Chapter 772 - 771- Elara is as usual... Horny

Chapter 772: Chapter 771- Elara is as usual... Horny

"Forty-seven floors?" I raised an eyebrow. "I left you a blueprint for twelve."

"I improvised." Her smile was sharp. Fanged. The smile of a demoness who had been given permission to build and had built an empire. "The adventurers who attempt the tower sign a binding contract before entering. Those who fail — and most fail — are given a choice. Pay a fine they cannot afford, or indenture themselves to Millbrook."

"Slaves," I said. Not a question.

"Soldiers," Mira corrected. "You ordered every able body to be integrated into the military. The adventurers who fail the tower are assessed, trained, and deployed. Kaida has personally drilled over two hundred former adventurers into the garrison. Their combat experience is... adequate."

I watched a group of women emerge from the tower’s exit — battered, limping, one being carried on a stretcher. Their faces showed exhaustion, frustration, and the particular haunted look of people who had been thoroughly humiliated by something they’d underestimated.

"How many have attempted it?"

"Six hundred and twelve. Forty-seven have reached floor twenty. None have passed floor thirty." Mira paused. "The tower generates its own income through entry fees. We’ve collected enough gold to fund the wall construction, the residential expansion, and the apothecary district."

"The apothecary district," I repeated.

Helena took over. Her hand swept toward the eastern quarter of the town, where a cluster of buildings emitted a constant, aromatic haze — herbs drying, medicines brewing, the sharp medicinal tang that carried on the wind. "Forty percent of Eldoria’s kingdom-wide medicine supply now originates from Millbrook. We grow the hops locally — the soil here is ideal thanks to the tower’s ambient magic. Ninety percent of all hops used in pill manufacturing across the kingdom come from our fields."

"Pills?"

"The Pill Tower — a subordinate facility to the main tower. Three floors dedicated exclusively to medicinal production. Alchemists work in shifts, processing raw materials into finished pills. Healing pills. Stamina pills. Enhancement pills." Helena adjusted her tunic. "The kingdom’s medical infrastructure is now functionally dependent on our output. If we stopped production tomorrow, hospitals across Eldoria would run dry within three weeks."

I let that sink in. Three weeks. The entire kingdom’s medical supply chain, resting in the hands of my wives.

"Good," I said. "That’s —"

A flash of pink.

I stopped mid-sentence. My eyes caught the movement — a blur of color cutting through the edge of my vision, darting between two buildings on the left side of the street. Pink hair. Pink tail. Pink wings. Small frame, moving fast, clearly not watching where she was going.

"Hey." My voice was casual. Directed at the blur. "Where are you going?"

The blur stopped. Froze. The pink hair — long, cotton-candy colored, cascading down a narrow back — swayed as the woman turned. Her tail — feathered, avian, the same shade of pink — puffed out. Her wings — small, folded against her shoulder blades — twitched. Her eyes — large, round, the color of rose quartz — found me. Found me, despite the invisibility enchantment.

Because she was mine. Bonded. The connection cut through magic like it wasn’t there.

Elara.

Her eyes welled with tears instantly. Her lower lip trembled. Her whole body — small, delicate, a pixie-like frame barely five feet tall — shook. Then she launched herself at me.

"Lord Viktor!"

She hit me with the force of a small cannonball. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her face pressing into my stomach — she was that short — and her wings fluttered uselessly behind her. Her tail wound around my thigh. Her pink hair splayed across my bare skin.

"Lord Viktor, you’re back — I felt you — I felt the bond and I was coming to find you and — oh —"

Her hand had found my cock.

I looked down. Her fingers — small, delicate, wrapped around the shaft — were already moving. Stroking. Her eyes were still teary, her expression still emotional, but her hand was on autopilot. Like muscle memory. Like her body had a separate protocol for greeting me that bypassed her brain entirely.

’Why are all my women like this?’

The thought was genuine. Every single one of them — Mira the schemer pervert, Helena the caretaker, Bella the gentle, Kaida the warrior, Clara the maid, Serelina the mermaid, and now Elara the pixie — every one of them had the same instinct. See Viktor. Grab cock. It was like a compulsion. A reflex. Something I had bred into them through sheer repetition and incubus pheromones.

I laughed. It was a real laugh — the kind that came from genuine absurdity.

Elara looked up. Her rose-quartz eyes were wide, her hand still on my shaft, her cheeks pink. "Did I — did I do something wrong?"

"No." I patted her head. Her pink hair was soft. Like down. "You did exactly what I expected."

Mira’s hand clamped on Elara’s wrist. Her crimson eyes were flat. "Come on, don’t."

Elara flinched. Retreated her hand. Her ears — pointed, fey — drooped. "I’m sorry, Lady Mira, I just —"

"She just missed me," I said. I reached down, lifted Elara’s chin with my finger. Kissed her forehead. Her wings fluttered so hard they lifted her an inch off the ground. "Didn’t you?"

She nodded so fast her hair blurred.

Mira’s eye twitched. Helena sighed.

"Come on," Mira said. Her hand found my cock — grabbing it firmly, possessively, her fingers wrapping the shaft and squeezing. "He wants a tour. That’s all. A tour."

Helena nodded firmly. "You both had your last time, right?" I glanced at Mira, then Helena. "They deserve it too."

Mira’s mouth opened. Closed. Her demoness pride wars with the obvious logic. Helena’s lips pressed together — the expression of a woman who wanted to argue but couldn’t find the angle.

Both pouted.

Elara, sensing opportunity, pulled me toward a narrow alley between two apothecary shops. Her small hand wrapped around my wrist — her grip surprisingly strong for her size — and she tugged me into the shadows. The alley was narrow, cluttered with crates and barrels, lit only by the ambient glow from the street. A large dustbin — wooden, municipal, the kind used for market waste — sat against one wall.

Elara turned to face me. Her pink cheeks were crimson. Her rose-quartz eyes darted to Mira and Helena, who stood at the alley entrance, watching with expressions that ranged from resigned (Helena) to homicidal (Mira). Then she made her decision.

She bent over the dustbin.

Her pink skirt — short, light, a flimsy thing that barely covered her thighs — rode up as she leaned forward. Her small, round ass presented itself, the skirt bunching at her waist. She reached back, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties — white, thin, with a small pink bow — and pulled them down. The fabric slid over her thighs, catching at her knees, stretching between her legs.

Her pussy was visible. Pink. Small. The lips were flushed, glistening — her arousal already dripping, the scent of her sweetness mixing with the herbal smell of the alley. Her tail — pink, feathered — lifted instinctively, curling to the side, exposing her fully.

"Master," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "Please."

I grabbed my cock. Stroked it once — felt it harden in my grip, the weight increasing, the head darkening. I stepped forward. Positioned myself behind her. The head of my cock pressed against her entrance — hot, slick, the contact sending a shiver through her entire body.

My tail moved. The long, powerful appendage snaked behind me, then forward, wrapping around Elara’s tail — intertwining with it, the scales against feathers, the muscles locking together. She gasped. Her wings fluttered.

I slammed.

"AAANGH~!!"