Chapter Six: The Sinking Altar

Sunlight, fragmented by the dense canopy of trees, weakly spills onto the forest clearing. The rocky platform, covered in thick moss, was once a tranquil spot in the forest, but now it has become an altar intertwined with desire and deception.

Kyle lay supine on the moss, his silver-white half-armor and lining cotton armor stripped away and scattered haphazardly, revealing his well-defined, muscular physique honed by years of training. His bronze skin gleamed with a sweaty sheen in the dappled light. His breathing was heavy and hot, his mind a chaotic mess, churned by surging hormones and the distinct yet equally intense stimulation exerted simultaneously by the three "women." His remaining rationality flickered like a candle in the wind before the overwhelming tide of instinct.

Flora took control of his lips and tongue. Kneeling beside him, her chestnut curls cascading down, brushing against his cheeks and neck. Her deep purple mage robes were already torn and disheveled, the straps slipping down to reveal large expanses of pale skin and the edge of her black lace bra. Her kisses were deep and urgent, imitating a technique gleaned from the memories of men who fantasized about her. Her nimble tongue pried open his teeth, greedily drawing in his breath, sucking and entwining. The warm breath of a mature woman, a mixture of feigned violet and her own slight perspiration, enveloped him completely. Her delicate, nail-painted hands were not idle either, eagerly caressing his bare chest, her nails lightly scraping his sensitive spots, sending shivers down his spine. Then, that hand began to explore downwards, past his taut abdominal muscles, aiming precisely at his already taut crotch, throbbing with desire.

Meanwhile, Cecilia was at work behind him. She was almost entirely pressed against his back, her tattered white monastic robe rubbing against his skin. Her platinum blonde hair, like smooth silk, cascaded over his shoulders and neck. No longer content with merely embracing him, her small, moist lips traced a path down his spine, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses. Occasionally, she would lightly nibble at the muscles of his back, bringing a strange pleasure mixed with a slight sting. Her hands roamed along his sides, one hand intertwining with Flora's on his chest, vying for the right to caress him, while the other hand boldly moved downwards, slipping inside the edge of his waistband. Her cool, slender fingertips, like probing snakes, touched the sensitive skin where his hips and thighs met, attempting to explore deeper, more hidden areas. She continued to utter broken, tearful moans: "Lord Kyle... touch me... I feel so bad..." She guided his hand to cover the base of her thighs, which were covered in black stockings. The delicate touch of the stockings and the warmth of the skin beneath them created a strong sensual temptation.

Arya, with her characteristic directness, wild and powerful, controlled the situation. She straddled Kyle's lower abdomen, her dark green hunting jacket ripped open and tossed aside, revealing her taut, elven, smoothly contoured waist and flat stomach. Thick, dark green stockings still clung to her legs, the edges digging into her thighs, creating a stark contrast with her bare skin. A savage fire burned in her emerald eyes as she gripped Kyle's wrists with a strength that slightly surprised him. She guided his battle-calloused hands to roughly cover her stockinged, firm, and elastic buttocks, kneading them forcefully, as if confirming her presence through this almost self-destructive act. Then, she leaned down, no longer content with passivity, and began attacking his neck and collarbone with her teeth and tongue, leaving clear, possessive marks. Her movements were utterly devoid of gentleness, filled with predation, as if not for pleasure, but for conquest.

“Flora… Cecilia… Arya… wait… this isn’t right…” Kyle gasped for breath, trying to regain a sliver of clarity. The scene before him was too decadent. Three women who were usually either holy, languid, or proud were now entangled with him like female beasts in heat. This stark contrast itself was filled with an ominous meaning.

“Nothing’s wrong… Kyle…” Flora whispered breathlessly near his lips, her voice hoarse and alluring, “We need you…we need your ‘power’ to dispel the darkness…” She mimicked the tone of a nobleman in her memory who had tried to deceive her with sweet words. At the same time, her hand finally broke through the last barrier, grasping his already hard and burning source of desire. The unfamiliar, vibrant touch made her (Grush) let out a satisfied sigh from the depths of her soul, but on the surface, she only let out a more seductive moan, her fingertips clumsy yet strangely precise, mimicking the way in the fragments of her memory, moving up and down.

The direct shock caused Kyle to arch his back abruptly, gasp for breath, and his remaining rationality almost evaporated instantly.

Cecilia felt his body's reaction and exerted herself even more. She breathed hot air into his ear, pleading in a voice tinged with tears—the kind of voice that most easily evoked a man's protective and possessive instincts: "Give it to me... Lord Kyle... Let me belong to you... Only then... can I forget those filthy monsters..." She guided one of his hands, slipping it under the hem of her tattered monastic robe, directly covering the most private, soft mound barely concealed by thin underwear and the top of her stockings. Through the fabric, she could feel the warmth and slight dampness of that place.

Arya was more direct. She stopped biting his upper body, straightened up, grabbed her leather skirt at the waist, and ripped it open! With the sound of tearing fabric, the skirt fell to the ground, completely exposing her lower body—still wearing those thick, dark green stockings, the upper edge of which clung tightly to her thighs, while the most intimate triangle area was only covered by a thin layer of underwear, already soaked with some kind of liquid, belonging to an elven body, its outline clearly visible. She grasped Kyle's hand of desire, guiding it, pressing it forcefully against her most sensitive core through the slippery fabric.

"Ugh!" Kyle and Arya (Skullcrusher) both let out a muffled groan. Kyle felt the extremely stimulating touch, like a tickle through a boot; while Arya (Skullcrusher) felt the huge, hot object pressed against her most **** spot, a shiver of pain mixed with the twisted pleasure deep within the goblin's soul swept through her body.

At this point, all of Kyle's resistance crumbled. The torrent of desire completely breached the dam. He growled, then suddenly flipped over, pinning Arya, who was straddling him, beneath him. The movement was rough, filled with masculine desire for conquest.

He tore off the last, soaking wet covering, and without any foreplay, he suddenly thrust his hips down and **** his way into that tight and warm place.

"Ah—!" Arya (Skullbreaker) let out a short, sharp cry of pain, her delicate elven face contorting for a moment, but she quickly suppressed it, transforming it into a twisted, yielding moan. Her legs, clad in deerskin boots and thick stockings, instinctively wrapped tightly around Kyle's waist, her ankles overlapping behind him. The feeling of fullness inside was so intense, it almost stretched his (Skullbreaker's) soul apart; Arya's body's instinctive rejection clashed violently with the goblin's possessiveness.

Kyle, however, had no time for anything else; he was immersed in the most primal rhythm. Each thrust, deep and shallow, carried a cathartic ****, striking the delicate body beneath him. The softness of the moss contrasted with the hardness of the rock, and sweat seeped and dripped from between their tightly pressed skin.

Seeing the leader's (Grush's controlled Cecilia) signal, Flora (Bonebreaker) and Cecilia (Grush) immediately joined in. Flora pressed herself against him from the side, continuing to caress Kyle's earlobe and neck with her lips and tongue, while her hands kneaded and stroked his taut back muscles. Cecilia, on the other hand, pressed herself against him from behind, tearing open the front of her tattered monastic robe to reveal her fair skin and slightly heaving breasts. She rubbed her hands tightly against Kyle's back, while her hands moved around his waist and to the front, joining Flora's hands in caressing the sensitive area above where he and Arya were joined, or kneading his firm buttocks.

Three beautiful bodies entwined the warrior's robust body in the most lewd poses. The sheen of stockings (black, sheer black, and dark green) shimmered in the sunlight, while high heels (white slippers, purple high heels, and deerskin boots) limply touched the ground or dangled in the air. Disheveled clothes, intertwined gasps and moans, created a scene of depravity and madness.

Kyle felt as if he were in the center of a vortex of softness, warmth, wetness, and intense pleasure. Sight, touch, smell, hearing… all his senses were amplified to the **** and simultaneously filled. He was lost, lost in this sudden, unimaginable "blessing," completely unaware that deep within those three seemingly dreamy eyes, the cold, predatory light had never been extinguished.

As Flora (Cracked Bones) licked Kyle's earlobe, she tasted the saltiness of his sweat. She tried to recall the forbidden fragments of knowledge about energy absorption from Flora's memories, attempting to secretly guide the burgeoning life **** within Kyle's body towards herself through this most intimate contact.

Cecilia (Grush) was behind Kyle, rubbing her body against him while secretly trying to mobilize the newly acquired, weak light elemental power. Her fingertips seemed to be teasingly pressing on the acupoints on Kyle's back, but in reality, she was probing, looking for a point that could quietly undermine his physical strength or affect his mind.

Arya (Skullcrusher), who was pinned down by Kyle and enduring the most intense impact, tried to concentrate her mind amidst the pain and twisted pleasure, attempting to activate the racial innate memory of "natural healing" or "physical energy absorption" within Arya's body. Even stealing just a tiny bit would accelerate the hero's depletion.

This sexual act, ostensibly a frenzy of ultimate pleasure, was in reality a silent plunder of life and energy. Kyle, the warrior who should have brought light, became a sacrifice to three monsters in his most **** moment—a sacrifice used to absorb power, solidify his body, and practice his plundered abilities. Each breath, each thrust, pushed him deeper into a trap woven from desire. Even the forest wind seemed to whisper lewd tales, witnessing this slow and complete sacrifice of light sinking into a veneer of darkness.