Two Days of Grahn, Ceres, and Zarco
Two days earlier, right after Dain had come to see Zarco, delivered his warning, and left the barracks.
Gardan watched Dain’s retreating back—his steps heavy with barely contained fury—then stepped back inside.
“A-are you all right, sir?”
“Yes. Nothing happened, Commander.”
“I was a little… surprised. I never imagined Dain, who always seemed so gentle, could wear an expression like that.”
Bang!
Zarco’s fist struck the table hard enough to make it shudder.
“Hero?”
The Hero’s brow was tightly knotted as he drummed his fingers on the still-quivering surface. The snake-like hiss of his breathing made Gardan instinctively study his superior’s mood. Had the conversation with Dain upset him?
“…Those two bitches… fucking hell…”
The words slipped from Zarco’s lips in a low mutter. Gardan couldn’t quite catch them.
“Get out.”
“Sir?”
“I said get out!”
“Y-yes, Hero!”
Gardan had already turned to leave at Zarco’s bark when the voice stopped him again.
“One moment.”
Gardan looked back cautiously.
“That’s right. I am the Hero.”
Though Zarco wasn’t even looking at him, Gardan swallowed and nodded.
“…That blacksmith. Grahn, was it?”
The Hero still remembered the face of the blacksmith who had laughed and chatted so easily with Dain.
Ceres let out a long sigh, weighed down by emotions she could no longer name. An unwanted relationship with Zarco. Lilias and Dain. And now this—clothes so revealing that her breasts and hips were practically on display, all in the name of her Authority. She had no one she could truly confide in. The closest person was Rillen, but she was nothing like her.
Just enjoy it, wouldn’t that be fine?
She could already picture Rillen saying it with a bright smile, and that only made her worry more. She didn’t want that future, yet the Saintess’s body was slowly being etched with pleasure.
Come to me, Dain.
If you come, everything will be all right. If you come and listen to me, I can go back to the way I was.
A knock sounded at the door. Ceres’s face brightened at once—only for her expression to falter when the voice that followed was far rougher than Dain’s.
“Saintess? You in there?”
“…Ah, yes. Please come in!”
Grahn’s upper body alone seemed to fill the entire doorway. They had only spoken a few times, but Ceres had always liked the big, boisterous blacksmith who laughed so heartily.
“What brings you here?”
“Ah, the Hero told me to come see you.”
“Zarco did? What for?”
Grahn stepped fully inside. His massive frame was covered in a sheen of sweat from hammering iron all day, the coppery muscles gleaming. Yet Ceres’s gaze drifted a little lower.
That thick bulge was clearly outlined against his trousers. She couldn’t tell whether it was naturally that large or if something else was responsible.
“Ah, um… W-would you like some tea?”
“Tea sounds good.”
While Grahn sat at the table, nearly swallowing it with his size, Ceres prepared the tea yet kept stealing glances at that enormous shape. His father was a dwarf, she recalled. Were dwarven men all built like that? The situation felt awkward, yet strangely her body refused to tense up.
“Here’s your tea…”
“Thanks. Hot!”
He gulped it down immediately, then yelped and set the cup aside with exaggerated fuss. The sight drew a small laugh from her.
“A-ahaha. Sorry. So… what did you need?”
“Hm?”
When the Saintess stared at him with wide, round eyes, Grahn scratched his head in apparent confusion.
“Ah, damn… Did the Hero not talk to you?”
“Talk about what?”
“Well… he said the Saintess would… help me relieve some fatigue.”
“Fatigue? Oh, I can’t perform healing prayers right now…”
“Not that kind of fatigue.”
Grahn cleared his throat and touched his thigh. The implication finally hit her.
“…E-excuse me?”
What exactly did Zarco think she was? Shock and anger rose to her face. Grahn quickly tried to calm her, apologizing.
“S-sorry. I said something weird. I thought everything was already arranged… Forget I said anything. Ahem.”
“…Yes…”
“I’ll just finish the tea and leave.”
The two of them—both flushed with embarrassment—sat in silence, sipping their now-lukewarm drinks.
“Kahaha! They said this village was boring, but you’ve been having a good time, haven’t you?”
“Not really. Every day was more or less the same. Everyone was tired of being bored.”
“Tired of being bored! Haha, I’ll have to visit sometime!”
“Hehe, please do. Even if there’s not much to see, the night sky over the Hero’s Village is truly beautiful.”
“Looking forward to it.”
What began as an awkward exchange soon flowed naturally. Grahn responded to Ceres’s words with his usual booming laughter, and the cheerful conversation was exactly what she needed right now.
“Whoops, look at me talking away… Seems quite a bit of time has passed.”
The tea had gone cold long ago. Outside the window, the sky was beginning to blush with sunset.
“I really enjoyed talking with you.”
“It’s been a long time since I had this much fun chatting, Saintess.”
“Please call me Ceres, Grahn.”
“Hmm. Well, if that’s what you want… Ceres.”
With a scrape of his chair, Grahn stood. He didn’t seem to notice, but from her seated height Ceres once again saw the thick outline at the front of his pants, veins visible even through the fabric.
“…Ah…”
“Hm? Ah! Sorry about that! It’s just… well…”
Grahn hurriedly covered himself.
“Your outfit is… a bit… hah…”
At his embarrassed laugh, Ceres finally looked down at herself. The deep neckline had her breasts nearly spilling out, and the fabric that barely covered her navel left the soft curve of her waist completely exposed as she stood before him.
“E-eek…!”
“I saw something I shouldn’t have. My apologies.”
“N-no, it’s fine…”
Had it been like that the entire time? Throughout their conversation Grahn had only shown genuine enjoyment, never once making her feel uncomfortable. Now the big man hunched forward to hide the massive erection her exposure had caused, and something strange stirred inside Ceres’s chest.
“Well… I’ll be going. Thanks for the talk.”
“Wait! Um, Grahn.”
“Yeah?”
She couldn’t tell what kind of expression she was showing him. She hoped he wouldn’t misunderstand.
The conversation had been truly enjoyable, and she knew his hammer had rung out across the outpost all day without rest.
She had never tested it, but when Lilias explained the Authority she had said its healing effect was weak on those who were not the Hero—she had never said it was nonexistent.
This was simply a small gesture of gratitude for the way he had lifted her mood. It was absolutely not because she was following Zarco’s wishes.
With her face burning, the Saintess parted her trembling lips.
“If you’re okay with just my hands…”
She didn’t realize it, but Grahn clearly saw the way her flushed face, shy words, and the tiny lick of her lips all came together.
Kneeling between Grahn’s spread legs, the Saintess carefully took the blacksmith’s cock in both hands. It was too thick for a single grip; even the way it twitched at her touch radiated sheer size.
“You really… sure about this?”
“It’s… only my hands, so…”
Perhaps it was the atmosphere, but even the simple act of removing her gloves looked lewd in Grahn’s eyes. Ceres could feel the weight of that gaze. She wrapped her bare hands around him. The moment skin touched skin, she felt every pulsing vein.
“Then… I’ll start.”
She moved her hands slowly up and down. The thick shaft, the vivid red glans. Each downward stroke brushed her palm against his coarse pubic hair. She kept her wandering hands firmly on the chair instead of letting them slip between her own thighs, continuing her repayment.
“Can you squeeze a little harder?”
“B-but… Grahn, you’re so thick…”
“Don’t worry about it. It feels good.”
The subtle tone of his voice made Ceres pause. She looked up at him with her clear blue eyes, and Grahn leaned back slightly.
“Feels… good?”
“Yeah. The way you’re fondling it is a bit ticklish, and… well, it feels pretty damn dirty in a good way…”
“W-what did you say!”
Still holding his cock with one hand, Ceres glared up at him. The brief silence that followed shattered as they both burst into laughter at the same time.
Amid their comfortable conversation, the utterly abnormal situation filled Ceres’s room with a strange blend of lewdness and ease—the kind of atmosphere the Saintess had never experienced before.
“Honestly.”
“Haha, sorry, sorry. Saintess.”
“…I told you to call me Ceres.”
Her pout was adorable, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of shyness and mischief.
“Hmph.”
Her face was still red. But she wanted to give this man—who looked at her like a neighborhood kid rather than a woman—a proper shock.
She gave the already revealing garment a small tug. Her massive breasts spilled out as if they had been waiting for the chance. The swollen areolas and stiff nipples appeared right before Grahn’s eyes, and the blacksmith’s gaze widened.
“Whoa! I didn’t know they were this big.”
“…”
She had never done this for anyone, but she had seen Rillen do it for the soldiers.
The Saintess moved closer between Grahn’s legs. The sharp, musky scent of sweat made her breathing grow slightly ragged, yet her hands never stopped.
She wrapped the enormous cock between her breasts, which she pressed together with both hands. She could feel it twitching as if swallowing inside the soft valley.
“This is… haa…”
“H-how is it…? Still ticklish?”
“No… it’s perfect, Ceres. This softness… it’s driving me crazy.”
Even buried in her abundant cleavage, the glans poked out right in front of her eyes. Following Rillen’s example, she began rubbing him up and down between her breasts. The thick, hot tip brushed against her cheek, but the warmth wasn’t unpleasant.
“…Like this…”
“Huu… ah…”
Grahn’s large, rough hand settled on top of her head. Seeing his eyes closed and his breathing rough as pleasure coursed through him, Ceres felt like a little girl seeking praise. She tightened her arms, pressing her breasts harder around him.
“Ugh…”
With each repeated motion, the space between her breasts filled with a mixture of sweat and the transparent fluid leaking from his cock. Her pace quickened. Grahn’s knees began to tremble, and Ceres knew the end was near.
“Uuuugh!”
Splurt!
The hot liquid splashed across her face. The Saintess’s eyes squeezed shut as Grahn’s thick, white semen covered her cheeks and dripped down. It felt slippery. Sticky.
“Haa…”
“S-sorry, Ceres.”
While Grahn used the handkerchief from the table to wipe her face, Ceres remained still, simply accepting his gentle touch.
“Huh? It went in your mouth…”
“Where… pfft, kahaha!”
Grahn burst out laughing as he tried to clean the semen that had landed on her lips.
“Sorry, sorry… hah! You’re just too cute.”
“…Really…”
She glanced away in embarrassment, but a faint smile had formed on her lips as well.
After finishing, Grahn left the room with a cheerful laugh. While Ceres tidied up, the sound of his hammer rang out again. This time it was stronger, lighter.
“Haa.”
The Saintess flopped onto the bed with a sigh, but it wasn’t born of depression. The experience had been strange. Yet during it all, thoughts of the Demon King, the Hero, the Saintess, or her Authority had never once crossed her mind.
Her refreshed, lighter mood left a faint smile playing on Ceres’s lips.
The Saintess never noticed that, in that smile, she had even forgotten the name Dain.
That night, when Ceres entered the command room, the Hero was already waiting for her—seated in a chair, eyes fixed on her.
Rillen and the soldiers were inside the adjacent room. Their moans were so loud they seemed to vibrate through the door.
She knew she should tell them to stop doing such things, but the words wouldn’t leave the Saintess’s mouth. She knew the reason all too well. She could still feel Grahn’s semen drying on her face and between her breasts.
“Ceres.”
While she hesitated, the Hero spoke first.
“…Did you do it, Ceres?”
The Saintess could not answer.
Her face flushed with shame, her hands fidgeting, her thighs pressed tightly together.
On the Hero’s face—his breathing now rough—anger, jealousy, and confusion rose at her behavior, but—
At the very end of that expression, a vulgar, excited smile played on his lips.