The dawn broke sickly over Vireya.
The Milk River, once white with purity, now churned with semen, blood, and the cries of newborn spawn. Its banks overflowed with afterbirth and broken vines. The trees drooped low, bark peeling, as if ashamed to witness what had been birthed beneath their branches.
From the Temple Under Root came Kaito, cock still glistening, his body radiating a heat so thick the air wavered around him. Behind him shuffled his harem, their thighs still trembling, their wombs stretched and leaking. Each step they took left trails of milk, cum, and blood in the mud, as though the world itself had become a record of his fucking.
But it wasn't only them.
The brood came too.
Dozens of spawn—some crawling like infants, others walking on malformed limbs, others floating with translucent wings that buzzed with semen-slicked light. Their cries were not cries of helplessness, but demands: "More. More, Father. More wombs. More throats. More flesh to feed us."
