CHAPTER 114: THE COME BACK OF A CENTURY!

"I can’t interfere with the matters of life and death."

The Grim Reaper finally spoke, his voice low, ancient, like it had scraped its way up from the bottom of time.

"But I owe one to your patron. The Creator."

He paused, staring down at Rae’s stubborn little glowing form.

"I can see why he chose you for his bidding. Reluctantly. Begrudgingly. But I get it now."

A sigh, hollow and tired, slipped from his skull.

"So be it. I’ll give you a chance. To settle my debt with that guy. Even I don’t want to mess with him."

Then the Reaper turned slowly, his black cloak dragging silence behind him. He faced the twin doors again.

"Good luck, little one. You’ll need it."

Rae blinked. His non-existent heart pounded.

’What the actual fuck was going on?’

But hell, opportunity was opportunity.

And so, without a second thought, he swam. Hard. Fast.

Straight back toward that ugly, gaping brown star, the cosmic whore-asshole portal he’d originally been shot from.

He wiggled his glowing tail with everything he had and rammed himself back into the void’s dirtiest exit.

All around him, other sperm souls slowed, confused as hell.

They turned their heads, watching this lone lunatic squirming in the opposite direction like he’d lost his damn mind.

Their silent expressions said it all—What the fuck is that guy doing?

But Rae didn’t care.

He had unfinished business. Milfs. Tits. Glory.

And one hell of a second life waiting up that asshole.

...

Back in the mortal realm, Lyra still wasn’t done devouring the poor monster.

The once-mighty cock, the very same beast that had conquered both Alice’s moans and the original Lyra’s sanity, was now nothing more than a twitching, drooling mess, reduced to a limp, abused noodle between her merciless lips.

It didn’t even look like sex anymore.

It looked like a damn crime scene. A homicide. And the killer? A ravenous succubus cannibal, still feeding on the victim like she hadn’t eaten in centuries.

Rae’s limp body hung lifelessly over a thick thigh, head tilted, arms sprawled, a ragdoll ruined by too much pleasure.

But then—his fingers twitched.

A pulse rippled through him.

The health potion coursing through his veins had just been waiting, waiting for the soul to return.

And now that the soul sperm had slammed back into his body like a horny lightning bolt, the magic finally kicked in.

Muscles healed.

Blood surged.

And then—

His eyes snapped open.

And so did the beast.

From limp banana to battering ram in half a second flat.

Lyra’s eyes widened as the soft thing she had been lovingly slurping suddenly grew stiff and thick inside her throat, jamming itself in so fast she gagged, choked, and then moaned around the surprise erection.

But only for a second.

Because the succubus was a professional.

Her lips stretched, her throat opened, and with a needy groan, she welcomed the resurrected monster like it was the second coming of the gods, thrusting herself right back down, taking it deeper than ever.

’Not this shit again. Dammit. Not this shit again.’

Now that he wasn’t writhing in soul-crushing pain, mind you, he was still bleeding health like a busted pipe, his head was clearer than ever.

’I’ll deal with whatever the fuck just happened later.’

’Grim Reapers, glowing sperm, asshole portals... all that crap can wait. But first—I need to put this bitch down.’

He didn’t have time to process seeing Death himself like some edgy side character from a fantasy novel, especially when he was living in one as a goblin who dicked down human heroines, corrupted succubi, and had a line-up of thick asses still to come.

He didn’t need to think about the gaping, worn-out starfish to the nether realm.

Didn’t need to think about the sea of confused sperms swimming away like it was rush hour in a fertility clinic.

No. Fuck all that.

This was normal now.

This was his life.

And right now, there was only one thing that mattered.

Putting this horny succubus in her place.

’Why the fuck did I even struggle earlier... like a goddamn idiot?’

’I had the perfect counter for her. Right there.’

’Sitting in my skill list like a smug little bastard.’

A twisted little grin bloomed across his creepy goblin face. That smile that said: Yeah, I’m about to do something fucked up and I’m proud of it.

[Mask of Phantasm]

Oh, it was there. It was always there.

Just chilling in his arsenal while he was out here dying like a clown.

All it took was one stupid death to remind him of it.

All he had to do, all he had to do, was tap the damn skill. Turn into a fly. Buzz the fuck out of here.

But nah. If he’d thought of it earlier, like before the succubus deepthroated his soul out of his body, it would’ve been a waste.

A goddamn fly can’t do jackshit here.

What could a buzzing little insect do to a woman drunk on lust, drooling on dick like it’s holy nectar?

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

This was the golden moment.

He could brand himself into her brain. Imprint the taste, the stretch, the heat of his pulsing cock.

Make sure that when the real Lyra wakes up from this lust-fueled haze, she remembers everything.

He wanted her to remember—forever. The real deal.

The taste of a true man’s cock. Not just some dream-fueled fuck haze, but the raw, primal memory seared deep into her mind.

He wanted her hooked. Addicted. Fiending for him in the middle of the night.

Wet, panting, crawling back to him like a depraved little succubus slut begging for another dose of that monster meat.

This wasn’t just sex anymore.

This was legacy.

And for that?

Oh, for that, the best use of his skill wasn’t to escape.

It was to evolve.

To transform into something that’d wreck her in ways no dream or memory could erase.

A golden light exploded inside the tent, like some divine hentai god just punched through the fabric of reality—and then, there it was.

The little green goblin was gone.

In his place now stood a full-blown nightmare from a pervert’s wet fantasy—

A multi-armed, tentacle-wriggling, skin-glossy pink monster, pulsating and slick, complete with two dumb goblin eyes and a mouth way too happy to be there.

Each tentacle looked like a copy of his monster—ribbed just right, with soft ridges coiling around the shaft and a juicy suction cup at the end that twitched like it was hungry for skin.

And at the center of it all stood the original. His real monster.

Untouched. Unchanged. Rock hard and proud, standing tall like a royal scepter among his army of slippery dicks.

No makeover needed.

This wasn’t about cosplay.

This was about plunging his real thing into this insatiable succubus and claiming her soul, her throat, and her memory for good.

Lyra didn’t even flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

A full-on tentacle monster had just spawned above her, pulsating with power, glistening like a wet fever dream, and she was still going down on the original like it was the only thing that mattered in the universe.

Mouth full. Eyes half-lidded. Throat taking it like a champion possessed.

She really didn’t give a damn.

"You’re about to feel what real pleasure is, you damn slutty succubi."

The true hero of light, yes, the one with a goblin dick and a heart full of vengeance, declared in full dramatic flair.

This wasn’t just about lust anymore.

This was sacrifice.

He was going to take the brunt of her insane hunger so the rest of the world wouldn’t have to.

He raised one of his many new tentacles. It flopped. Wiggle. Total noodle. The bastard didn’t know how to control any of these fuckers yet.

But after a minute of wiggling, jiggling, and accidentally smacking himself in the face, he got the hang of it.

First things first.

One tentacle swooped over to a nearby health potion, grabbed it like a pro, brought it to his slobbering beast mouth.

He bit off the cork like a rabid animal and chugged it back—glug, glug, gone.

Now he was ready.

Power restored.

Now it was time.

Multiple slick pink arms slithered down, slow and precise, wrapping around Lyra’s most sensitive zones like they were greeting old friends.

One latched onto her perky, bouncing nipple.

Another coiled lovingly around the other, tugging and squeezing.

And two more dove between her thighs, spreading her soaked pussy wide and brushing it with teasing little suction kisses—pressing, swirling, making her twitch.

Another pair of tentacles curled around her trembling thighs, locking her open like a feast.

Two more slithered up, coiling around her sensitive ears, flicking and teasing like they were whispering filth straight into her brain.

One tentacle lazily poked her navel, swirling its tip around like it was playing with a big red button.

"You ready for this, girl?"

He didn’t wait for a yes.

He sucked.

He latched on with wet slurps and obscene squelches, all while cackling like a deranged pervert drunk on power and pussy.

And for the first time since she turned into this lust-crazed succubus, Lyra reacted.

She squirmed.

She moaned.