Online Game: I Turn Monsters Into Food 10,000x Buffs

Liam closed his eyes and breathed her in, the scent of sweat and sex and something sweet underneath it all that was just her.

His tail curled around her thigh, the white fur soft against her skin, and he felt her shift in her sleep, pressing back against him with a contented murmur.

Morning light cut through the tent in thin, dusty beams, and Liam already had the fire going, a pot of something that smelled like sage and something fatty bubbling quietly. His tail curled once, twice, slow and content. The camp was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that made the back of his neck prickle, because quiet in this group usually meant trouble was brewing behind someone’s teeth.

Midnight emerged from the tent with one boot on, her shirt inside-out, squinting against the morning light as if it had personally wronged her. She made it three steps before she stopped, rolled her shoulders back, threw both arms wide overhead in a full-body stretch that arched her spine and lifted her onto her toes, and then, at the peak of it, like it was part of the same motion, announced to the camp and the surrounding forest and possibly the next region over: "So. Liam and I had sex last night."

The knife stopped mid-slice.

Liam’s hand came up and slapped it flat against his face. His ears pinned back against his white hair. Through the gap between his fingers, he watched the camp go from sleepy to very, very awake.

Noir, getting out of her bedroll, paused.

Berry made a sound like a kettle boiling over.

Elizabeth’s head turned toward him, with one eyebrow raised, which made his stomach drop for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

Mirra was already looking at him when he peeked through his fingers. She was leaning against the trunk of an oak, one ankle crossed over the other, and her smirk was a slow, dangerous thing. Her eyes dragged down the length of him, his broad chest, the open collar of his shirt, the stupid tail that wouldn’t stop moving, and then she looked past him, at Rogue, who was crouched by the fire trying to warm his hands.

"Oh," Mirra purred, low and honeyed, "we know."

Rogue’s head snapped up. He looked at Mirra. Looked at Liam. Looked back at Mirra. His finger came up and pointed directly at his own chest, mouth hanging open.

"Me?!"

Mirra’s smirk widened. She didn’t answer. She just kept looking at him like she could see straight through his armour, and Rogue’s face went from confused to bright red so fast that Liam half-expected steam.

"I- I didn’t- what?" Rogue sputtered, standing up so fast he nearly stumbled into the fire. "Nobody told me about! I’ve been out here all night on watch! I literally heard nothing because there was nothing to hear!"

"Sure, there wasn’t," Mirra said, and took a slow sip from her water bottle.

Liam lowered his hand from his face. The silence that followed was thick enough to spread on bread. He looked at Midnight, who was grinning at him as she’d just won something, her light blue hair tangled and her eyes bright with mischief. He looked at the pot. The roots needed another minute.

He picked the knife back up and went back to slicing.

"Liam," Noir said carefully, setting her cup down on the log beside her. "Did you..."

"Eat first," he said. His voice came out lower than he meant it to, rougher, and he saw Noir’s ears twitch. "Talk after."

"Liam."

"Eat first."

Midnight cackled, rolling onto her side in her bedroll, and Rogue was still standing there, pointing at himself and turning increasingly purple while Mirra watched him with the serene satisfaction of a cat that had knocked something expensive off a shelf.

Liam dropped another root into the pot and stirred. His tail swished once, betraying him, and he refused to look at anyone.

While Liam was trying to save face, a few notifications popped up on his screen.

The notifications blinked at the edge of his vision. He glanced sideways, reading while his hands worked.

[CONGRATULATIONS FOR TAKING MIDNIGHT’S VIRGINITY — YOU HAVE RECEIVED A NEW RECIPE!]

[For taking Midnight’s first time: Rose Petal Mochi]

[Passive: Hymen-Shield Regeneration]: If Midnight’s health drops below 1%, her body undergoes a localised temporal rewind, restoring her to 100% Full Virginity Status mid-combat. This physical reset releases a massive, concussive Shockwave of Pure Chastity that pushes all enemies back 50 yards and stuns them for 10 seconds.

Liam stared at the notification. Read it again. Read it a third time.

His jaw worked. His tail went completely still.

He looked at Midnight.

Looked at the notification, then looked at the sky.

"Midnight wonders what’s wrong, master?" Midnight asked, tilting her head.

"Nothing." He dropped a pinch of dried thyme into the pot. "Just, the system is insane."

[CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SECOND CONQUEST AND ADDING A NEW MEMBER TO YOUR HAREM, YOU HAVE EARNED A NEW RECIPE!]

[TOOL TIP]:

Status: Liam’s Facial Skin: Welded to his Palm. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The "Region-Wide" Megaphone: Midnight, initiating her morning routine by rolling her shoulders back and broadcasting their exact tent coordinates, structural thrust metrics, and active fluid statuses to the local ecosystem, has triggered a permanent [Zero Privacy] debuff.

The Rogue Combustion Glitch: Rogue turning bright purple and sputtering like a broken boiler because Mirra implied he was a spectator has caused his internal social anxiety gauge to hit 300%. The system notes that his watch shift did absolutely nothing to save his mental health.

The Cat-Face Confrontation: Liam attempting to execute an elite face-slap while staring at Elizabeth’s single raised eyebrow has temporarily disabled his [Alpha Chef Authority]. His white tail swishing in absolute contentment while he aggressively cuts sage roots has exposed his poker face to the entire party.

The Campfire Reality Check: While Liam is busy suppressing a low, rumbling laugh at his new sticky custard mortar launcher capabilities, the girls are staring at him like he’s a highly problematic raid boss. The system advises putting extra fat in the stew to prevent an immediate domestic wipe.