the kyle smith

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.

Back outside, the fifth fight garnered some attention. It was between another church agent and the only other beastman in the tournament, now that Roc had defeated Ingram. Cain, he was rhino-based, and at first glance, Noah thought he was a fiend, but only because of his outrageous stature. In his semi-transformed state, the man was over seven feet tall with limbs like tree trunks and devastating strength, and the long horn growing from the bridge of his nose had gouged multiple opponents. As a beastman, he was almost on par with Kaisen, a natural-born juggernaut with physical and magical talent. The problem was his attitude, having killed all his opponents with great pleasure.

“Please, Rachel, please!” I swallowed nervously, but there was no point resisting, not anymore. “Please, give me your cum! I want it so bad! Please, fill my sissy faggot ass with your hot, thick cum! I want it so bad, Rachel, please!”