Villa Raid and Harem Decisions
I headed straight for my base.
Upon arrival, I summoned the two strongest fighters from our crew—Fighter and the Black Guy. They were the most reliable options for close-quarters combat.
"Whoa. Who is this woman?"
The two men stared at the naked woman being dragged in, eyes wide with surprise.
"She's the one who tried to kill me."
"Tch... Then we should torture her first and kill her. How dare she lay a hand on her brother."
The Black Guy bristled and swore, but the woman's body shook violently at the mention of torture.
"I-I was just trying to protect myself! Please, spare me... waaaah..."
I slapped my palm over her mouth, silencing her frantic struggles.
"Gather the weapons. There's another group out there—we need to clean them up."
At my command, the pair moved fast, grabbing their gear: Fighter took the air gun for silent sniping, while the Black Guy loaded up on the steel pipe, iron crossbow, and jungle blade.
We reached the nearby villa. The woman said the captives were in the third floor. Even from outside, we could hear faint voices drifting down.
Climbing the stairs, she explained they were split between apartments 1 and 2.
"They live in 1 and 2... I don't know the exact number, but it's definitely over ten."
We chose apartment 1 first. The plan was the same as always: I went in the front, and the two of them provided long-range support with the air gun from behind.
I knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"It's Min, Seo-jun. I have something important to tell you."
"What now? Phones don't work here, so this is annoying. Not even a messenger, you just show up? Fine."
The door rattled open.
"Huh? Why are you naked?"
The man saw her state and his eyes widened, but before he could finish, my spear tip punched straight through his throat, ending his words mid-sentence.
I pushed the door open and fired the air gun and crossbow straight into the room.
"Aaaah!"
"Aaaah! It's an ambush!"
Three men dropped instantly. I grabbed my spear and charged in, leaping through the doorway.
I stabbed one, blocked another lunging with a blade, and slammed him down. The third man impaled my shoulder with the steel pipe, but I ignored the pain and drove my spear deep into his gut.
All seven were down. I finished off the ones felled by the air gun and crossbow with a final stab—experience points pouring in nicely.
Super Regeneration: 147
7 souls
"The ones from the next apartment are coming!"
Fighter shouted and loosed his crossbow. The Black Guy fired at the same time, and screams erupted.
I quickly reloaded the air gun, stepped into the hallway, and shot the nearest threat.
Three more bodies hit the floor. The remaining men inside started screaming in terror.
"Gun! They have a crossbow too!"
I reloaded and approached apartment 2 with caution.
"Fucking bastards! You're dead!"
One man was cursing as he opened the door, but a hand shot out holding a pistol. I blocked my face with both arms. The motorcycle helmet helped, but it wouldn't stop a bullet cold.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
He emptied six rounds into my body, but I kept advancing. When he fired his last shot, I pressed the air gun to his face and pulled the trigger.
He toppled backward.
The room was littered with armed men staring at me in fear. Five of them. I grabbed my spear and charged.
"Aaaah!"
"G-grotesque monster!"
My spear pierced them one by one. Their jungle blades slashed and stabbed at me, but I ignored every cut and kept going until they dropped.
Puff! Puff!
Bolts flew from behind and struck the standing men. The wounded ones dropped as my spear followed through. Bodies shook in their final breaths.
"Whew. That was fun."
I stabbed each one one more time to confirm they were dead.
Super Regeneration: 156
9 souls
I checked the wounds from the bullets— one in my arm, one in my side, one in my stomach. Most people would consider them fatal, but I slapped on some tape and the bleeding stopped.
Among the dead were three women. Their looks weren't exactly stunning, but I felt zero hesitation about killing them.
Honestly, not many women here were genuinely pretty anyway. Top 20 to 30 percent at best, maybe 10 percent if you stretched it. About one in ten. The ones I brought home as slaves were probably in the top 1 percent.
The Black Guy and Fighter searched the apartment thoroughly, sorting through supplies and food.
The biggest haul was the pistols—twenty rounds of ammunition. Too few bullets. The police didn't carry that much, so this was all we had.
There were no other female captives. To save food, they hadn't kept any sex slaves. From the women's clothes and underwear in the rooms, it was clear they had been doing something terrible—used and discarded or worse.
Everyone was dead now. I stared at the trembling naked woman.
"Alright, let's decide her fate. I'm not keeping her as my personal slave. What about you two? She's not a sex slave, just one of those guys' companions."
"Can we keep her? According to my standards, her looks are passable."
The Black Guy asked cautiously. She had a decent face and decent figure. For her, that put her in the upper-middle range.
"If you like her, take her and use her. There are plenty of empty houses, and you can feed her with your share of the food."
It was Fighter's turn.
"Woman, I'll respect your opinion. If you don't want to follow us, we'll let you go. If you want to depend on us, we'll take you."
The woman's pupils trembled at his words.
"I'll think about it. I watched you kill all my friends. But even if you let me go, I'll get caught and sold as a sex slave somewhere or starve to death. I don't want to be dragged along against my will. Give me a moment to think, and I'll answer."
We all sat on the sofa, snacking on whatever we found.
Eating snacks in a house full of corpses felt like being a real psychopath. The guys seemed used to the smell and blood now—no disgust at all.
I glanced at the woman. Her face was tear-streaked, and she was curled up in pain. Her arms were tied behind her back, so she could only whimper. Women taste best when they can't move.
About ten minutes later, she spoke through sobs.
"T-that... my friends were turned into sex slaves... they beat them... even fed them shit... they put everything imaginable in their pussies and asses until they got infected and died of fever... I just... I just want to survive..."
"Really? You killed all the bastards worth killing."
I looked at the Black Guy and Fighter.
"Any of you have that kind of taste?"
"Scott's a bit... too disgusting. I don't like beating women."
"Me neither. I don't beat women to death."
This woman had an intense hatred for sex slaves. No need to drag her along.
I walked over, grabbed her crotch, and groped her breasts. Her arms were tied, so she could only tremble and moan.
"Haaht..."
Her body looked ordinary now—small frame, average breasts and hips, just a slightly pretty face.
"Anyone else want her? I'll give you a minute."
Both their eyes lit up.
"Uncle Scott?"
"Me too. Sounds good."
When I tried to hand her over, the woman begged through tears.
"Y-you said you'd let me go... hiiic..."
"I won't kill you. Just a little fun, then I'll let you go. You got what you deserved for trying to kill me."
The Black Guy grabbed her arm and nodded.
"Normally I'd cut off an arm or ankle, but our brother is too generous. Who would just let the woman who tried to kill him live?"
We dragged her into the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. He started biting and sucking.
Her moans and cries mixed together—wet slapping sounds, wet squelching, the bed creaking loudly.
"Mmph... uuuh..."
In front, the Black Guy pounded her. Behind, Fighter thrust in. With his massive muscular body, it felt exactly like a Western porno.
I watched for a moment, then found a beer can in their supplies and cracked it open.
It wasn't ice-cold, and the taste was mediocre.
Since Super Regeneration appeared, even when I drank, the buzz was short-lived and vanished completely. I couldn't get drunk anymore.
A little later, the Black Guy and Fighter came out wearing clothes. They grabbed the woman's hair and dragged her out. Her face was a mess of tears, her whole body covered in semen, and thick ropes of it poured from between her legs.
"Brother, what do we do with this woman now?"
"Hiiic! P-please spare me! I-I can work so hard!"
She had thrown herself on the floor, thinking we'd kill her after raping her. She looked up with pitiful eyes and even wet herself from fear.
I walked over and pressed my foot gently on her head.
"I said I'd spare you. Why are you so broken? From now on, no more bad things. If you use that pussy well, you'll eat and survive."
"Y-yes! I'll eat with my pussy... hiiic..."
"Pack your things. Let's go."
We gathered the food and supplies and left the villa.
When we returned home, the women welcomed us.
The bully, the Pilates girl, the female teacher, the pharmacist.
Every single one was a beauty in my type. Actually, not just my type—they were objectively the top beauties.
If we judged only by faces, the pharmacist was the prettiest, followed by the bully and the female teacher. The Pilates girl was pretty enough, but the plastic surgery was obvious.
Honestly, they were all similar. It was more about taste than ranking.
Breasts: the bully was the largest, then the female teacher.
Hips: the phrase "you have to be born with that" was true—the pharmacist had the biggest ass, which looked amazing when getting fucked from behind.