Without a thought, Rusty tried to stabilize himself and launched forward to mount the boar.
But the tusker's tail slammed into him, hurling him across the field.
"Mhm—" He hit the ground with a grunt, elbow scraping raw against the dirt. Blood smeared his arm. "You better show up, Milfy. I'm not a female—how the hell am I supposed to handle this tusker's sexual rage?"
The beast charged again. Rusty rolled out of the way, dirt clinging to his skin.
Bleeding, battered—this wasn't part of the plan. Not now. Not like this. He hadn't expected some fairytale, but getting thrashed like a rag doll? Way out of his league.
"Hrrrr..." The tusker snarled, hooves digging into the grass as it prepared another charge.
Rusty's vision blurred. His chest heaved, veins ice-cold—like the blood had started drying up inside him.
I'd rather be dying in a hospital bed taking cancer treatment than this.
He forced himself up, legs trembling as he bolted.
[Rage of Tusker: Increasing]
"Mount him." Milfy's voice roared inside Rusty's ears—sharp, echoing. Nowhere in sight, but the sound was crystal clear.
"I tried! I can't do it!"
"Then you are dying."
Rusty didn't answer. Couldn't. His lungs burned, legs buckling under him as the ground shook with every pounding hoof.
Mount him, mount him, mount him—
The words echoed like a curse.
The tusker let out a guttural shriek and charged.
Rusty turned, shoved off the ground, and ran straight at it.
Suicide. This is pure suicide.
But the system didn't give options. Just madness. And a damn raging beast with bloodlust and a hard-on.
Ten feet.
Five.
The tusker dipped its head, tusks gleaming with slime and rage.
Rusty sprang—more like flung—himself upward, arms out, teeth grit. His chest slammed against the tusker's neck. Pain exploded in his ribs, but he didn't let go.
The beast roared beneath him, jerking violently. Rusty clung harder, fingers digging into its thick fur, legs scrambling for grip.
[Mounting: Attempt in Progress]
[Pheromone Compatibility: Weak — Conflict Detected]
[Stability Threshold: 37%]
"Stability what? Don't you dare throw me off, you horny pig!" he shouted, pressing his chest down.
The tusker squealed, bucked, tried to throw him. Rusty grunted, shifting his weight and wrapping one arm tight around its neck.
[Stability Threshold: 52%]
[Tusker Rage: Peak Level — Hostile Sync Imminent]
"Oh, that's bad. That's real bad—" He squeezed his legs tighter. "Milfy, this thing's gonna kill me before it mates me!"
[Skill Unlocked: Savage Endurance Lv.1]
[You have taken 39% less damage from blunt trauma]
[Pain Resistance: +12%]
Rusty blinked as the heat crawling through his spine sharpened. His pain dulled—not gone, but muted enough to think.
"You better be watching this, Milfy," he growled. "If I die, I'm haunting your ass."
The tusker screeched and reared—
Rusty lost grip. He flew. Again.
This time, he didn't scream. Just clenched his teeth, tucked his head, and hit the ground like a sack of bricks.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just stared up at the red-tinged sky while the notifications dinged in the background.
[Mounting: Failed]
[System Tip: Re-attempt after pheromonal sync or physical dominance achieved]
[Warning: Vital Status — Critical]
[Bleeding | Concussion | Internal Bruising | Fractured Ribs]
"I hate this game..." he rasped, coughing blood. "So damn much."
Cinnamon Tusker was still charging around like a maniac—at least for now, not attacking. But how long could that last?
"I can't even move my damn bones. They're fractured." Rusty groaned, breath ragged. "You told me I'd have women, pleasure, all that stuff. And I'm stuck with this crap?"
Destiny really had to screw him like this?
Milfy appeared out of nowhere—just blinked into existence like a smug glitch—and casually plopped himself down on Rusty's chest.
Rusty choked, eyes wide. "Get off—!"
"Relax." Milfy leaned in, face inches from his. "You're not dead yet."
Rusty wheezed, every breath fire and broken ribs. "You... you're sitting on my lungs..."
"I'm a system," Milfy said, matter-of-fact. "If you don't complete the missions, how am I supposed to reward you?"
Rusty gagged. "Then reward me with a damn healing potion!"
Milfy raised an eyebrow. "After a failed mount? Tsk. You think this is some charity dungeon?"
The boar snorted in the distance, its thick hooves tearing at the ground again. Still aroused. Still pissed.
"Fix me," Rusty gasped. "I'll try again, I swear, just—get this thing out of heat!"
Milfy snapped his tentacles.
[Emergency Regen Protocol: Activated]
[Recovery Speed: +9% | Pain Suppression: Temporary | Mobility: Restricted]
Warmth surged through Rusty's chest, numbing the sharpest of the pain, but everything else still screamed inside him.
"Better?" Milfy smirked, lifting himself off.
"Barely," Rusty growled, forcing himself up on one elbow. His arm trembled. Blood trickled down his side.
"Now get on the task."
"This is a boar! How the hell am I supposed to tame him? It's not even a female I could calm down or help through heat!" Rusty snapped, trying to sound logical—at least in his own mind.
Because seriously... a male boar? A raging, horny, bloodthirsty male?
"How the hell is that compatible with me?"
"Who said you need to be sexually compatible?" Milfy said flatly. "Just mount him and gain control. That's the mission. A basic trial. If you can't handle this, how do you expect to survive a real one?"
"I—"
"You have ten seconds," Milfy cut in, eyes glowing faintly. "Mount him and stay there for ten seconds. That's all. Easy."
"Easy?" Rusty coughed, blood still in his mouth. "You call this easy?"
Cinnamon Tusker snorted again, eyes locking on him like a beast that remembered every failed mount attempt—and was ready to make sure it never happened again.
[Timer Started: 10 Seconds to Engage Trial]
[Mount or Die]
Rusty pushed himself up, limbs shaking. "Alright... you want me on that boar?"
He limped forward, vision still flickering at the edges. One wrong move and he'd be another smear across the battlefield.
Cinnamon roared.
Rusty broke into a wobbling sprint, pain pulsing in every joint.
Five feet.
Two.
He leapt—
And slammed down hard on the tusker's back.
[Mounting: Attempt in Progress]
[Balance Check: Initiated]
The boar jerked, bucked, spun in violent circles.
Rusty roared, clinging with everything he had.
"Ten seconds!" he shouted. "Just ten freaking seconds—!"
[Pheromonal Sync: Failed]
[Override Activated: Willpower Trial — Endurance Check in Progress]
Blood sprayed from his lip as his teeth tore skin. His grip slipped.
"No—no, not this time!"
[3 Seconds Remaining...]
[Stability Threshold: 71%]
"Just let me pass this—I swear I won't touch my dick for the next 24 hours, no matter how hot the beauty you reward me with."