CHAPTER 59: INTERACTIONS WITH THE NIGHT PART 18

’Fuck... I’ll admit it, she’s really good. Her pussy is making me melt’

He never seen anyone so vocal in every sensation, riding each new inch like a wave of first-times.

She was leaking more love juice, his thighs and hers streaked with a mix of her wetness and a bright, metallic stripe of blood. He wiped it away with a thumb.

’I want to cum inside her!’

She was tighter than he dreamed possible, and every time he drew back, her muscles gripped him like they never wanted to let go.

Kana arched up, hair sticking to her cheeks, mouth open and wet. "Fuck me harder!"

Each slam coaxed a new sound from her, rising in pitch, until the rhythm built to something like a panic and then—suddenly—a crest.

"Yes, oh God, yes, "She came with a sound that punched the air out of her lungs, legs locking around his waist, trembling as if she’d been tased instead of fucked.

For a few seconds, her body tensed up, really squirting and shaking.

"Fuck, you’re so tight!" Luck pressed his face into her neck, breathing in her sweat.

His release followed fast, pouring into her, deep and full. He didn’t care if it was a safe day or not. All he wanted was to mark her.

When it was over, neither of them moved.

Kana lay on her stomach, eyes shut, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Not just from the pleasure—but from thinking she made him fall for her. At least, that’s what she believed.

She gave up her virginity. But it didn’t bother her.

Meanwhile, Luck was grinning like he just won the lottery. He took her virginity and earned a golden box as a reward.

As for feelings—he had to admit he loved fucking her. But that was all. His heart still belonged to Neve.

However, he wanted to enjoy this feeling while it lasted. He leaned in and kissed her again, ready for round two.

There were many ways to earn loyalty. With Kana, he planned to make sure she couldn’t live without his manhood.

"Already...? You’re too horny"

Kana’s words carried no protest. She wrapped her legs around him again, welcoming him back without hesitation.

In that moment, she didn’t care about pain, reward, or consequences. All she wanted was to feel good.

.

.

.

.

.

It was already noon when Luck stepped out of the room. He left Kana still asleep and made his way to his office to open the golden box.

What he found inside was a full set of training weights—two black bracers, matching ankle straps, and a belt for the abdomen.

The moment he touched them, a small information window appeared in front of his eyes:

[Titan Training Set: This gear allows you to adjust the weight (in kg) for each piece. While worn, the physical effects will be five times greater than the selected weight. All negative side effects from training will be nullified.]

"Wow," he breathed, the word barely escaping his lips in awe.

The training gear’s function was straightforward—mere weight control—but the fivefold impact was nothing short of revolutionary. This was a game-changer.

Set the total to 20 kg, and his body would adapt as though it bore the burden of 100 kg.

Mastering this would mean doubling his speed, leaping to new heights, and amplifying his strength, all by simply donning this gear daily.

Considering this, he quickly got to work. He removed his clothes and put on the entire outfit.

The pieces were not cumbersome, which was beneficial, and each one featured straightforward buttons to modify the weight.

For now, he set 2.5kg on each wrist, 2.5kg on each ankle, and 5kg on his midsection. He couldn’t risk starting with too much load.

They didn’t feel uncomfortable on his body, and the burden matched exactly what he set.

’Not enough,’

Real data was needed. So he went outside.

The sky was a matte blue, the sun already high and cruel. He stepped past the thin shadow of the motel roof, letting the warmth soak into his skin.

Out in the courtyard, the makeshift survivor camp looked as it always did: silent, disorderly, and faintly desperate.

They all took an afternoon nap after spending hours training.

Nobody noticed him. He cut around the back of the building .The place was empty except for a few wind-blown leaves.

First, he threw a jab—testing his usual range.

Resistance dragged, but not in the way he expected.

Instead of slowing his punch, the bracer made his arm snap forward faster. But it threw off his aim—his fist tilted down from the added weight, lowering his accuracy.

Next, he tried a kick, a basic front snap, and nearly lost his balance on the follow-through. The ankle weights carved an arc through the air so dramatic it felt as if he would break his knee backward if he wasn’t careful.

Curious, he bent his knees for a vertical leap. On the upstroke, the belt’s tension hit him, the pressure clenching his core .

But the result was worth it: his feet left the pavement by a half meter, and the landing shook dust loose from the brick wall.

’Good. Now all that’s left is for my body to get used to the added weight.’

Luck cycled through a few minutes of basic shadowboxing, then amped to three-quarters speed, then maximal.

His fists became something else—as if the weight had tuned him into a machine that ignored inertia.

The first few combos he threw felt cartoonish, almost embarrassing, but by the third sequence, his body recalibrated.

When he realized the weight was still too light, he increased it to 5kg each for his wrists and ankles, and set the abdomen strap to 10kg—bringing the total to 30kg.

’Yeah, this is good,’ he nodded, satisfied.

While the added weight cut his speed by around 50%, he figured he could lower it anytime during a real fight.

What mattered now was building up his body as quickly as possible.

So he began doing push-ups, sit-ups, and other core exercises.

Time passed quickly. By around 5:00 PM, everyone started getting ready. Each watchtower now had at least three people assigned to it.

Luck was stationed with Kana and Fernando at the watchtower to the left of the gate.

By nightfall, the city felt less like a ruined metropolis and more like a shallow grave with skyscraper headstones.

The temperature didn’t drop, but the air got heavier—Luck noticed the way it turned sticky and thin, as if oxygen itself had been sucked out by the dead below.

At first it was just a handful of gray figures drifting aimless along the curb, but by the time the sun had fully bled from the horizon, the street was alive with dozens, maybe a hundred, of the shambling things.

They watched as the first ones reached the scarred asphalt outside the walls.

None of the survivors raised their bows. Orders were clear—no one would shoot unless the dead broke through the barbed wire first.

Lying flat, Luck raised his binoculars to scan the area.

He stopped when a strange figure appeared in the distance.

"What the hell is that thing?"