Challenge System CH20-25 (Patreon)

From my experience, the difference between learning breathing techniques and constant was analogous with cars. If pre-constant sea god breathing was like driving an old Ford pickup, then constant was a hypothetical self-driving nuclear car that could run for a thousand years. I needed a start-up time to even use breathing techniques that disadvantaged me against constant users. Going from consciously using the breathing technique to constant was different enough to give me whiplash. The feeling was like going from a 1995 ford to a 2040 self-driving nuclear-powered car. Night and day barely described the feeling of constant and continuous power. While I couldn’t store infinite power, I felt my power infinitely regenerate. In that regard, it felt like my old clunker gas tank, and the engine was replaced with a tritium nuclear battery.

In only two days of constant torture and a lack of sleep, I slept through the night on the third day of my training and woke up differently. Instead of feeling my strength ebb away, I hit my rock bottom and began the slow rise. My strength, speed, and defense recovered to their normal superhuman levels and continued to rise. My skin took on a slight glow like the elves around me, and I felt stronger than I had ever been.

Without my healing factor, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. For a while, as my strength fell, I thought it would fail me, and I would die. My problems weren’t solved, but I felt like my old self, and the confidence that led me to forcing my dick down Samael’s throat reared its ugly head. I had been too passive while I let myself adapt to constant, now was the time to act.

In the early morning light, I cornered the young elf in charge of delivering food to Zosimael. The elf gave me the stink eye and looked ready to drop her delivery on the ground and throw hands.

“If you think a day of constant will help you match a real warrior, you’re mistaken, Mister.” The cocky elf said.

I snatched her up by the throat before she could move a muscle. She flailed as I choked her breathing technique. “If you can’t breathe, what use is your technique. You might be a warrior, but you’re a bit too young and dumb to give me trouble.” I said.

So, I was a little cocky. That was normal; I just got my power up and felt like my old self again. I felt good and could be forgiven for feeling cocky. All my teeth were back and honestly in better shape than ever. Thanks to my healing factor and diet, the weight training had already given me some gains thanks to my healing factor and diet. I killed a bull moose just yesterday and hoisted it off the ground with some rope a carved pulley wheel. While most of the meat went to the smokers and would later be distributed, I stockpiled some at Zosimael’s home. That led me to the conclusion I shouldn’t directly confront the minister of supply.

Cocky or not, now wasn’t the time to make waves. Now that constant was mastered, I could focus on mastering my island obliterating fist. Mekael was waiting for me at our normal training field with a treat ready. But, first, I needed to settle some business with the minister of supply without making an enemy of her or letting her know I knew about the poisoning.

“I need to know where I can find the minister of supply,” I said.

“Blow me,” The elf said.

I honestly didn’t know if she was serious or not. Elven society was filled with trades of sexual favors, and this could be precisely that. On the other hand, she could be suggesting an actual sexual trade. If that was the case, then sure, I guess it probably wouldn’t take that long going by her hardening dick. Despite my better judgment, I loosened my grip.

She sucked in a breath and let it out, and threw a punch aimed at my throat. I moved a little to the side to dodge her attack and kicked the side of her forward-facing foot, and while she was off-balance, I moved in close. She fell forward and caught herself on my chest; I stared down at the teary green-eyed elf and blushing elf.

“I like the hair on your face.” The girl said.

“Thank you for the compliment; you have pretty green eyes. Before were you bargaining with me or….”

“Yes, I like blowjobs. The other warriors say I’m too small and don’t like sucking on me. I forage all the fruit I can, but no one wants any of me.” The little green-eyed warrior girl said. Elves were hard to place their age once they fully matured. Mekael was around 60, from what I could tell, and Zosimael was closer to a millennium.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Temael, I’m great at poison, the blowgun, and sneaking around. Could you lick inside my urethra too? The other girls like to cum inside my cock and fill my balls even more. I’m so pent up I can’t stand it.” Temael said.

I sighed and pulled her furs down in the alcove between tree houses. She wasn’t the tallest elf and was relatively petite, like she said before. Even her breasts were only A-cup compared to other elves. She wore her black hair below her shoulders, brushed out and tied with a few cosmetic bones braided into the strands. She was definitely fully grown; that was unmistakable. Her height topped out at 6ft, while most elves were 7ft or taller. I could only imagine the torment she received from her peers. One blowjob wasn’t going to kill me, and then I felt for her futa cock and balls.

Petite or not, her balls were swollen to the size of golf balls, and her futa cock was massive. Too small, my ass; it was the largest thing I’ve seen not on a horse. She looked down and bit her lip at seeing me handle her cock. Her green eyes fluttered eagerly. Despite how mouthy she had been, she seemed to have nothing to say now. Her large pink foreskin covered the head of her cock even as it swelled.

I pulled the skin down, and she moaned while the reddening pink head of her cock swelled, and she watched large shining green eyes filled with eagerness. I stuck my tongue out and licked her tip. The massive organ twitched, and a small gush of pre cum splattered out and ran down her shaft like a volcanic eruption. A thick string of cream ran down to hang from her massive sack before dripping down to the branch we stood upon.

I licked her urethra and felt the pliant skin shift for my tongue even as she gushed to give me a taste of her essence within. Essentially every lick was rewarded by a sweet, creamy explosion of elf spunk from all the young warriors who came in her hungry cock. With every lick, her monstrous orifice stretched and relaxed to give my tongue entry while she poured nearly a pint of pre in my mouth.

“You’re so good at this I can’t hold back much more.” That was a solid warning, and I was thankful for it, but it was unnecessary.

Mount Temael had been erupting a little at a time since we started, and the main event drew ever closer by the pulsing of her massive futa cock. I reached down and slipped a finger under her sack to test the waters of her soft elven pussy.

She parted like the red sea damp as could be and was receptive to more fingers. By the third finger plunged in to the knuckle, she groaned, and I felt her pussy tighten. Then, finally, Temael came in a gushing burst creamy and white, filled with all her youthful passion and teen angst. By the time she stopped, she was shaking.

Temael looked up at me with glazed eyes. She grabbed the tip of her cock and stretched her urethra open, and seemed to think about it. She lifted her sack revealed the tight elf pussy beneath.

“I heard you weren’t an elf, so I can’t get pregnant. So please pump me full.”

She was a mess and covered in her own cum. More than a little of it smeared around her elven cunny, and I was sure she had a high chance of getting pregnant from it. If she did take loads from her friends, then it was likely she had multiple sets of sperm waiting to be unleashed. Who knew what kind of genetics lived in her balls? But I knew it was apple-flavored.

I had shit to do, and ironically, I wasn’t made of wood despite having it at this point. As transactional as it felt for me clearly, she had other ideas. If humans and elves had one thing in common, it was thinking with our dicks. She clearly wasn’t thinking about consequences when she grabbed a massive handful of sperm that dripped down to pool at her balls and rubbed it against her pussy. Maybe that was why I felt such a connection with elves. Did they also fall in love with those they fucked?

My dick was hard, and the little elf with a massive dick clearly wanted to be fucked. I had a few hours before I had to meet Mekael, and I would feel better after getting my rocks off for once. With that in mind, I slipped out of my body glove and pushed my dick against her massive sac. Cumming once didn’t do a damn thing to shrink her balls. Her sac was completely covered in elven sperm, and she had already rubbed it all in her pussy. I might as well get a little more lube.

Her pink lips were tight despite taking three fingers before. But, of course, with all the lube lathering her pussy a slight tightness wasn’t stopping me. I slipped inside, and Temael groaned. I continued my prompted entry and felt her moan as I bottomed out. Her massive sac flowed over my shaft and sandwiched my own balls between hers. Her futa cock started dripping pre cum again as she flexed it just to slap me over and over on the chest.

“I didn’t think anyone would want my pussy. I’m so small, and the others don’t want small children.” Temael said.

Unless this elf was insanely lucky, she was about to have a child regardless of her fellow warrior’s feelings. Squelching sounds accompanied each thrust as I prepared to do exactly what she wanted. I pushed her cock up, and she came again, splattering her breasts with her own futa cum. She pushed against me rubbing her breasts against me. Really how was she not pregnant yet.

I bottomed out again, and she moaned. Then I came inside of her filling her up with everything I had. Temael groaned and relaxed. “So, where is the minister of supply,” I asked.

“Two tents down from the smoking tent. You can’t miss it; there are scrolls and helpers everywhere.” Temael said.

I cleaned myself with a rag from my inventory and tossed her a towel. Then, I dressed and headed for the smoker tent and the minister of supply with that done.

While it wasn’t early in the morning, it wasn’t late in the day either. Elves were either bringing in food collected from the wilds or game hunting. How none of them thought of farming by now was beyond me? It could be the stereotype or a flaw in the elven mentality. Elorael’s people would rather sacrifice their people than farm, or their island might not have been suitable for farming. Numerous factors could have affected her situation.

My farming plan was on the back burner for now while I looked for any legitimate reason not to farm. It could have something to do with the seemingly sapient forest god. If that were the case, then perhaps it needed to die. As a human from a modern world, the thought of killing a giant animal didn’t seem impossible to me. Despite its giant size, abilities, and intelligence, I didn’t think it was impossible to beat.

Even if I had to get eaten again to beat it, I’m sure there was a way.

…

As I approached the minister of supply’s tent, I wondered if I could trade a sexual favor for this. My only saving grace was that they looked female. They weren’t male or female, but they looked female, and my translation used female pronouns, which was good enough for me. I probably didn’t want to know what they really called me when I heard he.

Since it wasn’t the early morning or midday, the supply tent wasn’t busy. Instead, a single important-looking elf busied herself with counting stacks of hide. Keeping up with supplies without a writing system must have been difficult. I couldn’t imagine having to do something like that.

The supply minister had white almost milk or polished white marble paleness about her from long hours spent inside the supply house. Young elves worked moving in lines reporting to the minister like a long line of ants coordinated to the point of redundancy. They moved with an almost uncanny synchronicity timing, even their breathes. I couldn’t observe her work long before she looked up from her work at me.

“What are you doing here?” The minister said.

“I’ve come to inform you that supplying Zosimael is no longer necessary. I will take responsibility for feeding her from now on.” I said.

“An interesting method to kill her off and take her home. You must be close to becoming a warrior of our tribe. What does she think of your plans?”

I blinked at the repose. In three sentences, she accused me of theft, attempted murder, and questioned my legitimacy, all the while establishing a motive. Now, if only she used her paranoia to look for the poisoner who gave Zosimael dementia in the first place. But then again, it was likely the minister was the one behind it in the first place.

My options were defense or offense, and I disliked taking the back foot. She was disorganized, and I imagine if the stacks of hides were replaced with dyed wood chips or something equally easy to keep up with, the room would seem less cluttered. Really why couldn’t the elves just develop a writing system? It would make all of this easier. The elves clearly weren’t stupid, but who would think of writing before writing?

I felt leery of establishing it myself. Benefiting a society that knocked my teeth in didn’t seem very advantageous on my part. The forest tribe would have to do a lot better than it had been to earn that from me. Something so revolutionary wasn’t in the cards now. There was too much on my plate now.

At the end of the day, I was already going to fight Samael, but at the same time, I didn’t want to make waves beforehand. Rock the boat too much, and it will capsize. That’s how I felt about this situation.

“Alright, then we’ll just toss out the food you give us while she recovers from the poison you’ve been feeding her. I’m sure once the chief finds out your home will be vacant enough, and maybe Glorael will give it to me. She seems rather attached to Zosimael.” I said.

“You don’t have any connections to our tribe. The chief will hear your words as the mad ranting of an outsider. Zosimael is sick because she’s lived for too long, not poison. I assure you she has good and bad days, but that is no reason to suspect poison.” The minister said.

“Then we’ll have an experiment. How long will she remain herself without eating any food you supply?” I said.

“Don’t be a fool; she’s sick; a relapse will happen eventually; it always does.” The minister said.

“Would a blowjob convince you?” I asked.

“I’m not a child who can be tempted with cheap flesh. You’ll have to do better than that. Didn’t you bring back a moose recently?” I nodded. “That is impressive; you haven’t been a part of the tribe long, and already you’re bringing in quality meat. You could go far with the right sponsor. Zosimael is a troublesome old shrew; she hasn’t had much sway in the past two hundred summers. I heard you had some trouble with a girl that came with you. Elorael is a dark-skinned elf with such a fine cock and finer pussy. But Glorael wasn’t keen on mixing her blood with a foreigner. That’s made Samael even more determined to make that islander elf her mate. You’ll need someone more powerful than Zosimael to deal with that girl.” The minister said.

I toyed with the idea of unleashing an island obliterating fist on the spot. She obviously knew about the poison and didn’t want her cured. More than likely, Zosimael’s poisoning allowed her to gain power when a hole opened from Zosimael’s dementia. That or this bitch believed it was really dementia and wanted to help me. There was the option she wanted to use me to open a hole to make Elorael available. For all I knew, she wanted me to make a mess of things so she could force me into trading my ass for help. All of those thoughts flowed through my mind, not so much in words but as a feeling.

It hit me then why there wasn’t a chance in hell I would get any real help and why she wanted to poison Zosimael. The reason why Glorael let this happen and why no one lifted a finger to stop it. I looked up at the mighty tree the whole tribe lived in and knew there weren’t any shoots poking out around it from memory.

“It sounds like Zosimael would crush all of you if she regained her senses.” All the minister gave me was a flicker as she looked away.

“I’m not scared of that old bitch. Who would be scared of someone who doesn’t even know where they are half the time?”

“What about a powerful, experienced, and ruthless warrior that finds out she’s been poisoned for ages by her own tribe.”

“You don’t know anything. There is a reason elves don’t live more than a thousand years. We get lost in our memories and become a burden on the tribe. It's all we can do to take care of an old warrior whose best days are behind her. Its holy law decreed by the avatars of the forest god.”

Now, this was getting juicy. I didn’t think she was referring to a type of elf either. Could the forest kaiju use its young to communicate with sapient species? Is that where all the edicts are coming from? I decided to put that thought to the side and focus on what was at hand.

I had little experience with espionage, but she kindly sent me poison every day. So today’s meal was in my inventory. But unfortunately, I didn’t know where the poison had been applied, how long the poison took to activate, or the initial symptoms. So currently, it stayed in my inventory until I had Temael look at it.

Then there was my growing friendship with Temael. She was good with a blowgun. Unfortunately, poisoning would be a little too obvious, and the minister never left her treehouse. Besides that, getting rid of her won’t necessarily take care of business. It seemed like I wasn’t just getting rid of one cocky admin. My best shot would be to warn Zosimael and hope for the best with that in mind.

That sounded pathetic even to my ears; maybe I should try some mob stuff like breaking her legs. But, of course, I hadn’t mastered island obliterating fist, and these guys seemed to have most of their skills mastered. So I turned my attention to one of the junior warriors. They picked up a piece of meat when she thought no one paid her any attention and cooked it with a controlled laser between her fingers.

“Viarael, that piece of meat is coming out of your rations. And mister Red, if there is nothing else leave, you are holding up the line.” So the minister said, though, there wasn’t a soul behind me.

…

Power gathered in my hand as the astral form of the island obliterating fist appeared behind me. I punched forward and felt the training log shake mightily under my effort. Despite the power I put into my attack, there wasn’t a mark left on the log when I finished. On the other hand, the same power gathered awkwardly, and I hit the log again. Repeatedly I punched the log with the same power that shattered the sea god’s teeth to little effect on the living wood. Instead, it seemed to drink in power from my strikes, happily sucking in my strength with each blow.

“If you think you’re going to break it with your level of strength, you’re mistaken. This is the first real test any warrior faces. Samael completed it six months after she gained constant, and she’s a prodigy worse you don’t have that time. You have to figure out the trick in four days.” Mekael said.

“Don’t be too hard on the boy; he’s come a long way. He learned constant in record time, and maybe this will be no different. But, I know he should increase his weight. That’s the best way to reach the next level. Go fetch some rocks quickly; we will add them to his current weights. We’ll make him strong.” Zosimael said.

“Yes, of course, of stress from weights and training helped him speed up learning constant then more weights will double his learning speed again,” Mekael said and took off in search of suitable rocks.

“That should keep away while I help you figure this out. I can’t say what you need to do or else you won’t learn why it's important. Normally we read a poem or tell a parable to help our students realize it themselves. Mekael should have told you one.” Zosimael said.

“Her short story was about a pearl diver, and it turned into sexual innuendos. I think Mekael needs to get laid.” I said.

“Most elves with full balls seem to lose focus.” I slammed my single skill into the log repeatedly to no effect. “Two pearl divers search below the reef one takes a deep breath and halts their breathing technique while the other trusts her breathing technique and can exhale slowly. The pressure crushes the lungs of the diver who held their breath, and the trusting diver returned to the surface.” Zosimael said.

“Some of the powerful people in your village have been poisoning your food to make you forget,” I said and struck the log again.

Still, the log didn’t break, I trusted my breathing technique, but maybe that wasn’t what she was talking about.

“I’ve suspected, but everyone told me it was my advanced age.”

It clearly wasn’t my breathing technique that was the problem. Power radiated from my fists, but there was always a delay and a severe loss of power right before impact. The power escaped at the worst time right before I hit. No matter how much I force the power in my fists to compress, I’m constantly losing power.

“If you suspected, then haven’t you done anything about it?” I asked.

This wasn’t working. No amount of compression was going to stop my power from escaping. I needed a better understanding of the power. I found it easier to release my power when I exhaled, so I channeled the island obliterating fist. I held them without using the technique. More power raged out of my hands, and I felt it rising not from my lungs but from my blood. What qi I absorbed from the breathing technique concentrated in my blood, waiting to be unleashed. Breathing really didn’t matter when the power was concerned. If I wanted to unleash that power, I had to do something different. After learning constant, I had to throw away all my misconceptions about the technique.

After studying flat earth theory, it was like finding out that the world was round and people had been to the moon. While I couldn’t see it, I could feel it more surely than my own skin. Every bit of qi in my body was mine, and I could feel it nestled in my flesh, blood, and bones. That led me to more assumptions that I would undoubtedly disprove and later adjust my theories.

My conclusion changed. All my breathing technique did was collect qi. That was all it did; then, the power merged with my body, and the breathing technique stimulated it. Every breath stimulated the qi by adding more to my body. Now that my breathing was constant, I no longer had to focus on it and could begin to cultivate my strange new sense. Constant had been my first real step into this power.

My glasses pinged my qi rating to a 6 after gaining constant, but that wasn’t the end of it. While I slowly gained a little more qi with every breath, the only usable qi was a 6. If I could stimulate that power on my own, my number would increase.

Instead of breathing, I focused on my technique and slowly freed the power. That proved more difficult than I thought. While the power began to generate, and my output went from 6 to 10, it wasn’t stable. My grip on that power vanished, and the technique fell apart. Island obliterating fist was truly a powerful technique. But were there other techniques I might be capable of since I consumed some of the forest god’s flesh.

“Can you teach me a forest god technique?” I asked.

“How far do your senses stretch? Can you feel my qi from where you’re standing?” Zosimael asked.

I focused on her and stretched as far as the limited sensation would let me to no avail. She was less than 10yrds away, but I couldn’t sense her.

“Don’t strain yourself; not many are gifted enough to sense even their whole bodies after gaining constant so soon. Besides, it won’t serve you well to learn god light techniques in your duel. Tell me when you can feel the qi of those around you, and we’ll return to it. But, for now, I have another potion for you.” Zosimael said.

“Is it another god potion?” I asked.

“This one appeared on our coast a few centuries back when Glorael’s mother was chief. Its body was silver, and it could deflect god light techniques. Fortunately, it was an enemy of the god-king, and the great benevolent one finished the silver god off. Unfortunately, scraps of the silver god’s body fell all over the forest, and I managed to secret a piece away. I planned to give it to a promising young elf, but you give a fantastic blowjob.” She uncapped her pot, revealing a bubbling silver potion that smelled like pennies.

“Why don’t you drink it? I thought you would want more power to take revenge on the ones who,” Zosimael put her hand over my mouth. When she removed it, I spoke again. “You must be aware of what they did to you by now,” I said.

“I’m still waiting for the leopard to leap. Even if it's true, I don’t want to believe my tribe would hurt me. My children died in a war against the skull tribe. If I believe what you suggest, then everything falls into question. I am not the only potion maker in the tribe, but I am the oldest and most experienced in the craft. I have experimented with others and created potions that can break worship's limits of a single god. Our gods are jealous creatures, and pantheonism is forbidden.” Zosimael said.

I looked down at the completed third objective of my challenge. Her dementia was based on a poison-laced in her food. While there were other possible vectors to poison her, I made sure to hunt for her. Zosimael has already begun hunting for herself and watching her food, from what I understand. She also takes a strange potion every day. I could only assume that it helped defend them from whatever poison had been used on her. Really it was amazing; all I had to do was open my damn mouth and ask a question to complete my task.

Of course, there was also the threat of the chief getting involved. The minister might not have acted alone, and it’s doubtful she would be able to continue to act alone. So, if the chief was involved, what would I do.

“Sometimes it's better to do things slowly. You might not have much time, but some progress is better than none, and drink the potion.” Zosimael said.

I turned it up and drank the thing down. This time I could feel the effects. My own qi attacked the ingredients, breaking them down and adding power to my body. The attack was vicious as it was quick.

“A forest god user would have trouble with that potion; the element doesn’t work well with ours. Your water god should have been subsumed by the forest god, and you would have died. But because it was a stillbirth, the qi within was inert. Congratulations, you now have as much god flesh in you as Samael.” Zosimael said.

I checked my reserve, and it read 5 instead of 6, but with every breath, that changed. The amount of qi I absorbed increased, and I slowly awoke my qi without using my breathing technique. At first, it was small, but then I felt my strength increase. My reading rose until it settled on 10.

“I think my body has more potential than Samael or any other elf.”

“Yes, I noticed your muscle mass is much denser, your center of balanced is built for combat, and your qi rises in you much easier. If there was a body made for combat, it is yours. However, be careful you don’t flaunt it too much. Some would use you in their desires to expand our territory.” Zosimael said.

I let my technique rise slowly and held it. From what I could, the technique was nothing more than a way to agitate my qi and force out more power. Using it, I unleashed more power for a short time to match the qi output of a kaiju waving its paws. That kind of power was destructive to me and to those around me.