Circe watched, jaw agape, as Penelope and Tempest fawned over Kiba's cock with a mixture of fascination and something akin to reverence. These were two of the strongest women Circe knew – Penelope, the tribe leader whose muscles strained against her simple dress, and Tempest, the border force's unmatched phantom in terms of agility and speed.
Yet, here they were, reduced to giggling fools by a man's… well, a nether region! If they weren't such formidable warriors, Circe might have considered a good, old-fashioned concussion cure. Forget their ignorance about male anatomy – Eden's isolation explained that. But to blindly trust a prophecy, especially one as ludicrous as this "Feminist" savior business?
Especially when his "proof" of prophesied status came in the form of a… well, a package! Circe snorted. The very idea of a man being their savior, a source of mystical bliss, was laughable. The women of Eden were self-sufficient and independent by their very nature! A thought flickered – the Naiad tribe, known for their beauty and connection to water.
While not warriors, they'd developed their own methods to replicate… well, certain pleasures typically associated with men. Circe, a firm believer in science and logic, scoffed at the very notion of prophecy, even if it didn't involve men. Prophecies implied a predetermined future, a concept antithetical to Eden's very foundation. After all, hadn't the old world dictated male dominance!?
The Queen had shattered that belief, creating Eden and wielding such power that no man dared eye the island. Just as Penelope and Tempest cast another longing glance at Kiba's currently-dormant weapon, Circe slammed them both on the back. "Snap out of it! Remember who you are!
Women of Eden!" The two warriors straightened, though their eyes still flickered towards Kiba's crotch with a hint of lingering curiosity. Circe wanted to bury her face in her hands. These stupid bitches!
"If you keep draining the nectar… I mean, power from that… instrument," she stammered, unable to bring herself to explain male anatomy, "he'll never recover!" Her words hit them like a bolt of lightning. Penelope and Tempest's eyes widened in horror. "Never recover?!" they gasped in unison. Circe cringed. Explaining male anatomy was not something she'd signed up for.
"Think of it this way," she stammered again. "His strength comes from his body, and right now, he's heavily injured and is in a rather… depleted state. Keep draining him, and he'll never wake up!" Tempest and Penelope exchanged a horrified glance. The last thing they wanted was to harm him! Meanwhile, miles away, Martha propelled herself out of the Ice Palace.
The frigid air whipped around her as she sped across the frozen landscape, her body encased in a crimson aura emanating from the Realm Treasure embedded in her chest. The armor transformed into a formidable crimson-ice exoskeleton, its backplate reinforced as if made of dark, enchanted steel. Now she was prepared for the Ass Breaker!
A crimson aura enveloped her as she shot skyward, crossing two islands in mere seconds before landing with a thunderous crash on the vibrant green home of the Dyrad tribe. Her arrival was a meteorite-like crash, sending a shockwave through the peaceful community.
The Dyrad women, clad in light clothing that revealed their toned bodies, continued their daily routines, seemingly oblivious to the commotion. Confused, Martha activated a power that allowed her to see through illusions. She blinked, convinced she was hallucinating. The scene before her remained unchanged.
"What the…" She muttered, expecting to see the women weak and trembling, just like the ones she'd seen in those forbidden videos – Kiba using the Ass Breaker on women in the cities. Those poor women couldn't walk straight for days! Their bodies had convulsed uncontrollably as the Ass Breaker impaled them… well, broke them!
Sure, Martha had faith in the strength of the Eden women, but they were still physically outmatched by Kiba. After all, he was powerful enough to fight the Ice Queen and survive! Yet, the sight before her defied logic. A few Dyrad women noticed Martha's dramatic entrance. They bowed respectfully, assuming she was there on some official business from the Ice Queen.
Martha remained silent, caught in a whirlwind of disbelief. Finally, she stammered, "I… I was just checking in. Not an official visit, nothing serious." The women exchanged glances, their eyes flickering towards her glowing sword and the energy coursing through her armor.
"........" "Anyway," Martha mumbled, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control, "where's the… Ass Breaker?" The Dyrad women, still bewildered by her arrival, exchanged confused looks. Martha, realizing the moniker wouldn't translate, sighed and rephrased. "The man! I can sense traces of his aura here!" "Ah!" A lightbulb flickered on over one woman's head.
"He's inside," she pointed towards a hidden chamber nestled within a nearby plateau. "Been there for about an hour." "What?!" Martha shrieked. "And you just… let him be?!" Anger flared in her chest, but then a pang of doubt washed over her. After all, this was a man who had almost killed her! So even the formidable Dyrad warriors were powerless to stop him.
"Penelope decided it was best," the woman explained quickly. Though autonomous, the Dyrad tribe, like all others, respected the Ice Queen's authority, and Martha often acted as her representative. "Penelope decided?" Martha narrowed her eyes, suspicion replacing her initial anger. "Yes, she and Tempest brought him here," the woman replied.
"They've been there for an hour or so." "An hour or so?!" Martha felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her as the time frame hammered into her ears. 'Oh no!' she shrieked internally, launching herself towards the hidden chamber like a human missile. The door exploded inwards in a shower of splinters as Martha materialized inside.
Her mighty sword, crackling with crimson energy, was ready to strike down. But as the splinters of the door settled, a scene unfolded before her that caused her jaw to achieve an entirely new level of slackness. On a plush bed, swathed in bandages from head to toe, lay a figure.
Penelope and Tempest, their expressions a mix of concern and determination, held the figure's mouth open while Circe, her face grim, poured a steaming concoction down its throat. "This... what in the name of the Creator...?!" Martha muttered, slapping herself loudly as if to confirm she wasn't hallucinating. The scene remained stubbornly unchanged.
The figure, unconscious and golden-haired despite the bandages, was undeniably the Ass Breaker! Penelope, Tempest, and Circe all swivelled towards her at the sound of her entry. They took in the sight of Martha frozen in her mid-air lunge, resembling a statue carved from crimson ice. The three women exchanged confused looks. Why was the fierce defender of Eden standing there petrified?!