Hentai King System

"…Haa. I quit, I quit!"

As if fleeing, Rigel shouted.

"Eh? Quit what?"

Testarossa tilted her head.

Floating a color of simple question.

"I quit violating you! How am I supposed to rape in a state like this!"

"Why?"

"Because you… rape has a thing called 'mood,' right! I can't get excited like this!!"

"Mood."

Testarossa repeated that word quietly.

It had probably slipped out involuntarily.

Because that word did not suit him, Rigel, at all.

It was like someone else's words.

"But be prepared! Someday I will rape you! Wash your face and wait!"

"Yeah! I'll wash not only my face but my body properly and wait!"

"No, that's not what I mean…!"

Rigel raised his voice involuntarily.

His rhythm was completely thrown off.

He did not even know where he had gone wrong.

On a stage where he should have held the initiative, he felt as if he had been pushed into the audience seats before he knew it.

It was then.

From the treatment room entrance, from the direction of the stage, a large cheer rang.

The two involuntarily looked at each other.

They went out into the corridor and strained their ears.

"The second match of the semifinals has been decided! The winner is Amelia!"

""Uoooooh!""

"With this, tomorrow's final matchup is decided! Amelia with abundant results! And Rigel, of whom there are many voices saying 'lucky bastard of lucky wins'! These two will clash! The outcome may be visible, but I somehow want to hope for a good fight worthy of the glorious final!"

"Ooooh! Princess Amelia! Please blow that lucky-win bastard away!"

"I don't know how much I lost because of him!"

"Death's iron hammer to that scum!!"

Curses and angry voices swirled.

The booing from the audience seats rang like a storm.

The mask of "weakling" Rigel had performed until now was now baring its fangs as hostility from the audience.

In a sense it was as planned, and he had brought it on himself.

But in the background there was also a sign that the female commentator was intentionally fanning it.

"…Aah. They still don't get it, everyone."

"Yeah."

Rigel agreed shortly.

A composed quality with some implication had returned to that voice.

"…? Rigel-kun, why are you smiling?"

"Kuku! No, I just thought that instead of the rape plan for you stalling, I found an interesting target. I'll go vent a bit toward tomorrow's final."

A fearless smile floated.

It was the face of a predator before prey.

"An interesting target? …Well, if it's you the hero, Rigel-kun, you'd be forgiven for doing anything. In moderation, okay."

"I know. I don't intend to have a bad effect on the main dish that is the final. It's only an appetizer to kill time."

With a sadistic smile at the corner of his lips, Rigel informed her.

On that back drifted definite motivation and quiet confidence.

Then he parted from Testarossa.

"Fuu… Today's commentary work finished safely too. Now then, I'll hurry home and rest."

The female commentator stretched while drawing a chestful of air.

Bones cracked small around her shoulders and hips.

Her throat, which had kept producing a taut voice all day, still faintly held heat.

The sun was already tilting.

The evening sky was quiet as if the heat of the arena were a lie.

The audience's cheers and the metal sounds of the matches had now vanished like distant memories.

She dropped both arms with a thud and exhaled lightly.

Leaving the arena grounds, she walked the cobblestone road.

What faintly scented from afar was the smell of stall oil.

The stir of people enjoying the remnants after the matches drifted vaguely.

On that way home.

"Good evening!"

"!?"

A voice suddenly flew in from behind.

It was a strange-toned voice that could be taken as familiar or provocative.

The female commentator reflexively turned.

Standing there was Rigel.

"Ah… you…"

The words that leaked from her mouth were a mix of surprise and wariness.

The instant she saw his figure, the beat in the depths of her chest jumped strongly for one pulse.

Rigel lifted the corner of his mouth slightly.

A thin shadow and mockery mixed in that smile.

"What's wrong? Making a face like you saw a ghost."

"W-what do you want…? Contestants contacting the operations side is forbidden by the rules."

While saying that she drew her feet slightly back.

Her chest stirred, and her breathing grew shallow.

"Heh, I didn't know that. But well, the fine points don't matter, do they. The tournament ends with tomorrow's final anyway."

His voice was soft, but the light in the depths of his eyes was not to be trusted.

A shine as if ice fragments were confined reflected in the light for only an instant.

The grin he showed seemed to display the superiority of his own position.

"…So, what do you want exactly…?"

"No, nothing in particular? I was just walking to kill time and happened to see you. I only called out."

"I-I see…"

The female commentator's shoulders tensed.

She knew this man.

He was the opponent she had harshly torn down many times in her commentary.

That man was in front of her now.

A man who, in whatever form, had advanced to the final of the Academy Martial Arts Tournament.

Even if it was lucky wins, that ability could not be taken lightly.

"…If you have no business, I'll excuse my—"

"Just kidding. No business? Happened to see you while walking? No way that's true, you idiot."

"Eh?"

The female commentator opened her eyes in surprise and reflexively turned.

In that instant, from the shadows two human figures leapt out without sound.

Right and left.

The shadows closing from both sides extended their arms with movements that had neither hesitation nor pause.

Just as her vision seemed to sway, arms like steel wrapped around her body and restrained her upper body.

Powerful arms bit in as if tightening her ribs, and her breath caught.

"Hey! What are you doing!? Let go—mgh!?"

"Shut up. Be quiet a little."

Rigel stuffed cloth into the female commentator's mouth and sealed it roughly.

The smell of the cloth and its dry feel spread through her mouth and the back of her throat and stole her breath.

She thrashed and resisted, but she could not match the strength of two men and was completely restrained with no means.

Looking down at that state with satisfaction, Rigel called to the two men.

"Nice. Jin, Mars."

A color of pleasure seeped somewhere into the low, suppressed voice.

In the taut air the two men turned their gazes toward Rigel at the same time.

"Hehe, easy work!"

Jin snorted proudly and shrugged one shoulder.

Frivolity drifted in that smile, but his hands firmly pinned the prey.

"I'm honored by the praise, but please don't carelessly give names."

Mars furrowed his brow and said it coldly.

The voice was low, but that gaze sharply searched the surrounding presence.

His cautious personality was producing an abnormal tension in this place now.

Mars and Jin.

Both belonged to a lower class of the Royal Academy, and their grades could by no means be called excellent.

But at the point they had been able to enter the prestigious Royal Academy, their ability was a cut above ordinary people.

In addition, the two belonged to the swordsmanship club, a gathering of people who piled daily training and had combat-oriented muscle.

Those bodies had wasted fat shaved off and were taut like beasts.

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