The Monster Hiding in the Building (7)

Franc looked up from where she was oiling a leather vest. “Nord. You picking up any evil mana from that thing?”

“Nah. It’s not some fancy artifact that’s been enchanted with extra mana. The material itself is decent, so it’ll help with magic amplification, but that’s about it.”

The reason the hobgoblin’s magic had been unusually strong was because this stone amplified spells. If I sold it to the Mage Guild I could probably squeeze out a few coins.

“What I’m wondering is why the hell they left it behind.” I shoved the bag into the corner. “It’s not worth a fortune, but there’s no reason to abandon it either. Black mages are already social outcasts; they’re always short on cash.”

“Maybe they were being chased and had to run in a hurry? Or the goblins stole it while the owner was out.”

“I considered that, but it still doesn’t add up.” I rose from the bed and started massaging Franc’s shoulders. “If this wasn’t an abandoned hideout, the goblins couldn’t have raided it and walked away alive. And if the owner fled in a panic, there would’ve been pursuers. Those guys would’ve stripped the place of anything valuable.”

“Hmm. I think I get what you’re saying.” Franc nodded like she’d caught the scent. “You’re worried the black mage might’ve been ridiculously strong, right?”

“Exactly. So maybe he thought this was ‘not even worth picking up.’”

It was the same logic as veteran players ditching junk items in old games. This power stone was probably trash some high-level black mage had tossed because his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inventory was full, and the pathetic newbie hobgoblin had swiped it to make a weapon.

Franc frowned and touched her lips with a finger. “We should report this when we get back to the guild.”

“Yeah. But what if they take the power stone as evidence and don’t give it back?”

“They write up a contract for that. They can’t rip us off.”

“Oh, for real? As expected from a veteran adventurer.”

“Hehe.”

Franc finished maintaining the leather armor and hugged me. I lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

Thump.

When I lay down, Franc climbed on top of me. I stroked her hair where it rested near my solar plexus.

“Are there a lot of black mages around Sargadis?” Franc murmured, eyes closed, enjoying my touch.

“We found a black mage’s hideout last time too.”

“Now that you mention it… It could be the same guy running around stirring up trouble everywhere.”

“A black mage? That sounds scary.”

“No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”

The line came out automatically, incredibly cheesy. It must have been because it was pure sincerity without any pretense. Fortunately, Franc looked delighted. Besides, I’d learned that a man should tell his girlfriend he’d risk his life for her—even if it was a lie—so I poured my heart into the last part.

“So if anything happens, come find me first, okay?”

“Thank you. But actually… I already do that?” Franc whispered with a happy face. Her pale cheeks flushed pink.

Why does her skin look so perfect when she works outside in the sun all day?

“You do? Aww, our Franc is such a good girl.”

Pat pat.

I stroked and patted her back with both hands. Franc rubbed her cheek against my palm and asked, “Nord, is your body okay? You had that mana succession thing happen again, right?”

“No problem.” At her words I checked my mana vessel. After absorbing Tabula’s mana, its capacity had grown considerably. Subjectively, I’d say more than fifty percent.

The absorption rate is the annoying part since I don’t know it.

I had no idea how much mana Tabula had at his peak, so I couldn’t calculate the exact percentage. If my mana was 100 and it increased by 50, but Tabula had 500, then the real absorption rate was only ten percent.

“It doesn’t feel harmful. They say mana that doesn’t suit the absorber’s body gets filtered out.”

“But it’s not something that happens often, right? Do you know why it happened to you?”

“Haha. Not a clue.”

Mana succession probably wasn’t common. Tirsi had mentioned it too—some churches in Romania had the pope pass divine power to the next pope. Interpreting that, it meant “most churches don’t do that.”

In other words, mana succession isn’t easy.

In this world, mana was worth more than money. If you could pass your mana to a successor before you died, only an idiot or someone with a grudge against their organization would refuse. Even fifty percent was better than nothing.

“It definitely seems hard for mana succession to occur. When leaving an inheritance to your kids, people try to avoid inheritance tax to give even a little more. That’s human nature.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Yet everyone avoided it. If there were no side effects but they still didn’t do it, that meant they couldn’t.

Then why the fuck does this shit only happen to me?

Suddenly I felt wronged. Special events and weird phenomena always landed on my plate, and I never had any idea what they meant.

Fuck, this is exactly why we need status windows.

Shouldn’t there be a neat ding and a list of skills with clear explanations? It would be so much easier! So convenient!!

If only a status window existed, everything would be so simple. With clear information like that I could sigh and say, Ah, damn, even in this world I have to bet my life on luck, pray for good gacha every time I beat up a professor, bow nine times, and snap their necks!!!

Please stop making me hate status windows so much. Would it kill you to share one with me when everyone else has one? Or did you use up all your energy patching in the translation ability? As expected, life really is a fucking trash game with no save points.

I used to despise status windows back in my old life, but not anymore. The people who have seizures at the mere sight of one would probably piss and shit themselves in gratitude if they rolled around in this world for three years with zero windows and then finally heard that ding. Thank you for telling me my intelligence stat was only 2!!!

“Nord. About the mana succession… maybe it happened because the hobgoblin could use rune magic?” Franc said, picking a loose thread off my clothes.

“Rune magic?”

“That bad guy Tabula used rune magic too, right? Rune letters are the magical script Odin gave to humans. Maybe there’s a connection?”

Franc corrected herself with an oh look on her face. “Ah, but didn’t Tabula only use rune magic after he turned into a monster? Then maybe not.”

“No, he was using it from the beginning.” Even while fighting me and Tirsi, Tabula had used several rune spells. Back when he was still in human form.

Rune magic. That was a pretty good hypothesis.

“Franc? There’s an iron mask that guy used in my bag. Can you grab it for a second?”

“The mask? Sure.”

Franc, still lying on top of me, rummaged through the bag. In the process her breasts completely covered my face.

Soft.

Hehehe.

Franc’s chest really was the best. All my worries flew away. I even forgot what I’d been talking about.

“Here. This is it, right?” Franc lifted her chest from my face.

I stared at her breasts like a newborn who’d lost his mother’s nipple, then regained my senses. “Ah, yeah. See the wooden talisman attached inside the mask? That’s also made with rune magic. Tabula must have created it.”

“Huh? Rune? Where?”

Franc peered at the mask in surprise. My finger pointed at the ‘ᚲ’ carved on the wooden talisman.

“This is a rune letter?”

Franc looked more puzzled than shocked. That was the normal reaction. Unless you were a mage or an archaeologist, who would see that as writing?

ᚲ? Fuck, you call this a letter? Even the Ogham script the ancient Erin people used looked more like actual letters than this.

“This is the rune ᚲ (Kenaz). It means ‘insight,’ ‘realization,’ ‘wisdom’—that kind of thing.”

Even to someone who knew runes, it just looked like a tiny scratch. But that scratch was the rune that turned Tabula’s mask into a magic item for ‘concealment’ and ‘impression camouflage.’ I knew the exact effects thanks to Tirsi.

“The person who made the mask carved this rune upside-down on the talisman. Runes have the opposite effect when carved in reverse.”

By the way, you distinguish top and bottom by adding a baseline. I showed Franc the wooden talisman.

“What happens when it’s reversed?”

“It makes it so ‘you cannot know’ who is wearing the mask.”

A mask was a tool for hiding one’s identity in a magical sense. Tabula’s iron mask combined that occult effect with a rune to create a magic item that prevented others from recognizing the wearer’s appearance and impression.

“Rune magic doesn’t do much with just the rune letters. You have to carve them onto a medium before they function.”

Rune magic didn’t require long incantations. Instead, it needed an appropriate medium to produce the desired effect. Its performance leaned toward support. That was why it had declined, pushed out by powerful, instant modern magic.

“Like when the hobgoblin shot lightning from the mural on the ceiling?”

“Right. That was a variant of the ᚼ (Hagall) rune.”

He had carved the letter meaning ‘unforeseen disaster’ onto a lightning image—the symbol of natural catastrophe—then used it as a magic circle. The technique was crude; without the power stone’s buff, I probably wouldn’t have died even if I took it head-on.

“This mask probably had only a weak effect with just the ᚲ (Kenaz) rune, so he made it into a magic item to create a synergy.”

That was why Tabula had carved the ᚲ rune in reverse on the wooden piece and processed it with sorcery, using the wood as a medium since iron repelled mana.

That bastard Tabula endured Tirsi’s ice arrow even in human form.

Maybe he had raised his magic resistance with the ᚦ (Thurs) rune right before impact. I hadn’t seen him writing with his fingers during the fight, so he must have turned that rune into a magic item too, which broke when he transformed.

After transforming, the black mana buff let him keep it active like a passive, so attack magic didn’t work.

The fact he took damage from my Burning Hand in human form probably meant the rune activated too late, or even when it did, the firepower overwhelmed it. His gauntlet had been heated enough to burn, yet his hand was fine—clear proof he got overpowered by raw output. Normally if a gauntlet got that hot the skin would’ve stuck to the metal and torn off.

Anyway, the specs of a dead guy didn’t matter. Both Tabula and the hobgoblin were rune magic users. That was the only thing the half-human and the complete brat had in common.

I sat up, still holding Franc. “All right. Nothing to lose. Let’s test it.”

“Test?”

“Yeah. Franc? You made a mask for yourself, right? If you brought it, can I borrow it for a bit?”

“I did bring it, but…”

Franc handed me the unfinished mask with a puzzled look. I took it in my left hand.

Focus. Focus.

I gathered mana at my fingertip in full concentration mode. From now on this finger was my brush.

I am the performance artist Nord.

I poured the determination to one day become an artist who painted with his dick into my index finger. Burn, my pen!!

Whoosh!

Scrape!!

When I casually carved the rune, green mana flowed from my fingertip. My mana had turned green and engraved itself on the back of the mask!

Fuck, it actually worked?

My heart pounded as I called out the name of the rune.

The incantation came out in Germanic. It sounded incredibly majestic for my voice. What the hell was that tone? Fuck, I might fall for myself. It felt like when I heard my recorded voice. They say people can’t hear their real voice because it resonates through the skull. I wasn’t sure about the exact science.

Anyway, it seemed your voice didn’t get distorted when chanting rune magic. That was pretty amazing.

Whirr! Whirr!

That was when the ᚲ (Kenaz) rune I had carved in reverse on the mask began to activate.

All the rune magic I had secretly tried before, relying only on my translation ability, had failed. This time the sensation was completely different. The mana inside me felt like it was being filtered through a high-end barista’s pour-over before activating!

Whirr! Whirr!

But the mana created this way ran out in an instant. I instinctively realized that I could only learn one letter with the mana I had right then, and I had used that single slot on the ᚲ rune.

Understanding the true meaning of rune letters with instinct rather than the head! That was the condition for using rune magic!

Fuck. No wonder all my attempts kept failing.

It wasn’t enough to simply know the words. Knowing a math formula and solving a problem that used it were on completely different levels. The same applied to knowing the runic language and using rune magic. Just like how knowing only the simplified formulas in a textbook wouldn’t get you a perfect score on a math exam, and being Korean didn’t mean you’d ace every Korean test.

That was the relationship between me and rune magic.

So that’s why even those brain-dead goblin shamans could use it.

Rune magic had nothing to do with intelligence or the amount of knowledge. That was why even the dumb-looking half-human Tabula and the goblin bastard could use it.

It’s similar to the ‘enlightenment’ they talk about in murim novels.

Normally you’d need long periods of mental training or time to gain that enlightenment. It seemed the mana I stole from the hobgoblin had let me skip the process required to learn rune magic.

“Nord! The rune’s engraved!” Franc’s eyes widened as she stared at the ᚲ (Kenaz) on the mask.

I was quite surprised inside too, but Franc’s extravagant reaction helped me calm down a little. As always, my girlfriend was a lovely partner who helped me twenty-four hours a day.

“Not sure if it turned out well. I’ll try it on, so watch and tell me how it looks.”

I put the wooden mask on my face. To my senses, nothing felt different.

What the fuck? Was it a dud?

Where did my enlightenment go?

Did I only gain the skill to turn my finger into a brush?

“Ah? Aah?!”

But Franc’s reaction was far from normal.

“N-Nord’s presence disappeared!!”

Whoosh!!

Panicking, Franc ripped the mask off my face. I just blinked, having no idea why she was acting like that.

“Franc? What’s wrong all of a sudden?”

“Ah. S-sorry. Your presence suddenly got blurry, so I… I didn’t mean to.”

When I asked in confusion, Franc apologized. It was a mistake born from panic, but since she had been worried about me I didn’t feel bad. My presence got blurry?

Did it succeed?

Extremely curious, I reached for the mask. “Since it’s my magic, I can release it anytime if something goes wrong. Let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me try it again, so hand it over.”

“No. I don’t like it. What if it’s dangerous? If you really have to test it, I’ll wear it instead.”

Whoosh!

Franc hid the mask with her body as if refusing to give it back. Her round eyes were full of wariness. What exactly was this adorable creature? It felt like trying to take sunflower seeds from a hamster; my heart hurt.

I smiled bitterly. “Fine, can’t be helped. Then can I ask you for a favor instead? I want to see the effect with my own eyes too.”

If it was dangerous I could just cancel it. Since it ran on mana, cutting off the mana supply would dispel the spell.

“Leave it to me!”

Franc bravely put on the mask. Since it had no straps she had to hold it to her face with her hands. The rune’s effect activated immediately.

Shhh.

The word suited the way Franc’s presence thinned out. I could see her with my eyes, but her appearance didn’t register properly on my retinas.

Leap!

In that state she jumped off the bed and crouched in the narrow gap between the bed and the wall. It was a thief’s stealth technique.

“Holy shit.”

The truly surprising part was that even when I pushed my mana-enhanced senses to the limit, I couldn’t detect Franc’s presence at all. I could see her with my eyes, but if she got behind me I probably wouldn’t notice her until she attacked!

“Rune magic—complete success.”

I looked at the tip of my index finger.

I had become the rune magician Nord.

“How was it?” Franc asked, coming out of her hiding spot. Even though she was wearing the mask, speaking to me weakened the concealment effect. The more attention she drew, the weaker it seemed.

“More than enough. I couldn’t tell where you were at all. Even if several people wearing that were hiding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in this room, I don’t think I’d notice.”

Still, when she stayed perfectly still it was genuinely hard to detect. Now I understood how that huge half-human bastard had watched my requiem without being noticed.

“Really? I couldn’t tell at all.”

“It felt the same when I wore it. The wearer probably can’t sense the effect.”

Since the wearer wasn’t inside the effect’s range. Not knowing your own location would just be a curse, you idiot.

“Anyway, this rune looks pretty useful. If you can carve it on a mask, you could walk around with me when I’m Arthur Wayne without revealing your identity, Franc.”

“Ah, really?!”

Delighted, Franc took off the mask. I felt a pang of regret at her smile. It wouldn’t be easy to make that a reality right away.

“The problem is I don’t know how to make magic items.”

“Ah…”

“I know you enchant them, but I don’t know how to maintain the effect for a long time. The materials would be complicated too.”

I could carve it on the mask and maintain it for a short while. But the effect would probably cut off often. It consumed little mana but required concentration. That was why they processed it into an item.

“Um, couldn’t I just use that iron mask?” Franc pointed at the one Tabula had made.

“That won’t work.”

I said it even though I knew how selfish it sounded. “I don’t want you wearing a mask that some other bastard was huffing and puffing into.”

It was an intensely blatant display of possessiveness. I had hated sharing gas masks in the military, and now Franc was going to press that half-orc, half-wolf hybrid’s mask to her face? I’d go insane that very day and smash the thing to pieces.

“…Hmm. I-is that so? Then I won’t use it.”

Depending on your perspective the statement could have been a bit vulgar, but Franc twisted her body shyly. It seemed she didn’t mind her man showing jealousy and possessiveness.

Tsk. That’s hot.

Seeing Franc in her light undergarments lit by candlelight made my dick throb hard. We hadn’t done it for the past few days. The sun had already set outside. I wouldn’t take any requests tomorrow, so maybe I could spend tonight thoroughly enjoying myself?

Creak.

I sat down beside Franc. The bed groaned softly. Without any shame, Franc placed her hand over mine. We’d done this many times; there was nothing to be embarrassed about anymore!

Like a major-league pitcher who had read the batter’s timing, I slid my hand onto Franc’s shoulder—and then.

Knock knock.

“Anyone in there?”

—I was interrupted by the fucking innkeeper.

“…Yes. What do you want?” My voice, which had plummeted in mood, openly revealed extreme irritation.

“I thought you said you didn’t need dinner.”

“I remember. It’s not that. I came to ask if you want a bath and fodder for the hamal.”

“Tsk.”

A bath and hamal fodder. Both were important and necessary, so I couldn’t just tell him to fuck off.

Glance.

When I looked at her, Franc nodded as if she’d like to wash if possible. In rural villages without proper bathhouses, inns sometimes lent out their facilities. With no choice, I got up from the bed.

“We’ll take both. How much?”

“Two people’s baths and straw for the hamal comes to two coppers.”

Look at this guy dropping the price to normal the moment I pushed back once. As expected, all the merchant bastards in this world were the same.

“We’ll pay that.”

I paid and headed to the bathhouse. While Franc washed I stood fully armed on guard. Franc giggled, basket in hand, as if she found it funny.

“Nord, really. You’re going that far?”

“You can’t underestimate the sudden impulses of stupid bastards.”

They were the type to peep without shame. I had learned that while exploring ruins. The three village perverts who had tried to peep were half-dead and hanging from a tree when I first learned how strong Dana really was. I remembered it clearly.

I carved the rune on my forehead. It was an application I had read about in a book. The rune containing the meaning of ‘insight’ strengthened the five senses when engraved on the forehead. With my senses even more activated, I could detect things at a greater distance.

Convenient.

It was hard to learn and had many mediocre effects, but rune magic was still a legitimate descendant of ancient magic systems. Since even Tabula—who looked like a professional assassin—used it often, it was clearly very useful if employed well.

Rustle.

While I stayed on full alert, I detected movement in the darkness. I glared in that direction.

“Who’s there?”

“Just bringing firewood.”

The innkeeper arrived carrying an armful of wood. He must have come to heat the water.

“Give it here. I’ll do it.”

“Huh? No need. I get paid for this.”

“If I break the stove I’ll pay for it, so just leave it and go feed the hamal first.”

I chased away the uninvited guest and continued guarding Franc’s bath. She must have washed quickly because she soon came out. Then I washed in a hurry and we returned to the room. Franc dried my hair and we lay down on the bed as usual.

“Franc. I have a small favor to ask tonight.”

I spoke before the mood fully settled. This would only be our fourth or fifth time sleeping together. I figured it was about time to try something that could be called ‘play.’ If we kept putting it off I’d only ever know how to put it in and cum. Also, there was something I’d been personally curious about.

“A favor? What kind?”

Her eyes held a mix of tension and anticipation. I answered seriously.

“I want to test the limits of how much I can ejaculate. Honestly, I still don’t know the limits of my own stamina.”

Especially after reaching this state, it was hard to gauge. Our sex always ended with me getting worked up and pushing Franc past her limit. It was basically like landing a finishing move in wrestling. So I was curious about the limit of my virility. Masturbating to test it hadn’t been possible because after dating Franc things got busy or we started living together.

“S-so… you want to keep going without stopping today?”

Franc trembled slightly as she gauged my reaction. Both fear and expectation were heavily mixed in her eyes now.

…I’m starting to worry I might have awakened a slight masochistic side in Franc.

“I’m not planning to overwork you. There’s another way.”

If I thrust for thirty minutes and came two or three times, Franc would collapse. Every time, my reason would release the brake at the end and she simply couldn’t keep up. So here was a change of thinking.

Today I would do nothing for my own climax. In other words, what I wanted to ask was—

“Franc. Could you do it with your hands?”

—The so-called handjob play.

In my personal opinion, among the things you could ask your girlfriend for, this was on the easier side, right? Compared to other plays women tended to feel averse to, a handjob was basically just caressing!

Since Franc had given me everything from my first time to a blowjob, this request shouldn’t be too embarrassing.

“With my hands…? Yeah. If it’s just that.”

Though the thought process was a bit shameless, Franc accepted readily.

“Umm, should I keep squeezing until nothing more comes out?”

“Ahem. Yes! That’s right.”

Asked with such pure, innocent eyes, my face turned red. Fuck, that’s right. Franc wasn’t British. She didn’t know the lewd nuance of “squeeze it out” in that context, so she said it so straightforwardly. I could finally understand the feelings of men who asked their girlfriends to say dirty things. I used to think it was a perverted fetish, but damn, it really was arousing.

“Okay. You do it for me a lot too, Nord. Umm… Should I wet it first? Otherwise it’ll hurt, right?”

“Huh? Y-yeah, maybe? If I’m going to cum a lot, it’ll probably be necessary?”

This wasn’t a lie. Wetting the dick with saliva to prevent it from getting raw from friction was perfectly logical thinking. It absolutely wasn’t because I wanted a blowjob and was pretending not to know. Definitely not.

Swish.

Not knowing how men usually masturbated, Franc took my silence as agreement and took off all her clothes before undoing my belt. We sat naked on the bed.

“Nord. Tell me when you’re about to cum.”

Haum.

After asking me to give her a heads-up, Franc took my cock deep into her mouth.

“Chuuuuurp. Chup. Churup.”

Franc diligently sucked and licked the shaft, wetting it thoroughly. She gripped the saliva- and precum-slick pillar with both hands like last time.

Schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick…!!

Those lovely hands hadn’t forgotten a single technique they had learned during the previous handjob-blowjob combo. Her white hands mercilessly worked my cock.

“Churrrrup. Chup. Chuuuup!”

Franc licked beneath the glans with her tongue. Her cheeks didn’t hollow out because she didn’t know proper technique, but I was satisfied that her cute face remained unchanged. More importantly, if Franc’s already overwhelming handjob skills improved to include proper blowjobs, I would turn into a premature-ejaculating masochist in this other world…!!

Schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick…!!

“Ugh…! Franc, now…!”

“—Pua.”

My cock left Franc’s mouth. Even then her ten fingers never stopped their relentless milking, forcing me to pour out semen.

Spurt—!!

Spluuuuuuuurt—!!

The tremendous ejaculation hit the ceiling and even reached the door. Fuck, even when I pissed I felt it, but cumming was on another level. That thought didn’t last long. Franc’s handjob continued even during my orgasm.

“Kgh!”

A short groan escaped. While continuing the handjob, Franc had moved her face beside my spurting cock and started licking my balls!

“H-hey! Where did you learn that?!”

“The book I mentioned last time… Lick….”

That damn book!! I was definitely going to find out the title soon!!! Fuck, it couldn’t possibly be something like The Seven Husbands’ Milking Techniques for the Count’s Only Daughter Practicing Polyandry, right?

Spluuuuuuuurt!!

Spurt!! Splurtsplurtsplurt!!

Spluuuurt!! Splurtsplurt! Spurt! Spurt!!

Schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick schlick…!!

“Churrrrup… Lick… Lick… Chup…! Chuuuup…!!”

Handjob during orgasm plus ball licking! A merciless 40-hit combo with zero mercy was rushing in to destroy my cock!! Fuck, it was incredible. Thanks to the enhanced dick it didn’t make my waist give out, but if this had happened back when I was a double-King-Kai Korean man, I would have died instantly!!

Was this how Franc felt when I kept thrusting during her climax? To think I’d end up reflecting on my past during a handjob play! Still, asking her to stop now felt like admitting defeat!

Hold on, my dick!! Twenty times the semen!!

I stopped resisting the pleasure and surrendered my body!!

Spluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurt!!!

“Puhah?!”

The winner of the ejaculation race was me. Franc, breathing hard, gave up on urging out more and stopped first. Spurt…! Spurt…!

When Franc stopped moving her hands, my ejaculation soon stopped too. One climax had lasted over twenty seconds. I had probably cum about three times at that pace. The long duration might have been because I kept cumming in the middle of it.

“Huu… Haa… Nord, are you okay?”

Franc, with semen on her bangs, wiped her forehead and asked. I answered by getting hard again at that sexy sight.

“…Guess you’re fine.”

“I could do this all day.”

“I couldn’t last all day…”

“Then I won’t suggest it.”

There was a problem. Even just moving her hands seemed to tire Franc out quite a bit. She would be fine physically, but maintaining control and technique would exhaust her. She had fought goblins just hours ago too.

How could I keep going without making Franc tired? My dick-brain directly requested computational support from my cerebrum to solve this difficult problem. The arousal-mode cerebrum, operating solely for pleasure, approved final fusion and began searching for a method.

Paizuri? Hot as hell but it’d tire Franc out more.

Footjob? Next time.

69? No way.

Thigh fucking? If I move it’ll end in a creampie anyway?

Should I use Franc’s body to masturbate? Nah, that’s a bit much.

Slow down the handjob speed? Sunrise would be faster.

Take breaks in between? Wouldn’t that just make the mood awkward?

What if I just give up and pounce on her? Fuck, are you a genius?

The eight dick-brains each gave different opinions! It was like the legendary Hydra! Considering it possessed deadly venom (semen) that could even insult the gods, maybe my dick should just be called a Hydra Cock?

The ultra-high-speed brain conference that lasted less than a second in real time felt like ten minutes of sluggish debate to me. In the middle of that hamster-wheel conversation, the last of the dick-brains rose from its long silence and spoke.

Breast handjob.

You’re chosen.

Rune.