My skull felt like it had been split by a wedge. The darkness was absolute for a moment, but it wasn't the cold emptiness of death. It was heavy, charged with a strange, humming heat.
I inhaled, and the air nearly choked me. It didn't taste like oxygen; it tasted like ozone, crushed lilies, and something metallic and old.
It was the scent of raw mana, though I didn't have a name for it yet. I just knew it felt like drinking liquid lightning.
I tried to sit up, but the air itself felt thick, like I was pinned under a layer of warm, invisible water.
Then, the sound hit me. A low, rhythmic thrum of female voices. They were chanting in a language that sounded like glass breaking and honey pouring at the same time. The syllables folded into each other, vibrating against my ribs.
"What...?" My voice was a raspy ghost of itself.
The chanting snapped shut. A collective, sharp intake of breath followed.
"He moved," a voice whispered, trembling with disbelief. "Sister... the ritual. It actually worked."
I forced my eyes open. The light was blinding, a sharp violet glare that burned into my retinas. As my vision cleared, the barn was gone. In its place was a cathedral of black stone, polished so smooth it reflected the pulsing runes carved into the floor beneath me.
I was lying in the center of a massive geometric seal—a perfect square etched into the stone, glowing with a soft, menacing purple light.
At each corner of the square stood a woman.
I froze, the air dying in my lungs. They were all naked, their skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat that caught the violet light like diamonds. They looked exhausted, their chests heaving as if they'd just run a marathon, and their eyes were wide with a cocktail of awe and pure, unadulterated terror.
My gaze locked onto the woman standing directly in front of me. She looked like a dream filtered through a fever.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, possessing a maturity that made her beauty feel dangerous. Her hair was a waterfall of liquid silver that cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face with high, sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of moonlight.
She was breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly sexy. Her breasts were heavy and perfectly round, tipped with deep pink nipples that were prominent in the cool air of the hall. Every time she exhaled, the silver curve of her stomach rippled. Lower, her hips flared out into powerful, soft thighs, and where they met, a thick, neatly groomed patch of silver hair stood out against her pale, porcelain skin.
She looked like a goddess carved from starlight and sin. And she was looking at me like I was a monster that might eat her—or a savior she didn't know how to handle.
I gulped, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. "What the fuck..." I croaked.
The silver-haired woman flinched at my voice, her hand flying to her throat, but she didn't look away. Her silver eyes tracked the movement of my chest, watching me breathe as if I were a ticking bomb.
I scanned the rest of the square, my heart hammering against my ribs. Each woman was a different flavor of perfection, their naked bodies glistening under the violet pulse of the runes.
To my left was a bronze-skinned goddess with a wild mane of golden hair. She was athletic and lithe, her stomach rippling with lean muscle. Her breasts were high and firm, tipped with large, dark areolas that stood out against her tan. Between her powerful thighs, a thick tuft of honey-blonde hair was damp with sweat, framing a pussy that looked swollen and ready.
Opposite her stood a woman with skin like a polished coconut, so dark and smooth it reflected the purple glow of the room. Her hair was a short, ink-black crop. She was the curviest of the lot, with heavy, swinging breasts and wide, flared hips that gave her a deep hourglass shape. Against her dark skin, her pinker bits popped vividly, and her bush was a dense, black shadow that looked soft as velvet.
At the final corner was a woman with creamy, pale skin and a fiery cascade of copper-red hair. She was petite but stacked, with massive, heavy tits that bounced every time she took a shaky breath. Her nipples were a bright, sensitive rose-color. Below her narrow waist, she had a shock of brightginger hair between her legs that acted as a focal point for her pale, trembling thighs.
The air was thick with the scent of their musk and the ozone of the spell. They were all panting, their eyes locked on me like I was a king they had just birthed into existence.
"Which one of you," I repeated, my voice dropping to a low growl that made the redhead shiver, "is going to explain what the fuck I'm doing on this floor?"
Where the fuck am I? The thought hammered against my skull. I scanned the women again, looking for wings, tails, or horns. Nothing. No demonic traits, no ethereal glow. These weren't spirits; they were flesh and blood.
Human. But they were the most beautiful, high-tier women I had ever seen, looking like they'd stepped straight out of a big-budget fantasy epic.
The architecture was oppressive—heavy, ancient stone that felt like it had been standing since the dawn of time.
Transmigration? The word flashed in my mind. I didn't summon a succubus. I got summoned as one? Or something else entirely.
The silver-haired mage was the first to move. She didn't attack but lowered herself. Her knees hit the cold stone with a dull thud, her heavy, silver-tipped breasts swaying with the motion. She bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the runes. One by one, the others followed, their naked bodies folding into positions of total submission.
Four goddesses. All kneeling. All mine?
My stomach did a slow, nauseous roll. "W–wait," I croaked, my voice sounding like gravel. "Why are you—don't do that. Get up."
None of them moved. The silence was so heavy I could hear the sweat dripping off the bronze-skinned girl's chin.
"The ritual succeeded," the silver-haired woman whispered. She didn't look up, but I could see the tremors racking her pale shoulders. "The circle accepted the blood. It accepted you."
"That means nothing to me," I snapped, trying to find my footing on the slick stone. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm just... I was in a barn. I'm nobody."
Her lips tightened, a flash of stubbornness crossing her beautiful face. She raised her head just enough for me to see those silver eyes—they were sharp, desperate, and filled with a terrifying sense of relief.
"We do not have the wrong man," she said, her voice gaining strength. "The prophecy was specific. When the Four Continents face extinction under the shadow of the Black Emperor, salvation will not come as a hero clad in light. The heavens will not send a knight."
The other three women pressed their fists to their bare chests, a ritualistic gesture that made their tits heave.
"Our ancestors recorded the coming of the Outsider," the copper-haired girl whispered, her eyes locked on my boots. "He shall arrive from beyond the veil, bearing the scent of a world we do not know."
"He shall walk every path," the silver-haired leader continued, her gaze now drifting up my body, lingering on my clothes, my skin, my face. "Yet master all of them. A man of no rank, no title, and no soul known to this earth."
"Stop," I snapped, my hands up as if I could physically push back the absurdity of it all.
My brain was still stuck in that drafty barn, smelling of charcoal and sweat. "I don't even know where I am. I don't know who you are. This is… this is some kind of mistake."
The silver-haired woman didn't flinch. She rose slowly, her movements fluid and regal despite her lack of clothing. The purple light of the runes danced across the curve of her hips as she stood her ground.
"Then allow us to introduce ourselves," she said, her voice echoing off the high vault of the ceiling. She didn't look at me like a stranger; she looked at me like a miracle.
"And allow us to welcome you home… Lord of Convergence."