The addition of a new character brought a completely fresh experience to Al.
Especially since her attributes didn't overlap with anyone in his existing harem.
Al felt that his tastes were truly broad; he could appreciate almost any archetype. Under the black-clad woman's cold banner and her authoritative "Big Sister" exterior lay an incredibly passionate personality.
Overall, it was a state of harmony—a "one within the other" kind of bliss.
The black-clad woman, despite her cold appearance, was actually more proactive in bed than the widow.
When the boy pounded, she raised her legs; when the boy slapped her ass, she shifted her position.
During transitions between partners or positions, she would proactively press close to assist, give him a little bite, and help tidy up the battlefield.
She played the game well.
Al ejaculated deep inside the black-clad madam several times in a row, until her stamina was on the verge of collapsing. Her beautiful face was flushed a blood-red, looking exceptionally bewitching.
What Al loved most was spreading her legs wide or hoisting them over his shoulders and pressing down. During the "Dragon Strikes" and the rhythms of war, her cheeks would be crimson, her teeth gritted against her lip, yet her gaze maintained a trace of seductive clarity. She watched the boy, so much "smaller" than her, as he fought and lunged with all his might inside her body.
Al felt an intense thrill.
At this moment, it didn't feel like Al was simply creampie-ing and rutting into this plump woman in black. Instead, it felt like a charming, mysterious, cold yet enchanting noblewoman—like a black rose—was enjoying the diligent service of her beloved little boy-toy lover.
Al: "I'm so excited!"
Then, he increased the intensity.
The black-clad woman's stamina was better than the widow's had been at the start. Back then, Al had treated the widow with gentle pity, not demanding too much. He had quickly delivered a single load to fill her womb and mark her as his, declaring ownership over her beautiful flesh before letting up.
It was only through continuous development and enhancement that the widow's combat power gradually grew to the point where she could withstand a true battle with him and satisfy his basic needs.
But today, Al was delighted to find that this black-clad woman—who had volunteered herself into the "Beast's Den" to join his Crystal Palace—possessed far more stamina than the widow had initially.
Perhaps it was her personality, or a fundamental difference in physical strength.
Regardless, the pounding felt amazing. Two consecutive internal explosions. If he had relied on his goat maids for this level of release, all eight would have had to take two rounds each to achieve it.
Their combat power was simply too weak, even after all of Al's training and development.
Here, a mention of his adoptive mother, the centaur girl, is necessary. A centaur's stamina is the type that starts weak in the first few rounds—easily overwhelmed, where a little movement from the boy makes her lose control from pleasure. Al usually racks up points on her very quickly.
However, she possessed a trait where she grew stronger the longer the battle lasted. Though Al could still reduce her to a mess whenever he wished, she was the quintessential late-game bloomer.
Her stamina was gradually flagging, yet she still propped up her body, cooperating and even partially leading the boy's movements. The area where their bodies joined was already flooded in a complete mess. After what was, for a first time, a rather prolonged session, the black-clad woman barely had the strength to bite her lip, yet she stubbornly maintained her mysterious, cold poise.
Yes, poise.
Al truly enjoyed the pleasure this sensation brought him.
The woman would still let out breathy moans and whimpers, but they were almost always controlled at a precise level—never so undignified as to seem completely lost, nor so perfunctory or disgusted as to displease the boy.
Discovering this, Al marveled inwardly even more.
"This woman is no ordinary person," he thought.
His member was swelling; there was a fire of fury that needed to be vented.
Al accelerated his movements inside her. She timely mobilized her remaining strength to match the boy's pace, preparing to receive his third essence.
The Reveler Mom—one of the four Mother Goddesses whose connection had weakened due to the "signal jamming" of the mortal war—suddenly came back online.
The boy's Mother of Ecstasy.
The Chaos Goddess seemed to have loosened the connection with her first mortal apostle, her Chosen, due to Al's intense pleasure. Her voice reached Al in broken fragments.
[Fuck her! Fuck her hard! I want to see her weeping and making an ahegao—]
Al promptly ignored her.
The Everchosen completely disregarded the degenerate suggestion proposed by his Mother Goddess. He certainly wouldn't be so crude—as he had been with Claudia and the swordswoman Ann—toward a member of his harem who had come to him voluntarily.
He even proactively used his own power to replenish the woman's stamina.
The boy clamped his hands around the woman's thighs while slowly leaning down to kiss her breasts. He kept his head up, his gaze fixed on her face, making zero effort to hide the desire and affection he felt for this body and this soul.
The woman's red eyes blinked, her long lashes trembling.
She did not speak.
Al's movements grew faster and faster, his invasion of her body becoming more ferocious. Yet the woman merely endured it silently, her eyes locked onto Al's without blinking.
The effort to restrain her desires made her originally pale skin—now coated in a sheen of sweat and fluids—turn an even deeper shade of red. Her internal sensations became even more sensitive. Still, she bit her lip, refusing to release the pressure through moaning, insisting on maintaining eye contact with the boy.
Both sides were silent, but the movements of the boy's body never ceased, growing increasingly violent. The woman, whose doors had been completely opened by Al, worked hard with her body—a place waiting only for him to explore, develop, and occupy—to welcome and endure Al's violent storm.
A man and a woman who had met only a few hours ago and had already progressed to the bed, in a situation that could hardly be called "love."
At this moment, both realized the mystery and uniqueness the other possessed.
Al knew she had secrets and that entering his harem through the widow wasn't just to be his human furniture.
And the woman realized that the boy pressing down on her, entering her body, surely realized this as well, rather than just being obsessed with enjoying her flesh.
In this situation, Al only felt more excited. His speed and force increased another notch. For a split second, he actually considered taking his Mother of Revelry's wicked suggestion: enchanting his member and calling in Claudia to do this and that to this cold, black-clad woman, using a wild, sadistic posture to ruthlessly ravage her until she was broken and crumbling.
To see that cold, enchanting, mature face deformed by the boy's violent thrusts, making an ahegao face, using the Spear of the Chosen to whip and pierce through her heart, destroying her dignity and exposing her secrets, occupying, conquering, and toying with her without leaving a shred of leeway!
However, Al considered himself devoted—perhaps overly horny—but ultimately a good person.
The Paladin and the swordswoman had both attempted to assassinate him first. He had been in the wrong then, taking things too far. But toward a woman who hadn't yet shown a threat to him or his companions, and who had proactively submitted herself to him—a woman he truly liked—he couldn't follow such a crude, R-rated plot.
Al felt the time was about right. He leaned down, pressing against her chest. His voice grew heavy and breathy as he said:
"You have secrets!"
The spear pierced her core, and the woman's plump body jolted violently.
"It! Doesn't! Matter!"
The boy's movements accelerated, never stopping for a second.
The woman arched her slender neck, her arms wrapped behind him, her legs hooked over the boy's buttocks.
"Eventually... I will see through them all! And you, and your secrets, will ultimately belong to me!"
The boy's willful, proud declaration was shouted out alongside his words as he began today's final release.
The woman timely shuddered all over, letting out her loudest and most seductive moan of the day...
The two remained in that position, pressed tightly against each other, feeling and savoring the moment. Al felt this was the most delightful session he'd had all week. The woman kept her eyes closed, her chest heaving rapidly.
A goat girl stepped in gently to remind Al that the centaur girl and the others had arrived.
Al nodded, gently kissing the woman's lips and cheeks. Then he lowered his head, nuzzling into her ample bosom like a spoiled child. He mischievously bit her left breast, applying a bit of pressure with his teeth and leaving a ring of saliva and tooth marks around the red nipple before slowly pulling away and standing up.
The maids served the boy, cleaning him.
Though it would soon return to its current state, maintaining a clean appearance was Al's way of showing respect to his adoptive mother, the goat mom, and the widow.
He had released and demanded much, but it wasn't enough.
There was still a massive battle waiting for Al. He had to ensure he could fully immerse himself in this far-reaching conflict.
Therefore, before the decisive battle began, Al believed he needed a thorough, immersive session of relaxation.