The DEED.

Steven gazed at his updated ID, the once paper-brown card now a gleaming bronze—D-rank etched in bold silver script. Sophy, still reeling from his rank jump, leaned over the desk, explaining the guild’s color code with a mix of awe and routine. “Each rank’s got its hue, see? F’s paper brown—basic, grubby. E’s copper, a step up. D’s bronze, like yours now—solid, earned. C’s iron, dull silver stuff. B’s steel, all shiny-like. A’s gold—fancy, rare. S is mithril silver, bluish and slick. SS turns star steel blue, deep and bold. SSS goes mercury—silver streaked with black. And L? Adamantine white—pure legend territory.” Steven nodded, pocketing the bronze card, its weight a quiet thrill.

He headed to the dining hall, stomach rumbling. Melissa slipped in beside him, her silver hair catching the lantern light. “Payin’ tonight,” he said, sliding 2 copper to the counter—one for his meal, one for hers. “Sure, thanks, Steve,” she chirped, blushing faintly. They grabbed trays of the step-up fare—D-rank meant no more free slop. Tonight’s spread was roasted pheasant, tender and spiced with rosemary, paired with a heap of mashed turnips swirled with butter, and a side of glazed carrots, their sweetness cutting the savory. A far cry from gruel and jerky, the meal warmed his bones as they sat, flirting over forkfuls. “That bronze card suits you,” she teased, winking. “Matches your glow.”

After dinner, they ambled to the barracks hall. Steven stopped at the guard—a burly figure in leather—slipping him 1 copper. “Room,” he said. Melissa’s eyes flicked sideways, catching the exchange. “Did you rank up?” she asked, voice lilting. “Yup, D-rank,” he replied, casual but proud. Her jaw dropped, anime-style—she’d have spit her drink if she’d had one. “Wow, you skipped E? You’re really somethin’ special,” she said, fingers twiddling, one leg wiggling as her toes brushed the floor in a shy, flustered dance. “Can I… maybe join you?” she murmured, blush creeping up her neck. “Of course,” he said, grinning, leading her down the hall to his paid room—a cramped closet with a narrow bed and a flickering magical lamp casting a soft glow.

He flopped onto the mattress, springs creaking, and she climbed atop him, her tiny frame silhouetted against the light. She leaned in, kissing him fiercely—her lips sweet like honey, a lingering taste from dinner. Passion flared; she broke free, shedding her top with a bold flick, revealing her breasts—small but pert, a gnome-sized C-cup equivalent, nipples stiff in the cool air. Steven’s restraint snapped—he dove in, sucking gently, tongue lapping as she moaned, “Oh, Steven…” Her voice trembled, needy. She pulled back, kissing him again—rougher, hungrier—hands tearing at their clothes.

Her body bared was a marvel—smooth, pale skin, curves soft yet taut, her silver hair spilling two inches longer thanks to his secret tweak, brushing her shoulders. Her pussy was a hairless coin slot, tight and glistening, a perfect slit against her tiny frame. She straddled him, cowgirl-style, her diminutive size a wild contrast to his human bulk. She rode him with abandon, hips rocking, her voice turning filthy in a gleeful rush. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big—fill me up, you glorious bastard!” she gasped, laughing through the heat. “Pound this little gnome slut—gods, I love it!” Her nastiness was playful, electric, spurring him on as she bounced, her tight heat gripping him fierce.

She came hard, a shuddering cry—“Oh, fuck yes!”—her body quaking, walls clenching. But Steven held back, still rigid. She noticed, smirking through her flush. “Not done, huh? Let me fix that.” Sliding down, she took him in her mouth—small lips stretching around him, tongue swirling with eager skill. He groaned, hands tangling in her hair as she worked, relentless. Heat built, and he erupted—thick ropes spilling into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, pulling back with a satisfied grin, licking her lips. “Sweet as honey,” she purred, collapsing beside him, breathless and sated.