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“If the coward hasn’t shown up, he’s surrendered his place in the tournament!” Viktor argued.“He has a point, Sir Noah. We can’t wait all day for every combatant.”“You don’t have to wait all day. Count to 300; if I haven’t found him by then, you can declare the match. The people deserve that much.”“Very well, I’ll give him a chance.”

Her heartbeat raced wildly, and her breathing came hard through her nose as she sat there in silence with her lips wrapped around her father’s dick waiting for his orgasm to end. The cum had pooled at the bottom of her mouth, like a lake of magma that jiggled with each ragged breath. She dropped her tongue into it and lifted, letting it drip off the sides of her tongue. Finally, her father began to soften in her mouth, and she felt safe pulling away. She squeezed the head with her lips, making sure not to let a drop escape and with a final jerk his semi-flaccid penis slipped out, bouncing off her chin and back onto his thigh.

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.