phantom troupe number 8

Staring at her right in the face. The feeling of it against her lips. The deep intoxicating smell, like the scent of his arms turned up to 100. That brief feeling of it touching the tip of her tongue when she gasped in pleasure.Of course, she felt guilty. But she was turned on like nothing had made her feel before.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mom,” I laughed. “Don't worry! It's just his knot stuck inside me, is all. You'd think, with how long I've been letting him do this, that he'd have figured out by now he can't pull out right away! But you can't fight instincts, I guess. Now I just have to wait until he shrinks down enough to get it out again. It shouldn't take too long.”

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.