Reborn in Milfloria: The Only Man in a World of Seductive Queens-Chapter 25: Rizz in the Fog

The fog was so thick that Henry could barely see his own knees — a tragedy, really, because he had fantastic knees.

The golden carriage jolted and creaked as it rolled down the abandoned Milforian highway, the two glowing llamas groaning and moaning dramatically with every step.

"Are... are they okay?" Henry asked, peering nervously at the llama in front, which was aggressively making eye contact with him while moaning in soprano.

"They're fine," Seraphina said without looking up from the ancient map she was studying. "They're just... very expressive llamas. Milforian breed."

Henry watched as one of the llamas tripped over its own hooves, rolled twice, farted glitter, and then got back up with a theatrical sigh.

"Right. Expressive," Henry muttered. "Definitely not cursed."

The road stretched out endlessly ahead, shrouded in a pinkish mist that smelled suspiciously like cheap perfume and regrets.

Henry leaned back against the plush seat, arms crossed behind his head, trying to act casual. His cloak blew dramatically in the wind. Unfortunately, so did his shirt, revealing his bare chest every five seconds like some kind of malfunctioning thirst trap.

Seraphina caught him flexing and raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna sprain a nipple if you keep posing like that."

Henry grinned. "Just practicing for when we meet the Womb Priestesses."

She smirked. "You're assuming they'll want you."

Henry put a hand to his heart, wounded. "How dare you. These pecs have diplomatic immunity."

Seraphina rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

They rode in silence for a while, the carriage rattling and squeaking like an old bedframe that had seen too many birthdays.

Suddenly, the llama on the left skidded to a dramatic halt, sending the entire carriage into a screeching spin. Henry and Seraphina clutched each other instinctively as the world spun around them.

When they finally stopped, Henry was practically in Seraphina's lap, his face buried somewhere dangerously close to her cleavage.

"...Hi," he mumbled into her boobs.

"Henry," Seraphina said in a dangerously calm voice, "if you don't remove your face in three seconds, I'm going to relocate your nose."

Henry yelped and shot back into his seat like a spring-loaded idiot.

"What the hell was that?!" he shouted at the llamas.

The llamas moaned louder and pointed their heads toward a fork in the road that had appeared in the mist.

Two signs stood crookedly:

LEFT: The Highway of Honorable Heroism.

RIGHT: The Trail of Forbidden Thighs.

Henry didn't even hesitate. "Right. Definitely right."

Seraphina slapped the back of his head. "No, you moron. Forbidden Thighs sounds like a trap."

Henry rubbed his head. "That's why we should go! Forbidden Thighs sounds like... destiny."

Seraphina sighed so hard she almost blew the mist away.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But if we get kidnapped by sexy goblins again, I'm blaming you."

"That was ONE time," Henry protested. "And it was worth it."

"YOU almost got married to their queen!"

Henry grinned dreamily. "Ah, Queen Thiccandra... she had goals."

Seraphina facepalmed.

They veered right.

---

As they followed the Trail of Forbidden Thighs, the landscape began to change.

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The mist thinned, revealing rolling hills covered in suspiciously bouncy grass. Every time the carriage rolled over a bump, it felt like they were riding on a giant mattress.

Henry bounced so high once he almost somersaulted off the carriage.

"Maybe this road isn't so bad," he said, sprawled across the floor like a starfish.

Seraphina was too busy squinting at the ancient map. "Something's wrong. The Sacred Lube Map says there should be a landmark around here."

Henry blinked. "The... what map?"

She held it up. It was an ancient parchment, embroidered with suspicious stains and glitter, labeled The Sacred Lube Map of Milforia™.

Henry stared. "That's a condom wrapper."

"No, it's not," Seraphina said firmly.

Henry pointed. "It literally says 'Extra Slippery, Ribbed for Her Pleasure' on the back."

Seraphina flipped it over. "Ancient runes."

Henry gave up.

Suddenly, the carriage hit a huge bump—and something massive loomed out of the mist.

Both llamas screamed (and moaned) simultaneously, coming to a screeching stop.

Ahead of them, blocking the road, was an enormous statue.

It was a titanic woman carved out of pink marble, reclining seductively with one thigh cocked up high enough to qualify as a war crime.

Henry gawked. "Holy Mother of Cake."

Seraphina read the inscription at the base aloud:

"Welcome, weary travelers, to the Trial of the Tempted Thighs. Only the strong, the pure, and the deeply desperate may pass."

Henry clapped his hands. "Good thing I'm two out of three!"

A loud rumbling sound echoed around them.

Then, right between the marble thighs of the statue, a massive stone door cracked open, revealing a tunnel lined with pink velvet and ominous neon lights.

Seraphina groaned. "I don't like this."

Henry was already halfway off the carriage. "Adventure awaits!"

Seraphina had no choice but to follow him into the thigh tunnel.

---

Inside, it smelled like roses and suspiciously expensive body spray.

Soft moaning echoed down the tunnel. Pink mist curled around their ankles. Every now and then, plush cushions and suspiciously suggestive murals appeared on the walls.

Henry whistled low. "Man. Even their architecture is horny."

They walked deeper into the tunnel until they reached a massive round chamber with a glowing pedestal in the center.

Upon it rested a scroll.

A very sparkly scroll.

Henry, being Henry, sprinted straight for it.

"WAIT—" Seraphina yelled, but too late.

As soon as Henry touched the scroll, the floor trembled—and dozens of holographic women in scandalous armor shimmered into existence around them.

The leader, a woman in a bikini made entirely of magical runes, stepped forward.

"Greetings, travelers," she said in a voice like honey and high heels. "You have entered the domain of the Tempted Thighs. To proceed... you must prove your worth."

Henry puffed up proudly. "By fighting? By solving riddles?"

The leader smirked. "By surviving... the Gauntlet of Lewdness."

Behind her, a massive obstacle course unfurled: bouncy castles, oil slides, and suspiciously wobbly poles.

Seraphina just stared.

Henry was already stripping off his cloak.

"I was born for this," he said dramatically.

---

Thirty minutes later...

Henry slid down the final oil ramp, shirtless, soaked in suspiciously scented lubricant, and cackling like a maniac.

Seraphina, somehow completely dry and annoyed, just caught him at the bottom.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Henry wiped oil from his eyes. "Character development."

The holographic women applauded.

The leader floated down and placed the scroll in Henry's hands.

"You have proven yourself to be sufficiently downbad," she said with a wink. "Proceed with our blessing, Simp Knight."

Henry bowed dramatically, slipped on the oil, and faceplanted into Seraphina's chest.

Again.

"Sorry," he mumbled, muffled.

"You have three seconds," Seraphina warned.

Henry wisely rolled away.

---

Back at the carriage, now miraculously free of oil, Henry examined the scroll.

It contained a single line of text:

"Follow the path where thighs tremble and moonlight weeps. There you will find the Portal of Pantywhisper."

Henry squinted. "Poetic."

Seraphina sighed. "Horny."

They mounted the carriage once more. The llamas resumed their moaning.

As they rolled down the Trail of Forbidden Thighs, Henry leaned back and stretched lazily, letting the soft wind dry his still-slick hair.

He glanced at Seraphina, who was busy pretending she didn't want to smile at him.

"You know," he said, "if we survive this... we should start a business."

She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of business?"

He grinned.

"Oil wrestling. With llamas."

Seraphina stared at him.

Then, for the first time in a long time, she laughed.

A real laugh.

Henry decided that maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous journey was worth it after all.

Even if it involved thigh tunnels, moaning llamas, and dangerously attractive holographic women.

Especially then.