"Don’t stop," Aika gasped, her voice desperate, raw. "Don’t stop—please—"
He fucked her harder, deeper, his hips snapping into her with wet, obscene sounds that filled the chamber.
Her moans were ragged, high-pitched, desperate, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending release.
Aika was shaking fully now, every nerve alight with fire.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her face a mask of bliss, her stoic facade shattered.
The altar rocked beneath them, its glyphs pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat.
"Kota—please—I can’t—" Her voice broke, her desperation palpable.
"You can," he growled, his voice fierce yet grounding. "You’re right there. Let it fucking break."
She clawed at his back, her mouth dropping open in a raw cry.
Her hips bucked wildly, her cunt squeezing him with pulsing, rhythmic force, wet and gushing as her climax built.
"Let go," he urged, his voice a command and a plea.
Her scream tore through the air, her body arching violently as her orgasm crashed over her, a flood of wet heat spilling between them.
Her walls clenched around him, relentless, pulling him deeper as she shuddered through the waves.
Kota cursed, slamming into her one final time, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he spilled inside her, hot and thick, pushing her over the edge again.
Her name left his lips as a groan, their bodies locked together in the throes of release.
The altar dimmed, its glow shifting to a soft pink, the runes fading into silence.
The bindings dissolved, the trial complete.
Kota collapsed onto Aika, his cock still buried inside her, her slick heat enveloping him.
She clutched him tightly, her arms trembling, her breath hitching as laughter broke through her tears, then dissolved into quiet sobs.
Stillness settled over them—just skin, sweat, and silence, their hearts pounding in sync, the chamber holding its breath around their shared intimacy.
The chamber’s afterglow was fleeting, the heat of Aika and Kota’s shared release still lingering—bodies slick, trembling, warm—when the altar convulsed beneath them like a living beast.
The light snapped out, plunging the room into a momentary void.
Then—CRACK—a surge of molten crimson detonated across the walls, violent arcs of red searing the air, the heat and power throbbing with a suffocating intensity.
The magic writhed, angry, impatient, laced with lust and danger, coiling around them like a predator.
Reina staggered back, her violet eyes wide, her long black hair clinging to her flushed face as she shielded herself with one arm.
"No. Not again. Not already—" Her voice trembled, her thigh-high socks shifting as her legs shook, her D-cup breasts heaving with panic.
Aika, still flushed and glistening from her trial, her bare skin exposed, staggered upright, her chest heaving, her glasses fogged.
Her long brown hair clung to her sweat-dampened shoulders, her sheer black pantyhose discarded, her pencil skirt bunched at her waist.
"It’s not waiting," she said hoarsely, her voice raw with exhaustion and resolve. "It wants blood. Or something worse."
Miki’s voice was barely audible, a fragile whisper lost in the pulsing air.
Her sun-tanned skin paled, her orange ponytail swaying as her hands trembled at her sides, her gym bloomers clinging to her thighs, damp with the remnants of her own trial.
Kota stood, his legs shaky, his cock still slick with Aika’s release, but his dark eyes burned with unbroken determination.
The heat of the chamber, the raw energy of lust and danger, stirred his body, his erection hardening again as the trial’s intensity coiled around him like smoke.
He didn’t hesitate, stepping forward, naked and vulnerable, his presence a pillar of resolve.
From the altar’s core, a jagged shard split open the stone, rising like a blade.
A card—black as void, trimmed in shimmering gold—hovered above the breach, spinning with a high-pitched hum that sliced the air, its violent motion a threat and a promise.
Kota reached out, his hands steady despite the card’s furious spin.
He caught it, slamming it flat between his palms with a force that echoed in the chamber.
The glyphs branded themselves into the air with a searing hiss, gold and red, glowing with cruel intent:
Target: All Remaining Hosts
Oral Stimulation Required – Simultaneous Climax
Failure to Sync: 1 Will Be Claimed
The silence hit like a physical blow. Reina made a soft sound, a gasp tangled with a sob, her hands clutching her skirt.
Miki’s knees knocked together, her trembling fingers twisting in her bloomers, her instinct to flee warring with the knowledge that there was no escape.
Aika’s sharp gaze scanned the room, her jaw tight, her voice cutting through the tension. "Three."
All eyes followed her pointing finger.
Three platforms rose from the chamber floor, each a decadent throne of smooth, dark stone, warm to the touch and angled for performance, not comfort.
Footrests and gripping points gleamed with purpose, their designs obscene yet deliberate, built for exposure and surrender.
Each bore a glowing sigil: Aika. Reina. Miki.
The trial had chosen them all.
Reina backed away, her shoulder hitting the wall, her voice shaking with disbelief.
"All of us? At once? That’s the trial? That’s fucking impossible—" Her violet eyes glistened, her submissive nature crumbling under the weight of the demand.
"Not if he paces us," Aika said, her voice cold fire, her eyes locking onto Kota’s.
"Not if he reads us, controls it. Holds us right at the edge until we all fall together."
Naked still, her body glistening with sweat, she stood resolute, her breasts rising with each breath, her forced obedience tempered by fierce determination.
She turned to Kota, his cock stiffening under the chamber’s pulsing energy, his body tense with purpose.
"But you’ll have to be perfect," she said, her voice hard but not unkind.
"No flinching. No faltering. You fuck up the timing—one of us dies."
His eyes burned with focus, his jaw set, his body responding to the trial’s primal call.
One chance to synchronize their pleasure or face the dungeon’s wrath.
The floor thudded, a deep, final pulse reverberating through the stone. A massive glowing clock flared on the far wall.
The countdown began, its relentless tick a heartbeat of doom.
The trial demanded worship—tongues, screams, and perfect unity.
It would get them, or it would claim one of their lives in blood.