The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 36: Duty

Entry of the Third Realm Dark Continent.

Duty, Discipline, Obedience. Such gentle but demanding fate fixed into one's soul the moment they are born as simple peasants. Simple orders, heed them to the core and listen to the people of the upper class as gods. As in reality they were. The people living below as mere citizens, their whole life, from the moment of their birth to the time of their death. It all waved in a whim of a simple noble. Their satisfaction decided one's bright future and their rage degraded one to their very death.

What could one do but plead and please to these hungry and greedy gods. Praising them for their evil deeds like a prayer and giving their hard-earned money in tax as part of their sacrificial ritual. But something reigned beyond them, the one above these so called greedy gods: the royal family.

The one leasing the greedy and insufferable nobels to submission with their presence alone. Changing landscapes, building towers, growing masses of fields of rice with their mere command.

Reality shifted within time when they spoke. Men and women in arms shaping it for them. As it is their duty to create, maintain, and destroy. To continue the cycle of life of their realm, of their kingdom. Such was the power of the king and the queen. And for such power to not be degraded, keeping balance and harmony, the knights crafted their very discipline and obedience for their service. Years of ritual protection had given birth to the legion of knights, the symbol of power given to the very peasants by royalty.

Denish, who had crawled his way all the way to second-in-command in the military, heeded this wisdom he had grasped in time, living it every day.

Pierce!

With a slight push, Denish drove his knife deeper into her neck, silencing her gurgling pleas. Blood bubbled out, choking off whatever spell she'd tried to cast. Her wide eyes stared at him, accusing, desperate—but not for long.

"...wh...y..." she murmured, drowning in her own blood before falling silent forever.

Denish closed his eyes briefly, leaning down to shut hers. A flicker of pity crossed his face—quickly extinguished—as he wiped the blade clean on her tunic. There was no room for guilt here. Not when duty called so loudly.

"You were becoming a liability," he said softly, almost tenderly, though his voice carried no warmth. "What the princess speaks must come true—it MUST turn reality as her royal blood demands. You stood in the way of destiny bending toward her will." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the lifeless body. "Destiny dictates we cross this realm and save the prince and it shall be so and i will thank your soul for it."

Standing, Denish brushed splattered blood from his gray hair and iron armor. His movements were mechanical, devoid of remorse or hesitation. This was survival. This was obedience. Nothing more.

The metallic clink of his armor echoed against the cave walls as Denish stepped out into the dim light of dawn. The air smelled damp, heavy with decay—a fitting perfume for the third realm. Still, there was no sign of anyone else. No survivors from the chaos that had scattered them during their descent into this cursed land.

Split apart by the giant homunculi in the second realm, they had fallen like leaves caught in a storm. before, days later, Denish wandered with Alina, driven by one singular purpose: find the princess. Protect her. Serve her. Be her sword if need be.

A low growl escaped him as frustration boiled beneath his steely exterior. Time was slipping away, and with each passing moment, the odds tipped further against them. Survival meant unity, but without allies, what chance did any of them have?

Ah!!

Ah!!!

Denish heard a voice echoing from a nearby cave and rushed toward it, hoping it was the princess.

Ahh! Oh! Ahh!

The sound of bodies colliding grew louder and louder as Denish reached the source with every step inching forward. But what welcomed him was not he expected, with a sign, only dissapointment reigned.

"Harder—God, Gon, harder!" Ale's voice broke with ecstasy, her plea a melody of desire as she arched into him, her eyes locked on his, blazing with a love that could rival the sun. "Don't stop, love—I need all of you."

"Yeah—fuck, Ale, you feel so good," Gon growled, his voice thick with adoration, his lips brushing her throat as he surged deeper, their bodies trembling with a hunger that consumed them both. "Take it—take everything I've got." His hands slid up her sides, fingers digging in as if she were his lifeline, their rhythm a wildfire spiraling out of control.

Their mouths collided in a desperate, bruising kiss—teeth clashing, tongues seeking, tasting the salt of sweat and the sweetness of their shared passion. "ahhh!! ahh!! it feels so goood!!," Ale gasped against his lips, the words raw and trembling, spilling from her soul as pleasure coiled tighter within her. "Always—you're mine, Gon."

"Yours," he rasped, his voice breaking with devotion, his hands cupping her face as he thrust harder, deeper, their bodies a single flame against the cave's cold stone. "Every fucking heartbeat—yours." His eyes held hers, fierce and unguarded, as their pace quickened, a tempest building to its peak.

"...yeah, bitch. You like some of this, huh? Oh, oh, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum," he moaned with her.

"Ah! Aahh! No, no... keep going, keep going. Don't stop!" she bellowed as he pushed her body against the wall.

"...oh... ohhh yeahhh!!!" he moaned in pleasure, bashing his waist against her round ass, surging deep inside her.

"Aahhhhhhh!!!" She also moaned, feeling his warm liquid gushing inside her.

They collapsed against each other, breathless and trembling, her fingers tracing his jaw with a tenderness that belied their ferocity moments before. Ale laughed softly, her voice husky and teasing as she caught her breath. "God, Gon—you didn't wait again. I was right there with you."

He grinned, unrepentant, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his arms wrapping her in a protective embrace. "Sorry, babe—Dark Continent rules. Dip in or die, right? Next time, you're first—I swear it." His chuckle was warm, his touch lingering, their love a defiant glow in the oppressive dark.

Denish only sighed, his palm pressed firmly against his forehead. One of many reasons he had warned Princess Lara not to bring adventurers into this forsaken land was their undisciplined nature. Their shameless behaviors and wild instincts made them hard to lead—and even harder to trust.

"Cut the shit! You morons," Denish barked, interrupting what looked like preparations for another round between Ale and Gon. His voice sliced through the air with all the subtlety of a blade cleaving bone.

Ale turned bright red as she scrambled to cover herself, startled that she hadn't heard the knight approach. Her hands fumbled with her clothes, embarrassment painting her cheeks crimson.

"...haa...can't even enjoy a fucking session," Gon grumbled under his breath, his naked form still visible despite his attempts to shield himself. His limp staff hung there awkwardly, a testament to his interrupted indulgence.

Denish said nothing further. He simply turned away, allowing them some semblance of decency while they dressed. As much as he despised their antics, he wasn't devoid of honor—or at least enough restraint to avoid staring at two barbarians in their rawest state.

"Follow me after you finish. I found the exit, you fucking Dumbasses," he growled over his shoulder before walking ahead, boots crunching against uneven terrain.

Gon snorted but didn't dare argue. The old man could slice him in half faster than he could blink if provoked. Instead, he slapped Ale's bare bottom playfully as she hurried to dress.

"Ahh...Gon, stop it! I'm already embarrassed enough!" Ale hissed, swatting his hand away.

Denish moved swiftly toward the light, checking for any lurking monsters along the way. What he found instead were two familiar figures waiting by the edge of the forest. They stepped forward, illuminated by the pale glow of dawn breaking through gnarled trees.

"Denish. You are alive," came a commanding voice—one that carried both authority and relief.

Hearing it, Denish immediately recognized its owner. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.

"Yes, Your Highness. It seems you are unharmed as well. Thank the gods," he murmured reverently, clutching the hilt of his sword tightly. Behind him, Gon and Ale emerged, hastily pulling on their gear as they joined him.

"...Where's Alina and Sam?" Lara questioned.

Denish raised his eyes in grief, saying nothing more. Everybody knew what he meant as they all fell silent, a form of respect for those who couldn't make the fall.

Lara gritted her teeth, but she had to remember why she was here, what her goal was. She knew there would be some sacrifices or lives lost. But even though they were the weakest of the bunch, they had their role.

Lara gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus on the mission ahead. She understood sacrifices would be necessary; these deaths weighed heavily, yes, but they couldn't afford despair now.

"...May the Gods bless their souls," Lara whispered solemnly before straightening her posture, resolve burning fiercely in her eyes. "We knew lives would be lost, but don't forget our purpose here—to find my brother, the prince."

Lara nodded sharply, sliding her sword back into its holster. "I know two died when I wasn't around, but I assure you, death will not reach you as long as I'm near. I'll stand between you and death itself should it try."

She turned toward the dark city looming beyond, pointing directly at the towering castle, its shape and size defying logic at its center. "So follow me as you've done this past week. Together, we'll accomplish this mission, and the entire kingdom will remember your names as legends who saved the royal prince—the future king!"

Each word struck deep, rekindling a bit of faith and courage where sorrow had begun to take root. Even Gon, usually stoic and brooding, felt the fire roar back to life inside him. Only his instinctive grip on his axe betrayed his lingering unease.

As the group marched forward, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The silence stretched taut like a bowstring ready to snap. Every step echoed ominously, reverberating off invisible walls hidden in shadow. The air grew colder, heavier—oppressive, almost suffocating—as though the very essence of the third realm resisted their intrusion.

Denish glanced down at the small book clutched tightly in his hand. Its pages contained wisdom carved into human words, penned by none other than the prince himself. Yet, amidst the sketches and cryptic notes lay an ominous warning: 'Do not enter the third realm of the Dark Continent at any cost.'

His brow furrowed deeply as concern etched lines across his face. "Your Highness," he called softly, catching Lara's attention. "The book strictly advises against entering the third realm. What do we make of it?"

Lara paused mid-step, turning slowly to meet his gaze. Her expression hardened, unwavering despite the weight of uncertainty hanging above them like a guillotine.

"My brother is wise, Denish—but not stronger than I am," she declared firmly, gripping her sword hilt once more. "Do you have faith in me? Do allllll of you have faith in me?"

"Yes!"

"Yesss!"

"Yess! Your Highness!!"

"Yes!" chorused around her, voices overlapping in fervent agreement.

With renewed conviction, Lara led the charge into the unknown. But Gon lagged slightly behind, his fingers twitching anxiously toward his axe. Something about Denish unsettled him—perhaps the gleam of steel reflecting moonlight or the quiet intensity in his eyes. Whatever it was, Gon's instincts screamed danger louder than ever before.

And yet, no one stopped moving. Not now. Not when survival depended on unity—and blind faith in their leader.

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