Chapter 237

Neo stood at the edge of Astrid’s bed and watched her settle onto her back. The dragon woman’s massive white horns curved back against the pillow as she parted her thick thighs without a word. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on him, waiting. Neo stripped fast, clothes hitting the floor in a heap. He climbed between those heavy thighs, hands gripping the soft flesh just above her knees, and lined the head of his cock against her entrance.

He pushed in slow. Astrid’s horns shifted as her head tipped back. Her blue eyes went wide with the first sharp stretch of pain. She arched clean off the mattress, a low sound tearing from her throat. The squeeze around him was brutal—hot, tight, almost too much. Neo held still a second, breathing hard, then started to move.

"Slow," Astrid said, both hands locking onto his waist. Her fingers dug in hard enough to leave marks. "Move slow."

He obeyed. Every thrust dragged against that intense grip. Astrid was a dragon. She had taken heroes before, plenty of them, men who came to fight her and ended up between her legs instead. None of them had felt like this. None of them had made her hips lift on their own to meet the next stroke. She rocked up into him without thinking, chasing the friction.

Astrid’s only real desire was to reconnect with who she used to be—before the fights, before the long years of being the monster everyone wanted to claim. Nostalgia sat on her chest like a second set of scales. She wanted the past back even while she refused to admit she had already changed past the point of return. That conflict lived in every roll of her hips and every soft sound she made when Neo drove deeper.

She looked up at his body while he worked. Broad shoulders, thick arms, the hard lines of his chest and stomach shifting with each thrust. Sweat already slicked his skin. She liked the weight of him. Liked the way his muscled legs braced against the bed. When he finally pushed to the deepest point and came, she felt it—the hard kiss of his cockhead against her cervix, the sudden heat flooding inside her. She knew he had spilled everything.

Neo pulled out carefully. He cleaned her with steady hands, then helped her sit up and guided her arms back into her clothes. Astrid stared at him. Every other man who had taken her finished, stood up, and left like the act was nothing. Neo was the first one who stayed long enough to care afterward.

He met her eyes. "My job’s done here."

She tilted her head. "Who are you?"

"Human tribal chief," Neo said. "Down in the forest."

Astrid nodded once. Neo vanished.

He reappeared in a random clearing deeper in the woods and sat hard on the ground. His hands still tingled with the memory of the swordsmanship Astrid had given him. He opened the rewards log. The skill sat there clear: Frost Dragon Swordsmanship. Rank SS.

Neo pulled two practice swords from his storage and took a long breath. Sixty yards away a thick tree waited. He moved. His hands and the blades blurred into pure speed. The tree came apart in a single instant—thousands of clean, perfect slices dropping in a neat pile of wood. No wasted motion. No leftover force. Just absolute control.

He stood there a moment, thinking. Other women still waited out there. More skills. More power. But time was short. He needed Sa next—the minotaur sword god—then he had to get back to the Nyx tribe and set the barrier plan with Veya. That was the only order that made sense.

Neo’s own desire was simple: protect the people he loved. The flaw that rode him hard was the need to carry every responsibility himself. He wanted everyone safe, even if that meant locking them out of their own choices. The conflict sat under his ribs every time he moved. He also carried a quieter hunger—to make peace with the past. He romanticized what had already ended, wanting to step forward while still hoping the old days might somehow return. The two pulls fought inside him without ever settling.

He had the time-freezing ability. If he showed it to Veya she would turn it into something bigger. She was a natural genius. Give her one spark and she invented arrays that could slow an entire battlefield. A long-range version that dragged time itself to a crawl was well within her reach.

Neo checked Sa’s location, shifted into torch-man mode, and flew. The forest blurred under him. He dropped into a deep pocket of trees near her place, landed quiet, and walked the last stretch on foot. A simple wooden house sat in a small clearing. Outside it, Sa worked.

She was fully naked. Sweat rolled down her bare skin in slow trails. Every swing of the axe made her massive breasts sway hard. Her huge ass and wide hips rippled with the force of each cut. She was strong, built for power, and she knew it.

Sa’s deepest desire was to find someone who truly saw her—not the sword god, not the performance. The flaw that haunted her was the habit of showing people only the version of herself she thought they would love. She wanted real intimacy and at the same time feared that her authentic self would disappoint anyone who got close enough to see it.

She finished the last log, set the axe aside, and walked to the warm bath dug into the ground. She stepped in and sank down with a long sigh, letting the heat soak into her muscles.

Without turning her head she spoke. "I know you’ve been watching since the beginning. Hope I gave you a good show. Now tell me why you came to my house."

Neo walked forward, one sword in hand. "I want a spar. Sword against sword. If I win, I get your body. I get to fuck you."

Sa raised both eyebrows and stood up out of the bath. Water sluiced off her. Her heavy breasts pushed forward as she squared her shoulders. Her huge ass rolled with each step she took toward him. "And what if I win?"

Neo’s mind raced for half a second. Then he lifted the second sword and showed her a clean fragment of the Frost Dragon form—the same blitz that had shredded the tree. "If you win, I teach you Astrid’s sword skill. Full transfer."

Sa stared at him for a long time. The forest was quiet around them. Finally she nodded. "That seems logical."

She moved. The door of the wooden house shot open under the force of her step. Moments later she came back out wearing tight short jeans that stopped high on her inner thighs and a bright red shirt that left her entire belly bare and barely covered the heavy swell of her breasts.