My Class? MILF Hunter. My Rank? SSS. My Problem? Too Many Wives.

The glyph was still glowing in my ribs.

Talraine was glowing with satisfaction.

And I was glowing with... everything else.

I stumbled out of the shrine chamber like a sinner caught mid-confession—shirtless, soaked, and humming with divine feedback. The second glyph had burned itself into me, and the Matron's voice still lingered in my head like a phantom orgasm.

And then there she was.

Waiting. Crossed legs. Folded arms. A smirk that could kill hope and birth kinks.

"You're glowing," she said.

"Side effect of divine MILF bonding," I muttered.

She walked closer. No rush. Just that slow, controlled glide like she owned gravity now. Her violet cloak parted to show just enough black silk to trigger a system alert.

"I felt it," she said. "The echo. The surge. The moan."

"That wasn't—"