A thunderstorm hammering down from above. Beneath the dense canopy of a subtropical forest, several figures sprinted through with the sound of bashaba-shaga-shaga-sha, their footsteps crunching over the wet earth.
Occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning, they shouted something indistinct, pressing forward without hesitation. Their tattered clothes and the frequent streaks of crimson blood staining their garments testified to their status as the remnants of a defeated force.
Suddenly, ahead of them, the forest opened up into a view. It was a shallow river—not one that existed year-round; during the dry season, it served as a thoroughfare for travelers across the land.
The retreating men cursed under their breath and glanced back over their shoulders. There, far behind them, lightning flashed repeatedly, inching closer to close in on them with relentless determination. Seeing no choice but to move forward, the men stepped into the swift-flowing, shallow waters without delay.
“Been waiting for you.” Before the men could cross, something rippled upward from beneath the surface of the water. There were five of them in total.
The crossing party halted their advance, bracing themselves against the enemy’s sudden appearance through the veil of rain. Standing there were grotesque half-human warriors, their reptilian eyes glowing a fiery red amidst the gloomy twilight brought on by the storm.
“Hmph.”
“Lizardmen!?”
While struggling against the strong current, the fleeing men readied their weapons in defense: broadswords, short blades, and winged spear-tips. Such lightly armed gear suited the highly mobile unit perfectly for this region, where footing was treacherous and armor rarely worn.
But… “So that’s all they could scavenge? Pity,” the lizardmen sneered as they produced their own arms. Huge axes, chain flails, or double-handed tomahawks—each warrior gripping two with grim resolve. The defeated men gasped audibly in shock. Even without armor, the rain-slicked scales of the lizardmen repelled every strike delivered by their human foes, bouncing attacks harmlessly away. Furthermore, their heavy weapons could shatter both shield and opponent alike before any intricate footwork or defensive technique might even be employed.
And for these creatures—stocky-tailed lizards with low centers of gravity—the unstable footing of the rushing stream was no more of a hindrance than flat ground. Escape was impossible. The men were hopelessly outmatched. “But compared to fighting Overnight, taking down a few lizards is child’s play!” shouted one of them, rousing his comrades’ spirits. Undeterred by fear, they launched themselves forward at the half-human warriors before them.
It was widely rumored that no warrior in swampy terrain could match the consistent lethality of the lizardmen. Shallow waters unsuitable for merfolk yet treacherous enough to unsettle human-type races were exactly where the lizardmen’s awkwardly low posture and robust tails became deadly advantages. Their translucent inner eyelids, which allowed them to see clearly through any splashing spray, further enhanced their combat effectiveness.
But…
“Dammit… those thieves! Show some respect!”
“Hmph! Don’t puff your chests just ‘cause you’re merchants’ pawns!”
Before long, the skirmish had devolved into one-on-one duels. While most of the defeated—no, better to say “thieves”—had been completely outmaneuvered by the lizardmen, a single figure stood apart: a man wielding the winged spear. He had mastered a technique to pierce with deadly precision right at the lizardmen’s vulnerable underbellies.
The lizardmen squad, which should have overwhelmed them in a five-to-two ratio, had been decimated piece by piece as they were impaled by the winged spear wielder. One fell, then another, until only Gashu Zipper—the tomahock user—remained standing at the very end.
Gash survived precisely because, though skilled with heavy weaponry, he was exceptionally adept at defensive techniques. Still, this wing-blade spear thief ought to have been exhausted from fighting while leaping across the water like a water strider.
Gash hurled an axe at him, not intending to let him recover his stamina. ” Tch!! ” The thief evaded by diving into the surface without raising his wing-blade spear to block. A tomahawk strike that detonated on the river’s surface. But Gash immediately reeled his tomahawk back. His family heirloom, the Twin Tomahawks, were connected by a supremely tough yet slender cord called “Silk Chains,” reputed as dragon treasures. In this rain, it might look to that thief he was retrieving them with magic.
Gash then parried the thief’s spear thrusts using both tomahawks like shields. It seemed the Rizardmen could not unleash power sufficient to penetrate the forged tomahawks; finding this a relief, Gash pressed on.
This cycle repeated endlessly.
The thief understood that if he fled at full speed, Gash would chase him down—he simply couldn’t run. Gash refused to let such a desecrator escape under the banner of national pride.
In this frozen battlefield of two, only time flowed forward.
Then, there came signs of reinforcements approaching.
Lightning flashed; it was drawing near.
” Heh! It’s tribute-paying season, you bastard thief!”
”…Might be,”
The thief grinned with mud-splattered face.
Gash immediately dismissed the thief’s composure as bravado born from carelessness in the face of approaching reinforcements.
As if determined to strip away this empty arrogance, Gash unleashed his trump card.
” May you die at least comfortably!”
With all his remaining strength, he hurled both tomahawks simultaneously.
” Hyahaha!! ”
The man twisted backward to dodge the axes… only to collapse rearward, bound by the warning of the ultra-thin “Silk Chains” between them.
Then Gash charged forward with reckless speed. His final weapon was a tail swipe honed through tribal ancient martial arts, capable of breaking even massive trees grown for decades.
Just as he prepared to strike the man down, a fist-sized stone flew from beyond the rain directly at him.
” !! ”
Gash instinctively slackened his momentum and caught the stone with his hand.
Beyond the rain, he saw one of the defeated thieves climb onto the bank and fire a makeshift sling crafted from belt material right at him.
Without giving that bitter thought much weight, the thief standing before Gash swiftly rose and lifted his wing-blade spear from within the water.
” !! ”
Clang! The tip of Gash’s tail was severed clean off.
The blade sliced into the soft underside of his abdomen, hanging suspended in midair with but a single layer of skin remaining.
“Gh… aaaaah?!”
Even though it was a tail, it remained a vital organ coursing with blood. Gash fell, spewing profuse amounts of crimson gore.
”…I win, lizard bastard,”
The wing-blade spear thief stood up and grinned.
Gash hammered the riverbed with his fist. If he were a true lizard, he could shed his tail and scurry away without care—but for a Rizardman whose tails had developed far beyond normal, there was no such option. The pain threatened to knock him unconscious; furthermore, he wielded no weapons left.
Once he faltered in vigilance, defeat was already sealed.
” Ku… sso… oooh…”
He awaited the killing blow.
…But it did not come.
”…?”
He raised his head. There was no wing-blade thief there. All around were heaps of corpses and nothing but a torrential downpour. The thief had concluded Gash couldn’t track him and had slipped away with the rest of the survivors while he still could. ”……Damn it…… Damn it……!!” A searing pain. The blood draining from his body. Humiliation. With consciousness fading, Gash screamed, pouring those hot, bitter emotions into his cry. “Damnnnnnnnnn!!!” And then he collapsed onto the riverbed. Even for a lizard-man, hemostasis ability dwindles underwater. Knowing this would likely be fatal, sheer humiliation had pushed him to give up on everything.
◇◇◇
A rainbow arced across the dawn sky.
After the intense rains of the wet season abate, sometimes a thick, beautiful rainbow can be seen.
Lizard-man oral traditions passed down that those seven-colored forms are residual images and trails left by the Origin Dragons—the primordial beings who gave birth to the lizard-man race in antiquity.
It is said the Origin Dragons loved the species they created.
Even after death, they became spirits and, upon a lizard-man’s passing, would ferry them toward paradise along with kisses.
”……Are you welcoming me……?”
Gash whispered while gazing upward at the rainbow.
That was fine. Lizard-man soldier, Gash Zapper, had fallen in battle before an overpowering foe.
The easiest thing to accept was that he’d died with that single blow.
But a voice scoffed right then, mocking his easy delusion.
“Hah, you mean the story about lizards riding rainbows into paradise? Don’t make me imagine that; it’s disgusting.”
“Hey, you scoundrel!”
Gash couldn’t help but snap his eyes wide and jerk his head up in surprise.
As a soldier, Gash believed he wasn’t biased against other races more than most lizard-men holed up within the colony did—but that didn’t mean he was some kind of womanizer who would lust after any other species. He had no particular attraction to scales or skin with color gradients; he preferred faces that looked more lizard-like.
That should have been true, yet…
Against his will, as a girl resembling a human stood on top of his waist and tousled his hair, he couldn’t suppress the thudding sensation of arousal rising within him against her naked body.
”……Wow, she’s gotten huge.”
”!”
The girl spoke without any allure, sounding as though mere insects had moved.
In that very moment, Gash realized half of his hemipenis was already inserted inside her.
“W-w-what the hell are you doing!?”
“Life rescue… Uh, uh, I mean, it’s still getting bigger? Like, this much bigger!?”
“I, no, wait a sec!”
Gash was bewildered. Not only had he never felt arousal toward a human before, but waking up to find himself already engaged in sex was equally unfamiliar. And though he should be near death, he was surprisingly energetic—something completely outside his calculations; he didn’t even know what was going on.
This man, while accustomed to convenient surprises, had absolutely no experience with the reverse scenario.
”……Ah, forget it. Just fuck me already!!”
As a result of his confusion, he decided to simply surrender entirely to instinct. Having already accepted his impending death and given up hope, it felt absurd to try handling things rationally anymore.
“Eh? Eh?”
The girl was flustered as her internal and external hemipenes rapidly became erect, yet she hadn’t expected Gash to wake up suddenly with bloodshot eyes and immediately demand sex. Without any warning, he grabbed her waist and arms, then began thrusting one of his swollen bifurcated penises in and out of her body—a forced riding position utterly devoid of any atmosphere or mood.
「A-iiit… w-wait, this is…!?!」
「You willingly stuck your mouth on another guy’s cock all of a sudden, so what the hell is with this acting attitude!」
「W-whoa, n-no, that’s not—ck, geez…!!」
Slapping Gash’s snout with her spare hand, the girl tried to hit him. But since he was completely unfazed, he just started slapping his hips back and forth, ‘haa haa,’ attempting to maintain his posture with both legs and even his tail—a lizard-man made a master of thrusting upward. It was only when he realized his tail wasn’t there midway through that he vaguely understood: this wasn’t heaven, and that battle hadn’t been a dream. The girl kept pachi pachi slapping Gash’s snout, but eventually gave up… or perhaps, she’d come to feel something and stopped her hands.
「B-stupid… stupid lizard, you ungrateful bastard…!」
「Haa, haa… So what, so what? What’s wrong with a lewd little girl like you trying to make inappropriate moves while someone’s dying slowly?!」
「…I-I really plan to make you beg on your knees later…!!」
「I said so what…!! Ah, man, this feels good, your womb!」
Already amounting to outright rape, Gash ruthlessly rubbed his penis against the girl’s vagina, which was writhing and quivering. He’d had intercourse with lizard-women before, but the sensation was completely different from those times. His instincts were ordering him: he wanted to ejaculate inside her vagina; he wanted to lay eggs in the depths of that womb. He wanted her to hatch a cluster of eggs fertilized by his own seed, one after another. Semen began overflowing from the penis protruding outward, and while slapping it against the girl’s belly, Gash vigorously thrust his hips until he finally climaxed.
「Gguu, oooohooooo!!」
「Nnnngh… W-whoa, …this is tough… w-wahh!!」
He sprayed massive amounts of semen simultaneously into her testicles and across her stomach. Deep into the sheath, onto her belly, around her navel, on her breasts, nipples, jawbone, collarbones—it all got coated. He ejaculated an astonishing amount of thick, sticky semen.
「W-whoa, stupid… my belly’s gonna burst…!!!」
The girl struggled, her face slick with oily sweat. Stiffly impaled at the vaginal opening by a penis that had grown far larger than expected, she endured the relentless, insistent injection of viscous semen in quantities no normal human could produce, suffering through the repetitive cycle where her area below her navel would swell strangely and then relax along Gash’s shaft.
「Haa… haa… T-there’s nothing like a human female… damn it…」
Gash was still full of intentions to continue; having assumed he was already dead, he had no need to think about anything else—indeed, he didn’t want to think at all. But the girl finally punched him in the face with a fist.
「T-they’re not humans!! I’m a spirit, an water elementals spirit!」
「…Haa?」
── A legend passed down through the marshlands. Somewhere in the marshes of this region dwells a water spirit. Its power can surpass even dragons and is said to embody nature itself. People must revere this power and be grateful for being sustained by it; otherwise, this very land would dry up completely, just like the northern Russell Desert, becoming a barren wasteland inhabited only by desert lizards and monsters────.
「Why on earth is that water spirit fucking a lizard-man, you idiot!」
「Just because humans saved us, why are you talking like this?!」
The naked girl, freed from Gash’s crotch, glared at him with great annoyance. “That pose was simply convenient for sending ‘Qi’; I don’t need your spawn in the slightest!”
「…Nuugh」
I’d heard about it before. Internal cultivation techniques. Some kind of absurd health regimen used by a few dark elves and ogre women. I had always assumed it was nothing more than exaggerated advertising from the sex industry. I never thought I’d end up needing such help myself.
”……So, um… why did you save me?”
“How could I not?”
“There were plenty of others who died.”
Gash wasn’t particularly special among lizardmen. He wasn’t exceptionally strong, nor did he come from any illustrious lineage.
”…I was struck by a familiar scent.”
“Huh?”
“The scent. That’s all. Also, they were dying right here, right where I was standing.”
”…I don’t get it.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.”
Gash felt dizzy hearing such an ungrateful remark.
“But if you’re feeling indebted…”
The girl struck Gash on the head with a twig (she’d picked it up since tapping him directly wouldn’t work).
“C’mon, start cooperating. Gassh Zappa.”
“Huh?”
“I want to see the Spirit Festival.”
”…Spirit Festival?”
Once every six months, held across the entire nation, this festival is dedicated in gratitude to the spirits of heaven and earth. It was supposed to be a raucous celebration originally offered directly to the spirits.
”…So you’ve never seen that kind of spirit before, huh?”
“How could I see it if I didn’t go? A spirit’s core element won’t move on its own unless guided properly.”
”…………”
In this country, spirits were widely regarded as omnipresent yet nonlocal beings—existent everywhere and nowhere at once. But Gash, who hadn’t cared much in the first place, was just now confronted with the shocking truth that wasn’t entirely so.
“No good?”
She let out a sigh.
”…Alright then. The life I dropped is yours to keep. Take it. Where do you want to go? What should we do?”
“Yes! You know, scooping up some water from around here…”
“Come on… once the Spirit Festival is over…”
Before Gash could say what he’d do next, Heili lightly tapped his shoulder with the short staff they’d made from a tree branch back then. A small smile playing on her lips, she raised her index finger.
“We don’t talk about what happens after until the fun festival has even begun.”
“But that means there’s no way we can plan for next year either!”
“Yes,” she replied softly, leaning in close. “Right now, the best you can hope to do is…”
“…ask something like, ‘What are we doing tonight?’ or so.”
“What about this randy little spirit?” he retorted.
“That’s some horny lizardskin who set us up every night!”
They muttered curses at each other, yet somehow they looked surprisingly happy together.
(to be continued)