CHAPTER 87: MAP 2 LEVEL 1 - 6

The silence after Elira’s dissolution was deafening, the jungle’s humid breath the only sound, curling around their bodies like a mocking caress.

The group stood mid-path, frozen in place, their exposed forms trembling—aroused, terrified, the air thick with the musky scent of their slick wetness and the faint, metallic tang of fear.

Sereya’s voluptuous body was rigid, her gold-wrapped band straining against her heaving breasts, nipples stiff and rubbing the fabric with each shallow breath, sending unwelcome jolts through her core.

Her fists clenched white at her sides, nails drawing blood from her palms, her jaw twitching once before locking shut, rage and grief warring in her amber eyes as wetness trailed down her creamy thighs.

Selene stood two paces behind, her petite body trembling violently, both hands clamped over her mouth, her violet eyes wide with horror and unshed tears.

Her sheer white shift clung to her small breasts, cherry-pink nipples visible and hard, her virgin pussy lips parting slightly with each quake, slick with confused arousal that made her thighs quiver.

"She... came," she whispered behind her fingers, her voice muffled, breaking with a sob, humiliation flooding her as she imagined herself in Elira’s place, her clit throbbing at the thought despite the terror.

"It... made her..."

No one answered, the group frozen in shock—Lyra’s translucent red silk webbing teasing her small breasts, her nipples stiff as she exhaled slowly, her thighs visibly wet, slick running down her legs, glistening in the jungle light, her masochistic desire twisted with bitter regret.

"She didn’t die because she screamed," Lyra muttered, her voice low and bitter, laced with self-loathing arousal.

"She died because she refused to let go." Her pussy throbbed, wetness dripping as she fought the urge to touch herself, shame and excitement coiling in her core.

Veyna said nothing, her mouth unmoving, but her slitted eyes sharpened, no longer wild but filled with a frightened clarity, her freckled body trembling, her rope-bound breasts heaving, nipples hard as tears pricked her eyes, her slick pussy aching with a mix of fear and cursed heat.

Only Kota moved, stepping forward with arms low at his sides, his expression unreadable, his lean body tense.

They all looked at him now—not the jungle, not the path, but him, their gazes heavy with grief, fear, and a desperate need for his strength.

He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t look angry, but his words landed like stone against skin, raw and unyielding.

"Don’t flinch again," he said, his voice low, steady, carrying the weight of their loss. "Or she died for nothing."

His dark eyes burned with quiet determination, his jaw tight, a faint tremor in his hands betraying the emotion he buried deep.

The jungle pulsed once, acknowledging the lesson, its vines twitching faintly, the air growing heavier with humid anticipation.

One by one, the others straightened, still shaking, still soaked—their pussies slick, nipples hard, bodies trembling with a mix of grief and unresolved arousal—but determined.

The jungle’s silence was a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant drip of nectar from blooming flowers and the faint, slick slither of vines in the shadows.

The group stood mid-path, their bodies exposed and trembling, arousal warring with grief, the air thick with the musky scent of their slick wetness and the lingering echo of Elira’s final scream.

They had to resume, one at a time, without reacting, without moaning, without breaking—the vines continuing their relentless teasing, licking, pulsing, sliding under cloth, their slick surfaces glistening with nectar that amplified every sensation, making pussies throb, clits ache, nipples harden with forbidden need.

Kota stood at the end of the path, his lean body unmoving, his dark eyes watching them with calm intensity..

He didn’t speak, but his presence was a silent command—resume, endure, survive.

Sereya went first, her voluptuous form stepping forward with deliberate grace, her gold-wrapped band rubbing her stiff nipples with each motion, sending jolts through her core.

A vine slithered up her thigh, brushing her slick mound, circling her swollen clit with slow, teasing strokes, its nectar soaking her skirt, making her pussy clench with humiliated desire.

Her amber eyes narrowed, rage masking the building heat, but her thighs quivered, wetness dripping down her legs.

Near the midpoint, the vine pressed harder, dipping just inside her folds, curling against her sensitive walls—her moment of near failure, her breath hitching, her full breasts heaving as she fought the moan rising in her throat, her body soaking, trembling, but silent.

She reached the end, collapsing beside Kota, her slick thighs pressing together, her arousal evident but unvoiced.

Selene followed, her petite body trembling as she stepped, her sheer white shift clinging like wet silk, riding up to expose her glistening virgin pussy, her small breasts bouncing, cherry-pink nipples hard against the fabric.

A vine teased her inner thigh, circling her clit with featherlight pressure, its slick tip pressing against her untouched entrance, making her pussy lips part, wetness flooding her thighs.

Her violet eyes widened, tears streaming as humiliation washed over her, her clit throbbing with need, her moment of near failure—a soft whimper stifled behind her hand, her body soaking, quivering, but she held on, reaching the end with a silent sob, her pussy aching for release.

Lyra swayed forward, her hips moving with rhythmic defiance, her translucent red silk webbing teasing her small breasts, nipples stiff as a vine suckled one gently, pulling with rhythmic suction that sent jolts straight to her throbbing pussy.

Another slid between her ass cheeks, teasing her tight hole with cool, pulsing pressure, wetness dripping down her thighs, her masochistic thrill building.

Her smoky eyes half-lidded, she fought the moan, her body trembling, her moment of near failure—a faint gasp swallowed as the vine curled deeper, but she held silent, reaching the end with a wicked smile, her pussy slick and ready.

Veyna stepped next, her freckled body trembling, her rope-bound breasts heaving, nipples hard as a vine licked her slit, circling her swollen clit with teasing strokes, another cupping her breast, squeezing her nipple with soft pressure that ignited her cursed fire.

Her slitted eyes widened, her unstable lust warring with fear, wetness flooding her thighs, her moment of near failure—a low growl stifled as her pussy clenched around nothing, but she muttered silently, holding on, reaching the end with flames flickering at her fingertips.

One step at a time—soaking, trembling, silent—they reached the end, their bodies slick with arousal, pussies throbbing, nipples aching, the jungle’s teasing a cruel torment that left them on the edge of release.

All reached the final circle.

The jungle receded—the vines pulling back into the moss like retreating lovers, the flowers closing with soft sighs, the path glowing complete, its runes fading into the earth.