CHAPTER 8

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As Doran's voice faded into the night, the weary band of predators continued their journey through the snowy wilderness. The landscape stretched out before them, a vast and hellish expanse of white interrupted only by the occasional silhouette of towering trees.

Steve led the way, his boots sinking into the soft powder with each stride. Every now and then, they encountered obstacles: fallen trees weighed down by heavy snow, icy patches that threatened to send them tumbling, and hidden crevices obscured by the blanket of white. The weather was heart-numbing.

As they trudged through the snowy expanse, their only thought was getting back home. But fate had other plans. Out of nowhere, a pack of mountain snow wolves pounced on them, catching them off-guard. With Doran and Bob running low on stamina, it was up to Steve to deal with the furry menace.

Steve didn't waste a second. He leaped into action, his sword flashing in the moonlight as he cut down the wolves with brutal efficiency. Blood painted the snow red as he fought tooth and nail, a whirlwind of fury and steel.

Finally, the last wolf dropped dead, defeated and bloodied, its head severed by Steve's shield. Momentary peace settled over them, but it didn't last long. As they walked on, Bob's nature call turned into a nightmare. A frost moda snake sank its teeth into his most sensitive part, causing excruciating pain. Doran and Steve couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Despite the chaos, they pressed on, each step bringing them closer to home. Hours dragged on until they finally spotted the familiar sight of their settlement's entrance.

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The night in the settlement was quite peaceful, with most of the tribe members fast asleep. However, Steve found himself unable to ignore the disturbing sounds that filled the camp. The unmistakable, deep, and vulgar moans of women at the mercy of their lust driven husbands, their screams cut through the silence like a sharp blade. The strong smell of alcohol also lingered in the air, blending with the intense and primal ambiance.

Hearing all this Bob, tightly gripped the fabric containing the giant's severed head, blood still dripping onto the frozen snow. With anger, he muttered, "While we fought monsters for them, these bastards are enjoying themselves with bitches. Shouldn't they show some gratitude and offer their wives to us for a one night at least?" The blood of Uchiha spoke through clenched teeth and a cold gleam visible in his eyes.

Steve, growing annoyed by the immoral suggestion, responded, "You shouldn't speak like that, Bob. Besides, I doubt that thing of yours can even work now, thanks to the great Mamba."

Despite his irritation, he also harbored concern, mindful of the presence of snakes even in the frozen land, momentarily realizing he needed to be more cautious.... otherwise-

Bob retorted angrily, "You... what do you even know about it? Just because you're handsome doesn't mean everyone is getting laid. Some poor people still have to use their hands, to satisfy their urges"

Listening to them, the wise man Doran intervened,

"Lads, it's time for us to head to the tribal chief, collect our rewards, and then go our separate ways. So let's not waste any more time; my old bones need some rest."

As a man who had a family before, he didn't approve of Bob's crude comments but understood that they were just words. Bob was not a bad person at heart, which made him feel relieved. Shortly after, they noticed a servant of the tribal chief coming towards them, almost as if anticipating their arrival for hours.

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As the group was pondering, the servant approached with an urgent demeanor, his breath visible in the frosty air. With a respectful bow, he said,

"The tribal chief requests your immediate presence, Warriors Steve, Doran, and Bob."

Doran exchanged a glance with Steve and Bob, sensing the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, they followed the servant through the frosty paths of the settlement, their boots crunching on the snow-covered ground, all the while blood was still dripping from the giant's skull.

Arriving at the Great Hall, they were met with a somber atmosphere. The tribal chief, dressed in furs and beads, sat upon his throne, his expression grave. Without preamble, he asked, "Have you killed that thing?" He asked.

"Yes, Chief Dorra," Steve said, his voice a mix of pride and sorrow. They had killed the giant, but they also lost their brothers in arms, Jake and Snyder.

Hearing they had completed their task, Dorra was momentarily stunned, his mood darkening. He had expected them to die, having deliberately concealed just how dangerous the giant truly was.

Regret and frustration gnawed at him. He cursed the day he decided to give Steve a chance. Dorra had hoped to mold Steve into a loyal follower, but Steve had proven impossible to tame.

Instead of becoming Dorra's obedient hound, Steve had garnered admiration and respect from the tribesmen, admiration that once belonged to Dorra. This shift in loyalty signaled a potential uprising, a threat to Dorra's power that he could not ignore.

Also, death of his loyal dog Gendu had left a void, one that Steve's growing influence only exacerbated. The supreme sorceress, though wasn't present, still exerted pressure on him through her loyal followers, who seized every opportunity to undermine his authority.

But what stung the most was the look in his wife's eyes, an unsettling sparkle, whenever Steve's name was mentioned. It was a look that made Dorra feel as though he was on the verge of being cuckolded if Steve remained.

Dorra knew he had to act decisively. Either Steve would be eliminated, or he would be driven out of the tribe. The thought of losing his position, his wife's loyalty, and his hard-won respect drove Dorra to the brink. Steve had to go, one way or another.

"You haven't returned with Snyder and Jake," Dorra said, noting the belongings they carried. "They must have fallen in battle, right, Doran?"

"Yes, Chief. An accident happened during the fight, we caught off guard and ....and they couldn't make it. But they fought bravely and honored the name of the Cocoon tribe."

"Hmm, well... every warrior must accept this fate one day. But forgive me, I can't give you much time to mourn. Something unexpected is happening around the wildlings."

Doran, who had been standing silently until now, asked in a somewhat frustrated but still respectful voice, "What do we have to do now? Don't tell me you're planning to send us out right away."

"Of course not," Dorra replied, standing up as he retrieved a wooden letter from his pocket. "The Lord of the False North, those damn Starks, have been reaching out to the wildlings. Here, news travels slowly. It's been at least four weeks since he requested to summon representatives from all factions among the wildlings."

"Our allies—the Worm, Insect, and Mongrel tribes—also received a letter written in our language. They claim it's an invitation to open a trade route and that they'll help us with various advanced technologies. Although it would be absolutely rotten compared to the South, most have decided to go and see what those bastards are up to."

Hearing Dorra, Doran's face tightened with concern. He feared this invitation was a trap; the people of the False North had always harbored hatred for the descendants of the First Men, and Doran couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a trade proposition. On the other hand, Steve chose to remain silent as he wasn't aware of most things here, especially the people beyond the wall, whom he had never seen.

"Haha! But Chief, how did you even receive this invitation, given the vast distance between us?" Doran asked, his voice laced with skepticism and a hint of disbelief.

"About that," Dorra's voice boomed with authority, "although the trade route between us and the Free Men isn't the swiftest, someone aided those damn crows in getting the message through. Regardless, I've made the decision that the three of you, alongside the Ward Trident and roughly 140 men, will venture forth to uncover their intentions, laden with our goods like herbs and animal leather."

"If it turns out to be a trap," Dorra's gaze hardened, "you four must decide: either protect the disposable men I'm entrusting to you, or flee. Yet, the prospect of forging a route between us and the false northern lords is too significant to dismiss. Who's to say they harbor malice at all? So you must be ready for the journey; your destination is the northern desolation zone."

The Desolate Zone lay far to the north, a remote location nestled along the northern shore of the Wall, distant from Castle Black in the south. Despite being closer to the Cocoon tribes' hideout, it still spanned a formidable distance of 89 miles. While not as vast as the distance to Castle Black, the journey was treacherous, traversing snowy paths where even small distances could prove perilous.

Doran couldn't shake the feeling that this route posed a life-threatening risk. Who knew what dangers lurked along the way? Encountering a giant tribe could spell the end for them all. The Chief's plan to send a delegation from the tribe felt like a death sentence. It wasn't that Doran was afraid; he just sensed that the Chief's intentions weren't good.

"But what if those crows turn against us and decide to end us? Losing someone like me would darken the future of the tribe, wouldn't it? Haha!... but anyway, since the boss has decided, I'm good to go,"

Bob said somewhat proudly. He didn't hate the idea of leaving the tribe; he had heard about the beauty of Free Folk women. Unlike their tribe, which had only male slaves since no woman could survive their barbarity, the Free Folk would sell their women even for a piece of bread. Bob had always wanted to buy a few women for himself, not to make them slaves but to make them his own wives.

After hearing Bob's remarks, Dorra's smile widened, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "As expected from a warrior of the Uchiha clan," he praised. "You never fail to impress. Now, Doran, Steve, what are your thoughts?"

'This fool'  Doran muttered under his breath, shooting a sidelong glance at the chuckling Bob. With reluctance, he offered a nod of begrudging agreement. "I can speak for myself, but given Steve's new to the tribe, so tribal chief I wish you could —"

Before Doran could finish, Steve interjected with conviction.

"Count me in, old man," Steve declared, a chuckle punctuating his words. "Or who else will protect your precious ancient fossils? Hahah...if not me?"

He didn't much care for the reasoning; his eagerness lay in exploring lands where the snow wasn't as relentless. More importantly, he couldn't fathom letting Bob and Doran venture alone; they were already like family to him.

"Haahaah!Haahaah! ...as expected of the Shield Demon"

Dorra felt a rush of happiness when Steve agreed. He wished for these people to disappear so he could rule in peace. The idea of being the monarch and the strongest in the tribe without anyone bothering him made him smile. He imagined a future where he was the only one left standing, enjoying the quiet life. Now with these people gone, he would have more confidence in dealing with the sorceress.

"Very well, it's settled then. take this time to rest well, for tomorrow at dawn, you will shoulder the hopes of our people. A new purpose, a fresh conquest, and a thrilling journey awaits you."

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After the meeting ended, Steve made his way home through the chilly weather. Before long, he noticed Jara sitting on the doorstep, her body shaking with sobs. Her torn clothes accentuated her curvy figure, and her hands trembled as she held onto her knees.

"Jara, what happened?" Steve asked with concern as he knelt beside her, his long black hair falling in waves around his face, his heart heavy with worry. He was certain something must have happened while he was gone hunting.

"He... he... snif...ahhhh ..Woo..." Jara's words were choked with tears as she struggled to speak.

He brushed his fingers across her face, wiping away the bloodstains. Jara stiffened, but Steve gently lifted her chin, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Take your time, Jara. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay until I make things right for you, no matter what it takes."

"He... my husband accused me of betraying him with you," Jara finally managed to whisper, her voice trembling with fear and pain. "He threatened to sell me to other men... called me a whore."

Upon hearing her words, Steve's heart swelled with a fierce need to protect Jara. Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, guided by the soft glow of the fire. Soon, he spread a fur rug by the flames of the chimney.

As they settled beside the crackling fire, Jara collapsed onto the plush fur, her tears staining its soft fabric. Steve sat beside her, enveloping her in his embrace, his shoulder bearing the weight of her fragile head.

"He believed those rumors. Tell me, did I do anything sinful with...? So why is everyone blaming me?"

"It's not your fault, Jara. I also feel uneasy about it. We aren't what they say."

"He beat me... It hurts, Steve... Please, what should I do? My daughter kept crying; she even begged him to stop... He said, 'Who knows if she was also the result of betrayal?'"

Jara's voice cracked with anguish as she recounted the torment she and her daughter endured. Continuously sobbing, her body trembled with the memory of her husband's violence.

Her gaze pleaded for understanding, longing to be embraced by this man. At this moment, she yearned for his touch, warmth, and strength to protect her from evil. Lost in emotion, she found herself drawn to Steve, a flame of lust rising in her heart.

Since her husband labeled her a whore who betrayed him, why not make it real? Why endure disdain when she hadn't done anything wrong? Giving him a reason seemed like the only option.

Steve quickly fetched the first aid kit to apply on her wounds. Looking at how grave those injuries were, he exclaimed, "Damn it! I'll kill that motherfucker! How could you do that to Jara, you bastard?" Hearing his words, Jara felt even more determined. She wanted to say something, but Steve stood up abruptly and said, "You must be hungry, Jara. Wait a minute, I'll bring something to eat. Then, I'll also apply medicine to your wounds."

Just as Steve was about to get up, Jara muttered softly,

"I don't need anything but you."

He turned to see the middle-aged woman had already removed her upper tunic, her luscious curves and ample breasts fully exposed in the soft glow. A flush of arousal painted her cheeks as she extended her arms towards him, her body exuding untamed sensuality. With a sultry gaze, she purred,

"Just make love to me, Steve... that's what I need the most, I don't need food nor herbs... I just need you."

Steve's heart raced as he drank in the sight of Jara before him. He had a rough day; he lost his friend, who died in front of him, and he couldn't do anything. He also needed a feminine aura to soothe his heart; thus, his desire for her burned fiercely, a primal need that demanded fulfillment.

He could see the longing in her eyes too. It wasn't the first time, though; she always wanted him, he knows that. Perhaps today her husband has given her an excuse to cheat on him.

"Don't regret this in the morning, Jara, 'cause I won't."

Steve looked at Jara's body glistening with sweat, a sheen of desire that only fueled Steve's arousal further. As he drew her close, he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Soon, he embraced her and sealed her lips with his own.

After a while, the small and cozy house of Steve resonated with soft and beautiful moans of a broken woman, and this was just the beginning, as the night in the frozen land tends to be longer.

When Steve was busy devouring the milf, not far away from the settlement uneasiness had plagued the air.

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Meanwhile...

Rotten Mountain, Cacoon tribe.

The freezing wind howled across the empty landscape, carrying the smell of death and decay. Trees covered in snow stood like eerie guards, their branches weighed down by frost and the burned remnants of those who had tragically perished.

The frozen ground was scattered with partially buried corpses, their contorted bodies silently expressing agony. The air reeked of charred flesh, a nauseating scent that mixed with the biting cold, creating a nightmarish ambiance that chilled anyone brave enough to explore this abandoned location to their core.

Amidst this frozen wasteland, a woman stood tall, her presence a dark and ominous silhouette against the white expanse. She was middle-aged, neither beautiful nor unattractive, but her appearance was strikingly terrifying.

Clad in black garments that fluttered in the bitter wind, she wore a green necklace that seemed to pulse with an eerie light. Her hair was as white as the snow beneath her feet, and her eyes, blood-red and piercing, bore a look of merciless resolve. Her skin, pale as the snow, had an otherworldly quality that added to her menacing and threatening aura.

At her feet lay the body of a fallen warrior, his life extinguished in a futile struggle. The woman gazed down at him with a mixture of disdain and sorrow, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"Who killed him, Sahya?" she demanded.

Not far away, her attendant, a young woman trembling with fear, took a hesitant step forward. She knew the terror that the sorceress could unleash, and her voice quivered as she spoke.

"A new warrior arrived in the tribe two months ago, Sorceress," Sahya said. "He challenged for freedom and killed the sinner."

The sorceress bit her lip, a flash of frustration crossing her features. She had longed to be the one to kill the beast herself, to exact her own personal revenge. Her gaze turned skyward, and for a moment, a tear threatened to escape her eye. But she quickly regained her composure, her red eyes burning with renewed determination.

"After all, I wasn't able to avenge you, my daughter," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the wind.

She looked down at the body of Gendu, her enemy and the man she had loathed for decades. Her face twisted with hatred, she spoke in a voice filled with venom.

"You do not deserve to die with dignity, monster."

As if summoned by her words, the ground began to stir. Insects emerged from the frozen earth, crawling over Gendu's body and burrowing into his nostrils and ears, devouring the soft tissue within. An owl perched lazily on his nose, its sharp talons digging into the flesh as its beak gouged out his eyes.

A murder of crows descended, their beady eyes glinting with hunger as they tore at his face. Wolves slunk out from the shadows, their eyes glowing menacingly. One tore into Gendu's abdomen, crunching through bone to feast on his liver, while others gnawed on his limbs, teeth gnashing through sinew and bone.

Hyenas circled, cackling as they darted into snatch chunks of flesh, their laughter mixing with growls and the sound of tearing flesh. The once formidable body of Gendu was reduced to a gruesome spectacle of blood and bones, picked clean by the ravenous predators.

The sorceress watched the feast with cold satisfied smile on her face, her red eyes gleaming with the fulfillment of long-awaited vengeance.

After a while, the attendant, still shivering from both fear and the cold, spoke again, her voice barely a whisper.

"One more thing, lady Kaya....someone has stolen our Pleasurewood."

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To Be Continued..