Shadows of the Beholder pt 2

Chapter 13 Shadows of the Beholder pt 2

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long, fading shadows across the sprawling Winterbourne estate. A heavy stillness had settled over the grounds now that Jabulani and his party had departed to confront the main bandit camp. Seraphina, the Knight Captain, walked alongside her partner, Sir Edmund, who kept slowly turning her gaze to her before looking away.

"It's so quiet," Seraphina remarked, her silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight.

"Yeah... quiet," Edmund replied weakly, catching Seraphina off guard.

She glanced over at him, her black eyes full of concern.

"Is something troubling you?" she asked.

Edmund's gaze faltered before falling to the ground.

"Seraphina... I—" He hesitated; his eyes did not raise to meet hers as if ashamed of what he was about to say. "What are your thoughts on him... Jabulani?"

"He's... difficult..." she began carefully, "His power is undeniable, and he's proven invaluable to the Duke. But there's something about him that I can't trust." She paused, "But... he's saved us, saved you, and I am thankful for that."

Edmund clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. "So, you're not... you don't..."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Don't what?"

He hesitated, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. "You're not... attracted to him?"

Seraphina's eyes widened, her posture stiffening. "Jabulani?" she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief. "What? No, why would you ask such a thing?"

Edmund's face flushed slightly as he shifted his weight. "I'll know you've noticed it. Ever since he first showed up, the women of the estate have been doting on him—the young princess, the lady, and even the handmaiden. Then he saved those adventurers, and even they started fawning over him."

Seraphina simply looked at Sir Edmund with a calm, unjudging gaze.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with him…" he said, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. "I know you're just doing your duty, but it feels like I'm going to lose you."

Seraphina blinked in surprise. Edmund, the man she trusted with her life, felt threatened by the Shaman? How could she explain that, no matter what, he would never have to fear losing her heart.

"Edmund, I am a Knight," she said gently, "My duty is to protect the Duke and his family, and my heart belongs to you and only you."

Sir Edmund finally mustered the courage to meet her eyes, and she smiled warmly.

"I would never leave you," she said, and he visibly relaxed, the tension melting from his shoulders.

"Besides, Jabulani has no interest in me, and I'd rather have it no other way," she added.

"Really? Because he feels like a lion watching a gazelle whenever he's around any women in this estate," Edmund responded, his expression hardening.

Seraphina's smile faltered as she absorbed Edmund's words, sensing more frustration in his tone.

"He may seem intimidating, but that's just his nature—he is a Xandari, after all," she replied carefully, her tone softening. "You've heard the stories about his people, the rumors… just as I have."

Edmund's jaw clenched. "But what if it's all a front, Seraphina? What if he's hiding something darker beneath that calm facade?"

Seraphina shook her head, her eyes flashing with resolve. "If that's true, and he so much as thinks about harming anyone in this estate, I'll cut him down myself!"

"But Seraphina..." he protested.

"Trust me, Edmund, nothing is more important than keeping our home safe. I'd give my life if it meant protecting those we care about."

Edmund stared into her black eyes for a moment before sighing and smiling back.

"Okay... I trust you," he said softly.

"And I love you," she said, her smile bright. "And don't worry about those who look down on the Shaman. Remember, he's still a foreigner—a Xandari, after all. And on top of that, he wields magic. Even our own magic users are rarely seen in these parts. Hence, witnessing magic from another land is nothing short of a spectacle for the common folk."

She touched his cheek, her fingers trailing down his jaw. "Just give it time. He'll either fade into the past, or people will get used to him, and he'll become old news. Either way, with a little patience, everything will return to normal."

"Right, right..." Sir Edmund replied, feeling reassured.

---

Lady Victoria sat gracefully on a cushioned stool before her mirror, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over her gentle face. Behind her, Filia stood carefully brushing her lady's blonde hair, with each stroke bringing a soft sheen to the blonde strands.

"So, Filia," she began, a playful smile gracing her lips, "what is it like being the personal servant to Sir Jabulani?"

The question caused Filia's hands to freeze mid-stroke. She stared down at the brush in her hand as though it held the answer, but her cheeks blushed, rivaling the hue of a ripened tomato. For a moment, she seemed lost for words, struggling with what to tell her friend.

"W...well, he's strong... a-and kind," Filia stammered, her voice soft as she struggled to find the right words—words that wouldn't betray the truth of how he'd made her feel, how he'd changed her life in ways she still found hard to put into words.

Lady Victoria chuckled, her tone gently teasing as she watched Filia's reaction in the mirror. "Oh, I know all about his strength, remember?" she said, a playful glint in her eye. "He saved my mother and me—I've seen firsthand how powerful he is. But you... You've been by his side and have seen the man behind the hero. What is he like when no one else is watching?"

Filia's blush deepened, her cheeks turning a shade of red so vivid it almost matched her trembling smile. She dropped her gaze, hiding from her friend's knowing look, and turned her focus back to her brushing as if that would hide the truth.

"Filia, you've always been a terrible liar," Lady Victoria said with a knowing smile, her gaze piercing through her handmaiden's sudden silence. "Something happened, didn't it?"

Filia froze, the brush still in her hand as she looked away, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. She seemed to shrink under her mistress's curious stare, her usual confidence now replaced by a shy, almost timid expression.

"I... um... Well, w-when we first met, Sir Jabulani was just this... really mysterious, magical Shaman who saved my lady from bandits, and then he offered to help her. The Duke save their barony, a-and...," she began, stumbling over her words, her blush deepening with every word.

"And..." Lady Victoria urged her on, a curiosity in her eye.

"A-And he's just so kind, gentle, and caring," Filia finally blurted out, her cheeks burning a vibrant red, "and... well, he's been... teaching me."

"Teaching you? What does that mean?" her mistress and friend asked, expecting her to continue.

Filia swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and took a deep breath before responding.

"T-the pleasures of being a woman," she responded, her thighs pressing together as warmth began to build within her at the memory of the night the Shaman first claimed her—and the many times since that he had taken pleasure in her body.

Lady Victoria stared at her incredulously, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Filia, do you mean...?"

Filia nodded shyly, unable to meet her mistress's gaze. "I... I don't know how to describe it, b-but being with him is unlike anything I've ever felt," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've never felt so... full."

Lady Victoria's mouth fell open, her eyes widening in astonishment as a crimson blush crept across her cheeks, vivid at the thought of such intimacy between Filia and Sir Jabulani.

"T-Tell me everything!" Lady Victoria exclaimed, spinning around so quickly that Filia had to step back to keep her balance, nearly stumbling as her lady's excitement radiated through the room.

Filia's blush deepened, her eyes downcast as she nervously rubbed her palms against her thighs.

"I-I... I'm not sure how," she stammered, her gaze shifting to her mistress.

"Come now, surely there's something you can tell me!" Lady Victoria exclaimed.

"Has he been gentle with you? H-how big is he? H-how many times have you two?" the young noble lady asked.

Filia's eyes widened at Lady Victoria's barrage of questions. She squeezed the brush handle tightly, trying to find the words, and her voice came out shyly.

"H-He's… well, he's huge," she began, her cheeks a fierce pink as she stammered, her hand slowly raised in front of her, then slowly moved apart to give Lady Victoria an indication of Jabulani's size.

"Huge?" The last repeated, the lush of her cheek deepening.

Filia nodded.

Victoria stared at the distance between Filia's hands, and her mind began to wonder. She pictured Jabulani, his tall and muscular body towering over hers. She imagined how he must have looked at Filia, his dark skin glistening with sweat; she could almost feel him moving inside her, his thick length filling her completely, stretching her tightness, making her moan and gasp with pleasure.

"M-m'lady? M-m'lady Victoria!" Filia called out, snapping Victoria out of her daydream.

"O-oh, sorry, I... got a bit distracted," she replied, please tell me more."

"Well... his body felt heavy on top of me," Filia murmured, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade as she remembered. "When I reached up to touch his chest, it felt... different. Like I was tracing my fingers over the chiseled stone. He was crushing me with his weight, yet somehow sending me to heaven all at once. Every movement, each thrust splitting me in half while causing me pure bliss and making my mind melt to white."

She paused, her hands trembling slightly as she dropped the brush free.

Lady Victoria leaned forward, her eyes wide and cheeks burning; the playful curiosity from earlier had led to more lustful questioning.

"And... and how long would he go for?" Lady Victoria pressed her voice, barely whispering.

The entire night... I-I would pass out and come back to find him still having his pleasure with me.," she breathed, voice soft and filled with emotion.

AS lustful excitement in Lady Victoria's mind stirred, she swallowed, attempting to maintain her composure, though her blushing and constant rubbing together of her thighs betrayed her intrigue.

"He... continued even while you were... ****?" Lady Victoria whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to picture the Shaman's endurance. Filia nodded, her gaze flickering to her mistress almost shyly.

"Yes, m'lady," she admitted. "I'm not experienced enough yet… or so he says. But the more he beds me, the better I'll get—and he wants to continue making me his…" Her fingers traced the edge of her dress absentmindedly, recalling each time she had been drawn into that overwhelming intimacy, her body surrendering entirely to his domination.

Lady Victoria's heart raced at the thought, the blush on her cheeks deepening as she felt her own womanhood grow hot and wet listening to Filia.

"And... do you love him, Filia?" she asked, a faint tremor in her voice.

"L… love? H-he's never mentioned it, not even once. It's always been just physical intimacy and pure pleasure." Filia's expression softened as she looked up into the mirror just behind Lady Victoria, her gaze distant and thoughtful.

"Am I even allowed to love someone like him? I'm only a commoner, after all. He's a foreigner, but what is his status in his homeland? How do his people even think about love? Would he even—" Filia's words tumbled out, her voice a mix of uncertainty and longing.

Victoria placed a gentle hand over Filia's mouth, stopping her.

"No… I'm sorry I brought it up. That's something you should discuss with him." The noblewoman looked away, her cheeks flushed as she began to feel a warm wetness spreading down her thigh. She was starting to realize just how aroused she was, her own desires kindled by Filia's words.

"Thank you, Lady Victoria, I..." The maiden paused, looking at her friend with concern. "A-Are you alright? You're acting strange, and your face is red..."

Victoria looked away, attempting to regain her composure, but the heat building within her made it nearly impossible. "Well... you see..." she began, struggling to find the words. Her cheeks flushed, and her breathing quickened, but she was too embarrassed to admit that Filia's story had aroused her.

"It's nothing, Filia. Don't worry about it," she said, forcing a smile.

"If you say so," Filia responded, a hint of concern. "Well, it's getting late. Let's finish getting you ready for bed."

Lady Victoria nodded, grateful for the distraction, and the two fell back into their usual routine.

---

"What happened to him?" a voice cut through the darkness, strained with alarm.

"I... I don't know," a second voice stammered. "He just started convulsing—his body was jerking and shaking, and then... he just stopped."

"Should we turn back?"

"Do we have a choice?" the second voice replied, panic seeping into their tone. "I don't know the first thing about his kind of magic—I can't tell if he's even alive!"

"Then let's get him to the carriage and back to the estate—quickly!" the first voice urged, sounding ****. "You're the stronger one; you must carry him."

"Alright, I'll—"

The voice abruptly crackled, warping into a garbled, static-like distortion. Fragments of words tangled in the noise, becoming an incoherent hum before fading entirely into silence.

As the sound faded, Jabulani's consciousness drifted somewhere in a grayish area completely consumed by fog. Echoes of the distorted voices could be heard all around, but nothing could be seen through the thick fog. As he floated there weightlessly in the gray expanse, he raised a hand before his face. What he saw startled him—his hand seemed translucent blue color, surrounded by a slight aura and cracks going all through it.

...Is this my spirit? It's... damaged? He thought to himself, noticing he was unable to speak.

This place... is this the Crossroads? Jabulani wondered as another fracture splintered across his translucent hand.

Something is wrong. He floated there, emotionless, even as the situation began to dawn on him. Jabulani knew that he couldn't remain as was—if he did, his spirit would shatter, and his very soul would be lost to oblivion. To fix this, he had to remember everything that had brought him to this place. But as he struggled to recall the events of the past few hours, his mind yielded nothing but blank spaces, frustratingly void of answers.

Jabulani tried again, his mind searching for memories that should have been there, but the blank spaces remained. The Shaman tried again, his mind searching for memories that should have been there, but instead, the blank spaces remained. Instead of memories, the Shaman felt himself drifting deeper into the fog, feeling as if he were caught in an endless haze, each passing moment sapping more of his strength.

H...how did I get here... Why can't I remember? The Shaman says emotionlessly as more fractures crack across his astral form. He tried to focus on his memories, but each time he grasped at fragments, they slipped away, dissipating like smoke. Yet, amid the emptiness, a faint sensation began to stir within him—a sliver of something familiar pulsing gently in the void.

I still can't remember... If I can't figure out how I got here, I need to remember something—anything—before it's too late... or I'll shatter completely.

His expression and words remained void of emotion as if his fractured spirit had dulled the ability to feel. His translucent blue aura wavered, flickering unsteadily, spilling out faint streams from the cracks spreading across his form, with each pulse of light seemingly weaker than the last.

As Jabulani drifted aimlessly, his fractured spirit teetering on the brink of collapse, his mind clung to the tattered remnants of memory. Then, a single thread emerged through the haze of nothingness—a woman's voice. Soft, warm, and familiar, it echoed like a distant melody through the fog.

"Jabulani... where are you?"

A faint light began to glow within the fog, a pinprick of clarity in the infinite gray. It grew brighter as he floated closer to its radiance. Jabulani's spirit, drawn like a moth to a flame, felt an invisible **** tugging him toward it.

The endless fog thinned with every inch he drifted closer to the beckoning light, the weight of his fractured spirit pressing against him. The glow grew blinding for a fleeting moment, then vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Jabulani blinked, his translucent form solidifying slightly, as he found himself standing amidst a small, familiar village encircled by a sprawling jungle. The air was warm and thick with the scent of earth and greenery. The sounds of distant chatter, children's laughter, and the hum of life echoed faintly, like a half-remembered melody.

His eyes widened as recognition washed over him. _Xandara... the central region... home... my home, _he thinks to himself.

He turned slowly, taking in the surroundings. The thatched huts with their curved roofs, the vibrant tapestries hung between them, and the towering trees whose roots seemed to embrace the village—each detail stirred something deep within him.

This is a memory... or a dream.

Jabulani hesitated, his spirit form flickering faintly as he took his first step forward. His translucent feet pressed against the ground; despite knowing he was currently in a fragment of a memory, the sensation of each step he took felt real. His eyes swept over the village, catching glimpses of familiar faces—faces he knew but could not immediately place.

He continued onward, each step feeling heavier than the last; his gaze dropped to his feet as he realized that the steps he now took mirrored those he had walked long ago—steps that carried him toward a moment he had long wished to have forgotten.

As Jabulani took another step forward, the world around him shimmered and warped, the jungle and village dissolving into an unfamiliar haze. When the fog settled, he found himself standing before a small, worn-down hut, its weathered wood creaking softly in the breeze, sitting at the edge of the Xandari village.

The air grew heavy and thick, and the scent of sex filled the air. His translucent hand reached out, hesitating just shy of the splintered door.

From the other side, muffled sounds emerged—at first indistinct, then unmistakably clear. The voices of two women rose, moaning at the top of their lungs, their cries laced with unbridled ecstasy.

Jabulani froze, and the moans were followed by the sounds of slapping flesh.

"I-I'm cumming ahhhhh!!!!" A second, more high-pitched female voice screamed.

The sound sent a chill rippling through his spirit, the fractured edges of his astral form flickering wildly. It wasn't just the nature of the voices that unnerved him—it was their familiarity. This undeniable recognition stabbed at his already fragile spirit.

This place… I know this place, and these… voices, Jabulani thought, his translucent form trembling as he hesitated before the door.

His hand lingered in the air, trembling like resisting an unseen ****. Finally, he pressed his palm against the splintered wood. When his hand made contact, a faint chill ran through him as though the door recoiled at his touch.

With a push, the door creaked open, the sound echoing through the silence; the air inside felt heavier, laden with an eerie tension that prickled at the edges of his awareness.

Jabulani stepped forward, and the scene shifted abruptly. A soft fire in the center of the hut. Sitting cross-legged near the hearth was a young dark-skinned girl, her eyes locking onto him. Her skin was as rich and dark as Jabulani's, her woolly black hair styled into two tied afro puffs, one on each side of her head.

On the far side of the hut, an older, curvaceous woman stood hunched over a simple pot, carefully stirring stew over a fire. The scent of herbs and broth mingled with the smoky air.

Hearing the creak of the door, the older woman paused. Slowly, she turned to face him. Her face bore the weariness of someone who had endured too many sleepless nights, and though she **** a warm smile.

"Welcome back, young one," she greeted, her voice low and soft though laced with the strain of holding everything together.

Her hair was semi-groomed but still wild, strands escaping from what may have once been carefully braided sections. Neither she nor the younger girl wore anything to cover their breasts; the older woman's massive chest was bare, its slight sag due to her age, while the younger woman's was more petite but firm and perky. Both wore simple cloth skirts, frayed at the edges, barely extending to their thighs. Their feet were clad in thin, ragged coverings of cloth and fur.

Jabulani hesitated, his spirit flickering faintly before he took another step forward. The grown man was gone. In his place, a ten-year-old boy stumbled through the doorway, his body scrawny and fragile, dressed in a dirt-streaked shirt and tattered pants. The fur wraps on his feet were little more than strips of fabric, barely holding together.

"Mama..." the child said, his voice filled with innocent joy, a wide smile spreading across his face as he looked at the older woman.

The young woman's expression softened, her lips curling into a gentle smile, as he rushed over and jumped into her arms.

"Elder sister!" he called out.

"You're back early, my little cub," the sister said, her eyes warm and gentle as she embraced him. The young boy nodded, nuzzling against her.

"Mama!" the boy exclaimed, his voice bright with excitement. "I did it! I talked to my first spirit!" His wide eyes sparkled with uncontained joy and pride.

"I'm a Shay-man now!" he declared, his words brimming with an innocence and determination that only a child could muster.

Kesia's face lit up with pride, her smile warm and full of hope. "You did it, little cub," she said, her voice soft but brimming with joy. "A Shaman... that means we can finally—"

Before she could finish her sentence, their mother interrupted sharply. "Kesia!" The woman's tone was firm, her dark eyes narrowing as she shot her eldest child a stern look. Kesia fell silent immediately, biting her lip, the earlier brightness in her expression dimming slightly.

The mother knelt and gently scooped Jabulani into her arms, cradling him close. He melted into her embrace, his small frame disappearing into her massive bosom.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered softly, stroking his head with her rough but tender hands. "You've done well, my son." Her words were heavy with love and relief.

But the celebration was cut short by a loud knock—no, a near-bang—on the hut's door. The sound echoed through the small space, sending a shiver of tension rippling through the room.

Kesia's expression darkened; the light in her eyes earlier completely vanished. "Mama..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The mother's arms tightened protectively around Jabulani as the door suddenly flew open. Five large, muscular Xandari warriors strode in, knowing no one could stop them, their cocky grins filled with confidence and arrogance.

The Xandari warriors were clad in animal-hide kilts that reached down to their knees, their powerful frames adorned with trophies of their prowess. Each man bore on his right shoulder the skinned head and mane of the most dangerous beast he had hunted alone.

"Greetings, Lindiwe," the man at the forefront announced, his deep, authoritative. Unlike the four warriors behind him, whose trophies adorned only their shoulders, this man stood apart. Draped across his entire back was the hide of the head of a grootslang, a legendary and fearsome beast.

"I've received word that his child successfully communed with spirits," the powerful figure said, his voice dripping with contempt as he glared down at young Jabulani, eyes gleaming with disgust. "You'd best remember who granted him this privilege and who allowed even a whore's offspring to take the ritual rites. Your kind usually doesn't deserve such chances."

Lindiwe's hands tightened around Jabulani, "Y-yes, Oba N'kosi, we are eternally grateful." Lindiwe said, her voice trembling.

The Oba shifted his gaze to Kesia, his eyes filled With disgust still. "These four warriors behind me," he said flatly, "you will entertain them until morning."

Without a word, one of the warriors stepped forward, grabbing Kesia by the hair. He yanked her roughly toward one of the two bedrooms, her feet barely touching the ground as she was dragged. The other three warriors followed, their laughter echoing through the room. Kesia, though still and silent, made no attempt to resist, her body going limp and her eyes dead inside.

"Lay down, put your ass in the air." Could be heard from the room as the warriors didn't bother to close the door.

"Cover your ears and close your eyes!" Lindiwe cried desperately, her voice trembling as she tried to shield young Jabulani's ears with trembling hands.

But her defiance was short-lived. The Oba's hand shot out, tangling in her hair and yanking her back with a **** that left her gasping in pain. She winced but refused to cry out, her tears streaming silently.

"Open your mouth whore!" the Oba commanded as he stepped closer, unbuckling the leather that restrained his enormous cock.

"N-no... p-please not in front of him," Lindiwe whimpered.

"The whore of the betrayer has no right to choose!" the Oba bellowed, his voice laced with contempt as he loomed over her. "You prostrated your body before us, begged us to spare you and your wretched ilk from the blade alongside your treacherous husband. Now, fulfill your duty—the only reason you and the rest of your kind still draw breath!"

"P-please not in front of h-" The Oba shoved his massive cock in her mouth, forcing his way into her throat.

The mighty warrior didn't wait for her to adjust before slamming his hips into her, her eyes bulging out and her body twitching as he fucked her throat, his balls smacking her chin.

The small hut filled with obscene sounds: the smack of flesh against flesh and load whorish moaning coming from his sister in the bedroom with the four soldiers, the wet, **** gurgles of Lindiwe who went from fighting for breath to deepthroating herself onto the leaders powerful cock. Her lips moved over the Oba's length as if it were her only purpose, each motion accompanied by lewd, degrading noises that seemed to get louder with each kiss and slurp.

Jabulani sat frozen, his broad, unblinking eyes fixed on his mother. The protective barrier she had tried to create between him and the world's horrors was now shattered. She no longer shielded him; her trembling hands had fallen away, exposing him to the reality unfolding before him as he watched the Oba's massive, black cock disappear into his mother's mouth.

"Ma-mama..."

Lindiwe was **** to bob her head up and down the Oba's cock. The Oba kept his cock lodged in her throat, his hands tangled in her hair as he thrust his hips.

"Your mother is nothing but a whore, a **** to the tribe," the Oba sneered. "And you? You're a disgrace—a stain upon this village! And if you want to hate someone for this, boy, hate your traitorous father. He dared to betray our traditions, which would've foolishly made us weaker!" His words cut through Jabulani, who didn't understand. He just stood there and stared.

"Why don't you tell your cursed offspring who you love more, him or my cock?" Oba N'kos asked Lindiwe.

"I-I love your cock more..." Lindiwe said between sloppy wet slurps while spit and mucus covered every inch of her face and his cock.

"Even more than you're daughter getting gangbanged in the back room right now?" The Oda responded.

"I love your cock more..."

"More than your son, who is watching you right now?"

"What son...?" she murmured, her voice hollow, before lowering herself beneath the leader's cock to suck on his balls without hesitation.

The Xadari leader let out a guttural laugh filled with mockery and dominance. "Broken already!"

But then, like a fading nightmare, the scene dissolved into a swirling mist. The erotic sounds of Jabulani's sister and mother were replaced by a haunting silence as the mist carried Jabulani away. He floated once more at the crossroads, his translucent, fractured form suspended in the endless fog.

I remember... he thought to himself, the memory burning as brightly as the day it scarred his soul. The day I lost my happiness.

As the thought echoed in his mind, one of the jagged fractures in his spiritual form began to mend, glowing faintly—a small, defiant sign of healing amidst the pain.

Before the Shaman could fully comprehend the mended fracture, the swirling mist erupted into a violent maelstrom, spiraling around him like a living ****. Its chaotic winds howled, pressing in from all sides, leaving him no time to reflect or prepare.

As suddenly as it began, the storm subsided, the dense fog lifting to reveal another scene from his past—etched into his soul like an old scar.

"No… no, stop!" the young woman cried out, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. She was a novice adventurer, barely having stepped into adulthood, her innocence evident in every quiver of her body.

"It… it's too big," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she squirmed in vain. Her pleas were met with silence as the now-grown Jabulani gripped her hips firmly, his expression unreadable. With a forceful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her untouched womanhood, ignoring her protests.

"AHHH!" she screamed, her voice piercing through the stillness of the forest as pain wracked her body. Her unprepared, virgin flesh strained against the intrusion, trembling under the **** of Jabulani's relentless ****. But there was no one to hear her cries or savior to rescue her in the desolate darkness. They were alone in the forest's heart, far from any village or outpost. The night offered only the eerie rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of insects.

Her childhood friend lay **** nearby, oblivious to the scene unfolding mere feet away. No matter how much she screamed, begged, or tried to twist away, Jabulani's grip remained ironclad. Her voice cracked as desperation gave way to pure pleasure.

"Ah... ah..." she gasped, her body tensing as she writhed uncontrollably under his touch.

"P-please," she gasped, her breathing ragged and uneven. "S-stop… please… I-I can't take it anymore." But her body betrayed her, her walls clenching around him as if eager to draw him deeper inside. Her hands clutched at the grass beneath her, twisting and ripping out the blades in frantic spasms. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the overwhelming sensations threatening to consume her.

With a final thrust, Jabulani exploded inside her, flooding her womb with his seed. His seed was a burning wave of ecstasy, spreading through her body, filling her with an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and relief. She couldn't help but cry out in pleasure, her toes curling as the orgasm crashed over her, drowning out everything else.

A week ago, Jabulani walked through foreign halls of the adventurer's guild; it was his first time in the country of Cernaria and the second time he had ever left his homeland. He was there on a spirit quest and believed that joining the adventurers' guild after learning about it through the spirits and talking with the population of the current city he was in was best for his quest.

When he entered the hall, it was filled with adventurers of all types.

"Hello there, are you looking to register as an adventurer?" A man asked as soon as Jabulani walked through the door.

"Yes, that's what I came here for," Jabulani replied.

"Great, let me get your information," the man said with a smile.

The man, a cheerful clerk with a neatly trimmed beard and a leather-bound ledger in hand, motioned Jabulani toward a small desk at the side of the hall.

"Take a seat," the clerk said, pulling out a quill and dipping it in ink. "Name?"

"Jabulani," he replied firmly.

"Surname?" the clerk asked.

"Xandari, it's my tribe's name, so just use that," young Jabulani said.

The clerk nodded, scribbling the information into the ledger.

“All right, Jabulani Xandari. We don't see your kind around here much." The clerk said. "Now, class?"

“Shaman,” Jabulani said,

The rest of the registration process was mundane and uneventful. After signing the necessary forms, taking a tour of the guild, and learning the protocols, young Jabulani finally made his way to the quest board. He lingered there, eyes scanning each parchment carefully. The words felt strange under his gaze, as he'd only recently become comfortable reading the language.

Just as Jabulani was about to reach for a quest, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a young man and woman, both appearing to be around his age.

The woman had chestnut-colored hair pulled back into a tidy bun, framing a soft, oval face. She wore a sleek black blouse paired with a fitted brown leather corset accentuating her petite figure and a short, dark skirt. Twin daggers were strapped to her thighs, their hilts glinting with intricate yet simple designs. A utility belt hung from her waist, filled with small pouches, concealed compartments, and an assortment of thieving tools, lockpicks, and vials of mysterious liquids. Around her neck, she wore a sleek black choker.

The young man beside her was dressed more casually in a loose-fitting tunic of faded brown fabric paired with sturdy leather pants. A basic, unadorned chest plate rested lightly on his shoulders, offering minimal protection. His boots were worn, and a belt with a small pouch sat at his waist, carrying basic supplies. A dull, straight sword was sheathed at his side, and his gloves were simple, fingerless. A tattered cloak fluttered behind him as he stood. His youthful face bore a few light scars, and his piercing green eyes, full of curiosity and ambition, were framed by messy brown hair.

"Hey, you look new here. So are we!" Garric said with a warm, charismatic smile. "This is my friend, Lysandra Vale, and I'm Garric Thornfield. We started as adventurers just three days ago. If you're new, how about we party up? They say the sooner you find a group you mesh with, the better your time as an adventurer will be. So, what do you say?" He extended his hand invitingly, his confidence bolstered by his easy-going demeanor.