The battlefield was silent—except for the moans.
Thousands of chained soldiers lay on the ground, their bodies still twitching, masks shattered, mouths drooling, cocks and pussies spurting nectar without end.
But the fortress stood.
Kaito lifted his gaze to the towering black structure. The Fortress of Chains, once a monolith of discipline and silence, now writhed like a living beast.
The walls sweated. Thick, white nectar oozed from cracks in the stone, dripping down like rain. The iron gates trembled, their surfaces swelling and contracting as if breathing.
Chains slithered across the walls, not like weapons, but like tongues—licking, coiling, dripping saliva-thick fluid that sizzled when it hit the ground.
The fortress itself was moaning.
Low. Deep. Endless.
A bass sound that vibrated through Kaito's cock, making his golden shaft throb harder.
The gates loomed ahead, black iron runes glowing faintly.
But they were no longer locked.
