Haaa~… People never learn.

The news that someone successfully captured a white stag quickly spread like wildfire among the elven hunters inside the forest, and we soon found ourselves surrounded by dozens of greedy eyes, all of them hungry for the prize and the prestige that came with it.

However, that wasn’t the thing that made me sigh with boredom. No, the main thing that made me sigh with boredom was the fact that they all made the same mistake. They all thought that numbers mattered.

They kept coming in waves. A dozen here, a score there. Some of them were even riding those majestic, silver-furred steeds, all demanding that I hand over the white stag.

Pathetic.

The White Stag, to his credit, was a true professional. He stood by my side. He even allowed me to ride him, a silent, silver-eyed sentinel, radiating an aura of pure, untamed power that made the lesser creatures of the forest tremble. He was my trophy, my key to the queen’s party, and he knew it.

So… I had to ‘decline’ their ‘generous’ offers.

I had to make a statement. A big, bloody, undeniably impressive statement.

So, I built a wall. A beautiful, grotesque wall of elven bodies impaled from the butt to the mouth by blood spears, lining perfectly and following behind me. It was a work of art. A symphony of screaming, twitching, and bleeding. A message that only the truly dense could miss.

Of course, I only impaled a few, no more than eight. The rest I captured, enslaved, and teleported to the Nightmare Tower.

The first group was the ‘lucky’ ones. I gave the two male elves to Lament so she could ‘play’ with them and enjoy her ‘fleshy’ pursuit of the meaning of life.

As for the arrogant leader, his sister, and the other female, I kept them. The two women for breeding monsters for the tower, and the leader for… well, I’m planning something special for him. I just hope it works.

So far, my total score is 42 captured and 8 impaled. Not bad for a morning’s work.

I’m planning to start a monster breeding program with the captured elves. They have high magic potential and long life spans, which makes them perfect incubators, similar to what I did to Leaf back then.

Just this time… I’ll be more creative.

That’s why I captured males too. I need to study how pregnancy works inside the tower for non-tower-born creatures, so I can create a way to introduce more races to the tower.

Hehehe~… I also planned to gender-change a few of them, just to see if the process is reversible, and if so, can I use this to my advantage later? Ahh~… I have so many horny plans.

But now, I have a stag to deliver and a queen to fuck.

“Are you done?” Vespera’s voice cut through my thoughts. She was sitting on the back of a captured black elven steed that I gifted to her. She looked annoyed, but there was a strange glint in her eyes, a mix of fear and… something else. She was impressed, I could tell. She was just too proud to admit it.

Surprisingly, most of the elven sub-races, like wood elves, high elves, snow elves… etc., all took their chance and attacked us, except for the dark elves.

My guess was that the eight impaled elves played a huge role in that, since the first group of dark elves we met was after I lost my patience and began shoving blood spears up asses.

The dark elves showed me respect.

They didn’t try to fight me. They didn’t even come close to my ‘artistic’ wall. They just bowed their heads and got the hell out of my way. Some even offered me gifts of rare herbs and poisons, which I politely accepted.

Some even offered themselves as my personal playthings. I was tempted, but I had to decline. I had a schedule to keep.

I’ll make sure to come back and ‘thank’ them later. Hehehe~

Truly, the dark elves were my favorite kind of elves.

“Almost,” I said, turning to her with a smirk. “Just adding a few finishing touches to my masterpiece. What do you think? Does it need more color?”

I was currently painting the face of a particularly arrogant high elf with his own blood. I was trying to draw a smiley face on his forehead, but the twitching made it a bit difficult.

“Let me handle it,” Ves then said, hopping off her steed and walking towards the impaled elf. She took out her dagger and, with one swift move, carved a smiley face on the elf’s forehead.

“Hehehe~… not bad, Pointy,” I said, a genuine smile on my face. “You’re a natural.”

“Shut up,” she said, her face turning red. “I was just… trying to help.”

“You’re a good girl,” I said, patting her head. “I’ll make sure to fuck you to the brink of insanity later as a reward.”

“!!!”

Her face went from red to a shade of purple that would make a plum jealous. She quickly turned and walked back to her steed.

I climbed onto the back of the White Stag, who remained unnervingly calm despite the carnage. I leaned forward, my breasts pressing against his neck, and whispered into his ear.

…

Two hours later.

The capital’s outer gates were finally visible through the canopy, shimmering like polished bone against the verdant green of the forest. But between us and those gates lay a bridge and, more importantly, a blockade of the Queen’s own personal guard.

They had clearly heard the rumors. It’s hard not to notice a one-woman parade of carnage when it’s trailed by a floating collection of “stick in the butt” elves as a mobile art installation.

The Captain of the Guard didn’t look like the previous idiots. She didn’t scream, and she didn’t declare “halt in the name of Her Majesty,” with all the conviction of a wet paper bag. Instead, she just stood there, a grim-faced, emerald-armored mountain of a blonde futa, her gloved hands resting on the pommel of a massive spear, her eyes fixed on the grisly wake trailing behind my White Stag.

Behind her, twenty royal guards formed a perfect line, their posture ramrod straight. Behind them, fifty archers had their bows drawn, every single tip glowing with the lethal, white light of sun-blessed mana.

“Halt,” the Captain commanded, her voice a low, calm rumble that carried more weight than any shriek of fury. “In the name of the Queen, state your name, your business, and explain… these.”

I gave the stag a gentle pat and leaned back, crossing my legs—one of which was still bare since I hadn’t bothered to pull my trousers all the way up after the ‘measurement’ contest. I let my length loll against the stag’s silver fur, basking in the horrified gasps of the front line.

“Hello,” I said with a cheerful wave. “I’m Morgana. This is my lovely stag, Snowball. And these,”

I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder at the dangling, gurgling wall of elves.

“Think of them as a peace offering. They were very insistent on ‘purifying’ the stag, so I decided to help them reach a higher state of being. Through the colon, mostly.” I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Or as a warning. I can never decide which. Anyway, I’m here to see the Queen. I believe I have an invitation.”

I slid off the stag, landing with a soft thud on the mossy ground. The Captain’s eyes never left mine. They were cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of the usual elven arrogance. She’d seen real combat, and she saw me as just another, albeit unusual, battlefield.

“You have murdered sons of the Great Tree,” the Captain said, her grip tightening on a massive halberd. “And you brazenly parade their desecrated bodies to the very gates of our capital. This is an act of war.”

“Murdered? Please. They’re still twitching,” I pointed out. Indeed, the third elf from the left let out a wet, whistling sob through the hole in his throat. “I’m just keeping them ‘fresh’ for my daughter. She’s a growing girl; she needs her vitamins.”

Vespera rode up beside me, her face a mask of practiced, noble indifference, though I could see the frantic pulse in her neck.

“Captain,” she spoke up, her voice regaining its diplomatic steel. “This is Morgana. She has secured the White Stag for the Queen. The… casualties… were those who attempted to commit sacrilege by stealing a royal tribute. She merely defended the Crown’s property with… extreme enthusiasm.”

The captain looked at Vespera, then at the Stag, then at my exposed, twitching cock. The logic of her world was clearly fracturing.

A moon elf—with a big dick that demands respect—delivering a legendary beast flanked by a Drow, all preceded by a mobile abstract art installation made of high elves.

“The Queen expects the Stag,” the captain ground out, signaling her men to lower their bows. “But the ‘decorations’ stay outside. Our city is a place of life, not a larder for your… tastes.”

“Fine, fine. Killjoys,” I rolled my eyes. I snapped my fingers, and the blood spears dissolved instantly.

The eight impaled elves collapsed into a pile of tangled limbs and perforated viscera, sliding into a heap on the mossy ground. The sudden release made a wet, slapping sound that was deeply satisfying.

“There. Clean as a virgin pussy,” I said, beaming. “See? I’m reasonable.”

“…” The captain didn’t smile. She just stared at the groaning, bleeding heap, then at me, and to be fair, I misinterpreted her look.

“If you want to fuck me, Captain,” I said, stepping toward her and patting her armored chest, “you just have to ask. My pussy is always open for strong, beautiful women like yourself.”

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