Prologue: The Draconian Knight's Fall
A space of metal walls and ceiling, through and through.
Yet the place looked like a scene torn from a horror film — grotesque flesh tangled and fused across every surface until wall and ceiling had become one continuous, living mass.
Even a glance down that corridor carried a sense of dread.
Through it ran a naked Draconian woman, her long red-violet hair streaming behind her like a scatter of jewels — a deep crimson shot through with violet light.
Draconians were the race that had once been called dragons by the people of Terra, evolved and humanized over ages into their present form. She bore scales and a tail the same color as her hair, and her body was marked with scrapes and cuts as if she had already endured something brutal. Even so, the particular allure of that red-violet mane — the seductive quality unique to it — had not dimmed in the slightest. She was a woman of undiminished beauty.
"Hah! Hahh!"
Just a little farther and I'll reach my personal craft! I have to get word of him back to the homeland!
She had been taken prisoner during a war with another nation, after clashing with a mercenary company that flew a Calsorn Empire warship as its flagship — hired guns fighting for the enemy. And from the Terra-born mercenary captain she had suffered sexual abuse that threw every prisoner treaty to the dogs, which was why she was risking this escape.
In the middle of that abuse she had learned something astonishing.
This mercenary company was taming Crypters — the space monsters of the void.
Crypters fed on a starship's power core as their energy source. They could not be reasoned with, could not be controlled; they ranked among the great hazards of the galaxy. And yet, somehow, a mercenary band only just beginning to make a name for itself had succeeded in taming them — and treated them as casually as household beasts.
No. More precisely, it was not the company that had tamed them. It was one man.
"Krrr!"
Tak!
As she sprinted toward the escape craft, two silhouettes dropped from the ceiling.
Humanoid monsters with bladed arms and insectile exoskeletons. They were one variety of Crypter among many — and far more diverse kinds existed beyond them.
"Tch!"
The Draconian woman reshaped the bracelet of fluid metal on her wrist into a sword. She had carried it for self-defense, and by some fortune it had not been taken from her even in captivity. She had waited for her chance and used it to force this escape. For reasons she still did not understand, the brig of this ship had no electronic systems at all — which had made getting free almost simple.
"Hah!"
With a sharp shout to put force behind the blow, she charged forward, fluid-metal blade leading.
If they've spotted me, the Mother knows too! I have to finish this in one stroke!
"Krrk!"
"Kaaaah!"
The two Crypters, for all their savage appearance, moved with natural coordination and struck from both flanks at once. That was the nature of Crypters: linked through the Mother's neural web, they could fight large-scale battles with perfect, unified tactics. An ordinary soldier of another race would have been bogged down for ages.
Shakakak!
But a Draconian's physical gifts — the kind other races needed gene-enhancement surgery merely to approach — made short work of a pair of Crypters. She split the nearer one clean down the middle first.
"Krrk!"
The second lunged into the opening, but she stepped back with easy control and opened the distance.
Pukaaak!
Then she drove the blade up through its chest and ripped, splitting the upper body left from right. For a knight-class Draconian of her caliber, two Crypters were no real problem.
"Krrrr!"
"Kyahaak!"
The true terror of Crypters, however, was their numbers. The moment the Mother — the neural nexus that bound and commanded every Crypter — registered her, she was surrounded by dozens. They had already known of her escape; they had gathered in an instant.
"So this is how it ends…"
She felt it at once: against this many, there was no hope.
"Then I won't die quietly!"
If anything, that certainty only steeled her. She would pour everything she had into one last stand and die on her feet — the pure expression of Draconian nature: warlike, proud, and unwilling to yield to anyone.
"Come! I am— Hihh!?"
In that instant a raw wave of pleasure raced up her spine, and her legs buckled. She spun around in panic and found a leech-shaped Crypter the size of a fist latched beneath her tail.
Slurp! Slurpslurpslurpslurpslurp!
From its mouth the leech-Crypter thrust a tentacle several times longer than its own body deep into her anus and began to churn the inside.
"Kyahh—nnn!"
Why… would a Crypter…!
Crypters treated every life-form outside their own as food. Why this kind of attack?
N-no… the place that man worked over…!
The same place the man who had violated her had targeted with single-minded focus, saying, A strong-willed bitch always has a weak asshole — that place was being stimulated all over again.
"St…op…! Stop it…!"
She reached back, trying to seize the leech-Crypter stuck to her rear and tear it free.
Slurpslurpslurpslurpslurpslurp!
"Hhhhaaaahh!"
The leech only answered by thrashing its tentacle deeper and harder. In the end her legs began to shake like a newborn animal's.
Skitterskitterskitter—
Then swarms of insect-tiny Crypters poured in and clung to her body. Ordinarily those miniature bug-Crypters burrowed under a prey's skin and ate the flesh — hideous little monsters.
Crunch! Crunchcrunch!
"Kyahaahhhh~~~!!"
But these bit her nipples and clitoris with carefully measured force, driving pure stimulation into her.
"Haguuk…! Kihhit…!"
Thud!
Her weapon slipped from her fingers. She collapsed, staring at the Crypters closing in.
I don't… want to die… like this… ahh…!
The physical power she had honed to earn her knight rank equaled the combat strength of dozens of soldiers from other races. If she truly resolved to die, she could take more than half the Crypters in sight with her into oblivion. And yet that formidable strength had been defeated by creatures whose only attacks were licking and biting too weak to pierce skin.
Dragdragdrag—
Among them, a single humanoid Crypter with actual hands seized her tail and began hauling her back the way she had fled.
"N…no…! Not there… ahhnnn~~~!"
Zrrruuup! Zrrruup!
She tried to rise and fight, but the leech-Crypter was waiting: it licked hard into her anus and stole every scrap of resistance. Dragged away by the Crypters, she climaxed through her rear again and again.
"Aahhng! Haaahhng!"
"Aaaat! At-at-at!"
"Kyahhng!"
"Ahiik!"
The captain's quarters were furnished with adult toys the way ordinary rooms held furniture. There, countless women of many races clung to a single man, screaming in pleasure without pause. He worked every one of them with effortless naturalness, making certain no voice ever went quiet.
"Hnnn…!"
The Draconian woman, hauled into that room, was still moaning under the leech-Crypter latched to her rear.
"Good work. Go."
"Krrrk!"
Black hair, sharp features, a practical build of compressed muscle. A young man whose face and body were unmistakably those of a Terran from the Terra Federation. Handsome enough overall — yet his eyes burned with a thick aura of lust.
Having dismissed the Crypters, he shoved away the red-skinned alien woman he had been pinning and driving into from above and below.
Drip—
"Hhhah…"
Freed from his thick cock, white semen spilled from between her thighs in jelly-like globs.
"This is a little disappointing. As master of this ship I went out of my way to treat a prisoner with every courtesy."
"Shut your mouth! Don't you even know the basic fact that abusing prisoners violates international treaty?!"
The Draconian woman snapped at him in fury.
"Abuse? I'm soft-hearted. I couldn't do anything like abuse. I only gave you a gift."
He walked toward her with his erect cock swinging, glossy with the juices of countless women, then crouched in front of her where she had collapsed and lifted her chin with one finger.
"Call it a kind of volunteer work. More precisely — a service that teaches a female the happiness and pleasure only a female can feel."
"You…!"
She started to explode at being called a female —
Whoosh!
"Euk!"
— but he closed the distance in a blink, seized her hips, and hoisted her up, forcing a sharp intake of breath.
"I've already taught you the joys of the asshole. Time to teach you the joys of the cunt as well, don't you think?"
"Krrr!"
Convinced she would not endure another violation, she lunged for his throat with her teeth. A Draconian's fangs were sharp, her bite force strong enough to chew metal; a Terran's neck would be tofu.
Thwup!
"Kyahhnnn!"
Before she could land it he dropped her body onto himself and drove his cock up hard. The murderous strike died in a shameful cry she could never have let any of her own people hear.
Thuk! Thuk! Thuk!
"As expected of dragon-clan pussy. Hot, and the chew and grip of the walls themselves are top-tier."
Hearing a Terran deliver a performance review while he violated her filled her with simultaneous, maddening shame and hate.
Squelch!
"Kahhooong~~!"
Every thrust drained the strength she needed to fight back; she could only wail under the pleasure.
I have to… escape…
There was a deeper reason she had tried to flee this ship. Breaking international law to sexually abuse a prisoner, and controlling Crypters — both mattered. But the true reason was this: every time this Terran violated her, she felt her very existence twisting. The proof was already in front of her. A woman who had known nothing of sexual pleasure was now held in a Terran's arms, unable even to resist. It was not simply because she was female. Some kind of supernatural power radiated from the man who was taking her.
"Ghk…! Gnnn…!"
As a last resort she bit her lip and tried to lock her whole body against the pleasure —
"Not a fan of this position, I take it?"
— but he shifted her without pause, forcing her down onto all fours.
"Then I'll give you a proper beast's pose. A beast ought to be treated like a beast."
Slap!
"Hhit!"
He slammed his hips forward hard enough to make her ass ripple obscenely.
No… I can't… resist…
He had reduced a proud Draconian to a beast, was violating her even now — and still she could not fight him. An ace of aces, a pilot once called a Meister, began to fall to lust.
Please… someone… help me…!
If this continued, her body would change into something far from what it had been. Every instinct she possessed as a woman and as a Draconian was screaming the warning.
Smack!
"Kyahaat~~~~!"
The instant she tried to crawl away, his hand cracked down across her ass, leaving a red print. Pleasure shot up her spine like electricity and the last of her resistance drained out.
No more… I can't…
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
"Aat! Ang! Kahhung!"
With no strength left to fight, the Draconian knight could only present her hips and take his one-sided assault. He smiled at the sight of her drowning in pleasure. All that remained was to remake this Draconian knight, before they reached the next destination, into a body that could not live without his cock. Every woman panting around him had been acquired the same way.
Dominating a woman through rape was, by ordinary standards, absurd. A method that belonged to ancient ages, if it belonged anywhere at all.
But —
The man they once called the Lust Emperor failing to tame a single female? That doesn't make any sense.
He had no doubt it would go exactly as he intended. In the dimension where Murim had existed, he had taken more than a hundred women by the same means.
"Ji… Jincheon… me too… fuck me already…"
A woman with dark-violet skin, long gray hair, and four arms leaned against his shoulder, half-whining.
Squelch!
"Hhhng!"
The man called Jincheon slid his hand between her thighs and began working his fingers obscenely inside her cunt.
"M…me too…"
"I can't… hold on anymore…"
The females who had been masturbating alone, unable to reach the pleasure Jincheon gave them, drifted in one by one.
"Then let's get started properly."
The lewd cries of women began to fill the ship.
Wee-oo! Wee-oo! Wee-oo!
Jincheon, who had been sleeping under a blanket of countless women, snapped his eyes open at the warning klaxon and sat up. The others shed the lewd, sensual atmosphere of the night before and moved with crisp, ordered purpose.
Pssh!
Each woman touched a part of her own body, and from that point a thin suit generated itself across her skin. Jincheon struck his chest once; a pilot's nano-suit bloomed into place. He was already running for the exit.
"They ignored the no-approach warning?"
> Noncompliant.
"So they meant to hit us from the start. Attackers?"
> Draconian. Cruisers: 2. Battleship: 1. Mecha deployed: 24 units.
He spoke into empty air, and a flat, emotionless voice answered directly inside his skull.
"Her comrades, then."
Certain they had come for the Draconian woman still lying half-unconscious in his quarters, Jincheon flowed into light footwork and headed for the hangar.
"I'll sortie first."
He reached the hangar ahead of his women and looked toward his mecha.
Sharp lines overall, black and crimson in perfect balance — a presence that overwhelmed simply by existing. It had come as a free extra when he first claimed this warship, but by now the ship almost felt like the free extra instead. This was his personal machine.
Jincheon stepped up the mecha's knee and climbed to the cockpit in its belly. He opened the hatch, turned, and sat. After bringing the machine online he locked his hands and feet into the fixed rings at the control points.
Chrrrrrk!
Metal grew outward from the rings, forming control gloves and boots around his hands and feet.
Enemies with a grudge against me are starting to show up one by one.
The larger his force grew, the longer he traveled the galaxy, the more beings he left with reason to hate him.
Maybe once I've scaled up a little more, I should take a planet or an asteroid.
He was master of this warship now, and responsible for every woman he had conquered. Settlement was starting to look necessary. Famous mercenary companies routinely remodeled ownerless planets or asteroids into headquarters — but grabbing any random rock was a mistake. Once chosen, that place became your territory and the center of your operating range. A serious decision.
Fortunately, when he crossed from Murim into this SF world he had brought one "otherworld privilege" with him, and that let him sketch plans of his own.
"Ah, fuck."
The keyword otherworld privilege dragged up the memory of his first arrival, and a curse slipped out before he could stop it.
"Next time I see that bastard, I'm putting a hole through his solar plexus first."
His parallel-world self — the one who had sent him from Murim into this SF reality. That man had already buried every one of his wives and been waiting alone for death; he had shoved Jincheon into this world and pressed a single otherworld privilege into his hands. Up to that point, he was a benefactor who had rewritten a life. But —
"No question. That son of a bitch dropped me there on purpose."
Remembering how hard he had suffered was enough to grind his teeth; he would repay that "favor" with pure enmity and feel not a shred of guilt. It might sound like the pot calling the kettle black, but Jincheon had grounds. Landing in that particular hell the instant he arrived was too vicious a probability to write off as chance.
> System boot complete.
The brief distraction vanished the moment the control nano-gloves and boots finished forming and the message lit across the main monitor in front of him. Right now he had interlopers to deal with — enemies coming to reclaim their comrade.
Jincheon moved to the catapult and opened the main speakers.
"Jincheon, Ribstrum. Launching."
The catapult fired. Shot clear of the warship, Jincheon licked his lips and smiled with pure excitement. Only in moments like this did he feel that sweet tension — the knowledge that he, too, might be shot down.
KWAAaaah—!
Ribstrum's engines lit their boosters. Alone, the mecha streaked toward the enemy, and the battle began.