The Fallen Princess

At the summit of the Dolimont Mountains,

the towering Astrological Tower rises abruptly, pointing straight towards the star-studded night sky. Its uneven, weathered stone walls testify to its antiquity, and a mountain breeze causes the copper plates hanging from the eaves to jingle intermittently, adding to its solemn and mysterious atmosphere.

Inside the temple atop the tower stands a statue of the god of prophecy. An elderly man in a grey priest's robe kneels tremblingly before the statue, murmuring indistinct prayers. Three golden tassels on his cuffs signify his noble bishop status, and two maids in priestly robes stand respectfully behind him, barely daring to breathe.

"Lord Sufras..."

the prostrate bishop raises his head, his aged voice booming through the temple, "Please bestow your divine decree and guide your people toward the future of the kingdom!"

A long silence ensues.

The bishop's white eyebrows furrowed. After a moment's hesitation, he reached for a bronze cup filled with a vibrant green liquid on the altar, brought it to his lips, carefully sipped it, swallowed, and then prostrated himself again.

"Lord Sufras, please grant me divine guidance, to lead your lost sheep..."

This time, there was finally a response. The statue began to emit a faint, hazy light, gradually growing brighter until a sudden cracking sound, as if something had shattered, and a blinding white light shot out from the statue, engulfing the bishop.

The bishop knelt on the ground, his entire body trembling slightly. His cloudy eyes stared blankly ahead, a faint blue light flickering within them. It was as if his gaze had pierced through thick stone walls, reaching a distant place thousands of miles away.

No one knew what the bishop saw; only that his expression grew increasingly solemn, large beads of sweat forming on his forehead and rolling down his cheeks.

"This...how is this possible?..." With a gasp, the bishop abruptly stood up with an unusual agility for someone his age, his face filled with astonishment.

"Lord Baphmet,"

two young maids approached from behind, looking at him with uneasy eyes, "What did you see? Was it a bad omen?"

The bishop gasped for breath, trying his best to calm himself. He steadied himself, shook his head, and stepped forward, his trembling hands reaching for the bronze cup.

"My lord..."

one of the maids called out to the bishop, her face full of worry, "The water of prayer is very harmful to your body..."

Gazing at the emerald-like liquid in the bronze cup in his hands, the bishop closed his eyes, then suddenly opened them, a resolute look on his face. He softly said, "I know! No need to say more."

With that, he tilted his head back and drank the water of prayer in one gulp.

This time, the prayer was clearly much more effective. Soon, the idol once again delivered a divine message, and white light once again enveloped the bishop, so dazzling that it was impossible to look directly at him.

Having prepared himself mentally before, the bishop seemed much more composed, showing no further unusual expression. However, as time passed, his trembling intensified, his wide robes billowing without wind, his entire body swaying precariously, clearly only held together by sheer willpower.

"Ah!..."

Suddenly, as if witnessing something utterly terrifying, the bishop's face contorted in a horrifying grimace. He let out a scream, leaped up, and then collapsed to the ground. With a loud thud, the bishop's eyes exploded, two streams of blood shooting out like arrows, spraying onto the statue.

"Lord Baphomet..."

"My lord! What's wrong?..."

Two maids rushed forward in a panic, frantically helping the bishop to his feet. His face was ashen, his breathing weak, and his eye sockets were now two gaping, bloody holes, with residual blood mixed with broken white impurities gushing out—a truly gruesome sight.

“God… mortal…”

Bishop Baphomet murmured, his lips trembling. Then, as if suddenly regaining his senses, he struggled to reach out, pointing forward, and shouted with all his might, “The Tablet of Destiny! It’s the Tablet of Destiny!

…”

His desperate cries echoed throughout the Astrological Tower, drifting in the night wind before gradually fading away. Soon, the night sky returned to its tranquil state. After an

unknown amount of time, in an instant, the countless stars in the night sky suddenly shone brightly, as if the entire sky had swayed. But this brilliance lasted only a fleeting moment before returning to normal.

“Am I seeing things?”

A farmer who had gone to relieve himself behind his house in the middle of the night looked at the sky in confusion, rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and muttered as he went back.

In the year 1358 of the Valley Calendar, in the deep winter month, the chief priest of the Kingdom of Philan on the Moon Coast, Baphomet, died mysteriously, marking the beginning of the “Turbulent Age” on the continent of Faer?n. The deafening roar of

the first section

echoed throughout the arena. The stands, with their thousand seats, were packed with excited crowds. The frenzied spectators pounded the rhythm, chanting the names of the new fighters. The massive sound waves crashed down like a tsunami: "The Fang of the Giant Bear!... The Fang of the Giant Bear!..."

Julius swaggered into the arena, his two-meter-long spiked club slung over his shoulder, the heavy iron armor clanging with each step. Reaching the center of the arena, Julius easily lifted the steel club, which was as tall as him, and swung it upwards, eliciting an even louder cheer. He then grinned, a look of pure enjoyment on his face.

"Big guy! It's already started, what are you grinning about?"

Julius turned around and saw a swordsman, two heads shorter than him, standing before him, his tone filled with the anger of being looked down upon.

With a clang, Julius slammed his spiked club into the ground, glanced at the swordsman from head to toe, and couldn't help but chuckle.

The sword in his hand and the leather armor he wore were commonplace items that could be bought anywhere on the street; nothing unusual about them. He seemed like just another naive young man lured in by the smooth talk of the arena merchants. What was rather strange was that the swordsman wore a leather mask that completely covered his face, leaving only his eyes visible. His voice was also somewhat eerie, as if carrying a metallic scraping sound, sending chills down one's spine… Could it be that this person's appearance was as unsightly as his voice, so he covered it up to avoid frightening others?

Julius thought maliciously, grinning widely and spitting viciously: "Kid, you're tired of living? I'll send you to hell!" As he spoke, he raised his spiked club and swung it down with a whoosh.

With a deafening crash, the spiked club smashed into the ground, creating a head-sized crater, sending shards of earth flying everywhere.

The swordsman had already leaped away before the gleaming spikes of the club could fall upon him. Julius only saw a blur before a white sword flashed toward his right eye, the sharp tip just centimeters from his eyeball.

Julius was terrified. In a panic, he twisted his neck sharply and took a step back. He heard a soft clang beside his ear as the sword tip, trailing a spark, grazed the protective shield on his cheek.

"I was careless! This swordsman is no novice!"

Julius, drenched in a cold sweat, immediately abandoned his complacency. He gripped the handle with both hands, roared, and swung the spiked club like a wheel at the swordsman. The

rapidly spinning club, whistling through the air, swept down relentlessly. Faced with such overwhelming power, the swordsman dared not meet it head-on, and could only leap backward, calling out to Julius, "Hey, big guy! Your skill is indeed quite good."

"Hmph!"

These words, meant to be complimentary, sounded like a sarcastic mockery of Julius's near-miss, enraging him and causing him to swing his weapon even harder.

Once he got serious, Julius immediately displayed his true strength. He possessed not only explosive power but also speed disproportionate to his massive physique. The hundred-kilogram mace, under his swing, resembled a rapidly spinning windmill, blocking the swordsman's attack route across a two-meter distance and aiming for vital points with every strike. Soon, the swordsman was in dire straits, narrowly avoiding several attacks.

Seeing this, the spectators in the stands became even more excited, their cheers interspersed with shouts that were almost hoarse: "Giant Bear's Fang... Well done! Smash him into mincemeat!"

The swordsman, forced to retreat, suddenly tripped, stumbled, and fell backward. Faced with this sudden opportunity, Julius, of course, wouldn't let it slip by. With a twist of his hands, he changed his horizontal

sweep of the mace to an upward thrust, then brought it down with a devastating slam. In an instant, the massive mace, like a small mountain, crashed down, blotting out the sky. Just as the mace, thicker than an ordinary person's thigh, was about to touch his head, the swordsman suddenly slammed his left hand on the ground. His body, lying on the ground, swiftly somersaulted backward, instantly escaping being smashed to pieces.

With a resounding crash, Julius's mace slammed heavily onto the ground, creating a dent in the hard, gravel-strewn earth.

The moment he landed, the swordsman lightly touched the ground with his toes and immediately took a step forward. This step, seemingly as ordinary as a stroll, was like a gentle breeze, light and unpredictable, covering a distance of over four meters in one leap, delivering the swordsman to Julius. With a swift movement, the longsword in his hand shot forward. A muffled thud echoed as the tip pierced through the gap in the mask, embedding itself deeply into Julius's brow.

"Dark Elf swordsmanship!..."

Julius's throat gurgled, and as he tried to say something more, everything went black, and his massive body collapsed with a thud.

The balance of power shifted abruptly. The excited shouts of the spectators in the stands seemed to be abruptly cut off, then erupted into an even greater clamor: "What happened? Did anyone see that clearly?"

"Impossible! Julius is dead! My money..."

"Who is this kid? Where did this expert come from?"

A cacophony of shouts rose and fell, engulfing the arena in a sea of confusion.

...

Through the dispersing crowd, an ordinary-looking carriage sped out of the arena, racing through the streets and alleys of Azgrath, soon arriving at a quiet manor. As the carriage passed through the gate, it showed no sign of stopping, only slowing slightly before speeding straight in. The guards at the gate seemed unfazed, quickly closing the gate and shutting the manor shut after the carriage entered.

Deep within the manor's flowerbeds, a person completely shrouded in black robes stood at the door of a small house, gazing at the setting sun. After a while, he lowered his head and sighed softly. Only when he looked up again into the distance did a glimpse of his face, hidden beneath the black robes, appear—a young drow elf.

Suddenly, the swordsman from the arena appeared at the flowerbed's entrance. Upon seeing the black-robed figure, he ran over joyfully, shouting, "Master... I'm here!"

Seeing the approaching swordsman, the black-robed figure's lips unconsciously curved into a smile, but then quickly fell.

"You know, your performance just now disappointed me greatly! Your swordsmanship is..."

"Waaah..." The black-robed figure was interrupted before he could finish speaking. The swordsman, who had run up to Drow, threw himself into Drow's arms and sobbed uncontrollably, "Teacher, I missed you so much..."

"Alright, alright..."

The icy expression on the black-robed man's face immediately crumbled. He patted the swordsman's back helplessly, gesturing for him to sit down. "No need to cry so much, it's only been a few months... There's no one here, take off your mask."

"Yes, Teacher Drow!"

Hearing that the black-robed man wouldn't pursue the matter further, the swordsman's sobbing immediately ceased. He reached behind his head to untie the veil, then sat down with an air of nonchalance. The change was so swift that the black-robed man could only manage a wry smile.

With the mask removed, the setting sun seemed to dim for a moment, making all the blooming flowers in the garden pale in comparison. Drizzt stared at her for a moment before speaking, "You seem even more beautiful than you were a few months ago... Princess Christia, your beauty will surely be sung about by bards everywhere in the future."

"Hehe... Thank you for the compliment, teacher." Christia smiled brightly, her captivatingly sweet smile leaving Drizzt mesmerized for quite a while.

As she smoothed her long, golden hair, which had been disheveled by the hood, and peeled off a small piece of suede from her throat, Christia's voice immediately returned to its melodious, pleasant tone: "Teacher, where have you been these past few months? You left without a word last time, and everyone was so worried about you."

The drow elf's smile vanished as she spoke of herself, and she lowered her head, pondering for a moment before finally saying,

"After this meeting, I will be leaving Azgrath."

"Ah…why? Teacher, aren't you doing just fine here?" Christia's delicate eyebrows furrowed beautifully as she looked up at Drizzt in surprise. "Has your identity been discovered?"

"No, thanks to His Highness's care, I have been perfectly safe here for the past three years. The problem stems from my friend…"

Drizzt shook his head, his eyes gazing into the distance. "My friend, Bruno. Warhammer is in grave danger, and if it cannot be resolved, he and his people will face immense peril. I must rush to his aid."

"Is that so..."

Christia withdrew her gaze in disappointment, pondered for a moment, then suddenly looked up again, asking with a delighted expression, "Since it's such a dangerous matter, Teacher, you must need my help, right?"

Seeing Christia's eager expression, Trist couldn't help but chuckle: "Help? I think you really want to take this opportunity to go on an adventure..."

Without hesitation, Trist refused Christia's request, saying seriously, "The enemy we're facing this time is extraordinary. It's not something a greenhorn like you can handle. Forget about it."

"Oh dear, Teacher... I'm already quite strong... and you still call me a greenhorn, even though I'm not much older than you..."

Christia pouted, muttering under her breath in dissatisfaction, her jewel-like blue eyes darting around a few times before she suddenly lowered her head and fell silent.

"My affairs... we'll talk about them later. Let's talk about your studies first."

Not noticing Christia's expression, Drizzt waved his hand, turned around, and changed the subject. "Judging from today's trial, while your swordsmanship is already quite good, you lack real-world experience. Your opponent was at least two levels weaker than you, yet you won with such difficulty. It seems you need to work harder on your skills and experience... Hmm?! What are you doing?"

Drizzt, who was speaking eloquently, turned around, only to be stunned to see half of Christia's leather armor removed, revealing a large expanse of her snow-white, translucent breasts. His mouth went dry, and he stammered.

"A parting gift for my teacher..."

Christia smiled and spoke naturally, reaching out to press the last button. With a click, the entire leather armor came off and was casually tossed to the ground, revealing her flawless, naked body to Drizzt.

"A...a gift?...Oh! No, I didn't..."

Staring blankly at Christia's alluring curves, Drizzt felt dizzy. It wasn't until she walked up to him and gently wrapped her arms around his neck that he reacted. He frantically reached out to block her, but accidentally grabbed her soft yet firm breasts. He immediately blushed and became incoherent.

“Actually… Teacher often secretly watches too…”

Nestled close to Drizzt’s ear, Christia’s breath was sweet and fragrant. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly pursed, and her whole body exuded a breathtakingly alluring charm. “Three years ago, you saw me in the hot spring in the palace, and then you fell off the wall and were discovered by the guards. The one who escaped in the end must have been you, Teacher…”

“Ah!…”

Drizzt felt as if all the blood in his body had rushed to his face, his face turning purplish-black, and he was speechless. “How did you know?…”

Christia smiled slightly, not answering, but instead tiptoed and kissed Drizzt with her soft, moist lips.

All he could touch was Christia’s skin, so delicate and smooth that it was more delicate than silk. Her nimble tongue was also gently stirring, playfully pushing in. Drizzt's blood boiled, his last shred of reason crumbling. He grabbed Christia's soft, boneless body, lowered his head, and kissed her fiercely.

With a tearing sound, his black robe, along with the clothes underneath, was ripped off. Standing naked before Christia, his lean yet muscular body was covered in strong muscles, exuding a fierce aura.

"Teacher's lower body is truly extraordinary..."

Looking at his erect, enormous penis, Christia smiled, knelt down, and took the tip of the shaft into her mouth, then began to suckle skillfully.

"Tsk... Where did you learn all this?..."

As his penis was licked and manipulated in her warm mouth, Drizzt felt a wave of weakness wash over him, and he couldn't help but gasp. "How could you, a princess, possibly have the opportunity to do such a thing?..."

Christia, still with his penis in her mouth, didn't reply, but her blinking eyes revealed a "guess" expression. Just as Drizzt was about to say something more, he was interrupted by a sudden, strange sensation—Christia's soft tongue was gently tracing the tip of his penis, occasionally extending its tip to try and probe into the opening, sending a shiver down Drizzt's spine.

Unable to resist the teasing any longer, Drizzt reached out and forcefully pressed Christia's head downwards. Despite being forced down, Christia showed no discomfort; instead, she diligently swallowed the penis, the thick shaft passing through her throat, instantly turning her delicate face bright red.

Seemingly still unsatisfied, Christia reached out and grabbed Drizzt's waist, pulling him forcefully, pushing the penis completely inside, deep into her esophagus, and then began to move it back and forth. Each entry was a full shove, until soft lips pressed tightly against Drizzt's testicles. Soon, his penis was covered in glistening saliva, shimmering in the afterglow of the setting sun.

"Ha..."

Seeing Christy's incredible endurance, Drizzt felt relieved and no longer hesitated. He opened his hands, grabbing Christy's head to immobilize it, and thrust his hips forward, actively pumping in and out of her mouth.

"Truly... an unparalleled pleasure..."

Drizzt's thrusts were fierce and fast, each one forcefully penetrating to the very end. His hard penis felt the tightness and strange warmth of her esophagus, and he soon felt he was about to lose control. Soon, a tingling pleasure spread throughout his body. Drizzt shuddered violently and stopped, a large amount of semen gushing out, every drop shooting deep into Christy's throat, slowly flowing down her esophagus into her stomach.

"Mmm..."

Christia gently stroked her full stomach with her fingertips, licking her lips. A blush rose on her stunningly beautiful face as she said, still wanting more, "Teacher's semen is quite plentiful..."

This sexy action immediately stirred a new storm in Drizzt's eyes.

Kicking aside the chair beside him, Drizzt pulled Christia over, threw her face down on the grass, spread her long, slender legs, and used his fingers to pry open her wet, pink labia. His other hand suddenly thrust in hard.

"Ah..."

Suddenly stimulated like this, Christia jerked her head back and cried out softly, turning her head to say, "Teacher, you're so rough... I can't take it anymore..." However, her seductive expression and soft tone clearly encouraged Drizzt to be even rougher!

The narrow vagina was forcefully widened by Drizzt's large hand, which tightly enveloped his palm. However, with each powerful thrust, the elastic, soft walls of flesh always managed to accommodate more. Soon, Drizzt had inserted his entire hand, up to his wrist, his fingertips reaching the soft cervix, even able to feel the contractions and tremors emanating from the deepest part.

"Ah...ah...it feels so good...Teacher, harder..."

Christia's body swayed back and forth with each thrust, her two round, full breasts bouncing with each movement, looking incredibly alluring. Drizzt reached out with his other hand, grabbed one of her breasts, and squeezed it hard, as if grasping a soft ball of water. His five fingers immediately sank deep inside. The fair, elastic breast deformed violently in his hand until it completely covered his pierced fingers.

"Hehe...Little girl, are you excited?"

Feeling the nipple in his palm hardening rapidly, Drizzt increased the pressure of his kneading, while his other hand thrust more violently. With the secretion of vaginal fluid, each thrust made a muffled "plop" sound. "Don't rush...I'll make it even more exciting in a bit."

As he spoke, Drizzt withdrew one hand, aimed his now erect penis at Christia's anus, pried it open with his fingers, and thrust it in forcefully.

"Ah...there...it's burning...so exciting..."

Although it only went in halfway, due to the lack of lubrication, the thrusting penis pulled against the intestinal wall, scraping her rectum roughly. The intense stimulation caused Christia to throw her head back, panting heavily, "Again!... Ha... I want it... even more exciting..."

Drizzt thrust forward forcefully, plunging his thick penis all the way in, then began to pump rapidly. The hand moving inside her vagina increased its intensity, and several times at the peak, his fingers even playfully flicked her neck, each time causing Christia's body to tremble.

"Ah... Ah... Teacher... Let me climax..."

"Hey!"

Christia's vagina spasmed intensely, gripping Drizzt's hand tightly, almost to the point of being unable to pull it out. Through the thin barrier, Drizzt's penis was stimulated to the point of no return, another wave of tingling and numbness spreading throughout his body. Feeling that he was about to ejaculate, Drizzt suddenly flipped his hand over, grabbing his penis through the fleshy walls between her vagina and rectum, and began to stroke it violently.

"Ahhhhhhh..."

Christia's hair whipped upwards, her whole body trembling violently, and a large amount of vaginal fluid gushed out, splashing all over Trist's arm. At the same time, the penis inside her also ejaculated white semen, instantly filling her entire rectum and overflowing.

"Phew...that was so much fun..."

Lying on the ground like a dog, Christia rested for a long time before coming back to her senses. Turning her head to look at Drizzt, who was sitting on the ground with his buttocks, her face was full of a sweet smile that could kill. "Teacher..."

Hearing this captivating voice, Drizzt was a little tempted again, but his body was already too weak. He could only wave his hand and shake his head, saying, "I can't...I need to rest for a while..."

Pouting slightly in dissatisfaction, Christia rolled her charming eyes again. After a while, as if she had thought of something, she suddenly smiled happily and said to Drizzt, "Teacher, isn't there a basement under your bedroom? There seem to be some very strange toys in there. Let's go and try them out!"

"Who, who told you that?" Drizzt jumped up as if he had been stepped on.

“They saw it when they went in.”

“Impossible! I put a protective barrier on the basement; you couldn’t possibly get in!”

“I couldn’t get in myself.”

Christia’s eyes crinkled with laughter, like two rising crescent moons. “But last time when you weren’t here, a black leopard took me in for a bit, and I saw everything…it seemed to be the same leopard that appeared next to you, Teacher.”

Trist clenched his fists tightly, taking a deep breath: “That Guan Haifa guy!…”

[The End]

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