Supreme Degenerate Lust System-Chapter 6: Crazy Bitches!

"What do you think, Alric?"

Charlotte asked, raising her arms and tying her long, fiery red hair into a ponytail — the kind of move that could turn a monastery full of monks into a pack of howling wolves.

If Alex had seen that, his pants would've turned into a circus tent so fast you'd swear there was a clown act inside.

A woman tying her hair back? That's like an unspoken cheat code for instant sex appeal.

But before the Golden Boy Wonder could answer, Tomboy Ellie chimed in, cranking her sass dial to eleven.

"Whad do you dink, Alric? Whad do you dhink, Alric?"

She mocked Charlotte in a voice so shrill it sounded like a drunk parrot choking on a kazoo. Arms crossed, face twisted in an expression that practically screamed, 'I hate everyone, especially YOU.'

"You!"

Charlotte shot back, finger jabbing like she was selecting Ellie on a character select screen for a death match.

She wasn't even mad at Alex — the poor sod motorboating his way to salvation — no, no. Her beef was with this brat who strutted around like she had plot armor made of pure ego.

"You're being more of a burden to the party than this retarded brown monkey over here!"

She stabbed her finger at Alex, who was still blissfully lost in the booba-based Bermuda Triangle, unaware that the outside world had downgraded him to a brain-dead smurf.

"...eehh..."

Alex lazily lifted his head just a few inches off the divine twin airbags to glare at the loudmouth who called him a retarded brown monkey.

His eyes narrowed — the kind of squint you give when someone insults you, but you're too comfy to care.

'Pfft, not worth my energy.'

He shrugged like a man deciding that winning an argument wasn't worth leaving his blanket fort, then gleefully swandived straight back into Celeste's heavenly marshmallow valley.

"Aah! It hurts! It hurts!"

He moaned dramatically, flailing like a soccer player who just got lightly tapped on the shin.

"There, there, little lamb, everything will be all right."

Celeste cooed, patting his head like he was a five-year-old who scraped his knee — except this kid had just willingly face-planted into her cleavage.

Meanwhile, Charlotte and Ellie were busy simmering like two kettles competing to see which one could scream louder.

"The hell did you say, bitch! Ohhh, I get it now!"

Ellie sneered, her grin wide enough to qualify for its own zip code.

"You're just mad 'cause I roasted you in front of your precious Alric-samaaaa~"

She mockingly dragged out his name like some lovestruck anime fangirl, then rubbed her fists into her eyes, fake-crying like a drama queen in a soap opera audition.

"Poor Lady Charlotte! Soooo hurt! Whatever shall I do?!"

Charlotte's eye twitched — the kind of twitch that signals 'I'm about to start swinging.'

"That's it! You crossed the line, Ellie!"

"Oh no! What are you gonna do? Write me an angry poem?"

"If you're so pissed, why don't you show me what that spear of yours can actually do!"

Charlotte's twin swords flew from her hips like they were shot from a western gunslinger's holster.

She dropped into a combat stance, eyes locked on Ellie like a cat watching a laser pointer — except this cat had two big-ass knives and a serious vendetta.

"Aah! Now you're talking my language. Fine, bitch! Come at me!"

Ellie snatched her spear off her back, gripping it like she was about to stab someone or start conducting an angry orchestra.

Her stance was sharp, her eyes glinting with the kind of madness you'd see in a cat that's been locked inside too long and is ready to demolish the furniture.

Meanwhile, Kriss had entered panic-shovel mode. Each insult tossed between the girls made him double his munching speed.

His sunflower seed bag was disappearing faster than a pizza at a gamer's party.

Normally, he'd enjoy watching two girls fight like they were auditioning for a wrestling pay-per-view, but not this time.

Nope.

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This time he was stress-eating like a man betting his life savings on a coin flip.

With a heavy sigh, Kriss raised one hand. Wind spiraled around his fingers like he was about to pull a magic trick.

Sensing something off, Alex gently turned his head from the comfort of Celeste's pillow-top premium boobas — still resting on them, mind you, but now just peeking out with one wary eye.

'If this turns into some Naruto ninja crap, I swear...'

"Here I come!"

Ellie launched forward with a crazed grin plastered on her face — the kind of grin that says, "I'm about to stab you... and I'm really gonna enjoy it."

Whoosh!

Both girls blurred from sight. One second they were there, the next they vanished faster than your motivation after deciding to "just rest your eyes for five minutes."

Alex's jaw dropped.

'What in the Dragon Ball Z budget boost is this?!'

He blinked rapidly, half-expecting subtitles to appear in the sky explaining their sudden power levels.

His mouth hung open like a busted mailbox, yet Celeste kept stroking his head like he was her oversized, half-brained puppy.

The golden glow of her magic kept washing over him like a warm bath he never wanted to leave.

Truth be told, he'd forgotten all about his pain the second his face had landed in the Valley of Heavenly Fluff — and if this was the cure, he wouldn't mind being "injured" at least twice a day.

Meanwhile, his gaze flicked back to the two raging lionesses who suddenly reappeared on the scene.

Charlotte had both swords raised, ready to slash down like she was about to carve a holiday turkey, while Ellie's spear was locked in a defensive stance, braced for impact.

'Here it comes... Sparks, fire, explosions... all that anime battle crap.'

Alex thought. Not wanting to be collateral damage, he snuggled closer to Celeste, practically nuzzling her like a cat trying to claim its territory.

But then — what the hell?!

Instead of an explosive clash that would make Michael Bay blush, the two weapons moved like they were stuck in honey.

The girls' ferocity had been replaced with sluggish, awkward swings — like two drunk dads trying to have a sword fight with pool noodles at a barbecue.

"What the...?"

Alex muttered, eyes narrowing.

That's when he noticed faint, green, noodle-like tendrils swirling around their weapons — soft, flickering strands that lazily looped and twirled, like someone had programmed their blades in PowerPoint's slow-motion animation mode.

'Oh, great. Now we've got magic spaghetti slowing down the apocalypse.'

Whatever it was, Alex knew one thing for sure — if things kept moving like this, he had at least five more minutes to enjoy his luxurious face-first reservation at Booba's Comfort Inn.