Alex stepped out of the elevator onto the bustling fifth floor, the access card from Dr. Elena still warm in his palm. The equipment wing was a cavernous space filled with racks of reinforced gear, glowing mana-infused weapons, and long counters where new recruits were being outfitted. The air hummed with low conversations and the occasional spark of enchantment magic. After the sterile silence of the diagnosis room, the noise felt grounding—almost normal.
He presented his card at the main counter. A stocky quartermaster scanned it, eyebrows rising at the "F-rank Provisional – Special Trait" notation that flashed red on his screen.
"Lowest I've seen in a while," the man grunted, sliding a basic kit across the counter. "Standard beginner set. Leather vest, reinforced pants, a short sword that won't break on the first swing, and a mana injector for emergencies. Don't lose the injector—you'll need it if you get poisoned or bleed too much. Your mission is approved for tomorrow morning. Sector 7 Goblin Den. Be at Teleportation Chamber 3B by 08:00 sharp."
Alex nodded, slinging the gear bag over his shoulder alongside his duffel. The short sword felt awkward and light in his grip—nothing like the epic blades from the ads. He was painfully aware of how ridiculous he must look: twenty-two, broke, officially the weakest adventurer the National Party had ever recorded. Yet the memory of Elena's flushed explanation burned hotter than any embarrassment. *C-rank to B. A-rank to S.* The words looped in his mind like a dark, thrilling promise.
He left the guild headquarters as the sun dipped low, taking the crowded mag-rail back to his tiny apartment. The eviction notice still lay crumpled on the floor where he had dropped it. He ate the last two nutrient bars, showered in the rusty stall, and collapsed onto the thin mattress in his boxers. No guild dormitory. This was still his place—at least for six more days. Sleep came in fitful bursts, haunted by images of glowing portals, monstrous shadows, and the curve of Dr. Elena's body beneath her lab coat.
Morning light stabbed through the cracked window at 7:15 a.m. Alex groaned and reached for his cracked phone. The guild app showed a single bright notification:
**Mission Confirmed – Sector 7 Goblin Den Clearance**
**Recommended Rank: F–D**
**Reward: 800 credits + loot share**
**Report to Teleportation Chamber 3B by 08:00**
No squad details. No names. Nothing about who else would be going. He dressed quickly in the leather vest and reinforced pants, strapped the short sword to his belt, and headed out. The obsidian spire loomed ahead, its floating holographic dragons circling the peak in slow, majestic arcs.
Inside the lobby, the morning rush was already in full swing—seasoned adventurers laughing in full gear, staff directing traffic. Alex made his way to the third sub-level, heart pounding with a mix of dread and dark excitement. He had no idea who his squad mates were. The app had given him nothing beyond the mission code.
He reached Teleportation Chamber 3B alone. The vast circular hall echoed with low magical hums. Reinforced archways shimmered like liquid silver, each one a gateway to a different sector of the Otherworld. A lone technician at the console glanced at his badge and nodded.
"Solo entry for this slot. Code accepted. Step through when the gate turns green. Good luck, kid."
Alex took a deep breath and waited. The archway assigned to him glowed soft green. No one else showed up. He stepped forward alone.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world twisted violently. Cold magic ripped across his skin like icy needles. His stomach lurched. Then gravity reasserted itself, and he stumbled out into the Otherworld.
A dense forest bathed in eerie purple light surrounded him. Massive trees with glowing veins rose like ancient sentinels. The air was thick with the scent of wet moss, damp earth, and a faint metallic tang—blood or raw mana. Distant screeches echoed through the canopy. His squad was nowhere in sight. The portal had scattered him.
Before he could orient himself, a calm, mechanical voice spoke directly inside his head for the first time. It had no accent, no emotion, yet it felt ancient and absolute.
**[System Online. Welcome to the Otherworld, Host. Mana storage: 0%. Symbiotic Essence Weaver trait detected. Power reserves critically empty. Recommendation: Engage in unprotected sexual union with a female mana-bearer of sufficient rank to initiate absorption and rank-up sequence.]**
Alex froze, short sword half-drawn. "What the—?"
[Storage empty. Fuck a woman now.]
The voice was blunt, clinical, and insistent. It repeated the command like a looping alert.
Rustling erupted from the underbrush. Three goblins burst out—small, greenish creatures with yellow eyes and jagged rusty blades. They shrieked with bloodlust and charged straight at him, clearly sensing easy prey.
"Shit!" Alex yanked his sword free, grip slick with sudden sweat. The first goblin swung wildly. He barely parried, the impact jarring his arm painfully. The second slashed low, catching his thigh. Hot pain flared as blood soaked through his reinforced pants.
[Warning: Host vitals dropping. Storage still empty. Locate and fuck a suitable female immediately to stabilize and empower.]
The third goblin leaped high, blade raised to bash his head in. Alex stumbled backward over a thick root and crashed to the mossy ground. The creature landed on his chest, its weight pinning him, rusty blade poised for the killing strike.
"Get off me—!"
Steel flashed through the air with a deadly whistle. The goblin's head flew away in a spray of green blood. A heavy boot kicked the twitching body off Alex's chest.
He looked up, gasping.
A woman stood over him, longsword dripping ichor, chest heaving from the sprint. She was stunning—twenty-one or so, with fiery red hair tied in a high ponytail that swayed with every movement. Her body was athletic perfection: firm arms corded with muscle, toned legs visible beneath reinforced shorts, and full breasts straining against a fitted leather top. Sweat glistened on her sun-kissed skin. Sharp green eyes scanned him fiercely, full lips pressed in a mix of annoyance and focus. She radiated strength—confident, dominant, and undeniably beautiful in a dangerous way.
The system voice spoke again, colder and more detailed this time.
[Female mana-bearer identified. Name: Kira. Rank: C. Primary Class: Swordswoman. Abilities: Flame Edge Slash (inflicts burning damage on strikes), Enhanced Agility (30% faster reflexes), Mana Fortitude (resistant to minor curses and poisons), Combat Instinct (predicts enemy patterns with 75% accuracy). Secondary traits: High libido, dominant personality, fertile cycle currently at peak. Overall power level: Strong mid-tier. Not the pinnacle, but more than sufficient for initial rank-up. Absorption potential: High. Storage fill rate if climax achieved: 100% transfer to B-rank.]
Kira lowered her sword slightly, green eyes narrowing as she took in his bleeding thigh and the dead goblins around them. "You got separated from your entry point? Rookie mistake. Those little shits almost bashed your head in. What the hell were you doing wandering alone?"
Alex pushed himself up, wincing at the pain in his leg. The system's voice kept repeating in his mind, louder now, more urgent.
[Storage still empty. This female is ideal. Fuck her now. Initiate unprotected union. Absorb her C-rank essence through climax to complete rank-up.]
His cock twitched involuntarily despite the danger and the wound. Kira's body was right there—curves tight and powerful, nipples faintly outlined through damp leather, the scent of her sweat and steel mixing with the forest air. Dirty thoughts flooded him unbidden: her ponytail bouncing as she rode him, her moaning demands while he filled her deep, the golden surge of power that would follow.
Kira tilted her head, noticing his dazed expression. "Hey. You hit your head or something? Snap out of it. The cache is this way—my squad should be regrouping soon. Can you walk?"
Alex swallowed hard, the system's command echoing relentlessly.
[Fuck her now. Delay increases risk of death. Storage: 0%. Power reserves critical.]
He opened his mouth, but the words caught. The forest seemed to hold its breath. Kira stood there, sword still ready, beautiful and strong and completely unaware of the mechanical voice screaming in his head that his only path to survival and power was to take her right here against the nearest tree.
The distant screeches of more goblins echoed closer.
Kira glanced over her shoulder, then back at him, impatience flashing in her green eyes. "Well? Speak up, rookie. What's wrong with you?"
The system pulsed one final, insistent line:
[Directive: Fuck Kira now.]