Chapter 377: Army Strategy Game (2)
Without hesitation, the archer began to strip.
Her fingers moved mechanically, unbuckling the leather straps across her chest, peeling away the plain tunic beneath. Piece by piece, her armor and clothes fell into a careless pile on the tent floor. What remained was… honestly disappointing.
"Ugh," I muttered inwardly, tilting my head. "Those are the ugliest underwear I've ever seen."
The bra looked like something stitched together from sackcloth and shame, straps biting into her slightly tanned skin, offering no shape, no elegance. And her panties? Gods, they were worse—loose, gray, the kind of thing a grandmother would wear to bed after complaining about back pain. Whoever designed this part of the game clearly hadn't spoken to a single horny man in their life.
Hell, I even resisted the urge to give the archer balls just to kick her in them. Why? I have no fucking clue, it's similar to when someone is trying to jump scare you and you react with a kick to the nuts.
"My, how cruel her life must have been," I mused, waiting for her to remove the ugly bra, and when she did, I instantly noticed something strange.
Her boobs were different from each other in size. The right one was significantly smaller than the left one. The fact didn't really bother me. The woman still looked good, but... I can't help but find this strange, even oddly familiar.
However, since I was the goddess of war, my divinity, or you could say my understanding of war, offered an explanation to this.
Female archers sometimes intentionally halt the development of their breasts while they are young so that the bowstring doesn't slap across their chest every time they draw. And in a lot of cases, they would completely remove one or even both breasts to reduce discomfort.
It made sense, in a cruel, practical way. The body was just another weapon, and sometimes you had to sharpen it by cutting pieces off.
"Tsk," I clicked my tongue, circling her like a predator. "Efficient, but ugly. Gods, the things people sacrifice just to shoot sticks better."
She didn't flinch at my stare, didn't react at all. Just stood there, half-naked, waiting. Her skin was smooth in places, toned from training, but when her panties slipped down her thighs, I almost burst out laughing.
"Well, well, well." My smirk stretched ear to ear. "Looks like the forest isn't the only thing overgrown in this game."
A wild bush greeted me, thick and untamed, like ivy choking the entrance of a forgotten ruin. For a second, I half expected a squirrel to come crawling out with an acorn in its teeth.
"This…" I dragged a hand down my face, sighing dramatically. "This is a war crime."
Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with a little jungle bush, but come on! There is a big difference between a well-maintained lady garden and that thing; it's like someone forgot to trim their hedges.
Damn, I can't even see her cute pink hole. What if I accidentally created another hole when trying to push my dick, huh?
"..."
On second thought, that sounds hot.
The archer, of course, didn't react. She stood there with that same blank, stoic stare, her body nothing but a canvas for my cruelty. I folded my arms, tilting my head as if I were an art critic staring at a half-finished painting.
"No, no. This won't do. As a goddess, I can't have my soldiers marching around with this… disaster between their legs."
Her eyes, glassy and obedient, flickered faintly as if waiting for instructions.
"Well, lucky for you, I'm a merciful goddess." I tapped my chin, feigning deep thought. "I'll shave that sorry excuse for a vagina myself. Smooth, clean, proper—like it should be. Consider it… grooming the troops or a makeover."
The glow of the oil lamp cast sharp shadows across the canvas walls as I stepped closer, wicked amusement tugging at my lips. This wasn't just about sex anymore—it was about control. About bending the game's rigid little puppet into something that pleased me.
And judging by the faint twitch of numbers floating at the edge of my vision, the game system was paying close attention.
...
[Loyalty: 73% → 76%]
[Morale: 55% → 62%]
...
"Ohhh, would you look at that?" I chuckled, baring my teeth. "She likes the idea. Or maybe the game does. Either way, I win."
"Alright, sit," I commanded, dragging the chair closer, "and spread wide, I don't want to rip anything. Not now, at least..."
The archer obeyed instantly, lowering herself onto the chair with that same robotic obedience, her thighs parting without hesitation. The glow of the oil lamp spilled across her skin, throwing every curve and every shadow into sharp relief.
"Good girl." I tilted my head, smirking at the sight. "At least you can follow orders properly. Now let's see what I'm working with…"
The jungle between her legs was on full display, a tangled mess that looked less like a soldier's body and more like a neglected hedge outside some abandoned farmhouse. I actually had to stop myself from laughing again.
"Fuck," I muttered inwardly, crouching closer. "I've seen battlefields with less chaos than this."
Using my transformation, I made my index fingernail into a claw, then extended the razor-sharp edges, ready to chop all this unkept bush off her and make her presentable.
I crouched between her spread thighs more, my claw gleaming in the lamplight like a curved blade forged for war. The archer didn't so much as twitch. Her face remained blank, her chest rising and falling with mechanical precision, but her legs stayed wide—obedient, offering me that wild thicket without hesitation.
"Look at this mess," I muttered, dragging the claw through the air just above her curls. "Overgrown, undisciplined… no self-respecting unit marches into battle like this."
I pinched a small cluster of hair between two fingers, gave it a tug, then snipped. The claw sliced clean through with a whisper of steel. A tuft fell to the floor. Another snip, another fall. The forest was being cleared, one stroke at a time.
…
[Loyalty: 76% → 78%]
[Morale: 62% → 66%]
…
"Ohhh, would you look at that?" My grin widened as I brushed a few stubborn strands aside. "Every cut makes you happier. It's like shaving the chaos right out of you."
The more I worked, the clearer her folds became, pink skin peeking through the tangled hedge. Slowly but surely, the ruin was turning into something recognizable, something usable.
Of course, I didn't remove all the hair; the girl looked far hotter with that jungle of curls. However, I had to trim it down so it wasn't wild and thick, then shaved it into a heart shape like a neat little arrow pointing at her wet pink hole.
"Nice."
I leaned back, admiring my work like a sculptor who had just chipped away the final piece of stone. A neat little heart, trimmed sharp and deliberate, pointing perfectly at her slit.
"Beautiful," I muttered, licking my lips. "Cliché? Sure. But now you look less like a bushfire and more like a soldier worth mounting."
The archer didn't react—still as stone, waiting for my next command. But the game did.
…
[Loyalty: 78% → 82%]
[Morale: 66% → 74%]
…
"Heheh," I smirked. "Figures. The system's into grooming now."
But then my eyes drifted lower. Past the heart. Past the thighs. Down to the little star of skin between her cheeks.
"Ah." I clicked my tongue. "Of course. Can't leave the back gate looking like a haunted forest, can we?"
With a flick of my wrist, I pressed my palm to her stomach and shoved her forward. She toppled easily, her chest against the chair, her ass in the air, legs still spread wide. The lamp's glow spilled across her backside, revealing another patch of wild curls choking her rear like moss on a tomb.
"Unacceptable." I shook my head slowly, my claw gleaming again. "If I'm going to own every hole you've got, they all need to meet my standards."
I dragged the sharp tip just above her puckered star, careful, deliberate, trimming away the overgrowth. Tufts fell in silence, each one revealing more soft, bare skin underneath.
…
[Loyalty: 82% → 85%]
[Morale: 74% → 80%]
…
"Ohhh, she likes it more," I chuckled darkly, my grin stretching ear to ear. "Or maybe it's just the system rewarding my attention to detail. Either way, I win."
Her body didn't twitch, didn't resist, but her lips parted in a faint exhale. Humanity bleeding through code—like she was starting to understand what it meant to be reshaped by me.
"There we go," I whispered, wiping the last strands away. "Front gate, back gate—both neat, polished, ready for war."
I gave her ass a sharp smack, the sound cracking through the tent like a whip. Then pressed the lick all the way from her pussy to the star of her hole before I buried myself inside, inhaling the scent.
"Now you're fit to serve."
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