crisisbeat

Once he got accustomed to the restraints, he decided to challenge himself. He removed his shirt and began performing his personal workout. Now, it wasn’t just his muscles being strained, but his mana reserves and control. Having spent numerous lifetimes pursuing the peak of physical fitness, he knew how to fight through strain and fatigue, and push his body to its limits and beyond, but this experience was a whole new dimension of challenging. The closest thing he could compare it to was performing weight training in high altitudes and crushing depths.

“Hi, Mom,” I giggled, stepping inside and collecting a brief kiss from Daddy's lips and a tight squeeze of my pert little ass as I passed by. “Daddy and I really struggled about how we were going to tell you this...” I said, flouncing eagerly up onto the bed with her, crawling up until my knees could just barely fit, squeezed close together between her spread thighs. I leaned down, giving her a firm kiss on the lips that she was far too stunned to return. “In the end, we decided it would be best to just rip the band-aid off quick. You and I are going to be sharing Daddy, from here on out!”

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Roc took to the air, flying in loops over the arena. People in the audience shielded their eyes from the sun and pointed at him, trying to keep him in their sights as his speed grew. As he built up his acceleration, he channeled mana into his right leg, and a sheath of energy enveloped eagle talons. “Decisive Divebomb,” he cast, prompting a magic circle to appear around his ankle. Beast Art, the combination of shamanism and monk magic. When he fought Aithorn, he could only use basic mana enhancement on his attacks, but by honing his monk magic by fighting Seraph over and over, his training back in the Ashok Mountains had been fruitful, and he had reached the league of true beastman warriors.