To Red Horse City (2) A Frog in the Well
To Red Horse City. A frog in the well. That was the precise reality for me, Choi Mokwon, and all the otherworlders tossed into this remote "Zol" village on the fringes of the Shedborax Continent. There was a truth I had yet to grasp, one I would later come to understand with painful clarity: even Silver- or Gold-rank powerhouses were not particularly rare when viewed across the entire vast continent.
Over the past decade, the countless "visitors" who had fallen from the sky like shooting stars had caused the combat strength of every nation and guild on the continent to skyrocket in grotesque fashion. Those superhumans who had clawed their way through the hell of reset stats and reclaimed their original power—or even greater fortune—had already carved out massive factions across the land. And among those strong ones, there existed a single unspoken agreement: Do not lay hands on the freshly arrived otherworlders who gather in the "Zol" village. Tampering with that place risked dragging in acquaintances or family members of the established powerhouses, potentially igniting an uncontrollable, blood-soaked war between factions.
The only reason the outsiders in Zol Village could barely maintain their ecosystem amid the natives' discrimination and the violence of low-level cartels—without suffering total annihilation—was thanks to the shadow of those unseen giants. Of course, with my own nose buried three feet deep in trouble, I had no way of knowing such grand-scale undercurrents. My world consisted solely of tomorrow's next meal and the cold reality of crushing anyone who tried to stab me in the back.
The next morning, at the village's western gate. The Rat-kin merchant Cheku was already waiting with two massive cargo wagons. Beside the wagons stood three adventurers he had hired in advance. "Kihihi! You've arrived. Please, introduce yourselves. These three will be your escort party for the next thirty days—five days to Red Horse City, twenty days of stay, and five days back."
I fiddled with my Iron-rank badge and gave them a once-over. An old mage with a staff, an elf-blooded ranger carrying a bow, and a young priest with a holy seal around his neck. All three were clearly rear-support specialists focused on long-range and backline aid rather than frontline melee. For a merchant caravan desperate for meat shields, the addition of me—with my overwhelming physical prowess even among Iron-ranks—and Elara, a Silver-rank rogue, must have felt like a godsend.
The three escorts flinched and bowed their heads upon seeing the silver badge gleaming on Elara's chest. But when their eyes landed on the black Iron badge at my neck, a flicker of relief mixed with subtle contempt crossed their faces. A lucky Iron-rank errand boy tagging along with a beautiful Silver-rank adventurer. That was the assessment they had made of me. I saw no need to correct their impression.
"How should we form up, Mokwon?" Even in this public setting, Elara linked her arm with mine and spoke casually, playing the role of a partner seeking her companion's opinion. "I'll take the front. I'll handle anything that jumps out from the front of the wagons. The three of you cover the sides and rear—focus on picking off anything that slips through."
"Good. Then I'll activate Stealth and run perimeter scouting thirty meters out. If I spot anything, I'll signal immediately. You handle the rest, Mokwon." Our swift, self-serving formation left the three rear-support types speechless. With a Silver-rank rogue scouting ahead and a tanky vanguard blocking the front, they had no grounds for complaint.
"Kihihi! This is reassuring! Well then, let us depart for Red Horse City!" The wagon wheels began to rumble forward. The curtain rose on our long thirty-day round-trip escort mission.
The road to Red Horse City itself was a regularly patrolled highway maintained by the guild, so we encountered no large-scale monster ambushes. The occasional lost hobgoblin or wolf pack that wandered onto the path fell easily to a single punch or kick from me. During those minor skirmishes, I noticed something peculiar about the natives of this world.
Watching the rear-support trio provide magical and arrow support from behind, I saw that their techniques differed sharply from those of modern Earthlings. While Earthlings activated "skills" from their status windows and unleashed attacks with fixed power and trajectories, these natives freely adapted the magic and archery they had trained in, adjusting output on the fly. Their versatile techniques, unbound by the system and rich in application, were a fresh stimulus to me.
But the real problem wasn't the monsters outside the wagon or this world's martial prowess. It was the "Ogre's blood" boiling inside my own body—and the Silver-rank seductress who grew feverish every night at the scent of it.
The third night of the journey. We had set up camp in a wide clearing beside the highway. The old mage, the priest, and the Rat-kin merchant had all passed out inside and around the wagons, while the ranger dozed off in a tree on the opposite side. Standing watch by the crackling campfire, I furrowed my brow and exhaled roughly. "Haa... This is a real headache."
The Ogre tattoo etched beneath my skin was a passive that remained constantly active. This cursed side effect grew stronger as night deepened, especially in the camp's mix of blood and sweat, endlessly radiating an excessive male virility. The penis in my pants had swollen painfully, throbbing as if it might tear through my underwear at any moment. Rational caution and a fierce instinctual urge to surrender to desire clashed in my mind, sparking violently.
Rustle— At that moment, a faint presence stirred in the bushes behind me. Just as I moved into a combat stance, two soft, burning arms reached out from the darkness and wrapped tightly around my neck. "M-Master..." It was Elara. Her voice already trembled with thirst for pleasure.
She had hidden herself in the dark under the pretext of scouting, but the dense Ogre scent had eroded her self-control. Unable to endure her arousal any longer, she had crawled to my side, burning with heat. "Are you in your right mind? The others will wake up. Get off." "Haa, haa... The smell is so thick I can't scout properly... I'm so wet my thighs are sticking together..."
Elara nibbled on my earlobe with wet lips, whining. Her hands had already unbuckled my belt without hesitation, gripping my explosively swollen penis with strong fingers. "Kuh... Hey, you crazy woman!" "J-Just a little... I promise I won't make a sound. If I don't get Master's seed in my belly, I feel like my brain will melt again..."
I clenched my teeth and scanned our surroundings. The wagons were quiet. Honestly, I was at my limit too. If I didn't relieve this explosive urge dominating my head, tomorrow's escort mission would suffer. "Haa... Just once. Make a sound and it's over right here."
I roughly grabbed Elara by the nape and dragged her into the dense bushes a short distance from the camp. She was laid down on the grass damp with night dew. Far from crying out in pain, she pulled her leather pants down to her thighs herself and spread her glistening sex wide under the moonlight. "Hurry, hurry... Fill me with Master's hot, huge penis...!"
I undid my belt and thrust between her spread legs. Foreplay was a luxury. Aligning my massively swollen glans with her tight entrance, I drove my hips down with my full weight in one motion. Thrust—! Squish! "Mmph, uuuuugh...!!!" Elara tried to let out a scream of ecstasy, but I perfectly sealed her mouth with my rough palm.
The overwhelming mass mercilessly crushed her deepest parts, and her entire body convulsed as if struck by lightning. With her mouth covered, Elara let out nasal whimpers that sounded like she was drowning, bucking her hips upward like a madwoman. In the quiet forest, beneath the shadows of the bushes, only the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the slick noises of fluids echoed stickily.
"You bitch in heat. You're desperate to milk my seed, aren't you?" "Huuuuph! Uuung, uuuuung...!!!" The thrill of betrayal—our companions sleeping mere dozens of meters away—and the strange tension of possible discovery paradoxically made her inner walls contract dozens of times tighter. The sensation of thousands of folds gripping and sucking my shaft sent a maddening wave of pleasure racing up my spine.
"Kuh... I'm coming. Open your mouth." At the peak, I roughly pulled my penis from her sex and removed my hand from her mouth. Elara sat up like a woman dying of thirst, gripping my rigidly standing glans with both hands and greedily parting her lips. "Ughiiiiit—!!!" Thick, hot semen saturated with Ogre energy erupted, drenching her throat and face. "Slurp... Gulp, gulp...! Chuuruurup... Aaaaah..."
Elara licked even the seed clinging to her lips with her long tongue, gazing up at me with eyes lost in ecstasy. "Haa... What a damn annoying side effect. Having to relieve this Ogre tattoo's arousal at least once a day just to calm down..." I adjusted my pants and let out a rough breath. The ordinary morals and common sense from Earth had long since evaporated along with the night dew of Shedborax.
Days spent in bloody combat, nights spent exploring each other's bodies to sate uncontrollable desires—this grotesque symbiotic relationship. We roughly straightened our clothes and slipped out of the bushes as if nothing had happened, returning to camp. Beyond the crackling campfire, the pitch-black highway leading to Red Horse City stretched endlessly onward. The underground auction house where magical tools and slaves were traded. I had no idea what bloody winds would blow there, but the Ogre instincts heating my body had already transformed even that unknown danger into an eager anticipation for battle, setting my heart ablaze.