The temple of flesh had gone quiet.
No more screams. No more contractions. Just the heavy sound of dripping—milk, ichor, and cum sliding down the walls in endless rivulets. The Void Egg glowed faintly, swollen from the seed poured into it, its slit still open but no longer convulsing. It pulsed slowly, like a womb heavy with first conception.
Kaito stood in the center, cock still half-buried in the Egg's folds. His body steamed with sweat and milk, golden seed dripping down his thighs. His eyes burned with exhaustion and triumph. He had done it—he had seeded the cycle.
But the air was wrong.
The silence wasn't peace. It was waiting.
Kaori lay sprawled in the flood, her belly swollen like she carried eternity itself. Her skin glowed faintly violet, her womb twitching with each faint pulse of the Egg. Milk sprayed from her nipples in violent bursts, arching across the temple floor. She clawed at her belly, half-sobbing, half-laughing.
