A month passed in the blink of an eye.
A "unique" month where I, Morgana, the goddess of breeding, didn't..... Sob!... Breed!
Blasphemy!
I know, I know. Unbelievable, right? Me, the breeding Goddess, going a whole thirty days without a single round of wild, world-altering sex. What was this world coming to?
But in my defense, I was busy.
Very, very busy.
Vicky's reaction to my sudden... ah... affectionate outburst was... a bit complicated.
She started to open up to me more and more. We started spending more time together, not just as two sides of the same coin, but as two people who genuinely enjoyed each other's company.
It was... nice.
The kissing, too, was something she started to enjoy. We didn't do anything "lewd" yet; she didn't stop me when I kissed her.
Anyway, the reason that I didn't have the time to breed was two things.
First, my Sentinels.
For a whole week, Vicky and I worked tirelessly to perfect the formula and to automate it so that I don't have to come to the temple each time and "fill" it with my essence.
The result? We managed to jump from 6% to 7% success rate. Not a small jump, considering the difficulty of the task.
Vicky and Herma promised me that by the time Lilith's protective barrier ends, I would have at least ten thousand Crimson Sentinels. Not as much as I wanted, but it was a good number.
The second reason was training.
I spent the next three weeks inside the Nightmare Tower, training in the virtual reality room that was merged with the tower.
Since I planned to leave my territory heading toward the elven kingdom, Vicky insisted that I become stronger or at least reclaim my old combat instincts.
The training was... intense.
Using the virtual reality room, I fought the monsters from my long-forgotten past.
From the lowly goblin to the mighty dragon, from the sneaky assassin to the noble paladin, from the stupid cultist to the wise archmage. I fought them all.
Each battle pushed me to my limits, forcing me to rely on my physical strength, my wits, and my instincts. I had to relearn how to move, how to think, how to survive in a world that wasn't my own.
And I loved it.
The thrill of the fight, the rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of a well-placed strike—it was a different kind of pleasure, a different kind of release.
It reminded me of who I was before I became a goddess. A warrior. A survivor. A monster.
A very... lewd monster.
The first time I stepped into the Nightmare Tower's merged VR chamber, I died in under ten seconds.
No joke.
A bone spike through the ribs from a hedgehog-like monster from the Unspoken Realm.
Instant failure. Reset.
Vicky hadn't even commented. She just adjusted a few sliders with that calm, surgical focus of hers and sent me back in.
Again.
And again.
And again.
At first, I relied on power—raw divinity, brute force, overwhelming presence. It worked… until it didn't. The simulations adapted. Enemies learned. Weak points shifted. Patterns broke.
So I adapted too.
I relearned footwork. Timing. Distance. When to advance and when to wait. I stopped assuming I could tank everything and started moving like someone who didn't want to get hit.
Funny how survival instincts come rushing back when death—even simulated death—still hurts.
"Your posture is sloppy," Vicky commented one day, watching from the control platform as I wiped blood—fake blood, but my nerves didn't know that—from my chin.
"You're overcommitting on the follow-through."
"I like commitment," I shot back, rolling my shoulders. "It's sexy."
"That's not an argument."
"Sure it is."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. But she didn't hide the faint curve of her lips.
By the second week, goblins stopped being a warm-up and started being background noise. Assassins still annoyed me—too quiet, too precise—but I learned to feel intent instead of sound. Paladins were stubborn. Dragons were… nostalgic.
The archmage nearly killed me twelve times.
On the thirteenth run, I broke his staff with my knee and ripped victory out of his spell mid-cast.
Vicky actually clapped.
Once.
I lived on that high for the rest of the day.
By the end of the month, dragons fell without me even breaking a sweat. The nightmare was becoming… routine. Predictable. I was getting stronger, faster, and sharper. I was remembering how to kill things without relying on my divine cock to do the work.
Keep in mind that I was limiting myself to mortal standards, using only my body and martial skills. No divinity, no spells, no hentai superpowers. This was raw. Primal. And honestly? Kinda boring without the mind-blowing orgasms.
But to tell you the truth... I used mana a few times. Not during the fight, but after each victory, I used a tiny bit to give myself a small, private "reward." Let's just say the post-victory orgasms in the training room became the only thing keeping me from losing my mind to the monotony.
…Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.
A goddess has standards.
Still, by the final days of that month, even Vicky noticed something was off.
"You're grinding your teeth again," she said, arms crossed as she watched me dismantle yet another simulated beast with ruthless efficiency. "That usually means you're bored or frustrated."
"Can't a girl be both?" I replied, snapping a monster's neck and letting the body dissolve into digital ash. "I've mastered this place. No divinity, no spells, no fun toys. Just meat, bone, and technique. It's like chewing flavorless ration bars."
"That was the point," she said calmly. "Discipline. Control."
"I have too much control," I groaned, flopping onto the cold floor as the arena reset around us. "Do you have any idea how unnatural it is for me to fight for weeks without properly indulging?"
Her ears turned pink.
"…You agreed to the restrictions."
"I agreed not to use my powers," I corrected, smirking. "I never said anything about aftercare."
She pointedly ignored that.
But the truth was simple: the training had done its job. My body was honed, my instincts sharp, my reactions lethal. I could step into hostile territory tomorrow and survive on nothing but muscle memory and bad intentions.
Which was exactly why Vicky finally nodded one evening, eyes scanning the latest performance logs.
"You're ready," she said.
Those words hit harder than any dragon's claw.
Ready.
For what? The Elven kingdom?
Last time I checked, I was the warrior in the family, the blood-soaked monster who clawed her way out of the abyss—literally—while Vicky stayed behind to manage the paperwork and the emotional fallout. Her telling me I was ready for something big felt… backward.
Sigh... She's more of a mother than a sister sometimes. But I can't lie, I love it when she's motherly. When she learned about the possibility of a demon god existing in the elven kingdom, she became... Let's just say she's not happy about it.
I stretched, rolling my shoulders, feeling the quiet hum of restrained power coiled beneath my skin. The goddess. The warrior. The monster. The Slayer of Gods.
All of them are awake.
"Good," I said, flashing her a grin that promised trouble. "Because if I don't leave soon, I might start breaking my own rules."
And trust me. Nobody wanted that.
"..."
Aside from the thousands of horny individuals in my world.... Hehehe.
...
After enjoying a long, hot bath—a much-deserved luxury that felt heavenly after three weeks of digital blood, sweat, and secret self-pleasure—I emerged refreshed, divine, and more than a little smug.
"Here," Vicky said, snapping her fingers, materializing a blue interface before us. "These are all the information we have on the elves."
"Hmm?" I narrowed my eyes, reading through the documents while taking a bite from the delicious rabbit stew she prepared for me.
Normal rabbit, okay! Not a special, magical, talking rabbit that likes to sneak into the farm and snatch carrots. No, this was a normal rabbit. No magic, no weird curses, just a plain old tasty rabbit.
'I miss that blue-furry bunny girl,' I thought, a smile tugging at my lips as I recalled my first time with Cotton.
Ahh~ good times.
Anyway, the information we got on the elves came from Leaf and, surprisingly, Sukal.
One of the few races that the elves allowed inside their kingdom was the centaurs.
According to Sukal, the war with the humans had pushed them deep into the forest, and since then, they started to recruit other races to fight for them. And the centaurs were their elite cavalry.
"…Elite cavalry," I repeated slowly, eyes skimming the next page while my spoon paused halfway to my mouth. "Let me guess. They chose the elite based on the size of their horse dick?"
Vicky's spoon clinked against her bowl. She didn't even look up.
"Your immaturity is statistically consistent," she noted dryly. "Please focus. This is not a joke."
"I'm perfectly focused," I shot back, taking a pointedly loud sip of stew. "I'm just conducting a holistic threat assessment. Big dicks mean big confidence. Big confidence means bigger targets. It's called strategy, Vicky. You wouldn't understand."
A vein throbbed in her temple.
"I understand that you're deliberately provoking me because you're nervous about the mission," she countered, her tone as level as a calm sea before a storm. "It's a common defense mechanism. Now read."
Me, nervous? Pfft. Never.
Okay, maybe a little.
I mean, I'm heading for a kingdom where they choose their leaders based on how big their cocks are. That's a lot of pressure, even for me.
Let's just hope that I lose myself in a sea of cocks and forget the main purpose of my mission.
To awaken a tree coc–... I mean, to awaken my world tree daughter. Yes, that's it. Nothing more.