Gathering Wives with a System - Chapter 391: Celia’s Awakening, Duel At The Ashfang Tribe

Chapter 391: Celia’s Awakening, Duel At The Ashfang Tribe

Celia rode Isaac with fervent desire. Her body was grinding against his in a heated rhythm.

Her hips swayed sensually, building an intoxicating friction.

Isaac’s hands claimed her breasts, fingers pinching and teasing her hardened nipples.

Celia’s arms clung around his neck. Her eyes were hazy with lust. Her moans echoed through the room.

The thrill of their act in that location made her heart pound wildly.

But…

’More.’

’I need more.’

Her gaze shifted to Emily, seated nearby, flushed and breathing heavily.

While Celia and Isaac were half-bared, Emily stayed clothed, too timid to join. Yet her longing expression betrayed her desire.

“Emily, come join us,” Celia panted, still thrusting against Isaac.

Isaac started to protest—that they would run out of time—but Emily’s pleading eyes softened him.

“Alright,” he relented.

Emily crawled closer on all fours, her lips meeting his in a hungry kiss.

The sight ignited Celia further. She captured one of Isaac’s hands from her breast, drawing it to her mouth, sucking his finger with slow, deliberate pulls.

Waves of ecstasy flooded her mind. The thrill of what they were doing lifted her into blissful haze.

A sly curve touched her lips, feeling him throb like steel within her.

“You acted like you didn’t want this. But you’re loving it, aren’t you? You’ve never felt this hard inside me,” she teased.

Isaac tried to respond, but Emily’s kiss silenced him.

He pulsed inside her, nearing the edge. Her own climax teetered close.

A knock shattered the moment.

“Great Carus, preparations are ready. We must head to the duel,” Morga called from outside.

They froze.

Emily pulled back like a startled cat. She looked around, making sounds like ’eh’, ’ah’, unable to decide what to do.

Celia’s panic locked her in place, eyes wide with shock.

“Hey, who said stop?” Isaac gripped her hips, lifting her before slamming her down.

A moan escaped her lips.

But panic returned to her in full force when the door knob twisted.

“Isaac, we—”

He claimed her mouth with his, deepening the kiss.

Celia couldn’t deny that she was enjoying the sensation.

It was a new high that she had never felt before. A tingling sensation was stretching from the tip of her toes to the top of her head.

Still, no matter how good it felt, they were about to be caught!

The door creaked open slightly, but Isaac’s clone appeared, shutting it firmly.

“Great Carus?” Morga questioned, puzzled.

“Wait a moment. I’m occupied,” Isaac replied through his clone.

“What?” Morga pressed.

“I’m warming up for the duel,” Isaac explained.

“Oh, I’ll wait outside. Finish it in five minutes, or we’ll be late,” Morga said.

“Thank you,” Isaac smiled.

His real body kept fucking Celia by raising her body and bringing her down. His fingers dug into her soft ass.

“Keep your voice down, or she’ll hear you,” he said with a sly smile.

Celia was in no condition to answer. Broken moans kept leaking through her mouth.

Her moans had grown so loud that she had no doubt Morga could hear them beyond the door.

Shame. Embarrassment. Thrill.

Her mind swirled in chaotic pleasure.

Finally, her release came, as if a dam had burst. Isaac found his own release at the same time.

Hot streams filled her depths, and she collapsed against him.

“Haah… haah…”

Even though they had gone only one round, Celia was too tired to move. The tension and the thrill had eaten away at her stamina until nothing was left.

She raised her head slowly, eyes fixed on the door.

She was trembling, knowing Morga had heard her shameful moans.

“Isaac, what now….”

Her words faded as she caught his smirk.

He beckoned her gaze to the artifact on the table. It could muffle sounds within its radius, meaning Morga had not heard them.

“You… when…?”

In hindsight, she should’ve known Isaac had prepared these things. Even his clone had been ready to guard the door. Otherwise, would he have really agreed to do the deed in this place?

But what if… he hadn’t prepared?

What if they’d been caught?

For some reason, the thought made Celia feel hot in her lower abdomen. She had been really scared when she believed she was caught, but it had brought unimaginable euphoria.

She wanted to feel it again.

Isaac pinched the sides of her stomach and said, “See, this is why I warned against it here. We—”

“We should do it again.”

“…What?”

“It felt incredible. So let’s try it somewhere else when we get the chance.”

Celia grinned when she saw Isaac’s rapidly changing expression. He went from grinning to a pale, panicked face.

She knew he hadn’t told her about the artifact on the table and his clone at the door earlier because he wanted to give her a scare, so that she wouldn’t ask for something like this again.

Unfortunately for him, it only ended up awakening something inside her.

Isaac sighed, lifting her aside.

Though he had much to say, the duel awaited.

He slipped his fingers inside her, stirring gently.

“Mhmm, what are you doing? Are we going—”

“I’m helping you clean up.”

He activated Telekinesis.

Using Telekinesis inside someone else’s body was night impossible, which was why he had to insert his fingers.

Moreover, using telekinesis on objects he couldn’t see made things harder.

He heightened his concentration to the limit.

Celia’s back arched and another release came to her.

He kept moving his fingers inside Celia and pulled out a ball of his release that he gathered from within her with Telekinesis. It floated in the air with Telekinesis.

He used Solar Dominion skill and flames burst from his fingers, burning the ball.

Then the flames erupted, covering the room. He burned only the sweat and other things they had dirtied in the room, bringing them back to their pristine condition.

“When did you get so good with the skills?” Celia asked with a weird expression after calming down.

He had pulled only cum from inside her with telekinesis, then he burned only sweat and saliva that had dripped in room with the flames.

Wasn’t his control of skills a bit too good?

“My skill levels are the same as you guys. So you can do this too,” Isaac said, as he began dressing up. He gave a kiss on forehead to Emily. “Sorry about this, but we have to stop here. I will give you your ’reward’ at night, okay?”

“Mhm,” Emily nodded.

She had calmed down after Morga had appeared.

That’s why she had been able to see Isaac using his skills masterfully just now.

A thought came to her, and she spoke, “Isaac, I think I learned a new ability today.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

At that moment, he suddenly felt a cold touch on his shaft. His lips twitched and he turned to Celia, seeing her concentrating and trying to touch his shaft with Telekinesis without touching his clothes.

Before he could scold her for her weird use of skill, Emily spoke, “I think I can… store my summons inside me?”

“What?”

“Like… Like the soulbind pendant? I think I can create a space inside my soul and put the summons inside there. I.. I am not sure. I just feel like I can do it. But I need to try first.”

“Alright, keep practicing. I’ll send my clone to ask Sword Empress about this. If this ability of yours belongs to your bloodline, she might know how it works,” he said

At that moment, another touch sparked on his shaft. His expression stiffened when he realized it was not a ’hand’ made from telekinesis.

Instead, it was a ’tongue’.

He noticed Celia was using her tongue with Telekinesis to lick his shaft without touching his clothes.

It was a masterful control of skill, since she was touching an object that was not directly visible to her with her eyes.

But….

“Stop doing weird things!” Isaac gave her a chop to her head.

“Eugh.”

Celia made a weird noise and stopped.

“Alright, let’s go for the duel now,” Isaac said, sighing, as he saw Celia return to her thoughts. It seemed Celia was coming up with ’methods’ to make use of the new way she had learned to use the Telekinesis.

Normally, she only controlled objects she could see with her eyes.

Moreover, she used her ’hands’ as the foundation to use the telekinesis. But just now, she had got an idea to different methods instead of the conventional ones.

The group stood up and exited the room together.

Morga was already waiting in the corridor, arms folded behind her back, posture straight and formal. The torchlight along the walls flickered as they approached.

“Are you done warming up, Great Carus?” she asked, her tone calm but carrying a hint of amusement.

“Yes,” Isaac replied.

“Then please follow me. You need to change into the duel clothes before participating in the duel.”

Another ogre stepped forward and gestured for Celia and Emily to follow.

They exchanged a quick look with Isaac before being guided toward the arena.

Their footsteps faded as Isaac and Morga headed in the opposite direction.

The room Morga led him into was simple and clean. A wooden bench sat against the wall, and folded neatly on top of it were a pair of black pants. The fabric looked thick but flexible, with a faint sheen that caught the light.

Isaac picked them up and felt the material between his fingers. It was smooth, but there was a toughness beneath it that reminded him of armor rather than cloth.

“It’s made from monster hide, specifically from a marsh crawler. It’s light, but hard to tear. You’ll find it comfortable,” Morga said, noticing his curiosity.

He changed quickly. The pants were baggy and loose, allowing easy movement, and they sat well around his waist without any need for a belt. When he straightened, his upper body was bare, the air in the room cool against his skin.

Morga stepped closer with a small bowl of dark ink and a thin brush.

“Hold still. This won’t take long,” she said.

Isaac raised a brow. “What are you drawing?”

“Temporary runes (tattoos). In our tribe, every victory against a superior opponent is marked on the body. We do it to make our ancestors proud. We believe they watch us from the heavens,” she replied as she dipped the brush.

She began to draw on his shoulder, the brush cool and wet as it traced a sharp, angular pattern.

“The number of runes makes it clear to our ancestors which descendant is working hard,” she continued. “Duels are sacred here. Even if someone has no real runes yet, we still draw these before a fight. Otherwise, it would shame our ancestors to see their descendant standing in the arena with nothing to show.”

Isaac let out a small breath. “But I’m not an ogre. Do I need to get runes too? I doubt the ogre ancestors will feel ashamed for me. I’m not their descendant.”

Morga chuckled softly. “You are correct. However, by now, making runes, even temporary ones, has become a tradition. So I ask for your understanding.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

She kept working, moving from one shoulder to the other, drawing symmetrical lines across his upper chest and arms. Her brush strokes were steady and practiced.

“Your physique is quite refined. You must have trained a lot,” she said after a moment.

“It’s the effect of high stats,” Isaac replied.

Morga shook her head slightly. “High stats don’t shape the body like this. There are many who are strong but fat, or strong but thin. You, on the other hand, have firm, lean, and well-shaped muscles. That means you were training even before the awakening.”

Isaac gave a small, noncommittal hum. “Hmm.”

She laughed at that. “What is with that response? I’m flirting with you. Shouldn’t you flirt back?”

“Flirting?” he asked, acting as if he had not known.

“It’s normal for our clans to make political allies through marriage,” she said with a grin.

Isaac chuckled. “I’ll have to say no. My wife would kill me if she finds out I took another wife while I was out.”

“Wife?” Morga raised a brow. “You mean Benefactor and Miss— Mrs. Celia?”

“No,” Isaac said. “I’m talking about my second wife. Alice. Actually, I think she would like you all, since she likes fighting too. I’ll bring her to meet you later.”

They kept talking and joked as she finished the last of the markings.

The runes formed a pattern that looked ceremonial rather than decorative, lines and shapes that carried a weight he could feel even without fully understanding them.

When she stepped back, she nodded in satisfaction. “All done.”

Isaac rolled his shoulders once, feeling the ink dry against his skin. “Let’s go.”

They left the room and walked down a wide stone path that led behind the main building.

The sound of voices grew louder as they approached. They were layered with anticipation.

“You should be careful,” Morga said as they walked.

“Why?” Isaac asked.

“Duels in our tribe are meant to show physical might. You are not allowed to use skills or abilities. Only pure strength.

“For humans like you, the biggest advantage is usually your skills.

“For us monsters, it is our physical might.

“Additionally, our Ashfang Tribe is the strongest physically in the surrounding lands. In a pure physical fight, you will be at a severe disadvantage,” she explained.

Isaac nodded.

Morga added, “I have some idea who you will fight. They are both Overlords. Level fifty-seven and fifty-eight. They are strong, even by our standards.”

That made him pause for half a step before continuing.

Even the strongest human Overlord was only Level 50.

From Level 51 onward, the experience requirements rose sharply. In return, the power gained at that stage was overwhelming.

The gap between a Level 51 Overlord and a Level 50 Champion was larger than the gap between a Level 1 Initiate and a Level 50 Champion.

Becoming an Overlord meant evolving into something higher. It was a stage that was nearly impossible to reach.

Humans had more than three hundred Champions, but only three true Overlords. The fourth, the Sword Empress, was still technically a Champion, carried forward by the memories of a previous life.

They reached the arena.

It was a wide, open space carved into the ground behind the main building, surrounded by rows of stone seating and standing platforms. Ogres filled every spot.

Old and young. Male and female.

Every one of them had a body like a living weapon. Their muscles were the dream physique of body builders.

Whispers spread through the crowd as soon as Isaac stepped into view.

“Is that a human? He is tiny.”

“How will someone like that win against our warriors? He must be dreaming.”

“Wow, he is more handsome than Rakah.”

“What does being good-looking do? Rakah is still stronger.”

Isaac climbed onto the stone stage at the center. Morga stopped at the edge, watching from below.

At the far end stood the Warchief, Grathok. On other side of the stage were two ogres.

One stepped forward first.

“Greetings, human. I am Urzag Ironvein, Chief of the Ironvein Clan.”

His voice was heavy, carrying a pressure that made the air feel thicker. He was the strongest fighter of his family.

The second ogre inclined his head slightly. “I’m Hragul Stoneweave, next chief of the Stoneweave Clan.”

Hragul looked younger, but his build was just as solid. The Stoneweave Clan focused on construction and textiles rather than war, yet he stood on equal footing with Urzag.

At only two hundred and fifty years old, which was roughly thirty in human terms, he had already become the strongest of his family.

“Human, I hope you understand the wager of this duel,” Urzag said, eyes fixed on Isaac.

“I do,” Isaac nodded.

Grathok stepped forward then, raising his hand. The arena fell silent.

His voice boomed across the grounds, reaching even the ogres standing at the back.

“Hear me, Ashfang Tribe. This human is the Lord of our Benefactor, daughter of the Netherworld Empress, the goddess who saved our ancestors from extinction.”

A ripple of sound moved through the crowd.

“By the will of our ancestors, the Great Carus and the Benefactor have come to claim the Ashfang Tribe. However, the Ashfang tribe follow only the strong!”

Grathok turned, gesturing toward the two ogres.

“Urzag Ironvein, Chief of the Ironvein Clan, and Hragul Stoneweave, next chief of the Stoneweave Clan, will duel against the Great Carus!”

He lifted his head, eyes toward the sky.

“O ancestors, watch over us! The wagers are simple. If the Great Carus wins, the Ashfang Tribe will serve him for eternity. If he loses, he will leave and relinquish his claim.”

Grathok looked between Isaac and the two ogres.

“Do both sides agree?”

Isaac met Urzag’s gaze, then Hragul’s. He took a slow breath and nodded.

“I agree.”

“We agree!” Urzag and Hragul roared together.

The crowd erupted at once.

The ogres shouted for the fight to begin, voices overlapping in a rough wave of sound.

Most of them called out for their chief and next chief to win.

A few, surprisingly, shouted for Isaac to be careful.

They didn’t want the fight to end too quickly.

They wanted to see something exciting, and it would be boring if Isaac got defeated too quickly.

At that moment, the Warchief, Grathok, raised his hand.

“Then the duel shall begin!”

Shockwaves erupted and the platform shattered as Hragul and Urgaz launched themselves towards Isaac.

Urgaz swung his massive club in a wide arc, the weapon cutting through the air with a low, heavy sound.

Hragul moved beside him, his machete flashing.

The blade was dark and worn, and it had an ominous presence, like it had drawn blood of hundred of warriors.

At that moment, another shockwave erupted.

And suddenly, the crowd became silent.

Because…

Hragul and Urgaz had disappeared.

For a heartbeat, no one understood what they were seeing.

“What happened?”

“Where are the chiefs?”

“Wa-wait, look there!”

A finger pointed toward the far wall of the tribe’s village.

There, Urzag was embedded into the stone, his massive body wedged between two broken structures.

The houses along the path between the arena and the wall were crushed, as if something huge had been dragged through them in a straight line.

A chill ran through the crowd.

Slowly, they turned their heads in the opposite direction.

Sure enough, Hragul was there as well, smashed into another section of the wall, surrounded by shattered wood and stone.

“…What?”

“How is this possible?”

“Did he use a skill?”

Two of their strongest warriors had been defeated in an instant.

No one could believe it.

They turned toward the Warchief, hoping he would explain what they had just seen.

“Warchief, what happened?”

“Did he really use a skill?”

Grathok stood still for a moment, his expression stiff. He had seen everything.

“Great Carus… punched.”

“What?” someone in the crowd asked.

“He just punched,” Grathok repeated.

There was a pause as the words sank in.

Isaac hadn’t used a skill. There had been no movement of mana. He had simply met their charge and struck them.

And in that single moment, he had shattered their weapons and sent both of them flying across the center of the tribe.

Isaac looked around, then back at Grathok.

“So, I won, right?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

Grathok turned his head toward him, still processing what he had witnessed.

He had expected Isaac to win, even if he was a human. As the Lord of the Benefactor, he believed Isaac would have some hidden strength.

But this?

Instant and overwhelming victory?

It was unbelievable.

“Yes,” Grathok said at last. “You’ve won.”

The words barely left his mouth before the crowd exploded into noise.

“That was insane!”

“That was the best fight I’ve ever seen!”

“Stop lying, we didn’t even see the fight, but you’re right, it was amazing!”

“Great Carus, please make me your concubine!”

Isaac laughed and waved a hand in the air, trying to calm them down.

“Someone, get them to the healers,” Grathok said to his attendants.

“I’ll handle it,” Isaac replied.

He raised his hand, and two spatial clouds formed beside him.

Their entrances hovered near his position, while their exits opened near the two ogres who were still stuck in the walls at opposite ends of the village.

Normally, Isaac would have stepped into the clouds himself and brought them back.

This time, he did something different.

He pushed his Telekinesis into the spatial clouds.

The invisible force passed through the entrances and emerged from the exits. It wrapped around Urzag and Hragul, pulling them free from the stone and debris, and drew them back through the clouds.

This was a method that combined Telekinesis and Spatial Cloud. Isaac came up with it, after the Catastrophe had thrown a piece of its body outside the city.

Back then, Celia had to leave the spatial cloud and bring its body back before the red rain fell.

It had put her near death’s door.

After seeing that, Isaac had realized that the shortcomings of the spatial clouds were too dangerous.

He had tried to come up with solutions for the shortcomings, and this was what he reached at.

Using telekinesis to grab and pull the targets through the spatial cloud without entering it yourself.

A moment later, both ogres dropped onto the ground in front of Isaac.

The crowd watched in silence, trying to understand what they had just seen.

After a moment, Isaac crouched slightly and looked at them.

“They’re pretty sturdy. I didn’t use skills, but I didn’t hold back either. I thought they’d be more injured.”

“We train our bodies since childhood. We use herbs and methods to harden our skin and bones. It’s part of who we are,” Grathok replied.

Isaac nodded.

He placed a hand in the air, and a soft light spread out. The Miracle of Grace skill activated, washing over the two fallen ogres.

Their breathing steadied. The bruises and cuts faded. The tension in their bodies eased.

Urzag blinked and sat up slowly. Hragul followed a moment later, still looking disoriented.

Then they both looked at Isaac.

Their expressions changed almost at once, paling as they recalled the duel.

They dropped to one knee.

“The Ironvein Clan pledges its allegiance to the Great Carus!”

“The Stoneweave Clan pledges its allegiance to the Great Carus!”

Grathok let out a deep laugh. He stepped forward and lowered himself to one knee as well, bowing his head.

“The Bonecleaver Clan pledges its allegiance to the Great Carus.”

Isaac looked around.

One by one, the ogres in the crowd followed.

“The Bloodmaw Clan pledges its allegiance to the Great Carus.”

“The Earthborn Clan pledges its allegiance to the Great Carus.”

“The Ironhelm Clan pledges…”

“The Rotfang Clan…”

The voices overlapped, but the message was the same.

The entire Ashfang Tribe was kneeling before him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com