The man walked toward Adrin, who was still in disguise. His face hardened with emotion as he witnessed what the crowd was doing to the helpless old man. He looked like a young man of twenty-one — black-haired and well-built.
"What do you think you're doing? Isn't it a bit too much to attack a defenseless old man like this?"
One of the women shouted back, "Oh, come on! Didn't you see that old man's appearance? He looks like a cursed monster! And I'm sure he really is. If we don't get rid of him soon, we'll all be doomed."
"Nonsense. He might be old, but he's still a man — like me. Aren't we in desperate need of every man we can get? Who knows, this old man might even help us."
"Hah! You must be joking, Dumba. We need normal men, not broken ones like him. A man who can't get a woman pregnant is useless to us. I doubt he even has any sperm left."
Dumba turned toward Adrin. The old, ugly man moved away his gaze, avoiding eye contact with the one called Dumba. He didn't want to answer whatever question might come next. Adrin had already read his thoughts long before he asked.
A group of women entered the village gate, breaking the crowd apart from behind. Adrin recognized them, the same women he had met earlier near the mountain.
"What's going on here? Has the celebration already started?" said the leader, the same woman who had tried to rape Adrin before.
"Dona, you're back. Any news about the portal that opened near the mountain?" asked Dumba.
"Nothing worth reporting. But we did run into a handsome young man, though I don't think he was human. He had powers like a god. He could fly, and his strength was... unnatural."
"Really? If that's true, maybe he could help us. He might be a valuable asset for the village."
"Forget it. He vanished into the sky the moment he greeted us. Strangely, he spoke our language fluently."
One of her companions muttered, "If only Dona hadn't tried to rape him, maybe he wouldn't have run away."
Dumba shot Dona a judgmental look and sighed deeply. "Dona, you really should learn to control your lust. You can't just rape every man you meet."
"Fuck off!" Dona replied sharply. "I'm not in the mood for your lecture. What's going on here? And who's this ugly old man beside you?"
Dona stared at Adrin in disguise, from head to toe, as if searching for treasure hidden beneath filth.
"There's something familiar about this old man," she said.
"This old man was being attacked by the villagers for no reason. I don't know who he is or where he came from," Dumba replied.
Everyone looked at Adrin, waiting for him to introduce himself. "Well," he said calmly, "my name is Sunda. I'm a traveler from afar."
"Wow, you speak our language fluently," Dumba said, sounding impressed. "Tell me, can you still jerk off?"
"Excuse me?" Sunda tilted his head, confused.
"You know, if you can still produce a healthy amount of sperm, we could use you. As you can see, our village is short on men. I'm the only one left."
"Ah, I'm sorry," Sunda replied. "But I'm too old for things like that."
"That's unfortunate," Dumba sighed.
The crowd continued to push Sunda to leave the village. Fortunately, with Dona's authority, the noise was quickly subdued. Unlike the others, she didn't seem to mind about his appearance, wrinkled face.
"Enough about this old man," Dona said. "Let's focus on the festival. Is everything ready?"
"Yes, everything's ready. We can start now," Dumba replied.
Dumba led Sunda to a large field filled with people, all of them women. Most of them looked nearly half-naked, wearing only what resembled bras and panties. Some had decorative fabrics around their hips that fell to their knees. The more elaborate the outfit, the higher their social rank. Those of noble standing had more ornate accessories, though all still exposed their cleavage proudly as their main allure.
Adrin, still under the name Sunda, was brought to sit on the central podium. He tried to refuse, not wanting the attention, but Dumba insisted.
"Relax. You're our guest of honor. Enjoy the show," Dumba said, taking his seat beside him.
"If I may ask," Sunda said softly, "who exactly are you? You seem... important."
"Oh right, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Dumba, the only man here, and the leader of this village."
"How is that possible? Almost everyone here is a woman."
"Exactly. You see, in an ant colony, the queen is chosen because she gives birth to the others. We follow the same principle. Since I'm the only man, it's my duty to ensure our population continues. Every woman here would die for a chance to mate with me, but I can't satisfy everyone. That's why I only give my seed to those who earn it. And that's the reason we hold this festival."
"Can you explain more about this festival?" Adrin asked, curious about Trunka's culture.
"Once a month, we hold a competition to determine who's worthy of receiving my seed. We call it the Breeding Festival. The female warriors of Trunka fight in the arena. Whoever makes her opponent surrender, or pass out, is the winner. And I'll fuck whoever wins."
"Hmm... what a fascinating tradition," Adrin muttered.
"That's how we are. Strength is everything here. Every problem can be solved through combat."
Adrin nodded in understanding. It was his first time witnessing Trunka's culture firsthand. Clearly, the environment shaped civilization.
Soon after, the event began. The crowd gathered near the stage where Adrin and Dumba sat like kings. The host, a sweet-looking teenage girl, climbed onto the stage and spoke loudly.
"Trunka tribe! Today we begin our fifth Breeding Festival of the year! Let us all pray that whoever wins will bear the child of our leader, Dumba, and may she give birth to a son!"
Everyone shouted together in unison, the tribe's sacred chant.
"And now, it seems we have an unexpected guest," the host continued. "He may not be pleasant to look at, but since he's a man, let's give him a proper welcome!"
The crowd clapped half-heartedly. Only Dumba seemed genuinely pleased.
"Without further delay, let's welcome our contestants! Please, step into the arena!"
Agile figures leapt onto the stage one by one, each with their own fighting style. Not a single one could be called ugly. They wielded weapons of every kind, machetes, whips, spears, swords, throwing knives, and more.
"Look at those beautiful ladies," Dumba said playfully to Adrin. "See anyone you like?"
Adrin observed them carefully. None seemed particularly special to him, though they were all undeniably beautiful, their revealing clothes seemed designed to captivate. Yet one of them caught his eye.
"Hmm... that woman. Why isn't she carrying a weapon?"
Indeed, only one woman appeared unarmed, or perhaps, her weapon was hidden. As she jumped onto the stage, the crowd erupted in jeers. A few, though, cheered for her.
"Dona, where's your weapon?" asked the host.
"Heh, I don't need a weapon to beat these weaklings," Dona smirked.
The host ignored her arrogance and continued, "Listen, everyone! As our ancestors decreed, only one rule matters: no use of technological weapons. Traditional weapons only! The word cheating does not exist here. To call someone a cheater means you were too weak to stay alert. Cheating isn't forbidden, but it's disgraceful. Victory through deceit is still victory, but it's shameful."
Dona rolled her eyes, impatient. She snatched the microphone from the host and announced, "To save time, why don't all of you just fight me at once?"
The arena went silent.
They thought Dona had gone mad, perhaps from being single too long.
"Dona," Dumba called out, "are you sure about this? If you lose, I'll never give you my seed again."
"Start counting. I'll finish this quickly."
"Very well, then."
Everyone took their positions. Dona stood alone at one end of the arena, facing nine armed women ready to kill her. They thought she'd lost her mind, but this was also their best chance to eliminate her.
The bell rang, and the host shouted, "Begins!"
In an instant, all nine women charged at once. Dona didn't move. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ignored the chaos closing in. Pulling one leg back, she drew a circle with her hands and shouted, "Take this, The Power of Broja!"
A shockwave erupted, invisible but violent, blasting everyone off the stage. Bodies flew into the stands, collapsing in heaps. Not one of them could stand again. Every last one had fainted.
With that, Dona became the champion of the match.