Hogwarts: The Rise of a Dark Heir [R-18]

In a shadowy corner of the guest room, the air rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond. Jerry’s form was "squeezed" out of the dense darkness, falling straight down in a state of pure freefall. With a heavy thud, he slammed onto the bed that had been relatively tidy before he left.

Creak!

The weathered old bedframe let out a groan of protest, sounding as though it might shatter under the sudden impact. Jerry curled into a ball, looking like a boiled shrimp. He gritted his teeth, his face contorted in pain. It felt as if a massive, invisible sledgehammer had struck his backside; his glutes were burning with a searing ache that nearly made him cry out.

Shadow Jump, a sophisticated branch of the Teleportation arts, allowed the caster to traverse the shadow dimension. In that state, the caster loses physical form, becoming immune to physical collisions and the constraints of volume—including, naturally, this world’s godforsaken, crushing gravity. Theoretically, as long as there were shadows, he could come and go as he pleased.

The problem, however, lay in the exact moment of exit. The instant he re-materialized into a body of flesh and blood, the physical laws of this world reclaimed him without mercy. The terrifying gravity acted like invisible giant hands, violently dragging him toward the earth.

Jerry rubbed his throbbing rear, which felt as if it had been split into four pieces, and sat up gingerly. His face was a mask of agony. His hasty return tonight hadn’t been calculated perfectly, forcing him to taste the "warm welcome" of this world’s gravity once again.

While nursing his sore backside, Jerry’s mind raced back to the brief but thrilling confrontation.

A Harpy? Interesting.

Jerry wasn’t just focused on her unique race or her cold, seductive beauty; he was fascinated by her distinct "Steam Augmentation." It was fundamentally different from the steam cores used by the ground soldiers. Typical warriors used their cores to convert Combat Qi into raw kinetic energy to drive mechanical limbs—a simple, brute-force conversion. But the Harpy’s equipment was far more advanced. It functioned as a spell amplifier and an energy relay station.

Through his brief mental scan, Jerry had captured key data. He began to dissect the device’s logic in his mind. First, her core was drawing on her internal energy, but it wasn’t just Combat Qi—it was also her mana as a mage. Mixing these two distinct energies would usually result in a catastrophic explosion for most casters. Yet, her device used an unknown catalyst array to achieve a delicate balance, creating a "catalyzed" high-energy steam imbued with elemental properties.

The true genius lay in the triple-barreled arcane repeater. The high-energy steam surged into a "Spell-Construction Matrix" made of micro-crystals at the base of the launcher. The mana in the steam was instantly guided by this matrix to form the "Arcane Bolt" model. Meanwhile, the violent Combat Qi didn’t participate in the shaping; instead, it acted as a propellant and amplifier, launching the bolt with terrifying kinetic force. This explained why her bolts carried both magical damage and the physical piercing power to melt through reinforced steel.

It was a system that treated spells as physical "shells." Jerry’s eyes lit up. This was brilliant! It sacrificed the flexibility of traditional wizardry but elevated the casting speed, frequency, and destructive power of specific spells to an unthinkable level. The alchemists and mages of this world had walked a different, yet equally brilliant, path. They weren’t just using magic; they were "harnessing" it, using engineering to cage and guide the wild beast of energy.

As Jerry marveled at this technology, a faint but clear sensation of being watched pricked the back of his neck. It wasn’t a mental scan, but rather a pervasive environmental awareness. He looked around. The room was empty. The night outside was black, and the door was shut. Everything looked the same as when he left, suggesting it might just be fatigue.

Yet, Jerry didn’t relax. He listened closely. The house was quiet, save for Erica’s rhythmic snoring and Li’s steady breathing. But beneath that was a low-frequency hum, a ghostly vibration carried through the building’s structure.

He looked at the pipes. The walls were covered in brass and iron tubes like a massive web. When his focus narrowed on them, the feeling of being watched returned. He noticed a tiny, pin-sized hole in the center of a maintenance cover on the thickest brass pipe. From his angle, the hole was a black void.

Jerry’s brow twitched. He moved silently under the pipe, his fingertip glowing with a faint, dark light—an "Acid Etch," an alchemical tool for silent cutting. He traced the edge of the cover. The brass softened like warm butter. He carefully pried the circular plate off.

A dark hole stared back. He activated a small "Light Stone," illuminating the interior. It was empty. Just old scale and rust. No lenses, no wires. He felt around inside—nothing but cold, rough metal. The hole in the cover looked like a casting flaw or natural corrosion. He pressed the plate back into place, the acid-melted edges fusing perfectly.

Perhaps I’m being paranoid, he thought. The trans-planar journey was taxing on his psyche. He sat back on the bed, entering a deep meditation.

At the city’s highest point, the "Eyrie"—a gothic fortress of black iron—overlooked the stronghold. A black figure descended onto the terrace, her mechanical wings folding with a precise metallic click.

Caelia, the Harpy Commander and City Lord of Blackiron, straightened her armor, covering the hole Jerry had dissolved over her belly. Her cold majesty returned. She walked through the corridors to the briefing room where a dwarf adjutant waited.

"My Lord," the dwarf saluted. "The fourth wave at the West Wall has been repelled. We lost thirty-seven Steam Warriors; one hundred and twelve are heavily wounded. Structural damage is at five percent, mostly acid corrosion."

"Are the wounded... settled?" Caelia asked tonelessly.

"Yes. All have been sent to the ’Maintenance Workshop,’" the dwarf replied, emphasizing the word.

Caelia nodded. "Clear the field. Rotate the reserves."

Once alone, she tapped a specific gear on a wall painting. The wall slid open, revealing a secret passage to a lead-lined vault. Inside, a goblin scholar in a lab coat stood before glowing screens. He handed her a report.

"My Lord, here is the analysis of the new ’Contamination’ samples from the workshop."

"Twelve more?" Caelia’s voice was gravelly.

"Yes," the goblin pointed to a screen showing a warrior’s severed arm. "This is from ’Iron Hammer.’ Within five minutes of contact with a Ripper-type bug, chitinous scales began growing under the skin. Another thirty minutes and the arm would have been a fully functional Tyranid claw." Another image showed an orc warrior with purple, shell-like patches on his back.

"This is the effect of the ’Infiltrator’ types," the goblin droned. "Their fluids are infectious. Close combat, even breathing the mist they spray, causes irreversible mutation. The longer the exposure, the more they become like the bugs. Eventually... they turn into mindless monsters that only know how to kill and eat."

Caelia was silent. This was the dark secret of why Blackiron pushed "Steam Augmentation" so aggressively. Those wounded warriors weren’t just being "repaired." Every limb replacement was a cruel necessity—cutting away the "Contaminated" flesh before the mutation spread, replacing it with cold, uncorruptible iron. It kept the city from panic and delayed the inevitable.

Caelia looked at her own mechanical arm, her eyes deep and unreadable.

When Jerry opened his eyes to the first rays of sunlight, he was met with a radiant, grinning face.

"Hey, Jerry! You’re awake!"

It was Erica. The centaur girl was leaning over his bed, her upper body almost entirely inside the small room. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Her four hooves trotted in place—clack, clack, clack—and her tail wagged like a happy dog’s, occasionally thumping against the doorframe. She wore a simple linen tank top. Because she was leaning forward, the tight fabric was strained to the breaking point by her massive, heavy breasts, revealing a vast expanse of tanned cleavage and a deep, inviting valley.

She smelled of morning sweat, fresh grass, and the warm, musky scent of a young woman.

"You..." Jerry, still groggy, tried to sit up.

"Don’t move, don’t move!" Erica pressed a warm, calloused hand onto his shoulder. She leaned in even closer. "Jerry, I have the best news!"

As she leaned in, Jerry’s body, already primed by morning wood, reacted instantly. Beneath the thin blanket, his massive cock—entirely too large for his teenage frame—stood at full attention, pitching an incredibly tall and wide "tent" in the covers.

Erica, in her excitement, didn’t notice. She leaned further in, her breasts hovering inches from his face. "I just went out and saw Uncle Thor! He said my application for Steam Augmentation was approved by the City Lord last night!"

She began to trot harder, making the whole bed shake. Her heavy globes bounced and swayed with the motion, drawing soft, rhythmic arcs right in front of Jerry’s nose. "He said I can go to the Anvil Workshop today to pick a model and pay the deposit! Steam Augments, Jerry! Can you believe it!"

She grabbed Jerry’s arm and shook him. The "tent" under the covers swayed wildly. Erica, completely oblivious to the danger, propped her hands on the mattress and leaned her full weight forward. Her soft, heavy breasts pressed firmly against Jerry’s chest through the thin blanket. The sensation of that warm, weighted flesh was enough to make Jerry’s scalp tingle.

"So..." Erica finally got to the point, looking a bit sheepish but hopeful. She squirmed slightly, her plump equine haunches swaying outside the door. Her inner thighs rubbed together, and she squeezed her back legs tight. She leaned into Jerry’s ear, her hot breath tickling him. "So... Jerry... the deposit is a lot of money. My cash is all trapped under my ruined house... the crew said it’ll take a week to dig it out. But I can’t wait! I’ve wanted this for years. Could you... could you lend me a bit?"

To seal the deal, she playfully rubbed her soft, heavy chest against his arm.

Jerry looked up at her with a smirk that was far too cunning for his age. He felt the soft pressure on his chest and the heat of her whisper. His cock was throbbing violently under the blanket.

"Money? No problem," Jerry said, his voice husky and low. "But..." He trailed his finger across the back of her hand.

Erica’s eyes lit up at the "no problem," but the "but" made her swallow hard. She leaned in even further, her breasts practically enveloping his upper body. "But what? Anything I can do, I will!"

She thumped her chest for emphasis, causing her soft meat to jiggle in a breathtaking wave.

"It’s simple," Jerry whispered, glancing down at the massive tent between his legs.

Jerry chuckled. He didn’t sit up. Instead, he reached out lazily and tugged the thin blanket down just enough so that the terrifying, rigid shape of the "tent" was clearly exposed to Erica’s eyes.

"Close your eyes," he whispered. "Then, give me a kiss."

Erica’s face turned a violent shade of crimson, the flush spreading from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. She hadn’t expected Jerry to make such a request. But looking into his smiling eyes, she hesitated. "Is it... is it really that simple?" she stammered.

"That simple," Jerry nodded.

"Then... alright."

Taking a deep breath as if settling on a grand resolution, Erica obediently closed her large, bright eyes. Her long lashes quivered like tiny brushes, betraying her internal turmoil. Following her intuition, she puckered her lips and leaned forward cautiously toward where she remembered Jerry’s cheek to be.

Just as her lips were about to touch his skin, Jerry moved.

He whipped the thin sheet away. The massive, long-repressed cock, freed from its constraints, snapped upward with a meaty thwack. Simultaneously, Jerry’s hand reached up and accurately cupped the back of Erica’s head. With a slight tug, he redirected her path.

Erica felt her target shift. Then, something warm, hard, and incredibly smooth pressed directly against her soft lips. The size was staggering; the glans alone was enough to fill her mouth.

Confused, she snapped her eyes open. In an instant, her mind went completely blank.

Jerry saw her frozen state and a flash of smugness crossed his eyes, but he immediately masked it with a look of innocent panic. He released her head and scrambled to pull the blanket back up as if startled by his own exposure.

"Ah! Oh, god, I’m so sorry! I just woke up and wanted to stretch... I wasn’t paying attention!" As Jerry spoke, he shifted his body intentionally.

That small movement caused the massive organ—the tip of which was still held between Erica’s soft, parted lips—to slide a fraction deeper. The heat of her mouth tightly enveloped the thick head. The surge of pleasure from the wet, tight contact nearly made Jerry lose his composure.

The shock snapped Erica back to reality. As if burned, she jerked her head back with a sharp pfft sound, spitting the hard object out of her mouth. Because she was in such a rush, a string of glistening saliva, mixed with her own spit and the clear pre-cum from the tip of the "spear," stretched from the corner of her mouth to the glistening head of the cock. It shimmered in the dim morning light.

Erica tried to speak, but her lips and tongue were stained with an unfamiliar taste. It was slightly salty, yet it carried a strange, crisp scent—like fresh grass after a rainstorm. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, it was intoxicatingly good, causing her mouth to water uncontrollably.

Unconsciously, Erica flicked her pink tongue out, licking the moisture from her lips as if savoring or confirming the taste. Only after she did it did she realize the implications.

"Eek!" She let out a bashful cry, covering her burning face with her hands, leaving only her watery brown eyes to peek at him. "Wh-what happened?" She wasn’t sure if she was asking about the accident or the strange, delicious taste in her mouth.

Jerry, having achieved his goal, stopped teasing. He yanked the sheet back over the "culprit" of the chaos, leaving only his head visible, looking appropriately guilty.

"I was just stretching... I’m so sorry, Erica!" Jerry reached out and produced a small but heavy leather pouch. He scratched his hair and handed the weighted bag to her. "It’s my fault. I scared you. Take this... as an apology."

The pouch gave a clear, metallic clink-clink in his hand.

Erica had been ready to crawl into a hole and die of shame, but the melodic sound of gold had a magical effect. She peeked through her fingers. One look at the bulging outline of the pouch told her there were a lot of coins inside.

The blush remained, but her gaze shifted. Embarrassment was replaced by a mix of surprise and disbelief. For someone desperate for money, this gold was far more persuasive than a little awkwardness.

"No, no, no! It’s fine, really!" She waved her hands frantically, her chestnut hair swaying. "I... I was too clumsy! Barging in like that... it’s not your fault!"

She trotted further into the room, her upper body practically draped over the side of the bed, her eyes locked onto the pouch. Jerry smiled and placed the heavy bag on the mattress. The bed groaned again.

"Is that enough?" he asked softly.

"It’s enough! More than enough!" Erica was in a state of ecstasy. Her dream of Steam Augmentation was within reach. She looked at the boy, who seemed so small compared to her, as if he were a lucky star fallen from the sky. She felt she had to do something to express her gratitude.

Then, she did something bold.

"Jerry, you’re the best!" she cheered. Then, to Jerry’s genuine shock, she reached out and whipped the blanket back off him again!

The massive cock, even more engorged from the previous contact, was exposed once more. It stood more rigid than before, a small bead of clear fluid glistening at the tip. This time, Erica didn’t hesitate. Like she had found a rare treasure, she leaned down, opened her wet lips, and gave the terrifying, hot head a loud, grateful mwah!

Her soft lips and warm tongue fully enveloped the searing tip, pulling away with a distinct, wet pop. She looked up, a radiant, sincere smile on her face. She didn’t even care about the glistening saliva on her chin.

"Jerry! Thank you! Wait for me! Once I get my Steam Augments, I’ll join a hunting party and earn enough to pay you back! I promise!"

Fearing he might change his mind, she pinched the heavy pouch with two fingers and shoved it deep into her cleavage, the gold bag held tight between her heavy breasts.

"I... I’m going to the workshop now!" She turned to run, but her horse body was still halfway out the door. She bumped her plump rear against the frame with a thud but didn’t care, trotting excitedly down the stairs.

"Wait, Erica!" Jerry called out.

Erica "braked" hard, her hooves screeching on the wood. She looked back, her breasts heaving from the exertion. Jerry was leisurely putting on a shirt, revealing his lean, toned torso. His "secret weapon" was still standing proud, glistening with her saliva. He didn’t seem to care, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I’m interested in this ’Anvil Workshop’ too," Jerry said, buttoning up. "I’d like to see how these Steam Augments are made."

Erica misinterpreted his intent. She thought he was "worried" about his investment and wanted to make sure the money was actually spent on the gear. She felt a bit embarrassed but understood. It was a lot of gold, after all.

"Of course! Let’s go together! I’ll show you I won’t waste a single coin!" She couldn’t help but steal one more glance at his crotch. Even through his trousers, the massive bulge was impossible to ignore. She looked away quickly. "Hurry up! I’ll wait for you downstairs!"

Jerry headed down shortly after. Erica was pacing like a restless mare in the narrow alley.

"Come on, hop on! I’ll give you a ride! It’s faster!" She lowered her front legs, offering her broad, muscular back to him.

Jerry didn’t hesitate. He swung a leg over and sat firmly on her back. The position was intimate; his crotch pressed tight against her warm spine, and his rigid bulge sat right in the groove of her back.

"Hold on tight!" Erica cheered and broke into a trot.

Every step caused Jerry’s body to bounce. His hips ground and bumped against her spine with rhythmic force. Erica’s body stiffened for a second, her face heating up. She could feel that hard, hot, massive shape grinding against her through her thin vest. It reminded her vividly of the sensation on her lips earlier. But her excitement soon drowned out the shyness.

She carried him through the iron streets like a whirlwind, chatting like a happy bird. "Jerry, the Anvil Workshop is the best! Their augments have the most power! I want a ’Charger’ model with hydraulic rams on my front legs so I can smash through the Hive!"

She greeted everyone they passed with a booming voice. "Morning, Uncle Buck! Going to the mines? Stay safe!" she waved at a dwarf with a pickaxe. "Hi, Auntie Lillian! Your bread smells amazing today!" she shouted to a female Minotaur.

They rounded a corner toward a massive building belching black smoke and the sound of hammering metal. Before they reached it, the iron doors creaked open and a figure stepped out.

It was Li.

She was wearing a blackened apron made of Tyranid carapace, covered in grease and scratches. Her belt was loaded with wrenches, screwdrivers, and strange tools. Her face and arms were smeared with black oil; only her pointed ears and bright green eyes betrayed her Elven heritage. She looked like she had just crawled out of a vat of used engine oil.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, only adding a new black streak. She heard the "clack-clack-clack" of hooves and sighed with a fond, weary smile. "That idiot runs like she’s trying to demolish the street."

Erica skidded to a halt. "Li! I saw Uncle Thor! He said I can get my augments! Want to come see?"

Li shrugged, nodding to Jerry before showing her grease-stained hands. "Look at me, Erica. I smell like a tailpipe. I can’t go like this."

"Nonsense!" Erica’s brow went up. She took the heavy gold pouch from her cleavage and tucked it back into her vest. Then, without a word, she lunged forward and scooped Li up like a ragdoll.

"Hey! Erica! Put me down!" Li struggled, kicking her legs, but against a centaur’s strength, she was helpless.

"I’ll just wash you off!" Erica declared, carrying Li toward a public water trough at the side of the street.

Erica’s movements were rough but efficient. She pinned the kicking and screaming Li against the cold rim of the water trough, cranking open the massive brass valve. A torrent of icy water surged out with a heavy splash.

One of Erica’s hands clamped down on Li’s shoulder, while the other began to scrub and knead Li’s face and arms under the flow.

"Erica, you idiot! Easy! My ears! Are you trying to peel my skin off?!" Li protested, but she was forced to shut her eyes, letting her best friend’s calloused palms rub her body down.

Soon, most of the black grease on Li’s face and arms was washed away, revealing the Elf’s delicate, porcelain skin. However, stubborn stains remained deep in her pores, and her chitin apron was still slick with grime.

Jerry, who had been watching the spectacle from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. He reached out toward the struggling Li and whispered an obscure syllable.

"Scourgify."

A nearly invisible ripple of light swept from the top of Li’s head to the soles of her feet. Something magical happened. Li felt a refreshing breeze pass over her. In the next second, every trace of grease—on her skin, in her hair, and even in the crevices of her insect-shell apron—vanished as if wiped away by an invisible hand. Even the heavy stench of engine oil was replaced by a crisp scent of grass after rain.

Li looked down at her spotless hands, then tugged at her clean, reflective apron, her eyes wide with bewilderment. "What kind of spell is this? I’ve never heard of it."

Erica was even more dramatic. She poked Li’s cheek and ran a hand along her arm, shouting, "Whoa! It’s true! No oil at all! She’s like new!"

"It’s just a common little spell from my homeland, specifically for cleaning stains," Jerry said, his voice breaking through their shock. He shrugged with a natural smile. "After all, spending too much time in a lab means getting covered in dust and chemicals. You can’t change clothes every time."

"Can... can I learn that?" Li looked at Jerry with uncertainty. This was the first time she had shown such intense interest in something. She had only known this boy for a day, but the surprises he brought made it feel like a century had passed.

"Sure, no problem," Jerry nodded readily. "It’s not complicated. I’ll teach you when we have time."

"That’s grea—"

Before Li could finish, a massive shadow loomed over them. Erica, unable to wait any longer, reached out with her powerful arms and scooped up both Jerry and Li—who was half a head taller than him—right off the ground!

"Hey!" "Ah!"

Ignoring their cries, Erica tucked them under her arms like two ragdolls and plopped them down side-by-side on her broad, muscular horse-back.

"You two can chat while we ride! I’ve got Steam Augments to pick out!" Erica announced cheerfully. She didn’t give them a chance to object before her four hooves kicked off, breaking into a brisk trot.

Being thrust onto the horse-back and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Jerry made Li extremely self-conscious. She could feel Jerry’s body heat and his arm brushing against hers. The two shared a glance, looked at Erica’s humming silhouette and her happily wagging chestnut tail, and finally burst into laughter.

Jerry shook his head helplessly and called out to the impulsive centaur, "Hey, Erica, are you really that impatient?"

"Of course!" Erica shouted back without turning around, her voice full of excitement. "You haven’t been to the Outer Rim; you don’t know how annoying those bugs are! Slimy shells, gooey fluids, and that sour stench!"

She quickened her pace, her hooves pounding the steel streets with the intensity of a war drum.

"I’ve dreamed of being like the others, equipped with a ’Charger-type’ augment! Then—" Erica puffed out her chest, mimicking a bull’s charge, "—WHAM! Right into the swarm! Use the hydraulic rams to send those ugly Leapers flying! Then use high-pressure steam sprayers to boil those acid beetles into a heap of rotting meat! That’s the real deal!"

Erica’s description was bloody and violent, yet her tone held no cruelty—only the purest warrior’s desire for combat and victory. She glanced back slightly, her long hair whipping in the wind.

"Besides, killing those bugs and selling their shells makes good money! I owe you a fortune, Jerry; I have to find a way to pay you back fast," she said matter-of-factly. "With my augments, I can join the wall defense. Then, I won’t just pay you back—I’ll treat you both to a massive feast!"

Jerry’s lips curled into a gentle smile. This girl is almost too pure.

As Erica carried them through the massive iron gates of the Anvil Workshop, Jerry realized the structure was far larger than it appeared from the outside. The front hall led into a space as deep and wide as a canyon. Countless steel rails crisscrossed the floor and ceiling like a spiderweb. High above, the vaulted dome housed massive pipes and drive shafts that groaned like the skeletons of prehistoric beasts.

The air was thick with the smell of oil, coal soot, and scorched metal. Dim yellow steam lamps cast the area into a perpetual twilight. This wasn’t a workshop; it was a mini-city built of iron and steam.

Erica led them to a rail station where a small, open-topped mine car waited. A short, stout beastman with a raccoon head and a striped tail was struggling to tighten a valve on the car’s side with a massive wrench.

"Morning, Chip!" Erica greeted loudly.

Chip the Raccoon-man looked up, grunted at Erica, and muttered, "You again, noisy centaur." His gaze swept over Jerry and Li with impatient disinterest.

Erica didn’t mind. She hopped onto the car and pulled Jerry and Li up, then reached into the deep cleavage of her vest and pulled out a sheepskin document stamped with red wax. "Uncle Thor’s requisition order! I’m going to the Pressing Ward to pick out my baby!"

Seeing the document, Chip’s furry face showed a hint of surprise. He climbed onto the driver’s seat, his tail flicking as he expertly hammered and turned various valves. With a long blast of the steam whistle, the car lurched forward, sliding deep into the heart of the iron city.

"Hold on. The track is rough. I won’t wait if you get tossed," Chip warned.

The car immediately validated his warning with a vertical plunge. This wasn’t a smooth commute; it was a mad rollercoaster ride through a mechanical labyrinth. They accelerated down a near-vertical track, making Li and Erica scream while Jerry gripped the edge of the car.

The car whipped around 90-degree turns, the centrifugal force pinning the three of them against the side. Li and Jerry were pressed tightly together, and Erica’s large upper body nearly flew out before she grabbed the railings, laughing hysterically.

"Woooo-hoooo! This is amazing!"

They tore through the factory’s "veins," passing through forests of massive, rhythmic pistons that slammed down with thunderous bangs and scorching air. They spiraled up the side of a titanic furnace, the blinding orange glow reflecting off their faces as the heat threatened to cook their skin.

Chip, used to the chaos, worked the levers to dodge high-pressure steam leaks and sparking grinders. As they passed a massive gear set, the track twisted, and the car tilted sideways, sliding along the wall. Through the grated floor, they saw the bottomless darkness of the lower levels, with only stray sparks flickering like the eyes of a deep-sea monster.

"Incredible! This is too much fun!" Erica yelled, waving a hand at the abyss.

Li kept her eyes shut, buried in her arms. Her grease-free apron clung tight to her body in the wind, highlighting the tense, curvaceous lines of her figure. Jerry was forced to use magic, binding the three of them to the car with invisible mana cords to prevent them from falling.

Finally, the car slowed at a platform labeled "Pressing Ward."

A tall, curvaceous figure was already waiting. It was a Vulpine (fox-woman) with a fluffy white tail swishing restlessly behind her. She wore a heavy brass gas mask that covered half her head, leaving only a pair of sharp, upturned fox-eyes visible. She glanced at the trio, her eyes pausing briefly on Jerry and Li, but she asked no questions.

"Follow me," she said, her voice muffled by the mask. She handed them each a simple mask made of thick cloth and leather. "Put them on. The air is bad in here. And don’t scream at what you see—we have two ’surgeries’ in progress today."

As they prepared to enter the booming iron doors, a figure emerged from a dark side-passage.

It was Mora, the Flower Demon Jerry had met earlier.

Her presence was a jarring contrast to this world of iron and filth. While the air was thick with visible yellow-brown soot that made Li and Erica’s breathing heavy, Mora wore no mask. She breathed naturally, as if the pollutants were mere country mist. She was still clad only in a few emerald leaves over her breasts and groin, her cream-like skin radiating a hydrated, healthy glow despite the grime. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold steel floor. In her arms, she held a bundle of glowing fungi.

Mora stopped, her obsidian eyes lingering on Jerry before sweeping over the girls and returning to his face. A playful, knowing smirk touched her lips. She ignored the others and walked straight up to Jerry.

"What a coincidence, little brother. We meet again."

Her voice was sickly sweet, carrying a seductive lure that could melt bones. She stopped inches from him. A thin, emerald vine, like a living snake, slithered out from under the leaf covering her crotch. It wound down her leg, across the floor, and climbed up Jerry’s pant leg, heading straight for the heavy bulge between his thighs.

Just as the tip of the vine was about to touch the hard protrusion in Jerry’s trousers, Jerry’s expression didn’t flicker. He merely looked her in the eyes. Without a word or a large movement, a tiny, nearly invisible spark of electricity traveled down the vine back to Mora.

"Ahhh...!"

Mora’s body arched violently as if struck by an invisible whip. A suppressed moan—half pain, half strange ecstasy—escaped her throat. Her pale body shivered uncontrollably, and she nearly collapsed to her knees. The offending vine instantly lost its strength and went limp, sliding off Jerry’s leg.