Clash of Tribes
Listening to the tribesmen chattering idly around me, I munched on the beef the pretty women around me fed straight into my mouth. It was tougher than beef from grain-fed cattle, with way less marbling..., but it was still from a tender cut, so it was decent enough.
"Chief, I picked some fruit from the bushes too. Want to try? Eating just meat can get heavy—this'll balance it out nicely."
One of the women held out something like wild mountain berries. I nodded, popped one in my mouth. The sweet-tart burst cut through the richness perfectly—great for clearing the palate after all that meat.
"These are pretty good."
"Right? Hehe."
"You know, I'm suddenly craving something else."
"Huh? Like what...? Ah, w-wait... haang. Ahhn. If you just shove it in there suddenly...♡"
After a lavish feast by ancient standards that left me stuffed, I naturally pulled the women into my arms. The tribe's women knew full well how much fun it was to fuck me, so they didn't resist—they dove right in with enthusiasm. Part of it was the sweet pleasure I gave them, no doubt, but they still didn't know they were pregnant with my kids.
"Feels good, right?"
"Yes♡ Heut, yesss♡"
The newly absorbed tribe's women heated up quick, reveling in sex with me. Thanks to my Absolute Dick skill's features, I could pound them relentlessly without harming the pregnancies. Out of the twenty I'd embraced, eighteen were visibly swollen with child, but the pussy pleasure hit them just as hard, so they loved fucking me all the same. Then there were the two from the new tribe who hadn't been knocked up yet—they got my babies today. The prettier one, the rival chief's woman, was squirting like a fountain again, her face twisted in that ugly ahegao mess.
"Chief's woman. I heard you were gonna lead our tribe's women while I'm gone. But pulling faces like that? What're people gonna think?"
"...Ch-Chief's woman? I'm Kkaralla. I have a name, Kkaralla. Ha-ut♡ And it's not just me—everyone's face goes weird when you stick your cock in their pussy... haaaang...! Heu-ut♡"
"I'd compliment your name if it wasn't so damn ugly. Seriously, it's fucked. I'll just call you chief's woman."
"...Hiiing. What's wrong with my name...."
She sulked at the name jab, but come on—what kind of name is Kkaralla? I groped and squeezed the women's tits and asses, fucking whichever caught my fancy, just killing time like that. Tomorrow, the next day, and the day after—same routine. We lazed around fucking and feasting till the beef ran out, then hunted more herds. My tribesmen enjoyed the same peaceful routine of eating and screwing the women I'd handed out. They were putting them to good use.
Of course, it wasn't all idle. The herds kept migrating for fresh grass, so we trailed their paths like nomads or whatever. But apparently, life can't stay that chill forever.
"Chief! Chief!!"
"What? Why're you screaming like you've been wronged to hell...? The fuck? Who beat you guys up? Your faces are a mess."
"Guh-huk... Y-yes, we got jumped. By some guys we'd never seen. We were out checking on our herds like always, scouting like you ordered, Chief. Then these assholes show up claiming the herds are theirs."
"And?"
"No way we let that slide. We told 'em straight—these herds belong to our chief. But they just... guh-huk, beat us down, trampled us... Said the herds were theirs now 'cause they wandered onto their land. Total bullshit. And then... they pissed on us to humiliate us... guh-heung... huuuk...."
"The fuck? They did what?! Who the hell are these bastards! Hey! Where's my stone spear? You lot—round up every warrior! It's war!!"
To hunt the herds properly, we needed scouts tracking their migration paths nonstop. I'd rotated my men for the job, but these idiots came back looking like punched-out punching bags. I rallied every able-bodied warrior (all the young, fit guys who could swing a spear).
And we charged.
"Kill 'em all!"
"""Ooooh!!!"""
Leading the pack, I sprinted ahead—only for the enemy to be ready. They'd posted scouts on the likely approach and mustered their forces. By the time we arrived, they poured out en masse, meeting us in the open plains before their camp.
Hmm, they've got us outnumbered.
Their warriors were double ours—fifty or so against our twenty-six, me included.
"You thieves weren't content stealing my herds—you beat my boys, trampled 'em, and pissed on 'em too?"
I stepped forward before my warriors; their biggest brute strode out too. Obvious enemy chief.
"Kehihik. Yeah, we did. Whatcha gonna do? Here to taste my piss too? They begged so hard for their lives, we let 'em drink ours as payment. Come to thank us for not killing 'em? I get it—our tribe's merciful like that."
"You fucking cunts? You wanna die?"
Not just piss—they made them drink it? I glanced at my bruised scouts. Shamefaced, heads down—must be true.
"Kuhahat! They didn't tell it straight? Figures—a tribe's only as good as its chief."
"Ah, you motherfucker. Pissing me off. Y-you wanna shut your fucking mouth?"
"What if I don't—guk, kuhk...."
In a flash, I hurled my stone spear like lightning, skewering his throat. It happened so fast both sides froze, dumbfounded.
I pumped my fists triumphantly overhead and roared.
"Enemy chief—down!!"
"""......???"""
Both armies gawked at me, baffled. I got the enemies' confusion, but my own side stunned too? Frustrating as hell. Charge already, you idiots!
"You dumbfucks! I just killed their chief—morale should be through the roof, screaming as you charge! Not standing there like morons. Aao, these retards. Aao, so fucking annoying. Charge! Follow me!! Come on, you shits!!"
"...Eh, ehh? Ehh? ...Ah. A-ah, aha. Waaaaa!!! Follow the Chief!!!"
"""Waaaaa!!"""
A beat late, my warriors finally followed. Buncha limp-dicked losers. After this, military training's in order. I never served, but I watched that celeb boot camp show—know how drill sergeants break 'em in. Should work.
...Big Sis would nail this. She'd love it too.
Random thought aside, I tore through the battlefield. Their stone spears, flint knives, wooden clubs—none touched a hair on me.
"Too. Slow."
"...Hiiik!"
Spear thrust? Sidestep, counterpunch. Club swing? Step back, charge with a kick. Rip out throats barehanded, shatter necks with knifehand strikes, pulverize hearts and solar plexuses with knees and elbows. Sometimes yanked off arms or heads. Blood sprayed, flesh flew. No need for weapons—my raw punches and kicks one-shotted them.
When my guys looked cornered, I'd snatch dropped enemy weapons and hurl 'em for rescues—like spearing an enemy aiming for my man's skull or flank.
"...Huk! ...L-Live—Chief! Thank you, Chief!"
"Dumbass! Less thanking, more killing!"
"Ah, yes sir! Yes sir!!"
Left the pathetic fuck behind, grabbed a dropped flint knife, and carved through more. Our side sucked so bad I even dipped into martial arts in a panic. By the time I'd bagged around thirty, the remaining fifteen enemies bolted, trembling.
"...M-Monster! It's a monster!"
"R-Run! Hiiik!!"
"No match... can't win...."
"S-Spare us! Please!!"
"...M-Me too, running! Hwiiik!"
The hell? I yanked my hand from the last guy's crushed heart, wiped enemy blood from my cheek.
"Why're you pussies running now?"
"""......"""
"What? Why're you looking at me like that?"
"...Ch-Chief... y-you scared 'em off, I think."
"Me? Scary? ...Ah, yeah. Makes sense."
I eyed the blood and gore coating me. Yeah, I looked like a slaughterhouse reject. No wonder from their view.
All 'cause my guys are too weak.
I'm no brute—I'd held back at first to avoid friendly casualties, but midway? Full throttle, no mercy. Hell, I even unleashed Three Powers Swordsmanship on their flint knives.
Twelve Stars Three Powers Swordsmanship. Not bad in practice. If basic stuff's this good, advanced techniques'll be insane.