Chapter 113 S*men Offering
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Neither the holiday nor travel preparations could shield me from my studies.
If anything, I was being force-fed the common sense of the Imperial Capital¹ more aggressively than ever. While I was apparently slated to receive practical training from a local tutor on-site, a thorough review of my etiquette as a nobleman was deemed mandatory to ensure I wouldn’t disgrace myself.
My lessons with the Imperial Guards’ primary source of maternal anxiety, Cult Slut-san², commenced.
Today’s curriculum: History.
”Your Lordship, which subject would you say is your weakest?” Cult Slut-san asked.
”Subjects, huh… I pretty much checked out during the entrance exams in my previous life. Was I a humanities or science major? I’m fairly certain I was mediocre at everything across the board. Conversely, maybe that means I have no specific weak points?”
”Regardless of your former life, such convenient interpretations do not exist. A weakness remains a weakness,” she stated flatly.
She promptly shut down my fooling around. When Cult Slut-san assumed her teacher persona, she showed no leniency whatsoever.
”It’s history,” I muttered.
”Am I truly that deficient in history?”
”You grasp the general outline. However, regarding modern history, you have misremembered more facts than not. Surely you have some inkling of what I mean?”
I had no such inkling.
”Today’s lecture concerns the Civilized Degeneration of the Meiji era.”
”Wasn’t it Civilized Enlightenment?” I asked.
”Precisely. That is the nature of your misconceptions. Why on earth did you believe it was an enlightenment? It was a degeneration,” she replied.
She peered at me with a serious, huffy expression. Her features were as impeccably sculpted as an elf’s, as always. Right down to the way her expressions and moans became unrefined during the act, the resemblance was uncanny. Perhaps that was just my prejudice. Either way, she wasn’t intimidating in the slightest.
”Maybe it’s a side effect of reincarnation. My old historical perspective is getting jumbled up and interfering with the way I process new information.”
”That is likely the case. Your circumstances have been properly communicated to everyone in the Imperial Guards.”
Every piece of information—excluding the erotic details—was shared property. The fact that I was a Reincarnated Person was common knowledge. That said, there was no means to verify the truth, nor did that information lead to any particular conclusion. No similar cases had turned up in their research, so for now, they simply accepted it as my personal truth. If anything, they’d all scolded me out of a fear that I might use it as an excuse to think, ‘Well, it’s fine if I die this time too.’
I certainly wasn’t entertaining such thoughts.
”Today, I shall instruct you on why Japan took its current form. War is a truly horrific affair. You must never involve yourself in such things again!” Cult Slut-san insisted.
”Yes, that’s the plan.”
”Very good. However, I remain concerned. Therefore, let us discuss how the final Great World War in our world reached its conclusion.”
The diminutive, beautiful girl-teacher brandished her pointer. Even though I was actually the smaller of the two.
”I’m not particularly interested… well, maybe I am. Cult Slut-san and I are denizens of different histories, after all. Up until the appearance of the dungeons, the timeline was similar, barring the gender ratio.”
”Your tales from your previous home are not without interest, but the priority for your survival lies here. Worry not; you will find plenty of interest as you study. Furthermore, the Great War is directly linked to why the old Sumi town and Inubou town are so impoverished. It is also the reason your friend, Ichimatsu-sama, suffered through such unfortunate destitution in his youth.”
”Ichimatsu-sama isn’t exactly my friend… well, I suppose he’s an acquaintance.”
”The high-difficulty dungeons known as the Kind Sun and the Cruel Moon are situated near the Andes Mountains,” she continued.
”Ah, here we go,” I thought.
Cult Slut-san, who was uncompromising only during lessons, unfurled a world map. It was an overview of modern history. Once, civilization and technology had been far more advanced than they were today.
During the late 1700s, civil revolutions and the Industrial Revolution occurred in the West. Early modern history had begun. In the early 1800s, the first dungeon appeared, marking the start of late modern history. The number of dungeons proliferated rapidly. By the end of that same century, humanity had brushed against the stars without even mastering atmospheric flight. The late 1800s to early 1900s represented the absolute zenith of civilization.
In 1914, the First World War commenced. Cavalrymen still charged on horseback, brandishing musket guns; gunpowder and patriotism were the goddesses of the battlefield. It was believed that individual conviction determined the tide of war, and that spiritual virtue could overcome any material disadvantage. In hindsight, it was sheer foolishness, but the honor of nobles and military men permeated the upper ranks, denying mystical objects the chance to be utilized on the field. They were obsessed with the idea that human soul and wisdom were superior to suspicious mystical artifacts, refusing to adopt them into their armaments. It was a clash between the tactics of an age of geniuses and the sudden mystery of the dungeons. Naturally, humanity lost. The tide turned when a single militiaman effortlessly slaughtered soldiers by the thousands.
By 1930, the Second World War erupted, characterized by the reckless abuse of mystical objects. The war ended that same year, but civilization was nearly extinguished. This era served as the boundary for the start of the contemporary age. Fifty-six years later, it was now 1986.
* * *
The Second World War had ended abruptly one day. The flashpoint was the Andes Mountains. In my world, that was Latin America in South America, but that name didn’t exist here. That region was currently the seat of a mysterious collective known as the Second Inca-Aztec Empire³.
Located near the Andes, then a European colony, was a massive stone mystical object called the Tezcatlipoca of the Night⁴. Long ago, someone had retrieved it from a dungeon but strictly forbade its use, entrusting it to a small clan hidden deep within the jungle—a treasure of the rainforest. It had eluded the colonial government for centuries until its original owner and the history of its acquisition were forgotten.
The Tezcatlipoca of the Night was a unique artifact produced in a dungeon famous for obsidian, a one-time-use ultra-rare item. It wasn’t a weapon for conquest or a shield for defense. In fact, depending on the time of day, it was utterly useless. Its effect was immortalized in a local nursery rhyme:
’Tezcatlipoca summons the night. He who holds it to the moon is a fool; pray to the twilight to end the war, but rouse it at high noon and the world shall perish. Spread this song far and wide, and never let the stone be awakened.’
That was the gist of it. The actual effect was to plunge the location of its use into night. It was a grand scale, but that was all the object did. Yet, someone used it. Driven to the brink by years of colonial oppression and the brutal conscription and exploitation that followed the start of the war, a local girl broke the ancient taboo.
The Andes Mountains were plunged into darkness. Without warning.
”Do you grasp the significance of this?” Cult Slut-san asked.
”Night falls, right? The sky gets… smeared with black paint? Or a massive magic curtain blocks out the sun? A sudden shift from day to night would definitely cause chaos on the battlefield.”
”An excellent intuition, but it is not a mere trick of lighting. The land literally welcomes the night.”
”Hmm, so what actually happens when it becomes night?”
”Consider carefully. Sunset is but a brief window. The sun descended with extreme speed. And the ground beneath our feet is constantly rotating,” she explained.
Cult Slut-san had practically given me the answer. To force the point of use into night, the Earth’s rotation speed surged. It began spinning at a terrifying velocity.
”A massive silhouette clad in black and yellow gear appeared and spun the earth. It is whispered to have been the very image of the apocalypse,” she said solemnly.
”A colossal tide occurred, dwarfing the influence of the moon. While the Andes escaped the brunt of it due to their altitude, the coastal regions weren’t so fortunate. In every nation, major towns are found where rivers meet the sea.”
The world map of that era looks nothing like the one today. Every coastline has been chaotically reshaped. When the rotation speed normalized, the inertia of the oceans devastated every shore on the planet.
”Ports in particular were decimated by the massive waves. This historical context is why coastal areas remain impoverished to this day. Furthermore, the resulting tremors leveled most major cities. However, the most dire consequence was the loss of atmosphere.”
”The air?” I asked.
”Yes. Vast numbers perished simply because they could no longer breathe.”
The Earth had literally shaken off its atmospheric layer through sheer centrifugal force. The tsunamis and earthquakes were mere secondary casualties compared to the vacuum of space.
”The only saving grace was that the mystical object—what we call a Regalia⁵ due to its immense foreign value—was activated during the evening. Had it been noon, nothing would have survived. Scholars believe that, with the best possible luck, only bacteria and algae would have remained.”
The Earth could have become another Venus, a hellscape of scorching heat, freezing cold, and ultraviolet radiation. The sky and sea would have vanished, and living things would have been crushed by their own weight on a sudden planetary roller coaster. Life would never have returned. It would have been a dead world.
The subsequent lecture focused on the heroic tales of humanity’s recovery. The war was immediately halted, and a global cooperative regime began, gambling on survival. It was an agonizing reconstruction, but it was achieved. Psionic Power⁶ users converged on Europe’s most daunting dungeon, the Zodiac, to retrieve legendary Regalias. While they couldn’t fully restore the environment, they managed to stabilize it. But there was a price. Even now, the scars of that desperate triage remain. For instance, the Ninth Cloud—a Regalia of rain—was merged with the global atmosphere. Because these artifacts absorb electromagnetic waves so strongly, wireless communication is lost forever. No radio, no television. It was a necessary trade-off to protect life from cosmic radiation.
As for Japan, it fared better than most thanks to an abundance of mystical objects designed for earthquake and tsunami countermeasures. Even so, the coastal poverty persists due to salt damage and the destruction of the shallow seas. Honestly, considering that such dangerous artifacts are still being found, the fact that we’ve limited ourselves to civil wars is a miracle. Many cultures vanished entirely. That humanity persists at all is sheer luck. We gained much reflection and wisdom from those events… though, whether humanity would have survived anyway without that intervention is a separate debate. Perhaps the war would have escalated into an even more permanent end. Or perhaps the mystery would have kept burning until Judgment Day. Whether that girl was a devil or a savior, we will never know. I’m just glad I wasn’t born then.
”What happened to the girl? The one who used the Regalia?” I asked.
Having recovered from the horror of the lecture, I spoke up. Cult Slut-san set down her pointer, her expression hardening.
”The Andean girl reportedly survived… but later took her own life. She was a heinous criminal who slaughtered countless males. She can never be forgiven. Even I, were she before me, would bind her and execute her myself,” she said.
The world population during the Second World War was five billion—two billion more than my world’s history due to the prosperity of mystical objects and the high reproductive rates of biased-gender species. Roughly three billion died. Males died by the millions.
Even the usually compassionate Cult Slut-san couldn’t forgive that girl. Guided by her anger, I examined the records. I skimmed past the endless vitriol to find her history: her family, her clan, and the reasons she turned to such a dangerous mystery.
”She had no one left. No family, no friends.”
”That is no justification. She must be suffering for all eternity in hell. She is the greatest monster to ever harm males in history,” she insisted.
”I suppose. No matter how much you suffer, it doesn’t excuse killing innocent people,” I agreed.
I kept flipping through. She had been an ordinary girl. Every detail of her life had been scrutinized to understand how she became the world’s greatest killer: her motives, the nature of the Regalia, and the failures of the colonial government’s safety protocols. She was more infamous than any presidential assassin. But it seemed the young sinner truly hadn’t known what the stone would do. She had simply believed the nursery rhyme about calming the conflict.
Cult Slut-san eventually spoke in a dejected tone, sharing something she likely shouldn’t have.
”But… even so…”
”Yeah. What is it?”
”As you said… there was no one left to tell her to cherish the legends and protect the people. Her family and friends were already gone. Even the males who dreamt of mercy had been spirited away to foreign lands. That is the truth of it,” she said.
She looked genuinely somber.
”Cult Slut-san, lean your face over here.”
”What for?”
”Your cheeks are so squishy.”
”Eeeek! Stop that! You must not touch the opposite sex so carelessly! How many times must I tell you!” she squealed.
”What was that funny noise?”
”Listen to me seriously… please!”
In this world, harming a male was the ultimate sin. Advocacy was unthinkable; it could get you branded a criminal. We were both outsiders in our own way—that’s why they called us a ‘cult.’ She really was a pitiable person.
”Regarding the current state of her clan…” Cult Slut-san resumed her lecture.
Her hometown had been condemned and subjected to ethnic purification. Humanity had no room for genes that threatened males. The persecuted Andean people abandoned the surface for the dungeons. Today, as a unique dungeon-dwelling nation, they flooded the world with narcotic-type mystical objects, far surpassing the cartels of my world. They were a terrorist collective that ignored distance to appear anywhere. A nation of sacrifice and vengeance: the Second Inca-Aztec Empire. Humans are resilient. Japan, oddly enough, remains vaguely friendly with them. It’s a mysterious country that somehow stays on good terms with everyone.
Once the lecture ended, I brought up the matter I’d been dwelling on after so many partings.
”I want to hold a funeral for C* * *mslut. It’s time she had some proper closure,” I said.
She was startled, but seeing that I had found some peace with my feelings, she was happy to help. But as it turned out, the funeral had already been handled without me. The Imperial Guards had secretly registered her as a war casualty and used the condolence money to fund her ticket for the post-war rear-guard duty. To the public, she had been dead for a long time. I had to pry the truth out of Cult Slut-san, which left her in tears. I’m always making her cry.
”There’s already a grave?”
”Yes. It’s a bit complicated; some people claiming to be her relatives built a grave at a coastal temple on their own,” she explained.
”Relatives? I thought she didn’t have any family.”
”Filthy beggars, the lot of them. Outcasts from the nearby rag-picker settlement showed up claiming to be her kin. I threw salt at them and chased them off myself,” she said.
I did a double-take at her choice of words. Homeless scrap-dealers had come looking for her pension, building a grave just to claim the relation. It was exactly what Flatty-chan had warned me about—mysterious relatives appearing to wheedle money, troubling my heart.
”The headstone is apparently already there… but if that’s the case, I’ll stop them. I’ll have that filthy stone smashed and provide a proper one myself,” she added with a smile.
”Wait. To be clear, they aren’t actually her family, right?”
She said something quite gruesome with a warm smile. She wasn’t naturally violent; it was just the nature of the times. The casual discrimination wasn’t really her fault.
”I can’t say for sure. Even her mother’s identity was uncertain. But they were definitely people she knew. They were familiar with her behavior,” she said.
”Ah, so they aren’t total strangers. They’re acquaintances at least.”
I was conflicted, but I decided to meet them, if only to hear their side. No money, though. But first, I needed to ask the question that had brought me to Cult Slut-san in the first place.
”What’s the best way to offer a memorial? I figured you’d be the expert on that.”
Since revealing my reincarnation, I’d been diligent about cross-referencing common sense. Customs in this world tended toward the bizarre, and I wanted to avoid any more embarrassing blunders.
”I want to send her off right.”
”In that case, the supreme offering is said to be pouring your seed directly onto the headstone,” she stated.
”Pouring s*men on the headstone… I see, so even I could…”
Wait, what? I blinked, processing the words I’d just heard.
”Wait, pour it? You mean splash it on the grave?”
”Yes. If you go that far, it is the highest honor for a female. The deceased will surely find peace,” she replied.
”Um, I’m sure I misheard, but did you say I should pour s*men on the headstone?”
”Yes.”
What kind of monumental insult was that? Splashing cloudy fluids on a grave… that’s not something a human does. It’s literally defiling the dignity of the dead.
”I want to mourn her properly. She’s the benefactor who saved my life!”
”A noble sentiment,” she said.
”Are you absolutely sure that’s the right way? It isn’t vulgar or obscene? It’s not some weird misunderstanding from your cult, is it?”
”I-I do not follow any suspicious doctrines!” she stammered, flustered.
”Besides, our faith is Buddhist law, not a cult! I’ve read over 600 volumes of Master Xuanzang’s scriptures! Members of the Imperial family and high nobility perform memorials this way. It is a prestigious tradition that predates the syncretism of the old gods!” she insisted.
”I thought we were finally having a serious conversation for once,” I sighed.
”A-ah. What has gotten into you so suddenly?”
She seemed genuinely bewildered, not teasing at all. She was dead serious. And she was hurt that I’d even doubt her. Which meant she was telling the truth. Splashing a grave was common sense here. I’d thought I was beginning to understand this world, but I was clearly delusional. If I did that in my world, someone would haunt me for sure. I felt a visceral resistance.
”Then what’s the second-best way? …Ugh. What do I do?”
”You needn’t force yourself; the heart is what matters most. Even just your feelings of remembrance would please her. Offering incense is more than sufficient,” she offered.
”That’s true, but ‘when in Rome,’ as they say. Besides, I have a feeling C* * *mslut would actually like it.”
The lingering common sense from my old world was constantly losing to this new reality. What mattered was how the people here felt.
’Yo. Worrying over the small stuff again, Young Master? Hehe. You’re the best.’
Her smiling face in my mind felt so real. She’d definitely love it.
’But that’s such a waste! Don’t overdo it!’
She wouldn’t blame me for being a coward. I tapped her entry in my mental Psionic Power list repeatedly. No response. It made me want to cry.
”Fine. I’m a man; I’ll do it. If you say it’s not an insult, I’ll believe you. I’ll give her a proper send-off,” I declared.
Thinking of Ichimatsu-sama’s parting with his own guards sparked a competitive fire in me. If he could do it, why couldn’t I? There were obscene customs allowed in specific contexts. Like festivals where you could parade around with a giant phallus. That’s just how it was. I accepted it with the grim determination of someone leaping off a cliff.
”Then I shall explain the protocol. You must dissolve your seed in sacred sake or water and bring it in a one-go bottle. You use it to wash the headstone. It is proper etiquette to prepare this sacred water in solitude… as an aside, this relates to the modern, hollowed-out tradition where people merely show the intent without actually including the seed…” Cult Slut-san continued, but her words were already fading into the background of my panic.
* * *
The day arrived. It took three days to prepare—both logistically and mentally. We kept the original headstone since the outcasts had actually looked after it even after realizing there was no money in it. The two bodyguards and Cult Slut-san were present, along with several Psionic Power users from Kujukuri Town who had volunteered as security.
The temple was a ruin. An old woman claiming to be a monk lived in the wreckage of a collapsed temple, surviving on food from neighbors while looking after the abandoned graves. Even in poverty, they cared for the dead. It was a surreal sight—fully armored cyborgs gathered in a ruined temple, a cyberpunk future that still clung to ancestral faith. I received her hair tie from the old woman. Being a living record of the area, she even knew her real name: Tae-chan. It was the only kanji she could write. We’d only known each other for six months, but she’d spent that time supporting me with her life. She had only been nineteen. So young.
”Are you ready?” Cult Slut-san asked.
”Phew… Let’s do this.”
I took a deep breath to steel myself. Neighbors had gathered to watch the spectacle. I had the wounded and those with no connection to her removed. Those left were her childhood friends, fellow orphans, and the dropouts who couldn’t make the cut for the Imperial Guards. Most were poor tenant farmers or scavengers. Despite their dirty appearance and various ailments, their underlying beauty—unique to this world—remained intact. I’d hesitated about the sacrilegious nature of the act, but for her sake, I’d made my choice.
”I can start when I’m ready, right?”
”Yes. As explained, sprinkle the sacred water from the bottle…”
”I’ve got it. Sorry, I need to focus now,” I said.
I blocked out the world. The murmurs of the crowd and Cult Slut-san’s voice faded. Before the grave, I untied my belt and exposed myself.
”…Eh?” Cult Slut-san gasped.
She froze. I was confused—didn’t she know the procedure? Whatever. I was committed now.
”I can do this,” I whispered.
I gripped myself, picturing her face. I began the motion, slow and deliberate.
”…Eh? Ah…?” she stammered.
The atmosphere shifted. Public displays like this were clearly intense for the local females. Cult Slut-san turned beet red instantly. Sow-san was frozen, her cheeks flushed, her usually sharp eyes wide with shock. The cyborg sisters in the guard detail had simply ceased functioning. The crowd of fifty stood as still as a photograph. But I’d saved up for three days; I was ready.
”Haa… ugh. C*mslut… Ugh…”
Total silence. My breathing grew heavy. Pleasure pooled at the base of my rod.
”This is the worst. No human should do this. But for her sake…! Ugh… damn it, it’s actually starting to feel good.”
Recalling our time together, I continued until I finally hit the limit.
”…Ugh!”
A spray of white liquid splattered across the headstone.
”…Haa… haa… Alright. I did it. I actually did it.”
I’d successfully completed the act under the gaze of fifty people. I thought of the old stories of Western nobility having their first nocturnal emissions witnessed by a crowd, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
”I feel terrible. But I shouldn’t feel ashamed. This was for her. It’s not enough to pay her back, but I hope she can see it…”
I looked at the sky, avoiding the sight of the fluid dripping down the stone. I believed my feelings would reach her. The silence persisted, as if the crowd had lost their collective voice. It was eerie, so I turned to them.
”Why is everyone so quiet?”
Then, the crowd erupted.
”AAAAAHHHH!!”
”UOOOOOHHH!!”
”WHY?! WHY IS IT SO…?!”
”Is this a dream?! Am I dreaming?!”
”What did I just see?!”
”KYAAAAAHHH!”
The excitement was electric.
”What is going on?!” I asked, baffled.
It was like a concert. I’d expected a somber memorial, but they were losing their minds.
”Wait! What… what on earth are you doing?!” Cult Slut-san shrieked, finally snapping out of it.
She rushed over to block me from view.
”What do you mean? I’m doing the thing,” I replied.
She wasn’t laughing. But I was still caught up in the emotion. My heart was heavy with the memory of her saving me. I needed this to be a positive closure.
”Did I do it right? Would she be happy?”
I was breathing hard, my nose stinging with tears.
”Was it enough? I think I could go again if I try; should I?”
”Put that away this instant! That… that sacred pillar!” she cried.
”Why? Isn’t this what she wanted? Was my seed not good enough? She must hate me…”
”No! That’s not it at all! Just don’t make that face!” she yelled, desperately trying to shield me from the crowd with her own body. I felt a bit hurt that she was so flustered—was my ‘gift’ really that unimpressive? Then, a stone hit her back.
”Ow! Stop that! Why are you throwing things?!”
Stones and trash began flying from the crowd at the woman hiding me.
”Get out of the way!”
”Move!”
”Have you no shame?! Watching a male like this and getting excited?! What if you hit him?!” Cult Slut-san screamed back.
”Shut up, Sukeroku!”
”Show us the rest! Don’t hide the blessing! Let us see the sacred pillar!”
”The sun… so grateful…”
”It’s the Bodhisattva! Show us again! Someone kill that woman so we can see!”
”Shove a tablet in her!”
The crowd of women was on the verge of a riot.
”Get back! The Buddha will punish you!” Cult Slut-san fought them off while I stood there, dazed, clutching my clothes. The guards eventually started cracking heads to restore order. Cult Slut-san eventually crawled out of the fray, hair a mess. She looked like she wanted to strangle me.
”Do you realize what you’ve done?! What were you thinking?! Who on earth bestows mercy directly onto a headstone like that?!”
”Well, I did… Wait, did I do it wrong?”
”Of course you did! You were supposed to prepare the seed in a bottle beforehand! Then you hand-sprinkle it over the stone!” she yelled.
—
Summary:
Cult Slut-san provides a grim history lesson on the World War and the Second Inca-Aztec Empire’s origins. The protagonist decides to hold a public memorial for his savior, C*mslut. Misinterpreting the ‘s*men offering’ ritual, he masturbates and ejaculates directly onto the headstone in front of a crowd. This results in a near-riot as the local women clamor for a glimpse of the rare ‘sacred pillar’ in action.
—
Character Insight:
The protagonist’s willingness to endure extreme public humiliation for the sake of his deceased benefactor shows the depth of his loyalty and guilt. Cult Slut-san reveals her own prejudices and the harsh moral double standards of this world, where male sexuality is both worshipped as sacred and strictly regulated by ritual. The misunderstanding highlights the protagonist’s fragile connection to the ‘common sense’ of his new reality.
—
Behind the Scene:
This chapter illustrates the apocalyptic ‘Civilized Degeneration’ which stripped the world of modern communication. It also introduces the Second Inca-Aztec Empire as a vengeful, dungeon-dwelling drug cartel nation born from colonial trauma.
—
T/L:
Notes:
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply