Neo’s heart hammered against his ribs. Taking on the entire factory alone was suicide. He forced his breathing steady and scanned the lower floor from the shadows. Demons in work clothes moved between machines, hauling crates and shouting orders. One stood apart near a stack of iron bars, wiping grease from his hands.
Neo picked up a loose scrap of metal and flicked it. The piece clattered beside the demon’s boot. The creature turned, eyes narrowing. He muttered something about animals slipping in for scraps. Extra money for every one caught, the boss had said. Grinning, the demon stepped toward the noise.
Neo moved the instant the demon’s back turned. One hand clamped the mouth, the other drove a short blade up under the ribs. The body jerked once and went still. Neo stripped the work clothes fast, pulled them on over his own gear, and shoved the corpse into a dark gap between machines. Then he straightened, picked up a heavy crate the demon had been handling, and walked into the flow of workers.
No one looked twice. He kept his head down and followed the path toward the stairs. When a supervisor barked a question, Neo only grunted that the box needed recharging upstairs. The supervisor waved him on. Neo climbed, box balanced on one shoulder, and kept moving until the second-floor corridor opened in front of him.
He set the box down near a side door marked with energy runes. A quick glance showed the control room empty. Neo slipped inside, found the main crystal array, and smashed it with the hilt of his sword. Sparks burst. The lights across the factory died. Darkness swallowed every corridor.
Neo leapt straight up, caught a ceiling beam, and pulled himself into the rafters. The plan was simple. The control room was small—four demons at most could fit inside at once. Anyone who stepped through the door would meet him in the dark. He would kill, shift position, and use the blackout.
Shouts rose from below. Demons poured up the stairs. The first wave shoved into the control room in groups of four. Neo dropped on the lead pair, blade flashing. Bodies hit the floor. He rolled aside, let the next four enter, and cut them down the same way. The early ones were only first-level workers. They died fast. After the lower floor emptied, stronger second-floor demons began pushing in. Each fight lasted longer. Neo’s arms burned. Blood slicked the floor. Still he kept the rhythm—drop, cut, move, drop again.
An hour passed before the last of the second-floor demons stopped coming. Neo hung from the beam, chest heaving, and waited. Two figures finally stepped through the doorway. Both carried twelve-star marks on their collars. They had waited on purpose, letting the weaker ones tire him.
Neo dropped. The Sword of the Beginning After the End left its sheath in one smooth draw. He lunged. The first demon raised a barrier; the sword sheared through it and the demon’s chest in the same stroke. The second tried to flank. Neo spun and took his head. Both bodies fell.
He limped to the darkest corner and sank down, catching his breath. Then the air shifted. A heavier presence filled the doorway. A demon stepped inside wearing a fourteen-star crest. Ragnarok.
Neo triggered a short-range teleport. Space folded. He reappeared twenty paces down the outer hall. Ragnarok’s head snapped toward the distortion. The fourteen-star demon blurred forward. Neo barely got the sword up. The clash sent him flying. His back smashed into the factory wall hard enough to leave a deep dent. He slid to the floor, vision swimming. Ragnarok was already charging again.
Neo grit his teeth and forced the Lord of the End mode open. He crushed the pouch of upgrade pills Veya had prepared—one hundred of them—and swallowed the lot. Power slammed through his veins. His star level spiked to thirteen. He rose, both hands locked on the sword, and met Ragnarok’s rush with a single horizontal cut.
The blade passed clean through. Ragnarok’s body split in two. The halves toppled in opposite directions.
Neo’s knees buckled. He stayed upright long enough to pull a magic scroll from his belt and scratch a short message: *All of you. Factory. Now. Fast.* Then the scroll flared and vanished. His body hit the ground. Fresh wounds opened across his chest, arms, and legs. Blood pooled under him. Footsteps approached. Four familiar voices. He managed a thin smile before the dark closed in.
They carried him back to the tent and laid him in the center. Uriel’s hands shook as she checked the wounds. Metatron stood rigid, eyes wide. Greenla and Bilal hovered close, faces pale. The damage was worse than any of them had seen. For a moment none of them spoke.
Uriel’s tears fell onto Neo’s chest. Metatron’s voice cracked when she finally asked if he would live. Neo forced his eyes open.
"There’s a way," he rasped. "You all have to do it."
Uriel pressed her palm over his heart. "Tell us. Please."
He coughed blood. "Sex. My body heals through it."
Four pairs of eyes went wide. Neo kept talking before anyone could misread him. The healing needed direct contact, skin to skin, and the more the better. They already knew about the harem back home. After a short silence Uriel nodded. The others followed.
Uriel guided Neo’s hand to the center of her chest. "As the previous captain... let me heal you first."
Metatron opened her mouth to protest. Neo caught her eye and gave a small shake of the head. She closed it again, jaw tight. He looked at Uriel’s body and nodded once.
He settled onto his back. Uriel turned to the other three and spoke quietly. Metatron answered that she would join. Greenla was already peeling off her clothes. Bilal followed, fingers working fast at her belts and clasps. Within moments all four stood naked in front of him.
Uriel’s breasts were heavy and full, the soft weight of them shifting with every breath. Her hips flared wide, thick thighs pressing together, and the curve of her ass was deep and round. Metatron’s frame was leaner but still carried generous tits and a high, firm backside. Greenla’s body looked softer, breasts large enough to fill both hands, ass plump and inviting. Bilal’s figure matched the others—full chest, narrow waist, and heavy cheeks that swayed when she moved.
Uriel stepped over Neo and set one knee on either side of his hips. She lowered herself slowly. Her thick thighs trembled as she guided the head of his cock to her entrance. The first push made her grit her teeth.
"It’s really big..."
Her eyes watered. She had never taken anyone before. Neo watched the tight pink lips stretch around him, felt the hot squeeze of her walls, and saw the way her breasts swayed above his chest. Uriel’s face flushed deep red. She looked down at the thick length disappearing into her and then at Neo’s body—broad shoulders still marked with blood, hard muscle in his arms and legs, the solid plane of his chest rising and falling under her hands.
She realized she had to take it all at once. Her legs relaxed. Her weight dropped. Neo’s cock sank the rest of the way in one long slide until her heavy ass cheeks settled flush against his balls.
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