Morvessa lowered her altitude slightly, gliding low among the lazy-swaying broad leaves.
"What are you all doing?" she asked in a flat tone—almost like a phone notification on silent vibrate.
Validia, who was currently lifting a tree trunk the size of a streetlight pole, turned her head slowly.
"We’re clearing out this part of the forest. We’re helping Nathan do sothing," she replied calmly.
Morvessa tilted her head. Her wings fluttered gently, creating a soft burst of wind.
Nathan turned—his eyes imdiately landing on Morvessa’s pale breasts, firm and softly bouncing with every flap of her wings.
Holy shit... that’s insanely white. Like those expensive Japanese tofu blocks, his thoughts scrambled, refreshed by lust.
Validia glanced at Morvessa. "If you want, you can help too," she offered.
Morvessa looked at the tree trunk, then at Validia, then at Domina wrestling with so roots, then down at her own chest.
"No," she said flatly. "I’d rather hunt."
Without another word, she slowly flew upward—gliding away like an introvert quietly excusing herself from a neighborhood gathering.
---
Nathan returned to uprooting the next tree, sweat dripping from his forehead.
His mind, briefly hijacked by dense pale tits, returned to function.
They have system panels, he thought, eyes montarily locked on Domina’s jiggling brown butt cheeks.
They have sapoa sap for bathing, cooking sap, even—His eyes widened.
"Domina," he said, tugging at a root that slithered like a retired snake.
"How did you make grills out of Kralven logs? I an... they’re rock hard."
Domina replied without turning. "From the system panel. There’s instructions."
Nathan paused. "Wait... the system gave you cookware blueprints?"
Domina nodded. "Yeah. Like a eumm..... ’How to do sothing’."
Nathan felt a throb behind his eyes. He rubbed his temples.
Do their system panels function the sa as mine? The questions piled up.
He set aside the tree he had just pulled out.
"In that case... do you also have stats? Like level, STR, INT, all that stuff?"
Domina nodded again.
"Back when I hunted monsters a lot, my level went up. But it hasn’t changed in a while."
"Why?" Nathan frowned.
"Because I don’t get anything from killing monsters anymore," Domina said casually.
Nathan was stunned. He yanked out another tree, this ti letting out a long, exasperated sigh.
It’s getting harder to understand... are they even Tower Monsters?
Shit... now I’m wondering—where the hell do ordinary monsters even co from?
Are they Tower Manager’s creations?
He dropped the tree he’d just pulled free.
Sweat trickled down Nathan’s temple, but that wasn’t what bothered him—
it was the absurd realization that every tree he uprooted made more sense than the logic of everything else happening around him.
He sat down on the freshly uprooted log.
His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping down his temples, both hands caked with dirt and mud.
He wiped his forehead and looked around.
Domina was still busy sorting roots like a traumatized housewife with a childhood vendetta against gardening.
Livia was kicking small trees while laughing, and Velmora... was still hugging a log like a snake doing yoga for the first ti.
Nathan took a deep breath—and sighed.
Earlier, Domina had said,
"I don’t get anything from killing monsters anymore."
The words still echoed in his ears.
Nathan went quiet.
His eyes drifted to Domina. Then to Livia. Then to Velmora.
Killing monsters, huh...? Why did they use that word? Monsters. As if... they weren’t part of that word themselves. But aren’t they... monsters too?
Nathan looked down. His gaze fell on his own hands, then on the log he’d just pulled out.
Sothing felt off.
It was like...
...watching a family drama—and suddenly one of the characters breaks character and starts reading soone else’s script.
If they’re not monsters—then what are they?
If they know there are other monsters worth killing—Does that make them a higher caste? An elite class? A secret project?
Or... are they just like humans?
Nathan swallowed.
And why the hell am I only realizing this now?
He looked around again.
The system panel hadn’t reappeared.
A weak smile crept onto his face.
He exhaled softly "Maybe... I’m not the kind of guy who should be overthinking the philosophy of the word monster," he whispered.
Then, without realizing it, his eyes wandered back to Velmora.
Monster or not—they made happy.
And yeah... also horny.
Goddamn it. That fucking V Line....
Just as his cock began to harden and his brain slipped back into animal mode, the system panel reappeared.
---
[Ding!]
[Next Task: Begin Stockpiling Base Fluid for tallumcum]
[Required: 1000 mL of User Urine]
[Progress: 0/1000 mL]
[Note: You may pee in installnts.]
---
Nathan remained still, still seated on the freshly uprooted tree.
The wind passed. Birds went silent.
And the only sound left was the system’s voice—far too calm for sothing this stupid.
"...Installnt-based pissing," he muttered, resigned.
A small transparent tube appeared by his foot—sterile, polished, and far too elegant for sothing that was about to be filled with piss.
Nathan stood. Pants down.
Mind blank. Life absurd.
He tried to pee, but with his cock still semi-erect, the act demanded more effort than his bladder was ready to give.
Eventually, he pissed.
He held the glass tube afterward.
The system panel reappeared, instructing him to place the tube into his inventory.
Once stored—
---
[Ding!]
[Urine Collected: 184 mL]
[One-Ti Yield: 18 Bottles of ttallumcum Base Fluid]
---
"184 mL... so each bottle’s just ten mil?" he muttered while shaking his cock, trying to flick off the last stubborn drops clinging to the tip.
He tucked it back into his pants.
The panel blinked again—almost like it had heard his rhetorical question.
[Suggestion: Maintain hydration and mineral intake for optimal piss output]
[Pro Tip: Eat waterlon-type fruit, cucumber-like fruit, and stop gooning before you sleep!]
[You are more productive than 72% of Tower residents]
Nathan stared at the panel, deadpan.
"...Did you just tell to eat waterlon for more efficient piss farming?"
He sat back down, limp.
Gazing at the sky, he muttered in a lazy tone:
"Rejoice, humanity... for my piss shall bless your battles."
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