Silvaria's Forest Ordeal
The day after gathering information at the tavern with the orc, Silvaria set out into the forest at first light. Heading toward the spot where the bartender and the drunken patrons claimed to have seen orc footprints, she discovered suspicious tracks etched into the ground—and she couldn't hide her excitement.
"Found it... finally...!"
The moment she laid eyes on them, instinct hit her like a bolt. Witnessing those footprints with her own two eyes made the flower petals of her core—chastely folded away for years—bloom wide open, showering sweet nectar onto the parched earth.
"Haa...♥"
She hadn't even seen him in person. Just his faint traces—barely discernible marks in the dirt that made her question if they were footprints at all—brought back a flood of humiliating memories from years ago. Rubbing her thighs together, Silvaria steeled her resolve once more.
"I... I'm here to kill him. N-nothing else...!"
She had to hurry. Her body was already reacting to its long-lost master after all these years. Ignoring the map and everything else, Silvaria let her instincts guide her straight into the forest.
And then—gasp—gasp—
"Th-this forest... it looked so small on the map...!"
She was lost. Overexcited by the orc's proximity, she'd charged ahead recklessly on unfamiliar terrain, stuffing even her map into her bag. It would've been weirder if she hadn't gotten lost. But given what she'd endured before, she convinced herself this was just another of the orc's tricks to toy with her. Snorting derisively, she drew her sword and scanned her surroundings warily.
"I know your game, you wicked orc!"
Sunlight poured through the fresh green leaves, illuminating every corner of the woods, but Silvaria scanned the shadows, cold sweat beading on her skin. This wasn't the first time she'd wandered alone in a forest like this. But back then, at least she'd known where she was. She'd known her direction, so there was no hesitation—and above all, no orc lurking nearby. Not like now, with her womb pounding like a drum.
Her body was hypersensitive, sure—but she had no clue where she was, or where the orc might be. She felt like a little deer that had stumbled into the den of an unseen predator.
As time dragged on into night, Silvaria's body grew rigid with tension. It was spring, but the chill night breeze still bit deep. Too on edge to risk a fire—fearing it might draw the orc—she leaned against a tree, shivering through the night.
On the second day, after a night of cold sweats and the crisp early-spring wind, she'd inevitably caught a cold—sniffling and snot-nosed as she pressed on with her search. No sign of the orc that day, either. The bad news? She'd wolfed down all her emergency rations in a desperate bid to fight off the cold. But unlike the previous night, she risked a small fire. It wasn't safe, but the warmth let her sleep somewhat comfortably.
By the third day, her training-hardened body had mostly shaken off the cold after a warmer night. Continuing her forest search, she stumbled upon a fairy-tale pond hidden deep in the woods—sunlight bathing it gently, deer drinking at its edge in a dreamlike scene. Silvaria lost herself in the moment, forgetting her mission as she quenched her thirst, then resumed the hunt.
That night, her stomach rebelled—probably from the unboiled water. Pain kept her up all night. She made a mental note: always boil water.
On the fourth day, wrung out from diarrhea and cramps, Silvaria decided to hell with the search—she needed rest. Fire? If the orc showed up now, she'd be too weak to fight anyway. Might as well stay warm. She let go of everything and slept deeply.
Fifth day: Her sturdy body had already purged the illness—no more stomach pain. Or maybe there was just nothing left inside to hurt. Empty but relieved, Silvaria suddenly realized she was starving. She'd burned through her rations days ago during the cold. She should've foraged sooner, but the ensuing bellyache had wasted another day.
The orc might be watching from hiding, but he was a creature too—surely he wouldn't interfere with basic survival? Cautiously, she began hunting for food instead of orcs.
But a noble lady knight, always served by others and versed only in swords—what did she know of foraging? She came up empty, curling around her growling belly and forcing sleep.
Sixth day: Silvaria was famished. Three days without food. It wasn't uncommon on the battlefield, but years of peace had softened her gut. Staggering desperately, she scoured the woods. Orc? Who cared about orcs when she was starving to death?
After endless searching, a house caught her eye.
"An orc..."
Who else would build a home deep in these woods? Even with the demon king's army crushed, low-level mobs like goblins lurked here. Only an orc would live so brazenly.
But Silvaria ignored that, scouting the house.
"A field..."
Spring planting? She smashed the fence barring her way and ransacked the place. No orc, but the familiar musky scent and lingering warmth everywhere. Greater than the joy of finding his home was the thrill of his pantry.
Potatoes. Nothing but potatoes. A knight she might be, but still a noble—food she'd normally scorn. To her starving self, it was precious manna.
Fearing his return, she stuffed her bag and fled, leaving the pantry a mess like a rat had hit it. Back outside the broken fence, she devoured the raw potatoes—hot or not, they were ambrosia.
Belly full, other urges surged—especially lust. Recalling his scent, Silvaria stripped slowly. Staring into the campfire, memories flooded back of wandering her unit naked years ago. She sucked her nipples, writhing.
A few wild beasts watched curiously, but she didn't care—rolling naked in the forest.
Seventh day: Belly settled, Silvaria resumed the hunt under gloomy skies. Prepared for rain, she packed embers and firewood, heading back to the orc's house.
He's here! The left arm was different, but that scar near his eye—from her sword when they first met. Recalling his solid fist slamming her gut, she set up camp where she could spy unseen and pleasured herself again.
"H-hit my belly again...♥ Unh...♥"
Rain dripped one by one; she should've stopped, but fingering her pussy in the downpour was a novel thrill. She moaned freely to the rhythm of the rain.
But then—"Haa... pussy, more... wh-what?"
The orc's door creaked open. He emerged, hands laden with something, heading out into the rainy night.
"?"
Where to in this weather? Had he sensed her?! Naked and soaked, sword in hand, Silvaria tailed him excitedly—the thrill of pursuing her naked foe too good to miss.
After a while, he stopped, squatted fiddling with something, then retraced his steps. Licking her sticky fingers clean, Silvaria headed back to dress—until she spotted the "new product" from Gojuju before leaving.
Gulp. She'd vowed to kill him on sight, but days of hardship had blurred her resolve. His scent ignited lust over murder.
No, no! I'm here to kill him!
Packing up, she followed his trail to the suspicious spot.
"Huh?"
It wasn't that wet here—sheltered, with big trees. Climb up, light a small fire, sleep safe. Better than recent days; the branch might as well be a hotel.
Up she went, drying clothes and armor by the fire—until
-Kyuuut!
"?"
An animal cry. Sword ready, she peered into the dark. Something small writhed. Not goblin-like. She dropped down—it was the spot the orc had fiddled with.
Prodding cautiously—
-Kyuu kyuu! Kyuukyuu!
"A rabbit?"
One hung upside down, wriggling pitifully. Saliva flooded her mouth. Next thing she knew, she was by the fire amid scattered bones. She tossed them aside and slept soundly, belly full.
Eighth day: Breakfast of leftover rabbit and potatoes. Leisurely scanning, Silvaria smirked.
Orc bastard, rain's stopped. He'll check his traps soon, huh?
But that rabbit's all mine. Giggling mischievously, she pictured his dismay.
"Orc scum... the orc I want to kill... my hated foe... the orc who haunts even my dreams..."
What if he found her? Rough hands grabbing, ripping her armor like paper, ravaging her cherished virginity...
"Sigh, haa..."
He wouldn't let her go, crying or not. Shaking her head, Silvaria murmured to snap out of it.
"I-I'm here to end this twisted bond. Right... to keep that promise from back then..."
She'd endured the training. As the bet's winner, she was here for her reward.
But... maybe enjoy him one last time before killing? He was doomed today anyway—a parting gift to the afterlife. It meant nothing to her...
Hopping down, she approached the trap, slipped her leg in. Whoosh—up she went, dangling like the rabbit. Blushing, she waited for the orc.
"Heh heh, can't escape now, you rabbit bitch... haa..."
How long? Heavy footsteps approached, her womb throbbing in sync.
Step by step, nearing—his familiar voice.
"These damn traps..."
Upside down, she couldn't see, but probably spotting the bones.
Punish me! Punish me! Hurry, give me punishment!
Ignoring drool on her chin, she cried out as he parted the brush.
"Y-you finally show yourself, you wicked orc—no, Red Bear!"
Silvaria's armor lay tumbled on a high branch, glinting in the sunlight.