From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties! Chapter 177: Claw?

The sun descended behind the jagged mountain peaks, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and purple that bled into darkness like wounds closing. The goblin town settled into its evening rhythm—torches being lit along the main pathways, cook fires releasing savory smoke that carried the sll of roasted at and herbs, young goblins being called inside by the older ones whose voices echoed off stone walls. The goblins within the settlent had no idea what Byung was about to do, going about their routines with the blissful ignorance of those uninvolved in matters of leadership and alliance. Only the main forces knew—Murkfang, Naruz, Borkle, and a handful of trusted scouts and enforcers who had been quietly inford and tasked with ensuring absolute privacy around the guest house where the Chieftess waited.

Byung stood in his chambers, staring at his reflection in the polished tal shield he used as a makeshift mirror. His transford body was clean now, scrubbed until his green skin glead faintly in the fire, hair washed and tied back to keep it from his face.

He wore simple clothing—loose trousers and a tunic that allowed freedom of movent, nothing restrictive or ceremonial. This wasn’t about pageantry. He knew this was more than sex, more than physical conquest or re pleasure. This was a test of worthiness on the deepest level, a trial that would determine whether he truly deserved the alliance, the respect, the future he was building. Failure ant death, but success ant sothing far greater—binding the Stonehide tribe to his cause, gaining a partner who could match him in ways no one else could.

He had to clear his mind and attain a mind of steel, focus sharp as the blade he had forged from Vrognut’s bones. Byung closed his eyes and breathed deeply, using techniques he vaguely rembered from his previous life—ditation practices, ntal exercises that cald racing thoughts and centered the spirit. The system humd in his veins, but he pushed it to the background, relying instead on pure will and determination. When he opened his eyes again, they had changed—the nervous uncertainty replaced by cold confidence, the kind that ca from facing death repeatedly and walking away each ti.

He stepped out of his chambers and into the open, and everyone who saw him noticed the difference in his eyes imdiately. Goblins paused mid-conversation, tools stilling in their hands as Byung passed. The confidence radiating from him was palpable, almost visible, like heat shimring off sun-baked stone. He walked with purpose, each step asured and deliberate.

Maui waited for him at the entrance to the guest house, her massive fra leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. One look at him prompted her to smirk, tusks gleaming as her lips curved upward in genuine approval.

"There he is," she murmured, voice carrying just enough for him to hear.

"The king who doesn’t flinch." Byung was ready—she could see it in every line of his body, every controlled breath.

Maui escorted him to the entrance where the Chieftess awaited, their footsteps echoing softly on the stone path that wound through the quiet section of town. The guest house lood ahead, larger than the others, isolated for privacy.

This place was big enough to accommodate even the Chieftess’s towering fra comfortably, and the other orcs had gone to their respective dorms scattered throughout the settlent, leaving this area deserted except for the faint glow of fire spilling from under the door.

The Chieftess was waiting just beyond that door, and Byung gulped despite his steeled resolve, his throat suddenly dry at the thought of seeing her naked body, what magnificent form lay beneath those white robes that had teased his imagination during their duel. The mory of her curves pressed against him when she choked him flashed through his mind, sending heat flooding south. But he took a deep breath, holding it for a count of three before releasing slowly, forcing his heart rate to steady.

Maui stopped him at the threshold, her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Good luck," she said quietly, golden eyes serious despite the earlier smirk. "Be yourself. That’s what got you this far." Then she stepped back and shut the door behind him with a soft thud that sounded impossibly final, like a tomb sealing or a fate being locked into place.

Byung stood in the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the warm interior lit by a crackling hearth. Then he looked up—and there she was.

The Chieftess sat on the edge of the massive bed, her seven-and-a-half-foot fra sohow both imposing and graceful, white hair cascading down her back. She had on the sa white robe, but the way she wore it now was different—deliberately provocative. Her toned, muscular legs were crossed, one thigh draped over the other in a pose that drew the eye upward along powerful calves and the curve of her knee. The robe hung off one shoulder, exposing the smooth green skin beneath, the fabric clinging to her breasts in a way that outlined their fullness without revealing, the hard points of her nipples visible through the thin material. She looked right at him with no visibly emotion, those red eyes—glowing faintly like embers in the firelight—studying him with the sa cold intensity she had shown during their duel.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on, the air heavy with unspoken challenge and expectation. No words were spoken—she couldn’t speak, and he knew better than to break the silence with nervous babbling. Instead, the silence stretched, filled only by the fire’s soft crackle and the distant murmur of the town outside. Byung felt his cock stir despite the pressure, blood rushing south as his body responded to the sight of her, the sheer physicality of her presence making his skin prickle with anticipation.

At the end of the day, this was just a woman—powerful, dangerous, beautiful beyond reason, but still a woman with desires and needs like any other. Byung knew there was nothing supernatural to be done here, no magic trick or system cheat that could save him. This was primal, human—or as close to human as their races could get. But her emotionless gaze did make him nervous despite his preparation, his confidence wavering slightly under that unblinking stare. It felt like he was a perforr who had to gain the respect of a supre being, an artist standing before a critic who had seen everything and been impressed by nothing.

Byung wondered what approach she hadn’t seen in her centuries of existence. Countless warriors had tried and failed—so aggressive, so submissive, so tender, so brutal. He had to be original, had to find the angle that would pierce through her defenses and ignite the arousal that had eluded so many. But what? His mind raced through possibilities, discarding each as too predictable, too common. The answer had to co from who he was, not who others had been.

He didn’t rush toward her, didn’t strip imdiately or launch into seduction. Instead, he held her gaze, letting the tension build, letting her see that he wasn’t intimidated—nervous, yes, but not broken by her presence. His hand moved slowly to the hem of his tunic, fingers grasping the fabric, and he pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, exposing his transford body—the toned muscle, the faded scars.

But with hesitation, Byung dug his fingers into his chest before clawing away at his flesh like a mad man but never once broke eye contact.

However, the Chieftess’ eyes drifted to the wound he had inflicted, a right step in the wrong direction because Byung ant what this ant. She was a sadist.