Chapter 50: Adventurers Guild
Isolde’s smirk widened as she ground her hips on him again, feeling him throb back to life inside her.
"Ohhh~ still hard? Good."
Oliver growled, flipping her suddenly and pressing her against the slick wooden wall of the tub.
"W-Wha—ahhhhnnn~!" she gasped as he slid into her from behind, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisting her wet hair.
SCHLKK! SPLSHH! SCHLK! SCHLK!
The water churned violently as he railed her, his hips slapping hard against her perfect ass.
"Mmmhhh—hahhh—yes! Ravage me—Oliver—!"
"Shut up," he growled, biting her shoulder before sucking hard on her neck.
Slrrrp—nip—chuuhhh—
"Ahhhhhh! Y-you’re leaving marks—"
"Good," he hissed, thrusting deeper. "I want everyone to know you’re mine."
Her moans turned shamelessly loud, her nails scraping against the wood as her pussy squeezed him like a vice.
Squelch—schlk—splat—splshhh—
"You’re gonna make me cum again—!" Oliver grunted, slamming harder.
Isolde cried out, squirting violently, her release splashing against his thighs.
"Ahhhhhh—fuck—yes—fill me again—!"
He groaned, burying himself to the hilt as he came, thick spurts of cum flooding her until it dripped into the bathwater.
Spurt—spurt—spurrrt—
Isolde went limp against the wall, panting heavily, her dark skin glistening, her legs trembling from overstimulation.
Oliver finally pulled out, both of them covered in sweat, water, and cum.
"...Okay," he said between breaths, "now the bath is really ruined."
Isolde giggled breathlessly, turning to face him, her hair sticking to her flushed face. "Worth it."
He kissed her deeply, then scooped her up, carrying her bridal-style out of the tub.
"Oliver—!" she squealed, surprised, but wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to their room.
He laid her gently on the bed, then climbed in beside her, pulling the blanket over them.
Within minutes, both were asleep — utterly spent, completely satisfied.
The Next Morning
Warm sunlight peeked through the curtains, landing across the bed.
Isolde stirred first, stretching lazily, her breasts brushing against Oliver’s arm.
"Mmmhhh..." she hummed softly.
Oliver blinked awake, groaning. "...We’re really gonna need to change inns if you keep riding me that hard."
She giggled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Don’t complain, master. You loved it."
He grinned despite himself, pulling her close and squeezing her ass, making her yelp.
"Hey!" she swatted at him playfully.
"Consider that revenge," he teased, getting up and stretching. "Come on, we should get breakfast."
Isolde used [Cleanse] to refresh herself, and Oliver did the same. Their teasing continued while they dressed — Oliver smacking her ass once more, earning him a glare and a blush from her.
Downstairs, the inn was quiet except for a few early risers. They took a table near the window, and soon after, the inn’s owner — a plump, cheerful woman with a mischievous glint in her eyes — came over with their trays.
But she didn’t just leave them food.
She lingered.
And smiled.
Oliver frowned. "Uh... is something the matter?"
The innkeeper grinned wider. "Oh, nothing at all. Just... the walls here are rather thin, you know."
It took Oliver a moment. Then it clicked.
He nearly choked on his drink, face turning crimson.
"Ohhh gods—"
The innkeeper chuckled and patted his back. "Ha ha! Why are you getting shy now? From what I heard last night, you weren’t shying away then!"
Isolde snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter as Oliver buried his face in his hands.
"Ha ha, I’m just teasing you," the innkeeper said, still smiling. "We’re all adults here. No need to feel embarrassed."
Oliver groaned. "Can we just eat?"
"Of course, of course!" she laughed, walking away, leaving Oliver mortified and Isolde smirking like the cat that got the cream.
"This is your fault," he muttered.
"Mmhh~" Isolde sipped her tea, pretending to be innocent. "Like you were not the part of it."
Oliver glared half-heartedly... but couldn’t deny she was right.
Oliver sat at the table, his face still a little red.
Isolde sat across from him, entirely too smug for his liking, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
The murmurs from the other guests didn’t help either.
Two men at a corner table glanced their way and snickered. A woman at the counter gave Oliver a not-so-subtle smirk before whispering something to her friend, who giggled.
Oliver groaned and sank lower in his chair. "Gods, kill me now..."
Isolde leaned forward on her elbows, chin in hand, her crimson eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, don’t act like kid. What’s there to be embarrassed about," she said softly.
"That’s not the point!" Oliver hissed. "They all heard us!"
"They should be grateful for the free entertainment."
He glared at her, but she just smiled innocently, sipping her tea as though nothing was wrong.
The innkeeper returned then, her cheerful presence breaking the tension, "By the way, my name’s Serena," she said, flipping a lock of chestnut hair over her shoulder. "You two don’t seem to be from around here."
"Oh, I’m Oliver," he replied, still a little embarrassed from earlier, "and this is my friend, Isolde."
"Hello," Isolde said with a polite nod.
"And yeah, you’re right about that," Oliver continued. "We’re from the Valemont Empire. Arrived in the city just yesterday."
Serena raised a brow, impressed. "Valemont Empire? That’s quite far from here. What brings you two this far out?"
Oliver grinned. "We’re aspiring to become adventurers — travel the world, take on quests, the whole thing."
Serena laughed softly, her chest bouncing just enough to catch Oliver’s attention before he quickly looked away. "Ha! Everyone has that dream when they’re young. But once you grow older, you realize adventuring isn’t an easy job. You need strength... and luck."
"Oh, you don’t have to worry about that," Oliver said, confidence creeping into his voice. "Our party is pretty strong." He glanced at Isolde, who merely smirked, as if she already knew exactly what he was thinking — that she was carrying 99% of that "strength."
"Oh? Is that so?" Serena leaned in with an amused look. "Then what rank are you?"
Oliver froze. "...Uh." He stuttered, scratching his cheek nervously. "We-well, we don’t have one. We’re... not officially adventurers yet."
Serena chuckled, clearly entertained. "I see. So you’re still fresh. Well, that makes sense."
"But don’t worry," Oliver said quickly, puffing his chest a little. "We’re heading to the Adventurers Guild next to register. By this evening, we’ll have official ranks."
"Then you’d better hurry," Serena advised, her tone turning slightly serious. "It gets very crowded by noon. Everyone and their grandmother wants to be an adventurer these days. Go early before the line gets long."
Just then, the boy from yesterday came out from the back, balancing a tray.
"Here you go," he said, setting down a simple breakfast — fresh sandwiches stuffed with spiced meat and vegetables, along with steaming cups of herbal tea.
"Thanks," Oliver said, and they both dug in.
Serena leaned one hip against the counter, watching them with a teasing smile. "Well, good luck, you two. I’ll be waiting to hear if you survive your first quest."
Isolde gave her a flat look but smirked faintly. "We’ll do more than survive."
The streets were already bustling as Oliver and Isolde left the inn. Merchants shouted their prices from wooden stalls, hawking roasted nuts, skewered meat, and cheap trinkets. The smell of baked bread, horse manure, and dust filled the morning air.
Before long, they reached a broad square, and Oliver instantly knew they were in the right place.
The Adventurers Guild stood at the far end — a massive stone building with a high arched entrance, its emblem carved proudly above the doorway: a crossed sword and staff behind a shield.
But what truly caught Oliver’s attention was the crowd.
Men with greatswords tied across their backs shouted to each other, boasting about their latest hunts. A tiny girl — a real loli-looking mage — was arguing with a muscular axeman twice her size, her oversized staff nearly bonking his head as she gestured wildly. Nearby, a group of four adventurers in shiny, enchanted gear struck dramatic poses for an audience of hopeful rookies.
"HEALER NEEDED! HEALER NEEDED FOR GOBLIN SUBJUGATION QUEST!" someone was shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Archer wanted for escort to Northroad! Decent pay! Meals included!" another yelled.
The entire area felt chaotic, alive with noise and energy.
Oliver whistled. "So this is the Adventurers Guild, huh? Looks more like a marketplace."
They stepped inside — and Oliver was surprised at how different it felt.
Though the interior was crowded, there was no shouting, no chaos. Adventurers sat at tables drinking or eating quietly, some bandaging wounds, others poring over maps and job postings. A few glanced at the newcomers but quickly lost interest.
The floor was polished wood, sturdy enough to withstand heavy boots and spilled drinks. Large job boards lined one wall, covered with parchment quests of all kinds: monster subjugations, escort requests, missing persons, material gathering. A pair of guild guards stood nearby, keeping order.
"That must be where we register," Oliver said.
"Obviously," Isolde replied, striding forward with her usual confidence.