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His movements slowed, and his water magic flickered like a candle at the end of its wick. Regardless, he powered through, and after several minutes of relentless combat, he delivered a critical blow, punching Viktor in the chin and sending his brain rattling around in his skull. He staggered back, using what little mental capacity he retained to stay upright, while Falco hobbled over, his strength fading. He and everyone else simply assumed his condition was due to fatigue.

As like all the other times she spent a minute at least inhaling the scent of his crotch, but holding off on the usual tongue bath, she instead continued her climb. Her slim stomach and breasts slid along her father’s muscular and hairy chest until she was lying almost directly over him. He puffed away noisily under the tubes of his CPAP machine none the wiser, a frustrating device that prevented her from exploring his mouth as well.

Abner drew his sword, and the blade glowed with searing intensity as a sheath of lightning enveloped it. Applying elemental energy to one’s weapon was basic magic, akin to dousing a blade in oil and lighting it on fire, but this was the next stage, the true combination of warrior and elemental magic, more like a white-hot sword pulled out of a forge. It reminded Noah of plasma weapons he had used in the past, capable of cutting through steel like butter, and Aithorn’s spear techniques.