Chapter 113: Chills And Spills(1)(R18) - Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord - NovelsTime

Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord

Chapter 113: Chills And Spills(1)(R18)

Author: RuneNest
updatedAt: 2025-07-13

CHAPTER 113: CHILLS AND SPILLS(1)(R18)

With all that being said and done, Steve and Fiona proceeded forward.

Luckily—perhaps too luckily—Fiona possessed superhuman strength. That alone made their journey manageable.

With her aiding the injured Magic Guard, the trio pressed deeper into the forest, following the trail left behind by Maggie. It wasn’t long before their boots found rhythm with the whispers of the woods, each step a silent prayer for answers.

They wandered. Steve, Fiona, and the guard—searching.

And they searched for what felt like forever.

The entire day was consumed by their pursuit, but the trail played games with them, curling back and around like a cruel goose choose.

No matter how far they moved, it always seemed, endless and unnerving.

Still, the signs were clear—whoever Maggie was with had been in a hurry.

Steve furrowed his brows each time he knelt to examine the trail. It made no sense.

’Who is this person who moved with her? Why stick so closely to Maggie?’ Questions buzzed in his mind like angry flies, but the forest offered no answers—only more steps to take.

So they kept moving. Pondering. Pushing deeper into the forest with every hour. Despite the fatigue in their limbs, they continued, driven by desperation and dread.

The sun began its descent eventually. That dusky gold spread across the trees, and a soft crimson hue bled across the sky. They had taken breaks throughout the day, brief pauses to hunt what small game they could find, cooking it fast and eating even faster. The remnants still clung to their fingers, the bitter aftertaste of survival.

As the sun dipped lower, Steve felt a familiar pulse of unease. It was always at this hour. The goblins came when the light died or atleast was dying. He didn’t need to say it. The others felt it too.

The search had yielded nothing but more footsteps—more of the same winding trail—and so, with grim nods exchanged, they gave up the search for the day and started to look for shelter instead.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a cave. It wasn’t much—shallow, cold, barely enough to fit the three of them. But it was something. And that was all they needed.

They didn’t even consider a fire. No matter how cold the night promised to be, no matter how much they might crave a flame’s warmth, they weren’t about to risk goblin attention.

So, without another word, Steve moved to the cave, setting down his gear in silence. The others followed. The moment their bodies hit the stone floor, they barely spoke. It had been a long day. Every inch of their muscles screamed. Their minds were dulled by exhaustion.

Outside, the sun vanished completely, and the moon rose—thin, crescent, pale. Its light sifted through the treetops, casting silver shadows over the forest. Crickets began to chirp. A haunting melody to accompany the weariness.

They were all tired. Of course they were.

The entire day had been a slog through twisted paths and trees, a silent war of patience and effort. All for Maggie.

Dinner was what little was left of their earlier hunt. Cold. Dry. But enough. They chewed in silence, swallowed without taste, and soon began drifting off one by one.

Still, only Steve stayed awake.

He sat by the mouth of the cave, two sheathed daggers close to hand, eyes sweeping left and right, scanning for any sign of danger. The forest remained eerie.

Always too quiet in the wrong ways, always too loud where it shouldn’t be.

He tried to stay alert. He told himself he could last a few hours before waking Fiona for the next shift.

But sleep clawed at him. Harder than before.

He hadn’t rested properly in days. His mana reserves hadn’t fully recovered, and he felt that drained absence like a hollow pit in his chest.

Even as he sat upright, trying to keep his spine straight, his vision blurred in and out. He blinked it away. Again. And again.

But it was no use.

Eventually, time crept along, and his eyes began to close in longer intervals.

It was time.

With effort, he pushed himself up, crossed the cave quietly, and gently shook Fiona awake.

"Your shift." he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

Fiona stirred, nodding without protest, and slowly moved to take his place.

Steve returned to the back of the cave, letting his body finally relax. As he lay down on the hard ground, he welcomed the discomfort. He was already getting used to it by now.

His thoughts barely had time to drift before sleep took him.

And then, in due time, the night passed.

***

Light began to spill softly across the forest, threading golden beams through the canopy. The air was still. The forest, for now, was quiet.

Steve stirred in his sleep, his body shifting against the stone floor, mumbling incomprehensibly as his legs twitched.

Then, with a faint exhale, his lips parted.

"...ac...activate..."

[Ding!]

A system notification rang sharply through the silence.

[Skill Activated: Skill CharmMaster]

The message hovered before him in pale-blue glow, but Steve remained mostly asleep—still hovering in that hazy, drowsy place between waking and dreaming.

Fiona, meanwhile, was outside.

She sat perched on a stone at the mouth of the cave, her long legs folded, her eyes half-lidded and flickering over the dark forest. Her watch had passed without incident. And now, morning had returned.

She should’ve felt relief. But something else lingered instead.

A thought.

Her eyes flicked backward, almost involuntarily—toward the cave’s interior, where Steve lay. She hesitated. Then turned fully, peeking into the shadows.

Her mind drifted.

’I didn’t expect that yesterday.’ she thought, her brow furrowing, lips twitching into something between amusement and confusion.

Then she frowned, resting a hand on her temple.

’I was unreasonable.’ she admitted.

’That’s interesting. I was actually unreasonable...’

The admission annoyed her. Not because it wasn’t true—but because it was.

Her hand dropped, brushing her hair back from her cheek. She exhaled sharply through her nose, hissing under her breath.

"Why now?" she muttered.

Her gaze slid down. And there he was.

Steve, lying on the stone floor. His body tense even in sleep, the faint lines of muscle visible beneath the dim light. His brow twitched in dream, his lips still parted slightly from whatever he had murmured earlier.

But that wasn’t what drew her attention.

No, it was the very obvious outline of his morning wood pressing against the fabric of his trousers. Thick. Long. Imposing.

A sharp ache shot through her gut.

Her breath caught in her throat.

’Why am I feeling this way...?’ she thought, her thighs unconsciously squeezing together as her eyes lingered.

’Why am I craving him right now of all times...’

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