Jax was back in his palace. The world was shocked by the news that the caravan had been blessed. The God of Dreams had appeared before them and blessed them. Every woman in the caravan, after the 1,000 chosen ones, had been satisfied in every aspect, experiencing orgasms and pleasure so divine that the memory alone shattered their previous understanding of intimacy. That day, the caravan dissolved, and a rumor began to spread in every corner of the continent.

If you had enough faith, if you prayed with faith, if you did everything commanded by the priestesses of the God of Dreams, he could appear before you and grant you whatever you desired, without exception. The whisper carried a specific, tantalizing promise: "Ask not just for wealth, but for the pleasure you have only dreamed of."

From that day on, the continent was ruled with an iron fist. There was not a single robbery, not a single murder; no one offended another person. Everyone was kind and respectful. An old woman walking down the street could not advance more than one block without more than 10 men approaching to try to help her carry her things, take her home, or invite her to something. This sudden virtue was fueled by desperate, primal desire. The world became anxious to help as a tattoo appeared on people's wrists. The tattoo had a number. Every correct action, every help, every thing done according to the doctrine of the God of Dreams earned you a point, and when the points reached 100, you could ask for anything.

The most shocking requests were the ones related to carnal pleasure. People who had never received the blessing had witnessed its results. Men who requested dicks of superhuman length and girth, gaining the ability to fuck for hours without cumming. Women who asked for their bodies to be perfected—firmer breasts, pussies that tightened with a singular intensity, and clitorises so sensitive they could reach orgasm simply by sitting down. People requested the resurrection of lost lovers, not for sentimental comfort, but to have their pussies or cocks one more time, blessed by the divine touch.

People who asked for health suddenly transformed, not just becoming 20-year-olds in the prime of their lives, but their bodies became optimized engines for pure sexual gratification: flawless skin, stamina that defied logic, and the ability to turn any encounter into a transcendental experience. The diversity of gifts had no end, ranging from eternal youth to the perfect, uninhibited submissive partner, causing everyone in the world to go crazy trying to get the blessing of the God of Dreams, driven not just by greed, but by the hunger for limitless, divine sex.

There were also people who asked for more mundane things and not so much in pleasure

People who asked for mansions, and suddenly mansions appeared on their empty lots. People who asked for health, and overnight they had gone from being 90-year-old elders to 20-year-olds in the prime of their lives.

People who had lost everything had recovered it. The diversity of gifts had no end, causing everyone in the world to go crazy trying to get the blessing of the God of Dreams.

Jax was on the throne, his figure casting a divine shadow over the marble floor. In front of him, the Council of the 120 Virgins knelt. Their leader, a young woman with black hair named Lyra, looked up with a mix of supplication and determination.

"My Lord Jax," Lyra began, her voice echoing in the hall. "Faith is a flame burning across the continent. There is no doubt of your power. But we are only 120 souls to guide millions. The continent is a colossal beast."

Another of the virgins, Kael, spoke, with passion in her words: "We have sent out missionaries, my Lord. We have walked for weeks. But there are villages that have not heard the whisper of the blessing, places where men still steal, and where women live without knowing the truth of your infinite pleasure. The seed of your doctrine is being lost in the immensity!"

"We humbly request," continued Lyra, clasping her hands, "that the number of the Council of the 120 Virgins be increased to 120,000. We have already selected the purest, those who long to serve you with devotion and intact bodies. Only with that number can we ensure that your divine dick is known in every corner, that your law is imposed without exception."

Jax listened in silence, his golden eyes fixed on them. Finally, his deep, resonant voice filled the room.

"The number 120 is not a whim," Jax declared. "It is a sacred number, and its purpose is immutable. The Council of the 120 Virgins is the head, the heart, and the supreme authority of my faith, and that number will not change."

Lyra and the others lowered their gaze, a pang of disappointment and fear visible in their shoulders.

Jax smiled slightly, sensing the tremor in their bodies. "However," he continued, and they all raised their heads expectantly. "I will grant you the authority for expansion. The Council of the 120 Virgins will be supreme. And to each of you," his eyes settled on Lyra, "I give the power to choose 120 female disciples. They shall be called the Council of the Flowers, and they will be your hands, your voices, and your bodies to carry my gospel where you cannot reach."

A wave of relief and joy swept through the hall. Jax's wisdom was undeniable. The 120 Virgins would maintain their sacred and unequaled status, and still gain the manpower they needed. Lyra and the 120 knelt again, this time with fervent devotion.

"Thank you for your infinite wisdom, my Lord Jax!" they exclaimed in unison. "Your will shall be our law, and the entire world shall know the ecstasy of your blessing."

Jax looked at them while thinking about devouring all the women he had yet to meet... His dominance would reach every race and every form as he licked his lips.