It was early morning in the countryside.

The families there earned their livelihood through dairy farming.

They woke up before the sun rose to tend to their cattle.

This was their everything, a routine they had repeated for dozens of years. They had nothing to worry about.

And on a day much like any other — everyone believed it would continue.

However—

"Nn?"

As an old man entered the shed where his cattle spent their days, he felt a sense of wrongness.

He had spent many years with his herd and was sensitive to even the slightest changes in them. Were they in a bad mood? Were they sick? Had wild dogs frightened them?

With all his experience, he could feel it. The moment he had stepped into the shed, he felt a sharp change in the atmosphere.

Had wild dogs turned up?

That was the first thing that came to mind. This atmosphere resembled fright. His cows had been spooked by something.

The moment he sensed that, he picked up a hoe from the entrance to the shed.

If it really was wild dogs, defending his livestock was paramount.

He hadn't heard of any bandits or thieves in the area, but it remained a possibility.

For people who lived on the frontier, their domestic animals were their lives. To have them stolen meant death.

So he readied his hoe, lowering his center of gravity slightly as he carefully advanced into the shed.

"Who's there?"

He was surprised at how firm his own voice was. Even so, he steadily continued to advance into the shed.

The number of cattle the old man owned? Forty-four.

How many could he count in front of him? Forty-three.

—One was missing.

The moment he registered that, the cattle in the shed broke into an uproar.

They sounded as though something had terrified them, thrashing violently as if to break past the fencing.

Something like that had never happened before. The unexpected commotion startled even the old man, sending a chill through him.

Nevertheless, he soon regained his composure.

What in the world is it?

The old man muttered in his heart, taking step after step as he advanced even further into the shed.

He moved faster this time — not from fear, but from a sense of duty to discover what was going on.

Inside the hut, where there should have been a bull fastened to the wall… there was nothing.

"Dammit!"

He was robbed!

His thoughts went red with anger. But he cooled back down immediately.

How had it been taken out?

The rope that had tethered the bull was cut, yet the hut was locked. Above all, the fence was still firmly shut.

It was almost as if the bull had vanished, as if it had melted away. He pondered it while leaning on his hoe like a walking stick.

But no answers came to mind.

On that day, nothing else had changed.

 

*

 

The next day, the animals of a neighbor two houses down were targeted.

It seemed roughly twenty chickens had been stolen.

The time after that, it was a house on the opposite side of the village. The family raised cows — sixty of them. Two went missing.

The next day, and the one after that, the villagers' livestock continued to be plundered.

By the time a week had passed, every family in the village was ruined.

Even so, the old men were no fools. They had set traps and kept watch through the night, but it was all for naught.

Somehow, by some means, their animals kept being stolen. It was a complete mystery.

Speaking of mysteries, the old man who had gone to the mountain to investigate what had happened to the wild dogs the other day hadn't come back.

The wild dogs had disappeared, just as their livestock had.

Was there some connection between the two?

So the village elders pondered.

Normally, in times like these, they could travel to the royal capital and pay to have knights or mages investigate — but they had no money for that.

So how were they to deal with it themselves?

They felt it was an impossible task. They didn't know who the culprit was, but he was strangely resourceful.

He slipped through every trap they laid and stole their animals without a sound.

Everyone racked their brains. And after another week passed, their remaining livestock had been reduced to a third of what they started with.

—And at just such a time, a small group of adventurers happened to arrive at the village.

 

*

 

The woman introduced herself as Frederica Rene.

Her golden hair flowed down to her waist, swaying gently, and her large almond-shaped jade-colored eyes left onlookers with a strong impression of her will.

She wore a blue robe over a black undershirt, with a large staff — nearly as tall as she was — slung across her back.

Her legs were hidden by a thick pair of pants, but just the sight of her slim waist and lavish breasts drew the eyes of men.

Her well-developed bosom — as though two melons had been crammed into her shirt — responded to her every motion, swaying richly.

Packed inside the undershirt she wore in place of underwear, her bust was beyond ample. Whenever she reached a hand into her thick mage's robe, her cleavage peeked out from the top of the undershirt.

Had they still been in their youth, the impact of that sight would have been overwhelming.

A striking beauty working as an adventurer — this was the woman named Frederica.

She looked somewhere around twenty years old.

Behind her stood a timid young man of about the same age, and another strong-willed-looking youth who seemed a little older than the other two.

The timid young man introduced himself as Carl, the strong-willed one as Rig.

Both wore thick clothing under their leather chest, elbow, and knee guards.

Simple iron swords hung at their waists, and their backs were weighed down with large packs that likely held their essential gear.

A mage and two warriors — a textbook adventurer party.

From appearances, they seemed middle-tier. They carried themselves with composure, which put the villagers at ease.

Above all, hiring the mage's group was far cheaper than calling knights from the royal capital.

 

 

"Hmm."

The village elders explained to Frederica's group what had been happening to the village and asked for their help.

Over the past several days, their livestock had been stolen again and again. The culprit was cunning, slipping past every trap. The animals vanished without so much as a sound, and even when they kept vigil day and night over the sheds, they couldn't find the criminal.

Hearing that, Frederica's group realized this would be easy money, and cheered inwardly.

The culprit — or culprits — was likely a bandit. More than that, the three of them suspected it might be a ruined hunter who had grown up in some rural village.

The bear traps and clappers the elders had set up were the kind that snared a target with rope or sounded off when tripped — the sort of contraptions only people raised in rural areas like these villagers would even know about.

When they thought about it, cattle could be stolen easily enough. The elders claimed to have kept watch, but it was dark and their eyes were old, so they might simply have missed the culprit.

Looked at that way, the obvious answer was a bandit accustomed to hunting and handling livestock.

"So, we taking the job?"

Relaxing in the first-floor living room of a house the villagers had prepared for them, Rig spoke.

He was pouring beer the villagers had prepared from a jug into a glass. Half of it was already gone, but he wasn't a lightweight enough to be drunk yet — he was keeping careful track of that.

Carl tidied up the dinnerware while Frederica and Rig sat across from each other at the table, and Rig poured a cup of beer into Frederica's glass.

"Of course. You don't want to, Rig?"

"No way. It's an easy job. Easy money."

"Right."

Frederica agreed, tilting her glass. She wasn't as enthusiastic about it as Rig, slowly swallowing a single mouthful.

She had long since taken off the blue robe she'd worn during the journey, leaving only the black undershirt on her upper body. She tilted her glass again, taking another sip of beer. That simple motion alone was enough to softly jolt the rich melons on her chest.

Rig, making sure he had a good view, drank from his own glass so as not to be noticed.

But she was putting so much into the motion that it was obvious she was just showing off.

Frederica was confident in her figure and did things like this from time to time — she had a habit of enjoying her traveling companions' reactions when she teased them. The party hadn't been together for long, but the beautiful mage understood well enough what kind of men Rig and Carl were.

Rig: a dirty-minded man who relied on brute strength, though not so much as to be called a savage.

Carl: a thoughtful, prudent man too shy to lay out what he actually wanted.

And the woman herself, Frederica: someone who understood her beauty well enough to wield it as a weapon.

The two men as vanguards, with her as the sole rear guard. Each had moderate skill, and they could cooperate without friction. As a result, they handled their jobs with a high success rate.

They were a party whose names and faces were well-known despite their relative youth as adventurers.

"Carl. What about you?"

Rig called out to Carl, who was washing the dishes.

"I don't mind. But we don't know what'll happen, so it's better not to let our guard down, right?"

"Seriously? Our target's just some run-of-the-mill bandit, y'know. You're worrying too much."

"I think Rig isn't thinking about it enough, though… treatment isn't cheap, and injuries would just eat into our pay."

"Geh."

"That's also true."

Carl's response shut Rig down, and Frederica agreed.

Simple as the job was, medical expenses wouldn't be cheap if they weren't careful. Adventurers weren't philanthropists — they worked for compensation. If their expenses ended up outweighing their pay, there was no point in taking the job at all.

Balancing the two was the duty of a freelance adventurer.

"Well then. Carl-sensei's worries are justified, so how about we turn in early?"

"Oi oi, you serious?"

Rig was asking whether Frederica was joking.

They had eaten dinner. They had been drinking. When a man and a woman drank together, what came afterwards was a given.

Rig already had a certain something in mind.

Picking up on what Rig was thinking, Frederica tilted her glass once again and — turned toward him with a gaze that held just a hint of charm.

"Whaaat?"

"I mean, c'mon. The night's just started, yeah? We've finally got a roof over our heads — it wouldn't hurt to drink a little more."

Frederica let out a small laugh at Rig's grumbling.

Drinking a little more — and what would happen after that? She wasn't so ignorant of the ways of the world.

"I-I…"

"Nn?"

Forcing himself into the strange mood that had sprung up between the two, Carl spoke.

As though he'd forgotten Carl even existed the moment the talk turned to sleep, Rig turned toward him.

With Rig's eyes now on him, Carl started trying to say something—

"U-umm…"

"Pfft. Joking, joking."

Seeing Carl flounder for words, Frederica laughed, and Rig followed with a loud guffaw of his own.

At their reaction, Carl looked surprised, his gaze darting between the two of them.

"Stuuupid. We're climbing a mountain tomorrow, yeah? No way we'd burn off our energy like that."

Rig spoke, still laughing cheerfully.

 

*

 

"We'll be earning some pocket money by climbing a mountain, well, easy work right?"

Saying that brightly, Frederica — once again in her mage's outfit — was walking up a well-worn animal trail. Carl led at the front with Rig bringing up the rear, walking as though to protect her.

True to their personalities, while Carl was nervous, Frederica and Rig had a carefree air about them.

"Nn… it's a nice day. Walks like this aren't so bad."

Taking a deep breath, Frederica stretched, arching her body backwards. In the process, her well-developed breasts swayed slightly.

Carl didn't notice, but Rig had taken the rear precisely so he could ogle her up close.

She was obviously showing off to bait him. He didn't mind the pent-up frustration from the long journey — he stole quiet glances at her chest.

And the woman didn't mind one bit. She could feel his stare on her, and she kept walking with her back arched and hands behind her head.

Her lavish breasts undulated with the motion — a pleasant thrill for her. Feeling the man's gaze bore into her from behind further stoked Frederica's pride.

Satisfied with the slight thrill of it, Frederica's lips slackened into a smile.

Their goal was the abandoned mithril mine.

First, they would search it, then decide on their course of action. At any rate, they still hadn't identified who had stolen the livestock. Who had taken them? How many were there? What weapons did they use?

They would answer those questions and work out their countermeasures. Even if the bandit was only good at stealing livestock, he could still be dangerous if armed. And if they took serious injuries out here in the remote countryside, there would be no one to see to them.

As such thoughts passed through her mind, Frederica's lustrous lips curved into a smile.

All they had to do was climb the mountain and deal with the livestock thief, and they would have enough money to enjoy themselves for several weeks.

They walked through remote regions taking on requests from various rural villages, but this time the reward was particularly good relative to the difficulty of the job. If only she could earn this much every time, she mused, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky.

After walking a while longer, lost in such thoughts, the tunnel that was their destination came into view.

Not only were there no wild hares to be seen, but they hadn't spotted a single wild dog either.

They weren't watching for them especially closely, but they hadn't seen many insects either. They couldn't hear any insects now, either — only the sound of wind rustling through leaves.

And there were no traces of any fights between animals, either.

The entrance to the abandoned cave was quiet — almost peaceful. Stillness like that was usually only found near the outskirts of the royal capital.

As the number of monsters dwindled, the number of wild animals kept rising. They weren't as strong as monsters, but the trouble they caused was no different — because no matter how many you killed, their numbers never abated.

For there to be not even a single wild animal here was, in its own way, strange.

And on top of that, the missing old man weighed on their minds, too.

The three figured a local familiar with the land wouldn't have simply fallen off a cliff or strayed into somewhere dangerous, yet they saw no traces of a camp around the abandoned mine either.

"… There are tracks where something was dragged through."

Carl took a knee, examining the ground. The wild grass was crushed flat, leaving clear signs that something had been dragged across it.

Marks of an animal being dragged… and from the look of it, something big.

"Maybe it's from the stolen livestock."

Frederica leaned in to look at the tracks as well.

Her well-developed bosom shook right in front of Carl's eyes, making him blush, but Frederica pretended not to notice.

"It leads into the cave."

"Then our thief's in the cave, eh?"

Rig smiled happily, placing his hand on the sword hilt at his waist.

His strong-willed appearance was a natural reflection of his vigorous personality.

"Worrying."

Meanwhile, Carl was thoughtful.

Frederica also fell into thought, resting a finger against her well-shaped jaw.

The reason was simple. Inside a cave, her strongest magic would be restricted.

Abandoned mines carried the danger of collapsing from a single explosion. While Frederica was only a moderately strong mage, she understood the destructive potential of her magic well enough.

And that of her party's, too. She didn't know how many enemies there might be, so she wanted to avoid entering the cave and dooming them by restricting her magic.

However, why weren't there any wild dogs?

Was their target really a bandit? If it was a wild animal — a bear, for instance — Carl and Rig would have no trouble handling it.

They could lure it out of the cave, and she could cut it in half with wind magic. It wasn't as though Frederica's magic was at a level to leave people in awe, but she could use several attributes.

Fire, wind, and earth.

The same number that the mages employed at the royal palace could use.

However, her total mana pool was small, so both the force of her spells and the number of times she could cast them were limited. That was why she had become an adventurer.

"That so?"

"As always, you're just a meathead."

"Ngh…"

Without Frederica's magic, this party's firepower was strictly average.

The only reason this party could function with just three people was because of Frederica, the mage.

There were plenty of mages in this country — often called the magic kingdom. But most of them worked at the royal palace. Only the low-tier ones became adventurers — mages who could use only a single attribute.

That was why a party of four to five was the average. For hunting large game, ten or more was not unusual.

But that also meant individual shares of the reward shrank. A party with few members was an attractive prospect for adventurers.

"But… I don't think there are many of them."

The one who had spoken was the timid Carl. He wasn't looking at the marks on the ground, but toward the entrance of the abandoned mine.

"Oh, why is that?"

"If there were a lot of them, they'd definitely have left footprints behind. We haven't seen any."

Frederica thought it was a sharp deduction.

"I see. But couldn't the lack of tracks just be because they were dragging something behind them?"

"So there's just one or two of 'em?"

Rig asked, sounding irritated.

He just wanted them to hurry up and settle on a number.

"But to drag a cow along, I think you'd need a lot of people…"

"Maybe they're incredibly strong?"

"Though just that would be fine, I guess…"

"Tch. Quit putting on airs."

Rig scratched his head as though he found the whole thing a hassle. Turning away from him, Frederica looked at Carl with a surprised expression.

"In that case, what do you think of the criminal?"

"I think… we'll be fine if we're careful."

His words held no carelessness or conceit. Carl was timid. But for an adventurer, being timid was a virtue.

Because he was timid, he could observe everything calmly. He never let his guard down, and he could freeze in place the moment he felt even the slightest trace of danger — it was practically a talent.

"You've got sharp instincts, don't you."

"Haha… I lived a country life for a long time. I wouldn't be able to track prey if I couldn't pick up on the little things."

Muttering his reply, he averted his gaze in embarrassment.

"So what'll we do?"

Rig asked Carl.

"It's simple, but I think we should hide near the entrance from somewhere safe. I don't think they noticed us coming."

"I wonder."

Frederica murmured, sounding tired. She wasn't actually tired from the walk to the mine, though. If possible, she wanted to finish this before the day was out and sleep back at an inn.

"It seems to strike every day, so this'll be settled by tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good."

With Rig grumbling optimistically, Frederica and Carl moved behind a rock into a blind spot from the cave's entrance. Rig hid behind a rock on the opposite side.

Positioned so that they could cover each other, they left no blind spots. Since the culprit might also emerge from the abandoned mine, the three waited out the night, staying ever-vigilant of their surroundings.

 

*

 

In a spot just off the animal trail, hidden between the roots of a great tree and the overgrown grass — it was there. The slime, the black ooze, its volume unchanged from several weeks ago.

Having gained human knowledge, it had learned how to hide. It would avoid traps, slip past human eyes, and swallow its prey.

That was the wisdom of the old man it had first swallowed.

If it were spotted, it would be put on guard against. The village at the foot of the mountain was full of nothing but old men, but humans were cunning. One at a time they were nothing, but the black ooze as it was now could probably swallow a human without much trouble.

Having devoured not only wild dogs but livestock as well, the black ooze's volume was the same as before, but its density had grown far beyond what a few months of life would normally produce.

To anyone familiar with the ecology of a black ooze, its growth rate would have been astonishing. Growth that normally took several years, it had achieved in just a few months.

Reading the presence of a slime, which didn't breathe, was difficult even for veteran adventurers. Normally, in such situations, one would keep a detection spell up at all times, but that mage woman wasn't using one.

Was she an amateur, or simply overconfident? She probably didn't think there were any monsters in the area at all.

The slime, now with wits about it, paid that no mind and simply observed the three adventurers.

Two men, one woman.

The other day, having digested a human male, the slime's awareness had tilted toward the male side.

In other words — men were food, women were nursery beds.

That was something close to a will — something an ordinary slime should never have possessed.

By some means or other, it wanted to obtain that woman.

But what it knew of adventurers told it they were a group dedicated to monster hunting.

It could probably handle the old men without trouble, but against an active adventurer, even one-on-one, victory was uncertain.

It would not take risks. That, too, was a way of thinking that an ordinary slime didn't have.

Monsters instinctively tended to attack races other than the demon king or his kin. The demon king had made them that way.

But this slime defied that instinct — taking no risks, going only for sure prey.

Just as the three adventurers waited for their moment, the slime too waited for the moment their concentration broke.

While it did, the sun sank, and dim darkness covered the world. Night was coming… the black ooze's time.

No matter how accustomed adventurers were to the dark, they couldn't find black in the dark of night. Forest-dwelling elves or beastmen with keen senses might be a different story, but a human couldn't.

In particular, the three were hidden and had no light. They were confirming each other's safety only by faint breathing and presence.

Through that darkness, the slime moved as quietly as it could.

Its massive body, the size of a cow, was moved deftly so as not to rustle the grass, slowly, taking its time. There was plenty of time. The night had only just begun.

How much time had passed?

The dim mountain had become true darkness, and it sided with the slime. Its target was the large man who was hiding alone.

The pair hiding together was too dangerous. Making no sound, it climbed the rock face up over the large man's head.

Movement into a blind spot that only a slime could manage.

In the old man's youthful memories, he had been greatly surprised to find a slime stuck to a ceiling. So it used that. The human blind spot: it dripped its own mucus from overhead.

What dripped onto the man's nape was the paralytic poison that had captured so much prey up to this very day.

Since he was a man, there was no need for restraint. It dripped a few drops of the highest concentration of paralytic poison it could currently produce onto his nape.

The instant it did, the human male looked up in surprise.

Was even that not enough? Whether the slime thought that or not is unclear, but before the other two could realize what was happening, it tried to swallow him… and the man crumpled.

Judging from the fact that he couldn't even cry out, the paralytic poison had worked.

But it was too strong. This wouldn't do. Slowly absorbing the convulsing man, it considered the dose to use on the woman.

Women were more fragile than men. That, too, was in the old man's knowledge.

With paralytic poison this strong, it might end up killing the woman with paralysis alone, just like the old man the other day.

Fortunately, there was one more man. This time it would try half the previous concentration.

Thinking that, the slime dropped silently from the rock face and absorbed the strong man — Rig — into its body. Bubbles floated through the black ooze's viscous body. The convulsing man's body gradually stopped moving.

But the slime gave the absorbed man no further thought and moved on.

This time, it deliberately rustled the grass as it went. In this darkness, the slime knew its own form was invisible to humans — a trap only it could lay.

As expected, the remaining man and woman cast wary glances toward the black ooze. But they were far away. And without light, the adventurers couldn't see the black ooze's form.

Was it the woman or the man who would come investigate?

The two wouldn't both approach at once. If this sound were a trap, both would fall prey at the same time.

The black ooze laid traps. Traps from the wisdom of the old man it had devoured the other day.

Cautions the old man had labored under and grown sick of — precautions against monsters and bandits — turned back against the humans.

The two still thought they were a party of three. But they had no way to verify it.

Believing they were hidden, they couldn't use light to confirm each other's safety.

The man swallowed inside it twitched faintly. No — it was the final convulsion before death.

Robbed of bodily control by the paralytic poison and absorbed into the slime's body, the man had suffocated to death in less than a few minutes. After that, all that remained was to digest him at its leisure.

While the black ooze was attending to its own insides, there was movement from the other two adventurers. As expected, the one who moved was the man.

Sword drawn, he advanced warily. But his eyes weren't focused. They hadn't caught the slime.

The man pushed aside the bushes with the tip of his sword.

In that instant, the slime extended a part of its body like a tentacle and slammed it dead onto the man's face. Thrown into confusion by the sudden event, he tumbled and landed on his rear.

It then detached the tentacle, having it cover his face entirely. It had never tried this before, but the black ooze learned one new thing: even when separated from its main body, its own flesh could still be moved freely to a certain extent.

"Bfuh!!"

The paralytic poison's concentration was half of what it had used before.

The man tried to peel off the tentacle clinging to his face, but he couldn't grip the mucus and was thrown into confusion.

From the way he collapsed and flailed, the paralytic poison hadn't yet taken effect.

Just as it was making that observation, the slime's body was torn apart. It had no sense of pain, but even so it was surprised.

It was wind magic.

It had known of such things, but surprise won out. Still, it immediately drew its severed body back together and regenerated.

If it were minced into tiny pieces, it might not survive, but apparently being cut in half wasn't enough to kill it.

What it couldn't help, however, was the man absorbed inside. He had been dead already, but he was now split in two by the wind magic.

While all this happened, the flailing man's reactions began to dull.

Was it the paralytic poison taking effect, or oxygen deprivation? After a while, the slime peeled the mucus off his face and reabsorbed it into its main body.

From the rise and fall of his chest, it confirmed he was still breathing. But the man wasn't moving. It wasn't suffocation — it was the paralytic poison that had taken effect.

His consciousness was clearly intact, though, since his gaze rose to meet the slime's.

"M— onsterrr."

So he could still speak. This concentration, then, was enough.

Confirming that, it tried to swallow the man — only to be cut apart again by wind magic.

"Carl!!"

It was the mage woman.

Wielding her enormous staff, she glared at the black ooze. Her strong-willed eyes were dyed with hostility, her face flushed with rage.

Her long hair swayed in the mana wind pouring out of her body.

"It's a monster, Frederica!!"

The man called Carl shouted. Apparently, at this concentration, robbing him of body control was the limit.

At the same moment, the slime extended a tentacle toward the man's lower body. His mouth could move, but his body could not. All that was left was to drag him in and swallow him.

Next was the woman.

The mage woman. Those strong-willed eyes pierced through the slime.

 

*

 

If this place hadn't been a mountain where trees grew in abundance, Frederica's victory would very likely have been all but guaranteed. Among the elements she could use was fire. No matter how many times she sliced it with wind magic, tore it apart, or crushed it under a lifted boulder, the slime wouldn't die. Fire, however, would dispose of it easily.

At worst… even if she had to set the entire area ablaze, she had to burn this slime to death. That was what Frederica felt.

Monsters were enemies of mankind. They had to be defeated — they were not things that could be left alive. Making no effort to conceal her killing intent, she poured mana into the staff in her hands.

"Rig!!"

She called for her companion, who should have been hiding on the other side of the rock. But there was no answer.

She wondered why, but had no way to check. While squaring off against the dark-colored slime, she glanced toward the unmoving Carl.

Carl was being dragged into the slime, little by little, agonizingly slowly.

"Carl, what are you doing!?"

"My body, can't—"

He raised his voice. But his body had begun to convulse, no longer obeying his commands. From the look of it, he had clearly been poisoned. Was it a fatal poison, or merely one that robbed him of movement?

Even as she thought it, she invoked her magic. Without an incantation, she conjured a simple wind blade and severed the slime's tentacle.

But this time it recombined the moment it was cut, so she couldn't even buy time with it.

Frederica clicked her tongue. The matchup was bad. The wind magic she took pride in was helpless against the soft-bodied monster called a slime.

Earth magic likely wouldn't be any more useful than her wind magic, and she couldn't use fire because Carl was in the way.

"Ri—"

Then she noticed it. Without her realizing, the slime must have closed the distance toward her. In the dark of the night, there was a face inside its body, faintly illuminated by the moon. There was a body. A body whose upper and lower halves had been split in two.

"Ri… g…"

Rig had been pulled into the black ooze. Noticing it this late, Frederica trembled. She had cut his body in two. The first thing she had done was launch a wind blade… cleaving him in half with her own magic.

Comprehending what she had done, she stepped back, forgetting all about Carl for a moment.

After several steps, however, she stopped.

What was a monster? An enemy of the world. Something that had to be defeated. The demon king's vanguard. Now that there was no demon king, monsters were beings that ought to be wiped out. And it was adventurers who defeated them.

Frederica's honor supported her.

But now, not only Rig but Carl too had been caught by the slime's — the black ooze's — tentacle. Even now, it was trying to swallow him. She tried wind magic again, and earth magic on top of that, but neither had any effect.

Should she try fire magic?

But she could see Carl was in the line of fire. She just needed to shift sideways, yet Frederica was too rattled to realize it.

Even if she steeled herself, it wouldn't change the fact that she had killed a companion. And there was the unknown poison the black ooze used. These things together froze Frederica's thoughts.

She glared at it for some time. While Frederica stood frozen, the paralytic poison spread through Carl's body, and he was now having trouble speaking. Unable to resist, his feet were finally absorbed into its soft body.

"—!"

Frederica steeled herself and rushed over to Carl. She would try to save him from being absorbed. Without magic, trying to drag him out was a bad move… but even knowing that, she couldn't abandon her companion.

And so Frederica ran — only to stumble on something along the way. Under cover of night, a detached piece of the slime had caught hold of the woman's boot.

Catching herself in a posture meant to keep her from falling flat on her face, she lost sight of the black ooze.

She started charging the staff in her right hand with mana, but before she could finish, a tentacle coated in paralytic poison seized her right hand.

The concentration was the same dose it had used on Carl. The effects wouldn't appear immediately, but it would be enough to paralyze the woman while leaving her senses intact.

It sensed no fear in Frederica's expression as she glared at it. For this unyielding woman, anger came easier than fear.

"Flame Sword!!"

The black ooze had no way to know that those two words were an incantation. Immediately afterwards, the staff turned scorching hot and burned away the tentacle that had seized the woman's right hand.

But that was all. Even if she burned off a piece of its body, it would immediately regenerate.

Normally, the best way to kill a slime was to incinerate it along with everything around it, but Frederica didn't have enough mana to hit it with magic that many times over.

Between three castings of wind magic and that fire spell, her mana was about half drained. To produce enough heat to kill the slime in a single strike, she would have to spend everything she had left.

But if she did, not only Carl, but her own body too would be too close for safety. Frederica clicked her tongue, her face flushed with anger.

(Concentrate, concentrate—)

She let out a breath.

Now that she was closer to the black ooze, she could see that Carl was still alive. What had happened to Rig was tragic, but the first priority was surviving this. To kill this monster, she had to be absolutely certain.

If even a single piece of itself remained, the slime would regenerate. To produce enough heat to thoroughly burn every cell of it away, she would need her remaining mana — and absolute concentration.

In truth, incantations weren't strictly needed for magic. It was possible to invoke spells just by thinking. Incantations were merely tools for focus. With Frederica's experience, a dozen seconds or so was enough to concentrate on burning the slime to nothing.

Focusing her concentration on her staff was difficult, and her breathing came unnaturally rough. Perhaps due to the agitation of the fight, her resolve was running hot, too.

She pushed the approaching black ooze out of her mind, breathing deeply and concentrating.

"Eh…?"

Something felt wrong, and a startled sound escaped her lips.

Her left hand felt strangely numb. She brought it into her line of sight in a panic — it was certainly still there.

But her fingers wouldn't move. When she tried, sharp pains shot through them.

Frederica had felt this kind of pain before. Numb arms and legs, accompanied by a pain that made it impossible to force them to move. Her left hand and fingers were definitely still there. But they had gone numb and refused to obey her.

"W-what?"

While she was still confused, the slime drew closer.

In the dark of the night, the only sound that reached her was the rustling of grass. The sound of it filled her with dread, and she closed her eyes and concentrated, her breathing growing even rougher.

Next, she felt something off in her right hand as well, but she had no time to deal with that now. It was at this point that Frederica finally understood why Carl hadn't been able to resist. This poison… was a paralytic. Soon, she would be just like Carl, unable to move.

She had to take out the slime as soon as possible. She poured everything she had into refining her mana—

"—Nn."

Suddenly, an unbecoming voice slipped out of her.

"Nn, hii—"

She felt a heat running along her arm. When she opened her eyes in a panic, she saw the slime had crept up her arm and invaded her clothing. It had traveled from her wrist along her upper arm and inside her clothes, looping around her shoulder and into her armpit… though she couldn't see it directly through her robe, the sensation of the slimy liquid working its way into the undershirt beneath was disgusting.

"Wha—!!"

Why?

What should she do?

Her concentration shattered instantly, her thoughts thrown into chaos.

Frederica knew that slimes absorbed humans, but she couldn't understand why this one would crawl inside her clothes.

Even as she puzzled over it, she tried to violently wrench her arm free… only to realize she couldn't move it at all.

(The poison — already!?)

Her arm couldn't move, but if anything it was more sensitive now. She had never felt anything like this from a simple caress across her arm before.

Naturally, Frederica was no virgin.

Which was exactly why she was at a loss.

Just from her arm being gently brushed, her body was already completely ready.

"Fuu… nn…"

Feelers raced up her arm and into her clothes through the opening of her robe. A viscous fluid with a unique stickiness soiled her clothing, insistently announcing its presence no matter how she loathed it.

Now on her hands and knees, her abundant hair draping toward the ground, she bit her lower lip to endure it. Strands of her long hair clung to the sweat the mental strain had drawn out on her cheeks, parting just enough to reveal her well-shaped ears.

Her ears — whether from anger or some other emotion — were dyed red, asserting themselves against the dark of the night as the moonlight fell upon them.

Her elbows hadn't given out yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Haaah…"

A slowly advancing tentacle finally reached one of the breasts hidden beneath her clothing. That overwhelming fullness, hanging heavy with gravity despite the support of her undershirt, was squeezed as though to wring it from the base.

With her undershirt and robe damp from the viscous liquid rubbed over them, wet sounds reached Frederica's ears.

Still unable to move in her current state, her breast was being stimulated as though caressed. More than a simple massage, it was being worked over from the base.

"Fuah…"

And without a doubt, that was a moan that had escaped her lips.

"… Haa— nn."

The constant lewd sound was coming from her own mouth.

Hearing the sound being drawn out of her cherished chest, Frederica blushed all the way to her ears.

In her shame, she nearly stopped thinking entirely.

"Please! Stop it—!!"

But her pride wouldn't allow it. She used what little strength she had left to struggle, trying to escape the slime binding both of her hands.

The sensation in her elbows was deeply dulled. Though she struggled to escape, the slime's viscous grip was stronger than she was.

In peak condition, she might have managed it. But the Frederica of now couldn't escape the slime. Even if she had strength to spare, her body had gone numb wherever the liquid had touched her, and it wouldn't obey her demands to run.

Her elbows gave out and her cheek hit the ground. Her abundant chest smashed against the dirt, its shape distorting.

Her posture looked for all the world like she was entreating the slime.

Her thoughts writhed in shame. Even in a state like this, she tried to shake her shoulders to break free.

"Let go of me! You… dirty monster—!!"

Cheek still pressed to the ground, Frederica shouted her resistance with a mind that refused to yield. She didn't understand why the slime hadn't killed her outright, but she would resist to the very end.

She would never surrender to a monster. Never, absolutely never, would she submit to something like this—

"… Haaah."

But ignoring Frederica's determination, the slime's tentacle wriggled under her clothes. It never stopped fondling her soft, ample breast even as her chest was crushed against the ground. Her nipple was both numbed and excited, different from any time she had been with a man or pleasured herself — her voice leaked out again under the relentless stimulation.

She forced her mouth around refusals and bit hard on her lip, but disordered gasps leaked from the corners of her mouth, stirring the fallen leaves on the ground.

"U-uu…"

When she shook her shoulders, her entire body shook with them. When her body shook, her chest pressed against the ground even more roughly, summoning another wave of stimulation.

She endured it in silence, but her breathing fell too far out of rhythm and she broke into a sweat. When Frederica's body had reacted this much, the black ooze thickened the liquid coating her chest.

The tentacles, now slick with the thickened liquid, skillfully coiled around her overflowing chest, whose shape had been deformed by being pressed against the ground.

The most apt way to describe the spectacle was that she was being kneaded. Twining around the base of her nipple and slowly squeezing it, pulling as though to stretch it, rubbing the breast from all sides like a massage.

Frederica didn't realize it, but these movements — were the hand motions used to milk a cow's udders. It was something the black ooze had learned from the old man's knowledge, and although she had no idea what her ample chest was being treated as, she wouldn't tolerate it.

It wasn't shame but anger that flushed her face an even deeper red, yet with each passing moment she had less and less ability to resist.

Soaked with the slime's viscous liquid, the sounds coming from inside her undershirt were obscene.

In order to look away from her chest being treated like a plaything, she closed her eyes. Was she angry? Ashamed? Or perhaps… though she would never admit it herself, was it pleasure? Tears spilled from her clouded eyes.

But that same obscene sound reached her ears even with her eyes closed. Even that sound would provoke and excite her.

"Hah, haaah…"

The voice that leaked out of her unintentionally parted mouth was even more passionate than before.

Hearing a voice that didn't seem to be her own at all, she squeezed her eyes shut.

(No, no no no no no no!!!)

Over and over and over… she cried out in her mind.

But far from fading, the heat in her chest only flared higher. Every time she felt the writhing that kneaded her breast, a sensation she had never felt before would seize her.

Normally, her body wouldn't react to anything she hated.

Pleasures of the flesh mattered, but the atmosphere and the partner's attitude were just as indispensable.

But — Frederica was starved. It wasn't as though she practiced abstinence, but for a week now she had been traveling with two men, neither of whom was her lover. There had been no chance for her to release her sexual urges. A man and a woman traveling alone would have been no problem, but this was two men and one woman.

She wasn't the sort to let two men use her body together, and she wasn't some virgin ignorant of these things either. So her sexually mature body had quietly accumulated a fitting amount of desire.

And so, she had reached her limit.

Disgusted as she was by the monster, her body hungered for sex. It was a hopeless state to be in.

Even though she didn't want to feel it, she felt it.

Hating it enough to want it dead, she still couldn't resist being violated in her current state. The cocksure woman's mind was being violated as well.

The body of a twenty-two-year-old woman who hadn't masturbated in over a week was too fragile.

With her eyes closed and her will set against the pleasure, her chest and nipples were sloppily ravished and dragged across the ground.

"Fu… Nn… n."

By the time she realized it, her lips — which should have been firmly closed — had parted slightly, passionate breaths slipping through unhindered.

Her beautiful teeth had given up biting her lip. Her tongue peeked slightly from the opening, extending as though it were asking for something.

Even her eyelids, which until just moments ago had been clamped tight, were now only feebly shut, her brows knit as though enduring something.

And above all — Frederica herself, with her eyes closed, was likely unaware — she had let go of her staff.

Along with pushing her rear out, she swayed her hips back and forth ever so slightly. Even with all of her clothes still on, the woman was utterly ready.

"Sto… p…"

She muttered, the word barely coherent.

The slime, of course, wouldn't respond to her words.

Another of the slime's tentacles — one that had not yet been violating one of her ample mounds — slipped inside her clothes. Even understanding that, Frederica had no means of resistance left.

In her current posture — chest flat against the ground with her rear in the air — neither of her arms could move, and she couldn't put any strength into her legs. No — the pants hiding her beautiful legs had already gotten wet without her noticing.

… Even her legs had gone numb. She couldn't run. With that, Frederica was cornered on every front.

The newly arrived tentacle slid past her breast — on past it to the other one, coiling around it and announcing its presence. Dexterously, it thinned itself into a cord.

"H-haaah…"

Although Frederica herself would never admit it, the nipples being scraped across the ground were extremely sensitive. Originally, they were the spots she touched most when pleasuring herself. Their sensitivity served her well.

(H-haaah… t-this feeling…)

At that moment, her hips trembled greatly, though Frederica didn't notice. Her waist moved back and forth, synchronizing with her chest being forced against the ground.

Stroked by the tentacles, she pressed herself into the ground. These two kinds of stimulation made Frederica's breathing grow rougher still. The only sound echoing through the dark night was Frederica's ragged breathing.

"Haaauu!"

A distinct moan escaped her mouth. Her voice was passionate enough to ignite.

Taking it as a signal, the tentacles' violating motions across her bountiful breasts accelerated. Her right breast was violated, squeezed from the base. Her left breast was violated, kneaded across its entire voluptuousness.

Both at once, her nipples worked by the string-like ends of the tentacles.

"Nn, haa — aaah!!"

Under the sheer excess of pleasure, even her brows lifted, her chest rising from the ground. Even so, the tentacles didn't stop tormenting her breasts.

If anything, it became easier for them to move with her chest lifted off the ground. They only accelerated their torment of Frederica's nipples and breasts.

(What's, this!? What's this what's this what's this!? H-haaaaah!)

Her numbed, unmoving body spasmed against her will. Her mind desperately tried not to break, but her body yielded helplessly.

The sweetest voice she had ever made came from her open mouth. Drool ran down her slack tongue, hanging toward the ground and falling onto the black ooze.

As though begging for something passionate, the movements of her hips grew even more intense.

(… lie. A lie, lie, lie!! Ah—)

Twenty-two years old. How long had it been since she lost her virginity?

This was the first time—

"Nn, uuu—!!"

Frederica climaxed from her breasts alone.

Convulsing several times, her body collapsed onto the ground, once again crushing her chest.

An incredibly intense sensation assaulted her sensitive breasts, but exhaustion somehow let her endure it.

But with her nipples dragged against the ground during her convulsions, the woman's internal heat began to build again. She knew it, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Ha… ah."

(Amazing—)

The eyes that had once shown her strong will were now clouded and wet with tears. Her pupils reflected nothing at all, staring blankly toward the bushes in the dark night.

But it was only for that moment that the tentacles paused.

"Nuu!!"

Pressed against the ground, her chest deformed beneath her. Frederica's eyes flew wide at the stimulation assaulting her rich chest.

"Stop!! Please, stop!!"

She couldn't put any strength into either arm; all she could do was speak. Even so, Frederica resisted loudly.

No, it could hardly be called resistance anymore. She only resisted with her mouth; her body had already accepted the stimulation.

Her mouth shouted and let out coquettish sounds even as her body surrendered to the pleasure and convulsed.

"Just by my breasts, just by my breasts! Just the breeeasts!!"

As the tentacles worked her nipples during her spasms, she pressed herself harder against the ground. Frederica hadn't noticed that her own movements were gradually growing more forceful. Just as she had forgotten to close her mouth, her body — numbed by the paralytic poison and no longer trying to endure — was desperately trying to give itself more pleasure.

Her thoughts were hazy. Was it from the pleasure the tentacles gave her, or from pleasuring herself by grinding her nipples against the ground? She didn't know.

Her eyes, which had once shone with self-assurance, were now wet with tears — though somewhere deep in her mind, was she still determined to run away? In that calm moment just before the storm, she saw a pair of eyes fixed on her miserable form.

It was Carl. Robbed of his freedom of movement by the paralytic poison, he had been dragged by the black ooze's tentacle, submerged to his shoulders.

But his head was still above the night air, and his gaze… was on Frederica. Or rather — it was fixed on her.

"Ah — aaah!!"

Frederica's body spasmed greatly again. Tormented by the slime, she convulsed, gasping. He could see everything… watching every detail in horror.

"Ple—… haaah!!"

Her firm nipples were massaged, stroked, and pulled. Just that alone tore a blazingly passionate moan from Frederica's mouth.

Her disgust and what her body felt had become entirely separate things. Her body had grown weak to the stimulation.

And there was the reality that she was being seen like this by her companion. The reality that she was being watched.

Now Frederica wasn't just experiencing sexual stimulation, but shame as well.

"Plea—please don't look…"

To anyone who knew what she was usually like, the frailty of her voice would have been unbelievable. Looking away from Carl, who was being swallowed by the black ooze, she stared at the ground.

But even so, Frederica still felt Carl's gaze on her. Even when she bit her lip to stifle her voice, she couldn't stop her body from trembling and spasming. The chest that had been her pride until now had already become her most sensitive erogenous zone.

Convulsing just from having her breasts massaged and her nipples stroked — and Carl was seeing all of it. Another human was watching. Just thinking that made Frederica's body spasm all over again.

(That's… not it, not it!)

Two times, three times she convulsed… this time, thrusting her ass out farther than she ever had in this posture, she gave way to countless small convulsions.

She climaxed. Unsightly, ravished by this monster — and just from her breasts, at that… twice.

Even if she denied it in her heart, her convulsing body was telling her it had climaxed. Surely, Frederica told herself, Carl wouldn't have noticed.

However—

"Wh… y… whyyy!!"

The tentacles didn't stop. And because they didn't stop, over and over and over again — Frederica's breasts were violated.

Unerringly, it ravaged the plentiful breasts that had grown sensitive, lascivious… her greatest weakness.

There was nothing she could do to stop it. Even after already peaking twice, Frederica's body ignored her will and submitted helplessly.

As her breasts were kneaded and her nipples dragged against the ground, she convulsed, her hips swaying back and forth as though begging for a man.

Even fully clothed beneath her mage's robe, she was made to climax. Along with the wet, sloppy sounds coming from inside her undershirt, the only thing echoing through the mountain night was Frederica's heavy breathing.

"H-haah—h-haah!!"

(Why!! How!!)

Sure, Frederica's breasts were sensitive. But this was sexual pleasure — something that ought to be a perfectly normal physical phenomenon.

Raped by a monster like this, held down against her will, shedding tears of humiliation, shamefully thrusting her ass out like some beast, being watched by someone else — she shouldn't have been feeling this way.

Even as her thoughts were scattered by the constant waves of pleasure — why, how? — she kept questioning herself.

Was she just this obscene?

Wrong.

Did she starve for sex this much?

Wrong.

Somewhere in her heart, did she wish to be pinned down like a beast?

Wrong.

While she repeatedly answered her self-questioning—

"No, don't, don't!!"

As time passed, the motion of her hips grew more intense. Between her nipples being pressed against the ground and her chest being massaged by the tentacles, the denials coming from her mouth were just for show.

Her purpose was certainly to resist. If she were released right this moment, she would supposedly use everything she had to roast the slime and burn it to death.

But at the same time, Frederica hadn't yet realized that her body had begun to demand even greater stimulation now.

As though inviting it — no, as though demanding it — she swayed her hips. Since her second climax, the movements had only grown wider. Her waist, which had been rocking back and forth, was now tracing eccentric circles, as if to lure a man.

Her once confident eyes were now clouded with obscenity, tears spilling from their corners.

It wasn't the face of Frederica the mage — it was the face of a woman.

But without any mirrors at hand, Frederica herself didn't know that.

It was nothing but—

"Stop… already…!"

Miserably letting her tongue hang loose, she begged for release as the tentacles ravished her breasts.

When her entire body convulsed, it wasn't her mouth that announced what she was feeling. Even so, she said she wanted the tyranny against her breasts to end.

Even so, it didn't end.

The tentacles didn't stop, continuing to knead her ample breasts beneath her robe.

Just how sensitive could she become? Just how many times could she cum? It was as though it wanted to find out.

The slime studied the woman's body. She no longer had any pride as an adventurer left. When the mucus-coated tentacles wriggled… her body trembled in anticipation of the surges of pleasure that would follow.

Without realizing the change in herself, Frederica raised her head from the ground.

"He… lp… m—…"

Her voice cut off midway. Carl had been watching her for some time now. She and that timid youth had traveled together until this very day.

He had sunk into the mucus up to his head, mouth open, eyes wide.

His expression was twisted with agony, his mouth fixed open as though he wanted to keep shouting some final grudge — a mouth that would never close again.

Whichever way you looked at it, Frederica was gasping in pleasure while he was in agony. Carl had been pulled into the mucus, unable to resist because of his numbed body, and had died from suffocation.

Just how much pain did he feel?

Just how much did he despair?

 

*

 

Frederica, seeing Carl… seeing Carl's corpse, while her breasts were being massaged, while her entire body shook from the stimulation, could only stare in blank shock. Her whole body was covered in the viscous liquid, mud smeared across her clothes and cheeks, her face fouled by tears and drool.

And so, with an excessively unsightly appearance—

"Caaaarl, save me…"

She pleaded with the corpse to save her.

As for Frederica, both of her arms had already been released.

But with her arms still numb, she wouldn't be able to do anything with them for a while yet. Not that Frederica was thinking about any of that.

"… Nn, haah."

Her thrust-out ass quivered slightly, her body conveying just how much pleasure she felt.

But the voice coming from her mouth had lost all its strength.

It had been three more times after that. Five times in total she had been made to cum from nothing but her breasts. Her breasts had become so sensitive that they ached — Frederica couldn't check for herself, but her nipples had swollen to the size of the tip of her pinky finger. Swollen large enough to push out her black undershirt, even slick with mucus, they had begun to ache.

Realizing the mage woman's reactions had dulled, the slime finally stopped toying with her chest. Its tentacles were still wrapped around her breasts, but they had stopped massaging, kneading, and pulling on them.

With a dull pain lingering, she couldn't put any strength into her upper body, her waist trembling faintly with her chest still pressed against the ground.

She could only be described as pitiful, like a beast lowering its head to beg before a human.

"Haah, haa… nn…"

(It's… o… ver…?)

Frederica no longer knew how much time had passed.

Rig died.

Carl died.

Their corpses were drifting about inside the black ooze even now, weighing heavily on Frederica's mind. Soon, she would also—

The moment she thought that, she remembered she was still sticking her rear out like a dog in heat, and she tried to lower the rest of her body to the ground in exhaustion.

She was exhausted. She didn't want to think about anything anymore.

"Nnu!!"

The moment she tried to let her consciousness slip away, a tentacle propped her waist back up.

Was she not even allowed to rest?

"No… more…"

She could barely speak. But that had been the case for some time now. Frederica's mind had broken a long while ago.

Either way, the slime didn't understand her words.

To begin with, it couldn't understand human speech.

… Well, given that it hadn't stopped tormenting her chest when she had begged it to, she probably already knew that.

Held in a posture with her ass thrust out, she felt the slime start to undo the belt of her pants. The sound was strangely loud in the dark, where only Frederica's panting could be heard.

(Eh… e-eh!?)

Her belt came undone. The meaning of that was—

"St—… p… stooop!"

Urging on a body that refused to obey no matter what she told it, she tried to crawl away. She didn't even look like an adventurer anymore.

A person fleeing in disgrace, a weak and delicate woman — that was exactly how she looked.

Her hands were numb and wouldn't move the way she wanted; her body had stopped listening to her after cumming so many times. She couldn't put up the slightest opposition to the tentacles.

But even so, the woman desperately tried to escape. Despite the tentacles holding her waist and binding her breasts, she still tried to crawl away.

She was afraid. Terrified, even. It was useless, though; Frederica's body wouldn't follow her will, no matter how loudly the alarm bells rang in her mind.

Just from her breasts. Just from her breasts, she had climaxed five times. She glared at her enemy with fear, disgust, and hostility — and yet she had cum anyway, against her will. Even after refusing that much, denying that much, pleading that much… she had kept cumming.

(No way, no way, no way, no way!!!!)

She was raped.

By a monster. By something worse than a beast in this world. By a monster that could satisfy a woman just by working her breasts.

She had indeed been raped over and over. Despite begging for release, despite calling for a savior, despite praying for rescue — this slime, heedless of any of it, had kept making this woman cum.

Just from her breasts, just from her breasts alone… it had taken her this far.

What if something like that violated her most tender place?

"No! Someone, anyone!! Carl, Rig! Save me, pleeeease!!"

Spurred on by terror, she earnestly prayed for someone to save her. The people she pleaded with were already dead — no one would hear her screams. Even knowing that, she felt that if her tender spot were violated, she would succumb.

And so she screamed.

She was terrified. Even knowing there was nothing she could do, she still didn't want it to happen.

No one would have imagined a monster doing something like this. Nothing of the sort had ever happened. Monsters were enemies of mankind; the only relationship one had with them was kill or be killed. The idea of the loser being forced down some loser's path shouldn't even have existed.

Which meant no one knew anything about a monster's sexual desires.

But — even if she had known about this monster, what could she have done…?

Even when she shouted for it to stop, like a rutting beast it had made her cum many times over.

If something like that ravished her—

"Haah, nn… S-st—…"

Her womb was burning, throbbing, aching. There was nothing she could do. Her body had already learned the taste of the slime's tentacle.

Even if her determination to kill this monster had already cracked, the moment she admitted it… she, Frederica, would no longer be an adventurer, no longer a mage… she would have fallen to the level of a beast, the same level as a monster.

And so, even as her body continued to betray her, even as her resolve began to break, as someone who had trained to be a mage, she didn't want to part with her humanity. If she could just escape now, there would still be—

Clink. The sound of her belt buckle falling away reached her ears.

"Noo, no no — please, stop!!"

She cried out.

Like a young girl, like a virgin, weeping all the while — yet her hips swayed like a prostitute's.

Trying to escape the tentacles, her hips shook in a way that looked like an invitation. Just in anticipation of what was about to happen, her body shuddered with a small spasm.

"Why!! Why!! Even though you're a monster…!!"

Frederica spoke only in absolute refusal.

But the woman still hadn't realized.

Her body showed no sign of wanting to run; her hips kept shaking shamefully, waiting for the tentacles.

With her belt undone, her thick pants were lowered. Even in this, she came across as an easy woman. Her breasts were plentiful, her ass plump.

Wonderfully covering her ass was a plain yet feminine pair of black panties.

The area between her thighs was already damp, even though it hadn't been touched yet. Having climaxed from her chest alone, her body now eagerly anticipated what would come next.

"Please! I'm begging you — please let me goooo."

Disregarding her pleas, a tentacle slid the black panties aside.

"Please, please, please, please—"

Like a child, she repeated the same word over and over. Tears overflowed from her eyes; mucus dripped unbecomingly from her nose. She didn't want this to happen. Not at all… she was afraid.

What was happening to her? What would happen to her after this? She didn't know. Fear bloomed in her chest. With her chest pressed to the hard ground, when the cold night wind brushed her wet genitals, all she could feel was just how much she was twitching down there.

Although Frederica couldn't see it, this tentacle was different from the ones that had been massaging her breasts — it stood vertical.

And it drew close, as though kissing her sex.

"Please, don't…"

Even so, the slime didn't stop.

There was a moment of resistance. Having finally taken in prey after a week, she clenched as though to bite off the slime's tentacle. This had nothing to do with Frederica's will, though — it was simply her woman's instinct.

"Ah—H-haaah!!"

(No, no way, no, no!! It entered!! A monster!! Inside me!!)

Her determination seemed to snap.

Her mind seemed to snap.

Helpless despair filled her chest—

"Aaah, aah, aaah!!"

(It entered—)

—Helplessly being pleasured, the woman named Frederica was raped.

 

 

(What… is this—)

With a single ordinary thrust, she was penetrated to her deepest part.

A place no human man could ever reach. Scraping along the walls of her long-unused vagina, the tentacle drilled deeper while growing thicker, heading for the entrance of her womb.

There was no technique to it. Just full force. A violent injection.

(—Amaaaazing!)

Tears of joy overflowed from her eyes.

Her mouth had been reduced to a hole that existed only to broadcast how pleasured she was, her dignified expression long since twisted away.

She was helpless. She knew it. Frederica Rene could no longer win against this monster. Her body, as a woman, understood that.

The tentacle pulled out. Back toward the entrance of her vagina… then drilled in again at full strength. Being pierced this hard should have brought pain, yet mysteriously there was none. The tentacle was made of mucus, after all. A normal man would have been solid, firm. This was different from the kind of penis that throbbed with passion.

Between the juices flowing from Frederica herself and the slick tentacle of the black ooze, even her vagina — which had tightened up somewhat from disuse — wasn't being damaged.

"Aah, uuun—uuun…"

Without a doubt, even if she did escape from this place, the moment she encountered this slime again, Frederica knew she would fall to her knees.

Violated to this extent… she had already given up her resolve just from her breasts.

She just hadn't admitted it.

No… she might even come back to be defeated of her own accord. Because, because… this was the first time she had ever felt pleasure like this — endless pleasure.

"T-there! The—haaah!! Mueh… s-stooop!!"

As though to match the thrusting tentacle, the tentacles binding her breasts began to move again as well.

Rolling around and kneading her breasts, stroking and pulling on her nipples — she pressed herself against the ground of her own volition.

"Stop—stoop! Not so strooong!"

Her tongue lolling out like a dog's, her breaths came in gasps. As though doing the exact opposite of what she said, the slime's movements answered the desires she didn't speak aloud. She no longer felt any disgust toward it.

On the contrary, she was rocking her hips with something almost like affection.

She welcomed the monster's penis into the lower half of her body, still adorned with her black panties. Her abdomen, conditioned by years as an adventurer, gripped the tentacle tightly. She thrust her hips back against it to wring out even a little more pleasure.

Her breasts ground against the dirt even harder in response, and the tentacles ravaged the mage's beautiful body further with pleasure. It hadn't been long at all since the tentacle had first pierced her.

And yet despite that—

"C-cummiiiiiing—!!"

Frederica convulsed, announcing her climax to the slime.

Her body convulsed over and over, saliva running from her open mouth. Her eyes saw nothing; her mouth did nothing but spill empty words of pleasure after her climax. In front of her was the black ooze, and inside it, two corpses.

However, Frederica saw none of it.

"Aah… uuu… nn… aah…"

She twitched. In her whole life up to this moment, it was by far the most intense climax she had ever had.

A true female climax.

She broke.

Her mind, her resolve, her pride as an adventurer, her pride as a mage — as of this moment, all of it had been thoroughly broken.

"Please…"

She gently rocked her waist, the slime's penis still inside her.

The sound of the slime's mucus mixing with her own secretions didn't even reach her numbed ears.

"… Let me go… already…"

The moment she said that, the tentacle penis dug forcefully into her.

"O-hoh—"

With her womb's entrance struck, her consciousness wavered. Her blank eyes rolled up under her opened eyelids, drool flying from her open mouth.

Deep inside her body flushed hot. In that same moment, the tentacle slammed against her womb once again.

After that, she couldn't even speak. She came from the first thrust, and again from the next.

The fluids dripping from her were no longer just tears and drool. Her eyes, once so self-assured, were now wide open, her face dragged against the ground in time with the tentacle's movements.

She was no longer just a woman. She was a woman raped by a monster… a woman who had been raped by one… and pleased by it.

"Ple… let…"

Again, it slammed into her with its tentacle.

She begged for freedom.

Over, and over, and over—

"Let… plea… se—haaan!!"

Frederica had lost consciousness, her mouth unconsciously repeating the same words over and over. There was no resolve left in her. It was nothing more than a mindless echo of her earlier pleas.

Of course, the slime didn't stop.

 

*

 

How many times had she cum?

For how many hours had she been violated?

Even so, Frederica was not freed.

Her beautiful face was warped with pleasure, her mouth hanging open and — past drooling — now foaming.

Her chest was violated. Her vagina was violated. When she stopped responding, her ass was violated as well.

And still, Frederica continued to be violated. The slime's mucus, Frederica's sweat, and her vaginal secretions all mixed together, soaking the ground beneath her.

Even now, the slime did not obtain the ability of [Ejaculation].

Its testicles were still imperfect, incapable of ejaculation.

Rape a woman, ejaculate, conceive a child. Despite doing all this for that very purpose, the slime could not ejaculate.

And so, it continued to rape Frederica. Even when she lost consciousness. Until the day the slime would be able to ejaculate.

Over, and over, and over, she came.

"—, —, —…"

By the time the sun rose, she was like a doll that could no longer move.

She wasn't dead — but the beautiful mage had been broken.

The black ooze, having finally finished digesting the two corpses inside its body, skillfully lifted up Frederica — now capable of nothing more than spasming — with its tentacles.

Then, slowly, it began to move. Back through the entrance of the mithril mine — carrying her deep into the interior.

Into that dark and gloomy hole, on and on toward the abyss.

It carried the mage woman into the gloomy depths, her nude body plastered with its liquids and glistening in the sunlight.

It would impregnate her.

All of its focus was on that.