Chapter 21 - More work
Liam jolted awake as the screen flared to life, hovering over his face like a smug. Task: Complete Morning Workout - 30 Push-Ups, 50 Sit-Ups, 20 Squats. The words pulsed, bright and relentless, cutting through the groggy haze of sleep. He groaned, loud and pissed, yanking the blanket over his head. "Just leave me alone," he muttered, voice muffled. "Can't I get one damn day without this? This is unfair"
He kicked the blanket off, still grumbling, and swung his legs out, the cold floor biting his bare feet. Last night slammed back—him sprawled on the bed, the maid's hot mouth on his cock, her gagging as he unloaded. A smirk tugged his lips, satisfaction simmering, but then a twinge of shame crept in, souring it. "This damn world," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Dangling sexy chicks everywhere—Lysandra, Selene, Erynn, now the damn maid. How's a guy supposed to resist?" He'd tapped out with her instead of waiting for the trio—cheap, quick, but fuck, it'd felt good. Too good. He sighed, standing, his dick half-stirring at the memory. "Gotta chill, man. Can't bang everything that moves."
He shuffled to the wardrobe, yanking on pants and a shirt, the chill of early morning seeping through the window.
The garden was his spot—quiet, open, perfect for the system's exercises. He trudged downstairs, boots scuffing, and pushed out into the courtyard. The sky was dull, clouds heavy and gray, the sun barely a smudge behind them. Cold air nipped his skin, raising goosebumps, and he cursed under his breath. "This is just perfect. Freezing my ass off for push-ups."
He dropped to the ground, palms flat on the dewy stone, and started—grunting through the first few, arms shaky from sleep. "One... two... fuck this... three..." At ten, he glanced up, mid-push, and froze.
Lysandra stood there, leaning against a tree, silver hair glinting even in the dim light, her cloak pulled tight. She raised a hand, voice calm. "Morning, Hero. Sleep well?"
"Uh—yeah, good," he said, a guilty chuckle slipping out as he pushed up to twelve. His face heated, the maid's flushed cheeks flashing in his mind. "You?"
"Fine," she replied, her eyes steady, no hint of last night's absence. She stepped closer, arms crossed. "You're working hard. Growing stronger. It's good to see the Hero stepping up."
He hit fifteen, panting a little. "No choice, right?" he said, dropping to sixteen. "If Maltheris is gonna get wrecked, I can't stay some skinny punk. Gotta bulk up." His biceps flexed, not huge but solid now, and he smirked despite the burn.
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Lysandra nodded, moving to a stone table nearby, settling onto its edge. "True," she said, her tone shifting—graver, heavier. "Maltheris' forces... they've grown fierce. Stronger than we expected." Liam kept going—twenty, twenty-one—listening as she spoke, her voice cutting through the cold. "The battlefield was chaos—dark magic, beasts twice our size, soldiers who wouldn't die. We barely held the line."
He hit twenty-five, arms trembling, and glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. "Sounds like hell," he grunted, pushing to twenty-six. "You kicked their asses anyway, though."
"Barely," she said, her gaze distant, replaying it. "Their numbers were endless—wave after wave, clawing at us. I took down a wyrm myself—thing's hide was like iron, teeth longer than my arm. Erynn burned through their mages, tail lashing, but they kept coming. Selene.....she's reckless—charged a giant alone, nearly got crushed." She paused, a faint smile flickering. "We fought like demons, but it wasn't enough. Not 'til the end."
Liam finished at thirty, collapsing back onto the grass, chest heaving. "What changed?" he asked, wiping his face, sitting up to face her.
She met his eyes, steady and sure. "You did. That night, your... energy. It powered us up." Her voice dipped, not shy, just factual. "When we were done that night; me, Selene, Erynn—it wasn't just some trick. It hit us mid-battle. Our strength was increased, our wounds were healing faster, magic burned hotter. Without it, we'd have lost. Maltheris would've rolled over us."
He blinked, sprawled there, the cold seeping through his shirt. "Are you serious?" he said, a grin creeping in. "So me banging you three saved the day?" The shame from the maid faded a bit—hell yeah, he'd done that. His cock twitched, proud, but he kept it cool.
Lysandra's lips quirked—not quite a smile, but close. "Crude, but yes. Your... contribution was key. We owe you thanks, Liam." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I mean it. You're more than just a body to us now."
"Glad to help," he said, chuckling, hauling himself up to sit cross-legged. "Guess I'll keep the workouts coming, huh? More power-ups for the team." He flexed an arm, half-joking, but her nod was serious.
"You should," she said. "Maltheris isn't done. This was one fight—they'll hit back harder. We need you strong—not just for us, but for what's coming." She stood, brushing her cloak. "Rest of your set's waiting. I'll leave you to it."
"Sit-ups next," he groaned, flopping back to start, the grass damp under him. "Thanks for the pep talk, though. And the save-the-day credit." She smirked, a rare flash of warmth, and turned to go, her boots crunching back toward the house.
Liam crunched up—one, two—watching her vanish inside. His mind spun—Maltheris, power-ups, that night. The maid popped back in too, her sloppy, eager mouth, and he grinned, mid-sit-up. "This world's fucked," he muttered, hitting ten. "But damn, I'm good at it." The cold bit, the workout sucked, but Lysandra's words stuck—he wasn't just a horny bastard anymore. He was their edge. And fuck, that felt better than any blowjob.