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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.

Noah started with one finger, sending his mana surging through the muscle fibers, and soon could lift it. He could still feel the headband trying to restrict him, but now he could push back. He did the same to his other fingers, soon gaining full control of his hand. The effort required was considerable, but this manner of controlling his mana was not dissimilar to how he could control his clone. Rather than something he would wear like a disguise, he simply had to think of his clone as something that existed within him, under his skin.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.