mustache. He focused his brown eyes on his wife’s blue, locked onto him angrily. A vein bulged on her temple, and Edgar felt his heart shrink in his chest.

“I didn’t mean tha--“

“Forget it,” she cut him off aggressively. “You’re right. We’re just old-fashioned because we want to cherish the memory of our ancestors,” sarcasm sept from her voice as she stared Edgar down. “Apparently, forgetting your forefathers is the way to progress.”

“That’s just rough,” Edgar replied. “I said nothing like that.”

“Didn’t you? Haven’t you just been telling me how bad our titanium-cobalt alloy is?!” she was fuming, fist clenched as though she was prepared to enter a brawl. “If only you realized how you’ve been disgracing our kin with your attitude! What has been working for hundreds of years you call trash!”

“It can work better!” he riposted. “Why not improve what can be improved?! Just to remember our ancestors?! Then why did they begin this in the first place? Didn’t they have their own fathers whose memory they wanted to cherish?!”

“But did they disgrace their fathers's memory as you do?!”

“I’m only improving an existing design!” he retorted.

“While also calling it ‘shitty’! Do you know how people look at me when I walk to get food?! Do you know what people call you?! Do you know how much I suffer because of your antics?!”

“Are not satisfied with me?! Then why won’t you leave?!” he roared, slamming his hand on the anvil. The blade tumbled to the ground. “Because apparently, progress is not something you signed up for!”

Greta looked at him with surprise. Her fiery attitude subsided, and she was visibly startled by his words. She made a half-step back, and her eyes appeared to glimmer ever so slightly.

Edgar took a ragged breath, realizing what he just said. But… he couldn’t **** himself to squeeze a word more. He felt like this would only bring more harm than good.

For nearly a minute, the two dwarves were standing just a few meters apart, not a word breaking the silence between them. The crowd gathered by the entrance was already gone, too, having moved away from the scenery of an argument.

Finally, Greta broke the silence quietly, “…I think we should spend some time apart,” she stated. Her voice was not shaking, but it wasn’t angry, either. “I thought I could change you, but… not even I can do that. I’ll… move to my mother for a few days.”

He didn’t even respond or look at her, only glancing at the furnace near him.

His wife didn’t say a word more, only slowly walking out the door, and to their home.

And yet, even after a few minutes passed, Edgar didn’t move. He felt the words he said weigh down on him, and it wasn’t a good feeling, not in the slightest. Finally, as he felt will return to his hands and legs, he grabbed his hammer and threw it across the smithy with a roar.

“FUCKING HELL!” he shouted profanity, forcing the anvil to the ground.

His fury-induced rant lasted for a few minutes before he started calming down. The smithy was remodeled completely into utter chaos, and in the middle of it, he was sitting, unsure whether he should cry or rant more. He couldn’t describe how hurting Greta’s words were to him. She was the only one in their clan who showed ever any interest in his tinkering. It was her whom he loved with all his heart. And now… what should he do?

Edgar looked over the ruined place and sighed with resignation.

‘I can’t stay in the clan.’ he slowly made the realization, or rather, a decision. ‘I just don’t fit in here.’

Sluggishly, he got up and looked near his feet. The sword blade he had finished not long ago was lying on the ground, silently waiting for him to pick it up. Edgar couldn’t help but… feel something call out to him from within the now-cold metal.

Wrapping his hand around the handle, he felt how little the sword weighed - about a fifth of what a normal sword of its size would. It was thin, flexible, sharp, and even had some reach. He couldn’t help but frown a bit.

‘Greta doesn’t get it. None of them do. I should venture to a human city instead. Maybe there they’ll understand it.’ he made a resolute choice. While it hurt him to leave without a word, he reassured himself with simple thoughts. Greta wanted some time apart from him, and other dwarves always had weird interactions with him. Nobody really asked him for anything, ever. He spent his time tinkering away, trying to come up with new solutions to age-old problems. Maybe that was the reason most avoided him. Perhaps... some time away would do everyone some good.

He got back to their home and couldn’t find his wife anywhere. With a heavy heart, Edgar found a piece of paper and an inkwell. When he wanted to write down when he would be coming down, a memory of his talk with a peculiar person reverberated, and he wasn’t sure how to write it down. Eventually, his words found their way onto the parchment.

=Dear Greta

I am so, so sorry about what I made you go through. I couldn’t realize it back then, but I hurt you, and there is nothing in the world that I won’t do to repent. But you were right. A little time apart will let us rethink our choices. For now, I’ll move to a nearby human city, Clinad. I don’t know when I’ll return, but if you ever want to find me before I do, I will be there.

I love you more than anything in the world.

Yours truthfully,

Edgar=

Writing down the last letter of the letter, he folded it neatly and left it on her side of the bed. After that, he rummaged through some stuff in their storage room and found a small backpack. Quickly checking it, he confirmed that it would be good enough for his journey.

He packed his unfinished sword inside, alongside a small book with his notes and a card of silver color. After eating something, Edgar set off and ventured through the town into a cave.

Lights spread all around were giving this place a little claustrophobic feel, combined with barely 2-meter tall tunnels connecting everything, but he didn’t mind, much like any other dwarves. Pack on his back, he went by a few houses carved in the dark, hard stone, and soon reached the town’s gates leading into the cave system. With no problems, he was allowed to go out (dwarf guards tended to be lenient to their own kin, so much so that Edgar couldn’t remember the last time he had to show his MID) and slowly but surely made his way to the surface. Feeling pressure change in his ears, he shook his head a little, the uneasy feeling washing over him. Much like other dwarves, he rarely ever went out for anything. But now… he felt his heart tingle, even if just a bit. He was never like other dwarves.

He had a few titles already despite only being 33 this year. Mad Blacksmith, Crazy Inventor, Humanized Dwarf (apparently, it was seen as very human to seek change), and there were some more. But this wasn’t what Edgar was, not at all.

He always enjoyed seeking improvements. He tried his best to overcome the limitations of technology that were present all around. He attempted many times to upgrade water circulation in his clan’s water supply or to improve the loading crane to be faster. He mixed different metals in different proportions, and tested them properly, scribbling down every last bit of information he could find out to create the best ones. But others never accepted him like this. Other than Greta, dwarves only ever despised him and his nature. And now, he was leaving them all behind. For now, at least. Maybe a few days, or a few weeks. Maybe he will return to them after a long month or a short day. Who knows?

Walking down from a mountain on a rocky road, Edgar got the blade out of his pack and investigated it in the morning’s sun. He smirked a little, realizing just how unique it was to this world. There were none like this, not a single weapon so light and sharp, with such a graceful curvature that he couldn’t help but admire. But he couldn’t lie; this blade, this shape, this technique of creating it wasn’t his own idea. He glimpsed at the way of creating this sword and did his best to follow it step by step.

When was it? Two, or three days ago? When he suddenly blacked out, and met that person, Wolqa? A god? How he was granted a choice of becoming his Apostle? How he was given the ability to reshape the world in the future?

Perhaps Wolqa liked his attitude, or perhaps he took a bit of pity on him, Edgar didn’t care one bit. What mattered to him was his class, one that would let him help one day to relieve everyone’s burdens. He might’ve received it some time ago already, but only now did he accept it fully, as a new class rather than an extension of who he is. Today was the day the Apostle of Technology and Innovation truly emerged in the world.

Lowering the blade a little, Edgar took note of how it glistened with a little blue on the edges in the sun’s rays, contrary to its overall dark-silvery look, and realized.

‘During the alloying and forging, cobalt must’ve bound with mithril instead of titanium. That would explain its strength, since titanium and dark steel are now mostly in the blade, with the other two serving as structural skeleton… this requires testing.’

He swung the blade a little. Perfectly sharpened, it seemed to cut the fog forming in the evening's atmosphere like cheese. It vibrated a little, a clean sound ringing in the air for a split second. With a satisfied grin, he raised it a little again.

“Once I finish you, I’ll call you ‘Blue Fang’,” he proclaimed with cheer before resuming his journey.