Volume 10 Chapter 35 Meina’s Return ⁕
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The Diva Plains stretched boundless, a sea of knee-high grasses swaying under a restless sky. Amid the wild expanse, the Brigante camp sprawled—a cluster of tents encircled by the glow of bonfires, carved out from the untamed field. On the fourth night since their departure from Conro, a shadow slipped through the dark, swift and silent as a whisper. Meina, the golden-haired Cat Girl, returned.
”Sir Klock!” Her voice cut through the murmur of the camp, sharp with urgency yet softened by familiarity.
”Back already, Meina?” Klock’s gravelly tone answered, steady as stone.
Inside the largest tent, where maps and plans littered a row of tables, the Brigante strategy council paused. Meina’s arrival parted the canvas flap, her golden hair catching the firelight as she stepped inside. She moved with a feline grace, her steps soundless, her presence electric. Klock opened his arms, and she darted into them—not for a kiss, but to press her nose against him, inhaling deeply, confirming his scent. A ritual of trust, unspoken but sure.
”A week’s journey, wasn’t it?” Klock’s brow arched. “It’s only day four.”
Primlena, her eyes sharp as cut glass, nodded in approval. “Impressive speed. Reliable as ever.”
Suzette echoed the sentiment, her voice a quiet hum of respect. Meina had scouted Deilid alone, a distance that would’ve taken a marching troop a full week. Yet she’d crossed it and returned in four days, her lithe form unburdened by armor or doubt. The Thunderfoot Cat, they called her—Brigante’s swiftest, beyond question.
”What’s Deilid like?” Primlena leaned forward, her voice taut with anticipation.
Meina’s ears twitched, her tail flicking as she spoke. “Quiet. Eerily so.”
The council had given her clear instructions: observe, don’t engage. Her report was stark. No armies lingered near Deilid. No signs of battle scarred the land. The town’s gates were shut tight, its walls a silent fortress. She hadn’t breached them, as ordered, but she’d caught a scent—something familiar, like Primlena’s own. A faint, salty tang of the sea.
”No chance it’s unoccupied,” Primlena said, her voice low, certain.
Klock grunted, his jaw tight. “Contact with Deilid’s been dead for too long. This confirms it.”
Primjune’s handiwork, no doubt. The same shadow that had fallen over Rushelora now cloaked Deilid. Someone—not Primlena—had claimed the town, and the Demon Lord’s Army was the likely culprit. Primlena’s kin, perhaps. Another Merfolk, risen to lead the marine division in her stead.
”Reina,” Klock said, his gaze shifting to Primlena.
”Likely one of my own,” she admitted, her voice steady but heavy. “Whoever replaced me as division commander must be pulling the strings.”
”You don’t know who?” Klock pressed.
Primlena’s lips tightened. “I avoided prying into Sanctum’s affairs.”
Klock waved it off. “Knowing they’re Fishkin is enough for now.”
The room grew heavier with the weight of unspoken truths. Primjune served the Demon Lord, while Primlena and Primrity stood with the humans. The Merfolk sisters weren’t exactly at war, but their kind played both sides—Demon Lord and Hero, a delicate balance of loyalty and survival. Primjune had her own allies, her own reasons. If tasked with seizing Deilid, she’d act as the Demon Lord’s blade. No one could fault her for it. But if it came to a clash with Primlena, what then?
Klock’s voice cut through the silence. “Primlena, head to Deilid. Negotiate.”
She nodded, her eyes glinting with resolve. “Understood.”
”Deilid’s a vital point for the humans,” he continued. “If the Demon Lord’s Army holds it, war’s inevitable. Make that clear to them. Tell them we’re not looking for a fight, but we will if it comes to it.”
The specter of Rushelora loomed. If Deilid mirrored that disaster, the townsfolk were likely hostages. Yet Count and the magistrates wouldn’t hesitate to prioritize strategy over lives. War was a cold calculus, and Primlena might face her own kin in battle.
Klock’s tone softened, but his words carried weight. “Your kin might try to capture you. Don’t linger in Deilid. If talks stall, come back. If it goes south, run. We’ll come for you if you’re caught.”
Primlena’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “That won’t happen.”
Her confidence was a blade, but Klock pressed on. “Maybe not. But they’ll read our moves, weigh our intentions. Primjune’s the enemy here. Treat her as a friend, and we risk being outplayed. It could even turn her against us.”
He leaned closer, voice low. “Kispe’s off swaying the Ninfa, but if you’re taken, I’ll call her back. You’ll have help, one way or another.”
Primlena’s lips curved faintly. “You’re cautious. I like that. So, just negotiate their withdrawal? Nothing else?”
”For now,” Klock said. “If they make demands, come back and we’ll talk. Brigante’s troops will move within twenty kilometers of Deilid. Close enough to react, far enough to avoid a trap.”
The plains offered little cover. Twenty kilometers was a calculated risk—time enough to brace for a sudden strike. Primlena’s counterpart might be one of Sanctum’s Six Noble Ladies, another figure of power. Klock could only hope it wasn’t someone too troublesome.
As the meeting broke, Primlena declared she’d leave before dawn. Klock offered an escort, but she refused. “Humans would only slow me,” she said, her voice teasing but firm. “Unless you’re coming.”
He hesitated, half-considering it, until her lips brushed his—a playful kiss, sealing her jest. They shared a quick meal, fish and rough bread, her tail swaying as he ruffled her hair. Meina joined them, her tail curling under Klock’s touch, and the firelight danced in their eyes as they saw Primlena off into the night.
The camp settled, but the air remained taut. Meina’s voice broke the quiet. “Sir Klock, we’ve sent scouts north again. South’s the only gap left.”
The council had been discussing reconnaissance before Meina’s return. Scouts covered three directions—north, east, and south—save for the west, their rear. North was a routine check for wild monsters, with daily reports showing nothing amiss. East was secure, thanks to Meina and Primlena’s efforts. But the south…
”The southern scouts,” Klock muttered, his voice heavy. “What’s keeping them?”
Fit’s team, sent to watch the Nichirin Road, hadn’t returned. Ten strong, led by an A-rank adventurer, they should’ve been back by now. Reports had come on days one and two, then silence.
”They’re too late,” Klock said, his gut twisting. “Fit’s not the type to lag.”
Meina’s ears flattened, her voice soft with worry. “The Regina Aqueduct’s close. If we keep moving, we’ll drift further from Nichirin Road. Should we send more scouts? Push them to return?”
Klock shook his head. “Wait one more day. Fit’s sharp—she doesn’t die easy. Could be rain, could be something else slowing her. We’ll give her until tomorrow night.”
Sending more scouts risked losing them too. If it came to it, Klock and Meina would go themselves. Flavia, a princess, wasn’t suited for scouting. Suzette was the troop’s backbone, too vital to risk. That left Klock and Meina, the only ones fast and tough enough.
The problem was Fit herself. An A-rank adventurer, caught off guard? If the south held an enemy army—one strong enough to silence her entire team—it wasn’t just trouble. It was a storm. A literal storm delaying them was easier to swallow than the alternative.
Suzette’s voice broke his thoughts, low and deliberate. “Sir Klock, one question.”
”Hm?”
Her eyes met his, sharp with intent. “Why is Princess Riona with this troop?”
The name hung in the air, a shadow of Fit’s true identity. Suzette’s question wasn’t just curiosity—it was a spark, threatening to ignite something deeper.
Suzette’s question lingered, sharp and unyielding, like a blade pressed lightly against the skin. “Fit joined us at Barreith, didn’t she? A royal mingling with adventurers is one thing, but why stay with us? What’s her purpose?”
Klock’s eyes narrowed, the firelight casting long shadows across his weathered face. “What’s this all of a sudden? She been acting strange?”
”No.” Suzette’s voice was measured, but her gaze held a flicker of unease. “It’s just… a princess among us raises questions.”
Fair enough, Klock thought. Their troop was a patchwork of oddities—a Hero, a forest princess, a Cat Girl scout, and now a royal in Fit’s guise. Primlena and Flavia were easy to accept; their motives were plain. But Fit? Even Suzette, sharp as she was, couldn’t ignore the shadow of doubt trailing her.
Klock leaned back, his voice low. “She told Ada she’s here because of the Hero.”
Suzette’s brow furrowed. “A survival tactic?”
”Not quite.” Klock’s tone hardened, the weight of Fit’s truth settling in. “Her purpose is revenge. Took her a while to decide, but meeting the Hero sealed it.”
”Revenge?” Suzette’s voice was a whisper now, her eyes searching his. “Against the kingdom?”
”Yeah.” Klock’s jaw tightened. “Sounds like she watched her family die. That kind of thing… it doesn’t let go.”
The words hung heavy, unanswered questions coiling in the air like smoke. Fit’s silence in the south felt sharper now, a blade twisting in the dark.
* * *
The night deepened, the campsite alive with the crackle of bonfires and the low hum of voices. Klock prowled the grounds, his boots scuffing the earth, until his eyes caught a familiar figure curled by a fire. Meina, her golden hair glowing in the flickering light, looked small and unguarded, her tail tucked close.
”Oi, Meina!” His voice boomed, playful but edged with mischief.
”Fnya?!” She jolted, her cat eyes wide, tail shooting upright as she scrambled to her feet, visibly startled. “What’s wrong, Sir Klock? Did I do something bad?”
He loomed over her, grinning wickedly. “Bad? Nah. But that tail of yours—swaying like that? It’s practically begging for trouble.”
Meina’s ears flattened, her cheeks flushing as she caught the glint in his eye. Klock’s hand shot out, grabbing her waist, fingers sinking into the soft curve of her hips through her cherry-blossom half-robe and shorts. He pulled her close, guiding her small hand to his groin, letting her feel the heat of his intent.
Her breath hitched, a soft “Ah…” escaping as she felt him through the fabric, hard and unyielding. Her eyes flicked up, wide and gleaming, a mix of shyness and instinct. She rubbed tentatively, her touch light but curious, as if testing the weight of his desire.
”Bed, then?” she murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
Klock paused, his face twisting into an exaggerated scowl, eyes narrowing in mock anger. Meina giggled, her tension melting as she nuzzled closer, her nose twitching with his scent. Her claws grazed his arm—playful, but sharp—as she tugged him toward his tent, a spark of defiance in her step. It stung, but he laughed it off.
Inside, a voice cut through the dim. “Tonight, I observe the whispers of intimacy, for my own learning. Pay me no mind.”
Flavia, the forest princess, sat poised in the tent’s corner, her presence serene yet commanding. Meina froze, her tail bristling, a low hiss nearly escaping her lips. She’d expected privacy, not an audience. Her claws flexed, but Klock’s hand on her shoulder steadied her. He’d arranged this, after all—a test, a game.
He pushed Meina onto the camp bed, his lips claiming hers before she could protest. His palms cupped her face, holding her gaze as he kissed her deeply, his knee nudging between her thighs, coaxing a soft squirm. Her breath quickened, a faint “Nya…” slipping out as her eyes darted to Flavia, then back to him.
Klock ignored her glance, his teeth grazing her neck, leaving a deliberate mark. Meina tensed, then sighed, her hands tugging at her sash, letting her robe fall away. Her skin gleamed pale, her small breasts pert, their tips hardening under his gaze. She was Beastkin, but her body could’ve passed for human, save for the flick of her ears.
He leaned down, his tongue tracing her collarbone, then lower, teasing her nipple until she writhed, her body arching under him. “Sir Klock…” she breathed, her voice a soft plea, her tail curling against the bed.
”That’s my girl,” he murmured, recognizing the switch in her—the moment her instincts took over. Her eyes narrowed, pupils slitting as she focused on him, her body responding with a primal hunger. She reached for him, her fingers brushing his length, guiding it to her.
He sank into her, slow at first, her warmth enveloping him. Meina’s breath caught, a sharp “Nya!” as she adjusted, her small frame trembling under his weight. Her hand pressed against her stomach, feeling him inside, a soft pat as if to soothe the intrusion. Klock moved, steady but relentless, her body responding with tight, eager pulses.
Her hair, usually so neat, spilled in a wild tangle across the bed. He brushed a strand from her face, stroking her golden locks as she mewled, her voice a mix of need and surrender. “More… heavier,” she whispered, pulling him closer, urging him to press down, to overwhelm her.
Klock obliged, his weight pinning her as he thrust harder, her body yielding with each movement. Her tongue, rough and small, met his in a messy kiss, her sharp teeth grazing his lips. He growled, “Gonna finish inside,” and felt her tighten, her body trembling with anticipation.
”Ah—Klock!” Her voice broke, her body arching as she hit her peak, her claws digging into the bedding. He followed, spilling into her, her small frame shuddering beneath him. Her gasps filled the tent, soft but desperate, her body twitching with aftershocks as she clung to him.
He stayed there, pressed against her, her warmth pulsing around him. Meina’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, met his, a faint smile curving her lips. The tent was quiet now, save for her ragged breaths and the distant crackle of the bonfires outside, the night holding its breath as their moment lingered.
Klock lingered inside Meina, her warmth a quiet comfort against the chill of the night. He pressed his weight into her, savoring the soft tremors of her body, the way her breath hitched with each subtle shift of his hips. Her inner walls pulsed, still sensitive, arching her back in a delicate bow. It was her most vulnerable moment, raw and unguarded, and he could’ve pushed harder, driven her to tears with relentless thrusts. But he held back. Meina’s cries weren’t the kind he wanted tonight.
Their exchange had been quick but intense, a shared release that left them both breathless. As he exhaled, a faint moan drifted from somewhere beyond the tent, mingling with the crackle of the camp’s bonfires. The troop was no stranger to indulgence; the air carried the soft cries of others lost in their own fleeting escapes. Klock smirked, shaking his head at the thought—this crew was a mess, and he was no exception.
”Turn around,” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing.
Meina, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, rolled onto her stomach with a small whimper. Her sweat-slicked skin gleamed, her small, rounded hips tilted toward him. Her tail flicked, instinctively shielding herself, but he gently pushed it aside, aligning himself once more. With a slow press, he sank into her, the slick warmth pulling him in with a soft, satisfying sound.
”Nya…!” Meina’s breath came in sharp gasps, her hips trembling as he moved, each thrust rippling through her. He didn’t hold back now, letting his desire spill freely, her body yielding beneath him.
Time slipped away, the rhythm of their bodies blurring the hours. He took her from behind, then pinned her flat, driving into her with steady, unrelenting force. She was Beastkin—resilient, pliant—but even she had her limits. By the time he noticed, Meina lay limp, her breaths shallow, her body spent beneath him.
Still, he pressed on, one hand gripping her hips as he reached his fourth release. The sensation of her clinging warmth drew it out, thick and unhurried, until a faint spill of excess slipped free, her body too full to hold it all. Meina, usually so vibrant, lay twitching softly, her golden hair splayed across the bed like a halo.
Klock’s gaze drifted to Flavia, still perched in the corner. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, fixed on the point where their bodies joined. Her knees rubbed together, betraying her unease—and something else. She’d seen it all, the raw mechanics of it, and it had shaken her. No going back to innocence now, he thought, a grin tugging at his lips.
”Fnya… Sir Klock, you’re too much…” Meina’s voice was a tired purr, her lips pursed as she shifted, trying to ease the mess they’d made. She crouched beside the bed, her movements careful, almost shy, as she worked to clean herself. The act was raw, vulnerable, and she avoided his gaze, her tail flicking with quiet embarrassment.
Then, abruptly, her tail snapped upright, her ears perking as her body tensed. Her cat-like eyes locked onto Flavia, sharp and wary, a predator guarding her claim. Klock caught the shift, his voice softening. “Thought you’d be fine with this, Meina. Guess we call it here? Seems like enough.”
Meina’s gaze didn’t waver, her eyes narrowing at Flavia. She tolerated the others—Suzette, Cianie, even Primlena—but this was different. Her possessiveness flared, raw and unguarded, a reminder that she was no less a woman with her own desires and jealousies.
”Come here, Meina,” Klock said, his tone firm but warm.
”Wait… just a sec,” she mumbled, still focused on Flavia.
”Nope. We’re not done.” He slid his hands under her arms, lifting her light frame back onto the bed. She yelped, a soft “Nya!” as he pulled her close, rolling her onto her side and pressing himself against her. Her legs parted instinctively, her tail swaying as he nudged into her once more, her body welcoming him with a slick ease.
”Hey, Sir Klock,” she murmured, her voice catching as he moved. “I remembered something.”
”Hm? What’s that?”
”My chest… it’s been feeling tight lately. Ms. Suzette said I need a new bra. Told me to ask you for the coin.”
Klock blinked, caught off guard. “Right… we’ll sort it tomorrow.”
Why bring that up now? Her randomness was classic Meina—thoughts spilling out as they came, unbound by context. He chuckled, shaking his head, and kept moving, savoring the tight warmth of her body. But her eyes weren’t on him. They flicked to Flavia, watchful, guarded, her usual playful purrs subdued.
”Kiss me,” he said, leaning in.
Her lips met his, but her gaze stayed locked on Flavia, unwavering. When he reached for her arm, she dodged, grabbing his wrist instead, her claws grazing lightly—a warning. She pushed back when he tried to press closer, her body tense, no longer yielding to his weight.
The mood shifted, the air growing sharp. Flavia’s presence was a spark too close to tinder. Meina’s instincts were winning, her claws ready to flash if the princess stepped nearer. Klock sighed, easing back. Some lines weren’t worth crossing.
He pulled out, the sudden pause leaving Meina blinking in confusion. He ruffled her hair, then turned to Flavia. “Time’s up. We’re done here.”
Flavia startled, her voice soft. “Y-yes, understood.”
Her eyes lingered, though, tracing the hard line of his arousal with a mix of curiosity and something heavier. She was no longer the untouched princess—her gaze carried a hunger, stirred by what she’d witnessed. But Klock wasn’t here to indulge her. Not tonight. This was about Meina, about stoking Flavia’s thoughts without crossing that line.
His hand cupped Meina’s ear, muffling her hearing as he spoke low to Flavia. “Tonight’s Meina’s. Probably till dawn. Come get me then. And next time, it’s you. All night. Be ready.”
Flavia’s breath caught, her voice trembling. “Y-yes… all night…”
She left, her silhouette fading into the camp’s glow. Klock turned back to Meina, sliding into her once more, her warmth pulling him in. His hand found her breast, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “So, new bra, huh? Getting bigger?”
Meina’s lips curved, her guard dropping now that Flavia was gone. “Mmm, probably ’cause I’m pregnant. Mating season, you know? Babies make your chest grow.”
Klock froze, his breath catching. “…What?”
”Not showing yet, but I’m excited!” Her eyes sparkled, oblivious to his shock. “Sir Klock?”
”Uh… right.” He forced a grin, thrusting harder to dodge the weight of her words. “You want more, huh?”
”Nya?! Not what I meant!” she squeaked, then giggled, her voice rising into familiar, playful mewls. “Well… maybe I do!”
Her laughter mingled with the night, the campfire’s glow flickering beyond the tent, carrying the weight of her revelation into the quiet.
The campsite’s restless hum faded into the background, the crackle of distant bonfires a faint echo as Klock lost himself in Meina. Her hips swayed beneath him, each movement rippling through her soft frame, her tail flicking in rhythm with his thrusts. The tent was a cocoon of heat and breath, the world beyond its canvas walls forgotten. Tomorrow’s march, the endless plains, the looming threat of Deilid—all of it dissolved in the haze of their shared rhythm.
Meina’s belly was still flat, no curve to betray her claim. If there was no sign yet, Klock reasoned, then it wasn’t real. Not yet. Safe, for now. No problem. He pushed the thought aside, letting the warmth of her body anchor him, her soft gasps filling the quiet as he moved deeper, chasing the fleeting peace of the moment.
Notes:
• Meina – She is a golden-haired catgirl employee of the beastman (Larana the cat woman) Inn, appeared performing fellatio, desperate and tear-streaked, with an inexperienced yet earnest approach to her work.
• Primlena – Orange-haired merfolk priestess, fierce yet elegant | First v8c3 | Sister of Sea General Primjune, subordinate to Primrity | Once captured and violated by Klock, now obsessed with reclaiming honor | Commands Obsidian Riders on giant fish, fights with trident | Seeks to drag Klock to Seabed Temple for marriage trial or execution | Unique note: revenge-driven siren bride who masks fury under ritual grace
• Suzette – The older maid from Viscount Fennec. The head maid at the Viscount Fennec’s villa. She is confident, clear-spoken, and professional.
• Primjune – She is one of the Four Heavenly Kings, appeared as a scaled and finned figure, known for executing the saint’s kidnapping plan.
• Rushelora – A port where demons are allowed to stay at embassies under special circumstances. It is a location where humans and demons have trade relations.
• Reina – Primlena’s Klock nickname.
• Primrity – Merfolk commander with rainbow-shattered fins and commanding amber eyes | First in v8c8 | Calm, strategic, and fiercely protective of her clan | Elder sister of Primlena | Led the Fishkin troops during the town uprising but ordered a full retreat upon realizing Hero Anna was present | Unique note: level-headed leader who will abandon even the Demon Lord’s orders to preserve her people’s future
• Ninfa – A figure whom Kispe aims to sway during negotiations, crucial to the success of a potential truce.
• Fit – Solo archer adventurer; first appears at Barreith volunteer gathering, introduces herself to Klock and group, joining Brave Knight against Demon Lord’s Army
• Flavia – Younger Forestkin princess (132). Gentle yet resolute. Sent by Queen Isabella as marriage pledge to Klock, the Chain Binder, symbolizing the Void’s loyalty to the Goddess Teekua.
• Ada – Female. Ada the Wild Wind. An A-rank adventurer. Her appearance is striking, with black hair mixed with fiery red, multiple earrings, and an axe spear as tall as she is. She is incredibly strong and fast, with a Unique Skill called the ‘Blessing of the Wind’ that enhances her speed and agility. Ada is ruthless in combat but shows a surprising willingness to negotiate. She is highly respected in adventurer circles and feared by criminals. Her relationship with Klock is adversarial, as he stole from her and escaped using trickery.
• Cianie – A noble girl with a fluffy white and light blue dress, indicating her high status. She has a hesitant and flustered personality but is kind and courteous. Her relationship with Klock begins as an accidental encounter and develops into a romantic interest. She has a fiancé but expresses feelings for Klock, complicating their relationship.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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