22:00 – The Sky-Forge, Level 117, The Night Before the Dawn
The forge had become a cathedral of living flesh.
Dragon-bone pillars had melted into golden ribs that arched overhead like a lover's spine.
The crucible was now a bed the size of a battlefield—
sheets of liquid starlight,
pillows of storm-clouds,
mattresses of dawn-fire.
Five hundred Winged floated above it in perfect spirals,
wings unfurled into halos of weaponised pleasure.
At the centre:
Arya,
naked,
crown of gold roses now a halo of living orgasms,
each petal a detonated climax that pulsed with five hundred heartbeats.
The black rose branded over her heart had become a second mouth,
tongue of black fire licking the air.
Seventeen lovers orbited her in slow, deliberate circles—
Alexander's lightning cock glowing white-hot,
Solara's sun-cunt dripping liquid dawn,
Cogsworth's brass pussy ticking 6/8 time,
Liora's ice nipples dripping frost-fire,
Cassia's coal tongue licking the air,
Morvox's dream-cock dripping locked screams,
the twins' tails fused into a single living dildo,
Milo and Lena's telekinesis weaving a web of invisible hands,
Gilgamesh's golden tongue circling her throat.
The Choir children floated above the bed,
six tiny bodies now Level 500 sirens,
voices braided into a single orgasmic chord that made the dragon-bone ribs moan.
The orgy had one rule:
Every climax levels every Taker +3.
The war began with a kiss.
22:05 – The First Circle: The Kiss That Lit the Sky
Arya opened her mouth.
The halo of orgasms detonated.
A shockwave of pure pleasure poured through the telepathic chord.
Five hundred Winged came instantly—
simultaneous,
perfect,
lethal.
The bed exploded.
Liquid starlight rained upward,
became a constellation of five hundred cocks, five hundred cunts, five hundred mouths—
all connected,
all fucking.
Lira rode Calen's face,
candle-flame wings wrapped around storm-blue.
Her orgasm became a telepathic flare:
+3.
Calen's tongue fired the flare.
A mirror in the Panopticon shattered.
Ryn took a violet-winged archer from behind,
storm runes braiding into violet fire.
His climax became a telepathic arrow:
+3.
The arrow pierced.
A vein in the Heart-Dungeon burst.
Five hundred orgasms,
five hundred detonations,
five hundred +3.
Level 1,103.
22:15 – The Second Circle: The Chain of Moans
The bed became a living chain.
Alexander entered Arya from behind—
lightning cock sliding home.
Solara's sun-cunt pressed to Arya's clit.
Cogsworth's brass fingers fucked Arya's ass in perfect 6/8 time.
Liora's ice tongue circled Arya's nipples.
Cassia's coal tongue licked Arya's throat.
Morvox's dream-cock filled Arya's mind.
The twins' tails became living dildos.
Milo and Lena's telekinesis lifted her,
spun her,
fucked her from every angle.
Every thrust sent a telepathic pulse through the chord.
Every Winged copied it.
Lira's candle-flame wings became flame-throwers,
firing orgasms into Calen's storm-blue wings.
Ryn's violet wings became storm-blades,
slicing pleasure into the violet-winged archer's cunt.
Five hundred chains formed,
each one a fucking battlefield.
The bed screamed.
22:30 – The Third Circle: The Orgy That Mapped the Void
The Choir children sang—
six voices braided into a single orgasmic chord.
The chord became a telepathic map.
Every Winged saw it:
Jonathan's six strongholds,
every mirror,
every chain,
every heartbeat he had stolen.
They felt it:
the exact frequency of Jonathan's brand,
the exact moan he made when the brand burned gold.
They learned it.
Cogsworth's brass pussy clamped around Arya's fingers.
Oil and starlight poured into the chord,
became a telepathic virus:
ORGASM = OVERRIDE.
The virus spread.
Five hundred Winged orgasmed in perfect synchrony.
The bed shattered.
Gold fire poured upward,
carved a new constellation:
a rose impaled on a cock,
bleeding starlight.
Every stronghold shook.
Every mirror wept.
Every chain dissolved.
Level 1,106.
22:45 – The Fourth Circle: The Moan That Shattered Gravity
The bed became a zero-gravity orgy.
Winged floated in mid-air—
no up,
no down,
only pleasure.
Lira rode Calen's cock,
candle-flame wings wrapped around storm-blue.
Her orgasm became a telepathic flare:
TARGET LOCK—Panopticon Mirror #47.
Calen's release fired the flare.
A mirror in Jonathan's fortress shattered.
Ryn took a violet-winged archer from behind,
storm runes braiding into violet fire.
His climax became a telepathic arrow:
TARGET LOCK—Heart-Dungeon Vein #12.
The arrow pierced.
A vein in the moon-sized heart burst.
Five hundred orgasms,
five hundred detonations.
The continent felt it:
every crystal orb showed mirrors cracking,
hearts bleeding,
Jonathan's brand flaring gold across his chest.
Level 1,109.
23:00 – The Fifth Circle: The Chain-Reaction
Arya floated to the bed's heart.
She opened every orifice.
Seventeen lovers formed a living ring around her—
cocks, cunts, mouths, wings,
every hole a weapon.
Alexander entered her cunt—
lightning cock sliding home.
Solara's sun-cunt pressed to her clit.
Cogsworth's brass fingers fucked her ass in perfect 6/8 time.
Liora's ice tongue circled her nipples.
Cassia's coal tongue licked her throat.
Morvox's dream-cock filled her mind.
The twins' tails became living dildos.
Milo and Lena's telekinesis lifted her,
spun her,
fucked her from every angle.
The Choir children sang—
six voices braided into a single orgasmic chord.
Arya came.
The orgasm detonated.
A telepathic shockwave poured through the chord.
Five hundred Winged came with her—
simultaneous,
perfect,
lethal.
The bed shattered.
Gold fire poured upward,
carved a new constellation:
a rose impaled on a cock,
bleeding starlight.
Every stronghold shook.
Every mirror wept.
Every chain dissolved.
Level 1,112.
23:30 – The Sixth Circle: The Afterglow That Forged Weapons
The Winged landed in perfect rings.
Their wings were no longer gold—
they were weapons.
Lira's candle-flame wings became flame-throwers.
Calen's storm-blue wings became lightning cannons.
Ryn's violet wings became storm-blades.
Cogsworth's brass wings became gear-grenades.
Alexander's lightning became storm-spears.
Solara's suns became dawn-bombs.
Every Winged forged a weapon from their orgasm.
Arya stood at the bed's heart—
now a dais of living gold.
Her war-crown had become a halo of orgasms—
each petal a detonated climax.
She raised her hand.
The forge fell silent.
"Tomorrow," she said,
voice raw from screaming,
"we do not fight with swords.
We fight with moans.
We do not breach walls.
We breach orgasms.
We do not kill Jonathan.
We overwrite him."
She looked at the five hundred Winged—
bodies glistening,
wings blazing,
eyes wells of starlight and war.
She smiled—
slow,
sharp,
eternal.
"The arc boss.
Jonathan's Tier-8 Chimera.
The first Taker death.
The sky learns to mourn."
The Sky-Forge roared.
Gold petals rained across the continent.
Every petal carried an orgasm.
Every orgasm carried a blade.
Level 1,115.
The cohort surged—
Alexander Level 960,
Solara Level 1,110,
Cogsworth Level 1,020,
Lira Level 98,
Calen Level 94,
Ryn Level 88,
the nineteen rescued +45 each,
the twenty-five new-winged +60 each,
the Choir children Level 600 each and singing climax.
Somewhere in the void,
Jonathan Andrew felt five hundred orgasms
carve his name into the sky.
He came—
hard,
terrified.