I Got Reincarnated As The Ntr Protagonist In An Online Game
Chapter 43: Become my Slave

Chapter 43: Become my Slave

I love it when you get angry, Serah purred, her voice dripping with a mix of arousal and menace. She slid two fingers into her shorts, rubbing herself in slow, deliberate circles as saliva glistened on her lips. Her glowing amber eyes locked onto Junior’s, unblinking, like a predator savoring the fear of its prey.

"You’re fucking sick, you know that?" Junior growled, his voice trembling with rage. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, knuckles turning white. The blade gleamed under the dim light , its edge sharp enough to cut through bone. He took a step forward, then another, his boots crunching against broken glass and debris scattered across the floor. With a roar, he charged at her, his expression twisted with fury. "I’ll fucking kill you!"

Serah didn’t flinch. Instead, she let out a low, throaty laugh that echoed off the cracked stone walls. "I’d love to see you try," she teased, stretching her tongue out to lick her lips. The gesture was obscene, almost mocking, as if she already knew how this would end.

Junior swung his sword with all his strength, aiming for her neck. But the blade passed right through her, as though she were nothing more than mist. He stumbled forward, his momentum nearly throwing him off balance. His heart pounded in his chest as he quickly jumped back, his mind racing. What just happened? Did my sword... go through her?

Serah tilted her head, amused by his confusion. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her unnaturally pale face. "It would be such a waste to kill you now," she cooed, stepping closer. Her movements were fluid, hypnotic, like a snake coiling around its prey. "Why don’t you become my sex slave instead? I promise you’ll enjoy it."

Junior’s stomach churned at the suggestion. He clenched his teeth, trying to push down the rising tide of anger and frustration. His gaze flickered to the corner of the room where Yor cowered, muttering, "Please don’t kill me," over and over like a broken prayer. Yor trembling form only added to his desperation. He couldn’t attack Serah—not when his strikes had no effect. But he couldn’t just stand here either. There were kids to protect, Emma to save, and time was running out.

He let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on his sword. "I don’t have a choice but to keep trying," he muttered under his breath. "I have too many people to protect."

Serah’s smile widened, revealing sharp canines that glinted like daggers. "Looks like you’ve tightened your grip on that sword," she observed, placing a finger on her lips thoughtfully. "So I’ll take that as a ’no’ to my offer. What a pity."

She sighed dramatically, her tone dripping with mock disappointment. "I killed all the handsome knights surrounding this area, you know. It wasn’t my fault—they attacked me first. As soon as they saw my horns, they came charging like fools. One managed to escape, though. Two legs cut off. He won’t get far. He’ll bleed out soon enough."said serah while laughing out while she thinks about the pain that knight that had his legs cut off will feel before he died.

Junior’s eyes widened, his blood running cold. "What do you mean, you killed all the knights?" he demanded, his voice rising to a shout. The veins in his forehead bulged as his rage boiled over.

Serah chuckled, her laughter low and menacing. "Oh, you really want to know?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. Without waiting for an answer, she stretched out her hand. A dark portal materialized in front of her, swirling with shadows. She reached inside and pulled out a blood-soaked sack, its contents sloshing ominously.

With a flick of her wrist, she dumped the sack onto the floor. Five severed heads rolled out, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at Junior. The metallic stench of blood filled the air, making his stomach turn.

"You demon!" Junior roared, his voice shaking with rage. His entire body trembled, his vision blurred with fury. "I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!"

Serah’s eyes lit up with excitement, her breathing quickening. Saliva dripped from her lips as she watched him seethe. "Yes, this is what I wanted," she moaned, her voice trembling with pleasure. "Look at you—so full of rage, so desperate to kill me. I love it. I’m going to orgasm the moment I end your life."

Junior’s world narrowed to one thought: Kill her. He raised his sword again, ready to strike to serah with the intent to kill her .

Serah leaned back, her arms crossed, enjoying his struggle. "You better hurry," she taunted. "My teammate is heading toward your maid and those children right now. She doesn’t like wasting time. She’ll kill them instantly—peacefully, without them even realizing they’re dead. Isn’t that kind? Oh, and that girl you like... what’s her name again? Emma? Yes, Emma. I think I’ll kill her next."

The mention of Emma shattered whatever restraint Junior had left. With a scream of pure rage, he lunged at Serah, his sword swinging in a wide arc.

The mention of Emma shattered whatever restraint Junior had left. With a scream of pure rage, he lunged at Serah, his sword swinging in a wide arc.

But again, the blade passed through her like smoke. Serah let out a tired sigh, rolling her eyes as though bored. "Why don’t you just stop it? It won’t work," she said, her voice laced with irritation. Before Junior could react, she kicked him square in the chest. The force sent him flying backward, his body slamming into a crumbling wall. Dust rained down from the impact, settling on his bruised and battered frame.

Junior groaned, pain shooting through his ribs as he struggled to his feet. Blood trickled down his forehead, mixing with sweat and dirt. His sword trembled in his hand, but he gripped it tighter, refusing to let go. He charged again, his movements fueled by sheer willpower and blind rage.

Serah met him effortlessly, dodging his clumsy strikes with practiced ease. Each time he swung, she countered with brutal precision—a punch to the gut, a kick to the knees, a backhand that sent him sprawling. Yet every time, Junior rose, his body a canvas of cuts and bruises. His clothes hung in tatters, barely clinging to his battered frame.