The End of a Disposable Battery and the Essence of the Creator
A heavy, dull thud echoed through the frozen mine shaft at minus thirty degrees Celsius as something was hurled onto the icy floor.
“Fuck, this male has ridiculously shitty durability. His balls shriveled up after only three milkings?”
One female mercenary in a thick fur coat kicked the piece of ‘trash’ she had just discarded, her combat boot thudding against it as she spat irritably.
“Don’t even talk about it. Yesterday the 3rd Knight Commander completely lost it from her withdrawal symptoms. She latched onto this bastard’s cock like she was trying to suck out his spinal fluid along with everything else. Thanks to her, there isn’t a single drop of mana residue left for us this morning.”
“Haa… This is fucking awful. My cunt is so dry from mana depletion it’s itching me to the point of madness. Maybe I should squeeze out some blood at least?”
“Forget it. He’s already junk-grade—nothing but blood clots coming out of his dick hole. Toss him in the incinerator.”
What they called ‘junk’ and left discarded on the floor was slave number 144, the breeding dog who had been sobbing and begging for his life with snot and tears only yesterday. His name had been Teo.
Kyle gripped his frozen pickaxe and quietly observed the corpse from the corner of his eye.
It was a gruesome sight. A mummy-like husk with every drop of moisture wrung out, leaving only skin stretched over bone. His sunken eyes stared into empty space, frozen in a grotesque fusion of terror and ecstasy, while yellow foam and dried saliva crusted his open mouth.
But the most wretched part was his lower body. His cock and balls had been mercilessly ravaged all night long by the women’s rough lips and violent inner walls in an attempt to soothe their severe Mana Depletion Syndrome.
The penis of a male whose life force and mana had been completely milked dry clung to his body like a grotesquely twisted gray twig. His two testicles, once responsible for producing semen, now hung like empty, wrinkled leather pouches, clinging limply to his thighs.
Not a single drop of fluid remained. The perfect ending of a ‘dead battery.’
This was the natural, inevitable fate of any male in this perishing world—to be milked and milked again to temporarily ease the withdrawal symptoms of the powerful predator women, until even his life force was sucked dry and he was tossed into the incinerator like a withered husk.
“Hey, number 145. What the hell are you staring at?”
One of the female mercenaries glared at Kyle with bloodshot eyes, fingers twitching toward the whip at her belt. Heavy dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and the faint trembling in her fingertips with every breath revealed the extreme withdrawal symptoms that threatened to drive her insane if she didn’t consume mana soon.
“Before your balls dry up and twist like that bastard’s, keep your eyes on the ground and swing that pickaxe. Tomorrow night it’s your turn.”
The mercenaries grabbed Teo’s emaciated legs and dragged the corpse away like a dead animal into the darkness of the mine. In their wake, only dried flakes of flesh and frozen bloodstains remained on the ice.
Kyle stared silently into the darkness where Teo had disappeared.
Fear? Pity? Despair? None of those emotions stirred in his ice-cold black eyes. Instead, the faintest trace of a chilling, arrogant sneer began to curve at the corner of his mouth.
Tomorrow night is my turn, is it?
Kyle murmured coldly to himself and focused his mind on the deepest part of his lower abdomen—his dantian.
Woooong— Wooooong—!
The instant he concentrated, an overwhelming vibration surged from the most secret depths of his body, as if a colossal volcano were awakening.
It was a power no male in this world could possess. A force so far beyond comprehension that even the strongest women who ruled this continent could not even dream of it.
It was the Essence of the Creator. The primordial mana—the very source of the universe and life itself—that even the goddesses of the heavenly realm feared. It roared through Kyle’s body like an endless waterfall.
His breath grew faintly hotter. The liquid flowing through his veins was not ordinary blood. It was liquefied mana, a ‘divine fluid’ carrying an unbearably dense and sweetly intoxicating scent of absolute power.
And at the very center where that immense energy converged—inside the two massive balls between his legs that bulged heavily beneath his ragged pants—limitless mana continued to surge and boil even now.
While other males were disposable batteries who fell ill for days or died like Teo after a single night of milking, Kyle, who had arrived in this world like a bug in the system, was an infinite generator. The more he was squeezed, the more ferocious and immense the mana his dantian produced.
You want to milk me? Go ahead and try.
Kyle snorted, feeling the scorching heat swelling in his lower body. Even in its unaroused state, his beast-like cock—well over twenty centimeters—created savage bulges that threatened to rip through the thin fabric of his pants.
A single drop of his semen possessed absolute value that no elixir or ancient artifact in the world could replace.
The moment the strongest women of this world—those noble females who arrogantly ruled over men as livestock while burning alive from Mana Depletion Syndrome—tasted even one drop of the 100% pure Essence of the Creator semen produced from Kyle’s balls…
Their minds would melt white under the overwhelming pleasure and satiety. Their very genes would be rewritten so they could never again be satisfied by shallow mana or the leftover dregs of ordinary males. They would crave only Kyle’s semen for the rest of their lives.
“Huu…”
Kyle exhaled a hot breath and leaned back against the frozen mine wall.
Of course, simply possessing vast amounts of mana was not enough to reign as a predator in this hellish female-dominated world. The women here monopolized all military force. If they discovered he held infinite mana, he would be dismembered, bound in magic restraints, and reduced to a permanent semen-extraction machine.
Yet the reason Kyle could remain so composed was the Absolute Defense Mechanism granted to him by the Essence of the Creator.
Any fluid he did not voluntarily release while experiencing genuine mental and physical pleasure would either transform into lethal poison or evaporate into thin air.
In other words, no matter how they threatened him with blades or bound him with magic to force a milking device or lips onto him, if Kyle was not aroused, they would obtain not a single drop. Instead, the toxic mana would melt their internal organs, causing them to vomit blood and die.
They can only survive if I allow it.
A cold light of dominance flashed in Kyle’s black eyes.
Whether it’s the Empress of the Empire, the arrogant Elf Queen, or these northern guards who once whipped me… to survive, they will all eventually crawl at my feet, spread their own legs, lick my cock, and beg for pleasure.
The leash was now entirely in Kyle’s hands. He had already finished his cold calculations—like a computer submerged in ice water—deciding exactly when, how, and to whom he would dole out his fluids as microscopic rewards, trampling their pathetic pride and training them into perfect bitches.
Warning! Massive-scale mana wave detected within a 1 km radius!
Atmospheric mana concentration is fluctuating abnormally!
“Hm?”
The moment Kyle furrowed his brow, the entire mine began to shake with a bizarre roar, as if it had been swallowed into the belly of a giant beast. This was no ordinary earthquake. It was a collapse caused by pure magical pressure crushing physical space itself.
Crack— Crackle!
Pure white frost raced across the mine wall Kyle leaned against at terrifying speed. The temperature, already at minus thirty degrees, plunged madly through minus fifty, then sixty. Every droplet of moisture in the air froze into razor-sharp ice blades that tore at the lungs.
“W-what’s happening?!” “This is insane…! Why is the temperature dropping like this?! The cold-resistance magic isn’t working!”
Desperate, terror-filled screams erupted from the female knights standing guard outside the shaft. Frost instantly coated their thick armor. Several knights who could not endure the cold vomited blood and collapsed on the spot, frozen like statues.
An ice-mana rampage so fierce it made even the elite northern knights—possessors of overwhelming power—tremble uncontrollably, unable to breathe.
“Kugh… Captain! This isn’t a simple mana storm! This energy…!” “Her Grace the Duchess… Her Grace has gone into a rampage! Everyone evacuate the mine immediately!!”
The entire mine had become a hellish pandemonium. The knights abandoned their fallen comrades and crawled desperately toward the exit like a swarm of ants fleeing for their lives.
Yet amid that chaos, one man stood motionless, indifferently dodging the razor-sharp ice shards raining from the ceiling.
Kyle did not run. Instead, he gripped his fiercely throbbing lower abdomen with one hand and turned his gaze toward the depths of the mine where the storm was surging from.
Target Confirmed: Ayla von Valerius, Northern Duchess
Status: Terminal Mana Depletion Syndrome. Withdrawal Symptoms 99% — Imminent rationality collapse and rampage.
Threat Level: Extreme Highest Tier
Beyond the transparent status window, ferocious blue eyes glowed in the pitch-black darkness, drawing closer to Kyle.
The strongest combatant on the continent. The iron-blooded ruler who defended the monster frontline. The noble and arrogant Northern Duchess who commanded tens of thousands of knights and had never once shown a single sign of disarray.
Unable to endure the horrific thirst of mana deficiency, she had lost her reason and become a beast in heat, crawling right up to Kyle’s feet.
“Haa… Haaaaah…!”
The duchess’s ragged breathing tore through the frozen air—a grotesque mixture of a bloodthirsty beast’s growl and the pitiful moans of a man dying of thirst in the desert.
The corners of Kyle’s mouth rose in a savage arc. The Creator’s mana flowing through his blood boiled even more violently, pounding against his dantian as though eager to devour the predator approaching him.
How interesting.
Kyle imagined tearing open the ascetic uniform buttons fastened all the way to her neck one by one, then trampling her noble pride into the mud.
Until you fall to your knees of your own accord, lick my cock, and beg for my semen.
The grand role-reversal tale of placing the world’s strongest women beneath his feet and domesticating them. The first page of that glorious and blasphemous breeding journal was about to begin here, in the depths of this frozen mine.
