CHAPTER 117: MAN, WHAT’S UP WITH THE POWER SCALING?!

Rae gritted his teeth. Slapped two tentacles together like he was cracking his knuckles.

His monster twitched, but this time it twitched with purpose.

Alright. If this was the endgame, he wasn’t going out like some amateur side character. No, sir.

’You want to play this game’

’You want to ride the lightning’

’Then let’s finish this’

"Alright, you sexy fucking monster. You want to play this game? Let’s finish it."

He dove back in. Not for fun. Not for pleasure.

But to outfuck the succubus herself and send her crashing headfirst into holy, post-nut clarity.

Rae’s tentacles whipped out with urgency, twitching and throbbing, each one pulsing with heat as they lunged toward her from all angles.

He wasn’t playing anymore.

"I will have you now!"

They aimed for her ass, spreading slightly, trying to wedge themselves between her soft, round cheeks and claim what they were craving.

The air itself felt sticky with arousal.

But Lyra reacted instantly.

Her body spun midair, hips twisting in a tight, fluid motion that let her evade him like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Her thighs clenched, skin gleaming, every muscle responding like a trained dancer slipping out of a lover’s grip. She wasn’t going to make it easy.

"What the fuck! Where the fuck is this ridiculous energy is coming from?!!"

"What the fuck is your level right now?"

60’s? 70’s? 100?

He doesn’t know honestly.

Rae took a deep breath.

Then snarled, breath short, eyes wide as she twisted out of reach.

His tentacles brushed her skin, just barely, but they didn’t catch.

Her smooth back slid past his suckers like wet silk, leaving him with nothing but the ghost of her warmth on his nerves.

Then her hand moved. Quick. Too quick.

Just a small graze, fingers feathering along the underside of one of his sensitive tentacles.

It wasn’t even an attack. It was an accident. But it didn’t matter.

His entire body convulsed.

It hit him like a lightning bolt to the gut. His cock jumped. His balls tightened.

Then the tip pulsed—and spilled. Hot, thick fluid shot out in short bursts, dripping onto the ground without warning, without permission, leaking from him like his body had betrayed itself.

"..."

[...]

He didn’t even get a second to think.

Everything clenched. His back bent sharply, nerves locking up.

His mouth opened and a broken, high-pitched scream burst out, ripped straight from his lungs like he’d been electrocuted from the inside.

His hips jerked, toes curled, his tentacles flailing as if they’d been shocked by raw pleasure.

Just one touch. Just one little swipe. And he had come, hard and helpless, without a single stroke to his shaft.

He gasped, chest heaving, cock still twitching, still drooling onto the floor.

The shame didn’t come yet. Only the pleasure.

Blinding, brain-numbing, gut-twisting pleasure that refused to stop.

Before he could even breathe, before the tremors in his legs stopped, she touched him again—this time lower.

The base.

Right at the thickest root of his monstrous cock, where every nerve was raw and twitching from the last explosion.

POP.

His hips jerked forward as another orgasm tore out of him.

Another spill. Hot. Messy. Violent. His shaft convulsed and drooled like it was trying to empty everything he had left.

Too much. Way too much.

Too fucking much.

"What the fuck is this shit!!!!!"

His scream cracked through the tent, high-pitched and wrecked, as he stumbled back, body twitching like he’d been thrown into a live socket.

’What is happening!! I just came from a simple touch!’

Every joint locked, every muscle clenched. He couldn’t even beg her to stop. His tongue wouldn’t listen. His knees barely held.

Like everything, too much of something was harmful to the body.

And right now, his poor monster, had already spilled too much milk than it can produce.

Lyra’s eyes were burning now. Not glowing. Not just shining. Burning.

That pink in her pupils had widened, eclipsing everything until her stare looked radioactive. Twin neon sex-lasers, zeroed in on his weak spots.

Her aura shimmered—no, sizzled.

Cracks of heat spilled from her skin like steam off molten stone, as if her body couldn’t contain the lust running wild through her veins.

She looked ready to explode. Not in anger. In hunger.

Rae staggered back, gasping for air, sweat pouring off him like he’d just sprinted naked through a sauna full of succubi.

’Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

’This is my third life and I am still going to die here?!’

His cock was still twitching. Still leaking. The air clung to his skin, thick with sex and heat and panic.

’No! I refuse that future! I can’t die here!’

He had to act. Now.

One more touch. Just one more—

His heart skipped.

If she touched him again, if those fingers brushed his shaft, his thigh, even grazed a tentacle, he knew it.

He wouldn’t survive.

His soul would blast out of his body like a ghost shot from a cannon, and this time, not even the Grim Reaper would bother catching him on the way out.

He needed to end it. Drown the lust. Flip the flow.

Before she drowned him first.

...

Then she lunged.

No hesitation. No words. Just pure, feral hunger in motion.

Like a heat-seeking missile fired straight from the crotch of desire, Lyra dashed at him, hair whipping around her face, eyes blazing, tongue already sliding out with that look—the one that said she wasn’t going to stop until he was sucked dry and twitching.

Rae panicked.

He didn’t even need to bait her. She was locked in. Too locked in.

He threw up an arm, the other instinctively diving down to shield his poor, abused cock—now red, swollen, and leaking like a broken tap.

It was twitching violently, still sensitive, still raw, pulsing like it had its own heartbeat. It needed a break.

A vacation. Maybe a therapist.

But fate didn’t give a damn.

She slipped.

One moment, she was a sex-fueled predator mid-pounce, and the next—splat.

Her foot caught the edge of a glossy puddle. Not water. Oh no. It was Rae’s divine milk. Still warm. Still sticky. The same sinful release he’d blasted out just moments ago.

Her heel lost grip. Her legs shot out. Arms flailed.

She hit the floor ass-first, hard.

A wet slap cracked through the tent like thunder.

Her round, perfect butt bounced once, maybe twice, jiggling like it had its own applause track.

The sound echoed, loud and obscene, like the gods themselves had clapped in approval.

"Now or never!"

Rae roared like a madman. A war general. A pervert on the edge of divine enlightenment.

With adrenaline and arousal fusing into one explosive surge, he launched himself forward like a greased-up wrestler diving for the gold.

His tentacles snapped out midair, wrapping around her slick, writhing limbs, coiling across her thighs, her waist, her arms.

She squirmed. Twisted. Tried to break free.

But Rae didn’t give her the chance.

He locked her in a tight, full nelson grip.

Her arms were pinned high above her head.

Her legs locked tight, folded up above her shoulders, every muscle stretched, every inch exposed.

Both her holes, wet, twitching, needy, open to him like forbidden fruit ready to be taken.

She snarled. She cursed. She moaned.

It all came out in one ragged, animal sound, her body writhing beneath him like she couldn’t decide whether to fight him or fuck him into the afterlife.

Rae didn’t let go.

"I’ve got you, you horny little devil."

His voice cracked with adrenaline. Or maybe fear.

His grip tightened as her hips bucked wildly beneath his tentacles, heat radiating from her like a furnace.

And then he saw it.

Her pupils weren’t just glowing anymore.

The pink was spreading, fast, bleeding out across her entire eyes like ink dropped into water.

They lit up, pulsing with raw, overwhelming lust. Not just arousal. Power.

She was leveling up.

"Man, what the fuck is this power scaling?!"

He was fucking done with it!

"Are the succubi’s and other bloodlines this much powerful?"

"Are the poor goblins and humans the only ones that are weaker?"

He wasn’t even sure if he contain her anymore if this shit show goes on.

Lyra’s breathing hitched. Her lips parted. Her back arched hard, and her whole body went rigid for a moment—then trembled.

Pleasure, yes. But not only that. It was a power surge.

Her body was drinking in the pleasure like fuel, twisting it, multiplying it, turning it into something far more dangerous.

Her face contorted into a delirious, half-crazed expression. She was glowing now. Shaking. Dripping. Transcending.

"Oh no. No no no. Not again."

Rae’s stomach dropped.

She was leveling up again.

And he could feel every terrifying second of it.

Every grind of her slick hips sent a jolt through his spine.

Every accidental clench of her thighs made his cock jump like it had a mind of its own.

Her skin, flushed and soaked with sweat, seemed hotter by the second.

Her body had turned into a reactor—one fueled by lust, pushing him closer and closer to critical failure.

He was holding her tight.

But it was like hugging a ticking bomb that moaned when touched.

If he didn’t end this now, if he didn’t do something before she broke through, she’d turn the tables, flip him on his back, and ride him into oblivion until he was nothing but a puddle of memory and milk.

He needed to finish this. Now.