novelraw Chapter 73: The Witch’s True Visage (R-18)
Chapter 73: The Witch’s True Visage (R-18)
After the meditation, the witch handed him the Dungeon Master Job Manual she had made for herself.
"I made this myself for my fourth job," she said. "I was living in a hut then, and I thought a woman might as well build her own house if no one meant to give her one."
Then she showed him her lotus.
Joji remembered at once how vast it was.
True, it was nowhere near the size of the Everhart estate, but it still stretched to nearly a quarter of that scale.
That was no small thing. One might even have compared it to one of the largest shopping centers back on Earth.
"What you mean is that I will need something like a lotus too," Joji said.
"You don’t have to go that far," the witch replied with a smile.
She reached into the lotus, her face taking on the look of someone feeling through clutter. Then she drew out a sword.
It stood like a shard of midnight, long and merciless, its black blade swallowing every trace of light.
A skull crouched in the hilt, framed by wings, so that the whole weapon looked less like steel and more like a bad omen given shape.
Joji stared at it, then looked back at her.
"I cannot pay for this. And I do not want to use your feelings to get what I want."
The Lady of the Swamp only took his hand and pried it open before settling the weapon into his grasp.
"I want only a promise," she said. "When you become strong enough, do not deny me however many children I ask of your seed."
Her finger brushed the winged skull at the center.
"This is my heart," she said. "Keep it with you. Always."
Joji looked from his system to the witch, then swallowed hard.
If it was true, if he would one day live as long as she did, then how many children did she have in mind?
His feelings for the witch were sincere. The harder question was whether he would ever be capable of supporting a family that vast.
"Don’t worry. I will work hard too," the witch said, reading his thoughts as easily as breathing.
Joji took the sword.
The moment his hand closed around the hilt, he felt it answer him.
Something cold and living brushed against his heart, then settled there.
The blade shifted to fit his size and reach. When he gave it a testing swing, it moved like an extra limb.
It was as though nerves ran through the steel itself, binding man and weapon together until the sword felt no different from his own flesh.
"Try imagining a mouth," the witch said. "Like this."
What the Lady of the Swamp showed him next was something Joji knew he would remember for the rest of his life.
A halo lit above her head, green and slick and dripping with slime.
The change began at her cheek, where the skin split first. Then the seam ran deeper, pulling her jaw open far beyond anything human.
Teeth pushed forth in layers, round and crowded like a lamprey’s maw, and her throat changed with them, widening into something made for swallowing rather than speech.
Her nails lengthened into blood red claws that glimmered like drawn blades.
By the end, she no longer looked like a woman. She looked like a monster that had simply chosen, at last, to stop pretending.
’This is a fantasy world,’ Joji told himself. ’Deal with it.’
With the sword in hand, he copied the shape of the witch’s mouth in his mind.
The blade guided his mana and aura for him, teaching his body the motion as if it had always known it.
"Aren’t you afraid of me?" the witch asked.
Her sweet, angelic voice was gone.
In its place came a guttural rasp, unholy, like something ancient dragging itself up from the bottom of a black swamp.
"How could I be scared?" Joji said, staring up at the ceiling. "Have you hurt me? Have you ever done anything bad to me?"
"You gave me Rizz and this sword. I am the one getting all this, and still you don’t think less of me. Why?"
The witch looked at him for a long moment.
"Because I think you are sincere. More sincere than anyone I have ever met."
Joji let out a slow breath.
"You are not a monster. You are just too used to seeing and hearing shallow people speak."
He looked at her large, parted lips, then reached up, tilted her head, and kissed her.
The witch stared at him as though she could not make sense of what she saw.
Joji had not flinched. He had not looked away. He had not recoiled from her.
No doubt others had. Men, women, even the master who should have understood her best.
She had likely expected the same from Joji. Fear. Revulsion. Disgust.
A woman like her had never needed anyone’s permission if all she wanted was seed.
But Joji looked at her and felt only one thing.
He wanted her.
Not with pity. Not with horror. Not as some cursed thing to be endured. Not as a woman to be drained for what she could provide.
He wanted her with a selfishness so plain it left no room for doubt, the simple desire to have her all to himself.
For all her monstrous appearance, that moved her more deeply than he knew.
And in that moment, she truly respected him from the bottom of her heart.
Then her tears fell in her large black bulging eyes, bright as pearls.
"I’m sorry I doubted you," she said, her voice a shaking roar.
Joji looked at the monstrosity right in front of him. He knew it was still the Lady of the Swamp behind those beastly features.
Her pathetic state did not turn him away. It lit a flame in his gut.
Without any clothes, his dick stood up like a wielded sword.
He felt no disgust. He only felt the urge to conquer the creature before him.
There was a monster living inside Joji as well.
He was a sex demon that belonged to two different worlds.
He reached out and ripped the clothes from the witch.
He pinned the beastly form down with his superior strength.
He sucked on her tits like he was a man thirsting for milk in a desert. There was no mercy in his touch.
He flared his aura to the maximum. He pounded the witch while her lamprey head thrashed.
The witch was going crazy. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the pleasure took hold.
She felt both loved and accepted, even as she was being lusted over with such violence.
Her moans mixed with those broken roars of hers.
She had never known a man who could handle her monstrous nature like this.
Joji moved like a force of nature for over an hour. The witch’s body shook with every insertion.
"Hold it," Joji commanded. "We go together."
The witch ground her teeth and wept from the intensity.
Joji kept edging her until her sanity was barely holding on. Her long nails dug deep into his arm, but Joji did not care.
That look of deep desire was what he wanted to see.
"Now," Joji grunted. He buried all twelve inches of his girth inside her.
The witch sprayed the bed like she was power washing.
Her guttural roar shook the walls of the room like a vanquished evil.
A low hum of aura radiated from his fingers. The witch looked at him with wide eyes.
"Joji, stop. I’m begging you," she whispered.
Joji ignored her cries. He did not listen. He put his fingers inside her and touched her weak spot. Another gush of fluid went flying across the room.
"Four feet," Joji noted with a grin. "You have a wonderful reaction."
The witch was trembling now.
"Please. Let us rest for a while."
Joji nodded at her. He wiped the moisture from her skin and helped her back into a new set of clothes.
Then he set to work cleaning the mess they had made in the room.
But then the witch’s body began to glow, bright enough that Joji had to narrow his eyes against it.
What stood before him after was no longer monstrous, but something so beautiful it almost hurt to behold.
Her eyes were soft enough to make heaven seem sorrowful by comparison.
Every line of her face felt gentle, sacred, and heartbreakingly pure, as though an angel had borrowed a woman’s shape for a little while and not yet learned how cruel the world could be.
Gone was the deathly pale cast of her skin. Her hair shone now with a rich, living luster, nothing like the old white it had worn before.
Joji had to fight the urge to take her again where she stood.
The Lady of the Swamp stood and faced the mirror. For a moment, she only stared.
Then the truth settled over her. She had become more beautiful than even her master, the Lady of the Lake.
Joji did not know it, but this was the burden true witches were born with.
They had to be truly accepted by someone who claimed to love them.
A mere yes or empty reassurance would never suffice. It had to be sincerity drawn from the deepest part of his heart.
Yet fate, for once, had not mocked her. It had led her to Joji, a man from Earth built differently from the shallow ones she had known.
Joji, not understanding what the deal was and already half-bewitched by her beauty, took it for some kind of glow-up.
"Hey, you cool if I give you a nickname?" Joji asked.
The witch looked at him with those tantalizing eyes and gave a small nod, her smile easy and genuine.
To Joji, she seemed one of the finest women the world had ever shaped.
Then a slogan flashed through his head.
Just do it.
"Nike," he said.
The witch tilted her head.
"What does that mean?"
A bead of sweat slipped down his bald head. He had trapped himself with his own mouth.
For a frantic moment, he searched every corner of his mind for an answer.
The witch did not bother reading his thoughts this time.
At this point, that felt needless. He had already proved himself an honest man with her.
Then it came to him. Nike was not only a name from some slogan. She was also a goddess.
"It means victory," Joji said, and now there was something almost righteous in his voice.
"I feel victorious when I’m around you."
"Nike," the witch said softly, trying it once, then again.
"Nike... That sounds amazing. Thank you, Joji. I love it."