Thump, thump, thump.
The instant the words left his mouth, a series of rapid footsteps charged toward him. A split second later, a snowy-white fist appeared right in front of Chuck's eyes.
Chuck's heart jolted. His reflexes, honed by survival, kicked in as he jerked his head to the side. The fist grazed past him—a dangerously close call—and he scrambled back to put distance between them. His expression turned ice-cold.
This silver-haired woman was definitely bad news. She attacked without a word; clearly, she had been looking for an opening the entire time. That punch was fast, heavy, and aimed straight for his eye socket. If his reaction time hadn't been far beyond a normal human's, he'd be on the ground screaming in agony right now.
The silver-haired woman didn't immediately follow up. She stood up slowly, her striking, pale face twisted into a mask of pure, dark malice. She stared at Chuck with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory.
"I'll kill you..."
Realizing he didn't understand Russian, she spoke in broken, heavily accented English this time.
"Fuck you, too," Chuck spat back, refusing to back down. He gripped his bronze short spear and lowered his center of gravity.
Seeing him tighten his grip on his weapon, the woman licked her lips. An excited, feral grin spread across her face. She didn't reach for the crude spear buried in the bear's leg. Instead, she drew a shimmering black dagger from the small of her back—it looked like it was carved from obsidian or dark crystal.
Her powerful shoulders and arm muscles flexed under her sports bra. Her black combat boots shifted in the dirt, and her pale eyes locked onto Chuck's throat like a leopard preparing to pounce.
"Stop! STOP!!"
Janet, who had been frozen in shock, finally snapped out of it. she rushed to Chuck's side, holding up two fingers toward the Russian woman.
"Peace!" Janet shook her head urgently. "NO fight! Peace!"
The words were simple enough for everyone to understand. But understanding didn't mean agreeing. At least, the Russian woman didn't seem interested in peace. Her feet began to shuffle forward, her eyes burning with an intense battle lust. She wasn't the type to let a man insult her and live to tell the tale.
Chuck didn't dare lower his guard, leveling his spear at her face. Fighting a human was a first for him, and he hadn't expected his first opponent to be such a nightmare.
"NO!"
Janet reached her limit. She gritted her teeth and pulled her bronze axe from her belt, pointing it threateningly at the silver-haired woman. "We are two! You are one!"
That statement finally gave the Russian woman pause. She frowned, a flicker of hesitation crossing her cold eyes. One-on-one, she was confident. Two-on-one—even if the second person was weak—was an unpredictable variable.
Moreover, as her initial rage cooled, her eyes flickered down to Chuck's blood-stained chest. Armor aside, she had seen him take a full-force blow from that bear just minutes ago. He had been coughing up blood. Yet here he was, standing and moving as if nothing had happened. Is this man even human?
Sensing the hesitation, Janet let out a breath. She lowered her axe slightly and pointed toward the dense jungle behind the woman. "Please... just leave."
The standoff hung in the air. Finally, the Russian woman slowly lowered her black knife. She sidestepped toward the bear's carcass, yanked her black spear out of its leg, and backed away step by step.
Both Janet and Chuck let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.
"Hey."
The woman stopped and looked at Chuck one last time. She tilted her chin up and, without saying a word, drew the edge of her knife across her own throat in a slow, phantom slit. A bone-chilling smile crossed her face.
Chuck narrowed his eyes. The gesture was universal. I'm coming for you.
Then, she turned and sprinted into the darkness of the trees, her figure vanishing in seconds.
As the woman disappeared, Janet let out a massive lungful of air. "Fuck, Chuck, why did you—"
"Janet, listen," Chuck interrupted, his voice strained. "If she comes back... you run."
"What? What do you mean?"
Before she could ask, Chuck's body began to sway. Then—thud.
He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Janet gasped, nearly screaming before she slapped a hand over her own mouth. She knelt beside him in a panic. "Chuck?! Are you okay?!"
There was no response. Chuck's eyes were tightly shut; his face was deathly pale, his lips tinged blue, and his forehead drenched in cold sweat.
In truth, standing up had taken everything he had. Dodging that punch had been the final straw. His insides felt like they had been put through a blender; he had stayed upright on pure willpower alone. The moment the threat was gone, the thread snapped, and he lost consciousness.
Janet frantically checked the direction the Russian had gone, then grabbed Chuck and hauled him toward the base of a massive tree. She sat down, breathing hard, hiding both of them behind the thick trunk.
Minutes passed. When it became clear the silver-haired woman wasn't coming back, Janet finally relaxed. She looked down at the unconscious man in her lap, her blue eyes shimmering with a deep sense of guilt.
Every doubt, every suspicion she had about him vanished. Chuck could have stayed in that safe cabin, doing nothing, and lived comfortably. Instead, he was willing to go to these suicidal lengths just so the people around him could have a better life.
Thinking of how she had judged him, Janet's ears turned red. She let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. No wonder Julia is so devoted to him. No wonder all those women accept each other... he's earned every bit of it.
She looked at his pale face. Slowly, she straightened her thick, shapely legs and gently lifted Chuck's head, resting it upon her soft, pillowy thighs. Her warm fingertips brushed the sweat from his brow, and her hand lingered on his cheek.
Even a man this strong... has a side this vulnerable. The thought made a faint, unintended smile touch her rosy lips.
In the depths of sleep, Chuck felt himself surrounded by a gentle, fragrant warmth. It felt like being a child again, resting his head on his mother's lap.
He slowly opened his eyes, but everything was pitch black. Holy shit, am I blind?
As he instinctively turned his head, he finally saw light. His nose brushed against a soft, warm, rounded mound of flesh. He realized then that he wasn't blind—his vision was just being completely obstructed by a pair of massive, heaving breasts.
"Hey, Chuck?"
Sensing him wake, Janet leaned her upper body back, clearing his line of sight. Chuck looked up at the red-headed Westerner, who was staring down at him with an expression of pure worry and maternal care. He realized he was getting a "lap pillow" from this mature beauty.
The sensation was incredibly pleasant. The scent of her womanhood was intoxicating, and the soft, elastic texture of her thighs beneath his head was heaven. However, Chuck realized that if he stayed there much longer, an embarrassing "reaction" was inevitable. He braced his core and forced himself to sit up.
Janet quickly reached out to steady him, helping him lean against the tree beside her. "Are you OK?"
"Better. Just give me a minute." Chuck nodded. He looked at her and said sincerely, "Thanks, Janet. You saved my life. I owe you."
He meant it. He hadn't expected Janet to step up and face a dangerous psycho like that Russian woman for his sake.
Janet blinked, and a sudden, uncharacteristic blush crept across her mature face. She cleared her throat, suppressing a swirl of new emotions, and helped him sit straighter.
"Chuck, I have to admit... I was wrong about you." She knelt before him, her massive breasts swaying under her jacket and her heavy, honey-colored thighs straining against her pants. She spoke in a long sentence he didn't quite catch, but he understood the sentiment in her eyes.
He just smiled and stayed quiet. He needed to recover.
While he rested, Janet kept a sharp eye on the jungle, terrified the "silver ghost" would return. Fortunately, she didn't.
When Janet wasn't looking, Chuck pulled a container of Elena's fresh milk from his storage and downed it, feeling the nutrients hit his system. His stamina climbed back to about 10%. His ribs still burned like fire, but he could move.
He pushed off his knees and wobbled to his feet. The bronze scales clinked—the armor that felt light yesterday now felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He struggled out of the gear, feeling much lighter once it was off.
"Let's go," Janet said, relieved, wanting to get out of this cursed place.
Chuck shook his head. "I go in. Find things."
Janet's face fell, but Chuck didn't have the energy to explain. He hadn't nearly died just for a bear pelt. He was here for the real prize.
He retraced his steps to where he first engaged the bear. There, in the dim light ahead, a faint red glow began to shimmer. Chuck's eyes lit up with excitement.
Spider Lilies.
The rule was simple: the stronger the guardian, the greater the harvest. And the black bear was the strongest foe yet. He pushed through the brush and reached the source of the light.
His throat tightened as he counted them.
One... two... three...
Four. Four red Spider Lilies!
Red potions increased physical attributes—exactly what he needed most right now. Four potions... by his estimate, that was an 80% boost to his physical stats!
His breath hitched, and his body trembled with pure, unadulterated excitement. Now, I'm really going to take off.