The stars no longer shone.
They dripped.
Molten warmth, nectar-thick, leaking from the heavens like milk from trembling nipples. The realms had collapsed into one another—folded, soaked, drowned in rivers of essence, milk, and black-red heat. What remained was not a world. It was a womb.
A trembling, pulsing womb made of broken divinity, laced with vines and soaked in the eternal warmth of Kaito-sama.
He stood at the center of it—the God of Eternal Warmth, vines spiraling from his glowing chest where the Gate of Absolute Tyranny had now sealed itself into a black-red jewel, pulsing like a heartbeat with every moan, every leak, every desperate whimper from the goddesses collapsed around him.
Kaori lay on her back across the altar of writhing vines, her thighs wide open, folds dripping thick clear streams, the soft sound of her leaking echoing through the molten air. Her breasts were soaked, milk pooling across her stomach and dripping down to her navel.
