CHAPTER 39: THE END OF TWO INTENCE WARS

At Fang Claw Mountain, love had returned.

The multitude of dreaded, dying, and helpless werewolves smiled for the first time in months. Even when they finally spoke, it was as if their mouths had been glued shut for ages.

Even the moonlight seemed to shine brighter upon seeing their once more rowdy steps drumming across Fang Claw Mountain.

Smiles crept onto the faces of Allen and his companions as they witnessed even the most cancerous beings expressing gratitude.

"Gather around," Allen ordered, and all the werewolves closed in near the outskirts of the mountain, preparing to dismiss the land of their terror.

"Lord Allen..." Natasha and Elara gasped emotionally, running toward him after guiding the last group of werewolves into the crowd. Amaterasu followed silently behind them.

"Nice job, all of you," Allen smirked, waving his hand with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Lord Allen," they both replied, stopping before him, breathing heavily, their sweat-soaked bodies trembling with exhaustion.

"How are we supposed to take these half-lived werewolves all the way back to the Elf Clan? Even my legs would tremble before we got there," Natasha said, bending forward in weariness.

"I’ll—"

"What’s that?" Tasha rasped, cutting him off. She pointed to a distant sky, where clouds were gathering and radiant flames exploded in the air, silencing Allen mid-sentence.

Allen’s eyes turned toward the direction she pointed, first with caution—then realization dawned.

’Roaring clouds in this heat...!’

"Caelen is in trouble."

Amaterasu turned instantly, more shocked and concerned than anyone. Her eyes widened, and her heart pounded as if it beat with double force. "If Caelen is in trouble, then Garric is too... we can’t afford to lose any more elders."

"Damn it... I can’t even move my legs," Natasha sneered, bitterness clouding her gaze.

"Amaterasu and I will handle it," Allen said, his eyes piercing the rumbling sky.

"Allen..." Amaterasu growled impatiently, stomping the ground. "They don’t have time!"

"One minute, Amaterasu," Allen smirked as he rushed to the front of the werewolf crowd.

"Do you even care about Caelen and Maxen? Of course you wouldn’t. The girls are more important," Amaterasu snarled, pointing angrily at Allen.

"Amaterasu, watch your tongue—you’re talking to Lord Allen."

"Tch!" Amaterasu hissed, shooting them a piercing glare. "Never mind. I’ll do it myself." With no hesitation, raging flames crackled around her as she bolted toward the Goblin Clan, heart heavy with fury.

Allen reached for his head and shook it slowly. ’She’s only going to make things worse.’

He then lifted his hand and, with sheer will, opened a swirling portal back to the Elven Clan.

"You three," Allen called. Natasha, Tasha, and Elara stepped forward in response.

"Take the werewolves back to the Elven Clan. Once Kealion has taken control of them, you can rest."

"But what about you, Lord Allen?" Tasha whispered, gripping his hand.

"I’ll be back. Soon," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then he turned to Elara.

"Can you give me an overview of the Goblin Clan? Any hint where exactly to search for them?"

"Yes, my lord," Elara replied with a small smile. She closed her eyes and held her third eye. Ominisight. Then she saw.

"Caelen and Maxen are being carried by a crowd of goblins, unconscious. The crowd is cheering for a relatively larger goblin."

"Any hint on Amaterasu?"

"Yes, my lord," Elara nodded. "She’s still running through the woods, leaving trails of burning flame behind her."

"Alright, that’s enough. I have to move now."

"Should I follow you, my lord?" Natasha whispered, even as the weight of her legs betrayed her body.

"Go home and rest."

"But what if—" she tried to protest.

"I’ll be fine," Allen smirked, walking past them with purpose in his gaze. He raised his hand, opening another portal—a dark mist swirling in a perfect circle.

Before stepping in, he glanced back at their worried faces. "I’m leaving the werewolves to you. Don’t fail me."

Then he stepped through the portal, leaving them with his will and his faith to carry on.

---

Elsewhere, at the Elven Palace—

Truly, it was hotter than hell.

Not with flames.

With sin.

The table was soaked in three different fluids—sweat, cum, and saliva that curled from the corner of Isabell’s mouth, unable to stay placed as moans spilled endlessly.

Her angelic wings were drenched, stained with what felt like wet, holy sin. Her body twitched with every thrust, and her voice cracked, barely able to release more than breathless squeaks.

Between her legs, Kelion’s hands parted her thighs wider as he dug in—this time harder, faster, expertly.

His seventeen-inch cock was pulled almost entirely out with each stroke and then rammed back in like a blade, sheathing itself deep inside her pussy, now stretched wide enough to take nearly his full length.

"Kyaaah~! Haaaah...!"

"Hnnn... A-Ah! K-Kelion—"

Isabell rasped, breathless—torn between pain and overwhelming pressure.

Then it began.

Skin slapped skin after nearly two days of reshaping what had once been a tight, untouched pussy.

"You made it," Kelion teased with a smirk, never stopping, continuing to pound her—veins bulging along his cock as it pumped thick, yellow cum into her. Each thrust slammed through her pussy, past her cervix, and battered directly into her womb.

"Mmmh~! P-Please... N-No more— Ahnnn~!"

"Just a little more, dear," Kelion murmured darkly. "Craftsmanship must be perfected. You know the saying—what’s worth doing is worth doing well."

Pap! Pap! Pap!

"Haaa—HAAAH—AAAHN!"

The only sounds were skin on skin and Isabell’s overstimulated moans echoing through the room.

Then, finally, Kelion pulled out after countless thrusts.

Isabell’s breath came in ragged gasps, like that of a dying runner. Blood trickled from her self-bitten lips, her chest rising and falling like she was drowning in air. Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as if searching for something—anything—that wasn’t cock.

Kelion held his throbbing length, the tip pressed against her gaping pussy—still held wide open by invisible forces, fluttering with need, pulsing like it breathed on its own.

Then he poured.

Thick, golden cum burst from his tip, flooding her open hole like molten honey streaming into a cave.

His hand worked the base to the tip, urging every last drop of that heated seed to spill into her, filling her womb with a tunnel of sin.

One minute passed. Then two.

He was still pouring.

"Hmm... AHHHN—!"

Isabell screamed again as he plunged back in, this time faster—harder. The table creaked. Her toes curled. The air turned heavy with sex and sweat.

The the door swung open cutting through the moment like a blade.

For kelion it was an interuption but for Isabell a redemption.

It was Natasha. Standing with mouth opened as she studied the fence.

"So you’re finally gotten another elder" she teased from the door.

"Why the instructions, can’t you knock?" Kelion roared in frustration, still needing to perfect his crafting but he withdrew from isabell, yellow cumm gushing you of her like a living tap, her eyes gratefully to Natasha and her lengs shivering as she tried to stand—cum strolling down her thighs.

"Sorry my lord...the werewolves, we’ve brought them"

Kelions face turned serious as realisation dawn on him after almost forgetting him self in Isabell’s pussy.

"I’ll be with you soon," he smarked as he cleaned off the yellow sin from his cock.