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Chapter - 168 Lakeman’s Return. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 23:10:44 +0000 UTCThe whispers of the Rainbow Mist carried across the decks, but now… they were weaker. Fainter.
For it, too, was being devoured.
And Lakeman had five years to make this his.
Time had no meaning within the Rainbow Mist.
The sun never rose. The moon never set. The skies were only endless veils of shifting color — violet bleeding into emerald, gold cascading into crimson, azure melting into silver. And in that eternity, one figure ruled.
Lakeman.
By the second year, the mist was no longer a prison. It was his playground.
No pirate crews remained — only women, slaves, and queens who had fallen into his hands.
The ship became a moving harem.
In the throne hall, Stella danced naked every evening, her sweat glistening in the rainbow light. Sofia lay beneath him, her mature body moaning as he filled her ass with one thrust after another.
Slap! Slap!
Splrrrt!
Robin and Lily studied relics in the day, then moaned together in his bed at night, their fingers entwined as they were both stretched by his cock.
Mirana never left his side, her red curls spilling across his thighs as she swallowed his seed daily, her voice hoarse with endless devotion.
Slrp… glkk… gulp!
“Mmmhhhnnn… more, Master…”
The Rainbow Mist glowed brighter around their cries, the whispers of trapped souls fading as lust replaced despair.
Lakeman discovered that the mist did more than trap. It preserved.
Dead men’s souls held centuries of lifespans untouched. Vessels carried knowledge and weapons lost to history.
He stole it all.
Vhhmmm— His hand tore the essence from an ancient captain, absorbing his seventy remaining years in one breath.
Shhhrrkkk!
Another soul dissolved into his being, strengthening him further.
By the fourth year, no ships remained. No pirates. No treasure left untouched. Only the mist itself.
Lakeman focused his power, his fruit pulling the colors into him.
Hsssshhhhh—
Threads of rainbow fog coiled into his palm, dissolving into his body. Slowly. Patiently. He absorbed day after day, his power swelling.
At night, he celebrated his progress with flesh.
He took Mirana against the railing, Scarlet beneath his throne, Stella in his lap, Sofia in his mouth, Robin and Lily grinding against each other as he filled them all.
The Rainbow Mist itself seemed to shudder with each climax, colors pulsing brighter with their screams.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Glkkk! Slrrrp!
Ahhhhhhhnnnn!
Five women moaned together, their holes overflowing with his seed, their bodies broken and rebuilt night after night.
By the fifth year, the Rainbow Mist had weakened.
Its whispers were faint. Its colors dulled. The endless fog that once stretched like infinity now bent inward, swirling toward Lakeman’s ship like a dying beast.
Lakeman stood at the prow, his hand extended, his aura radiant. Threads of mist swirled into him like rivers into the ocean.
He clenched his fist.
Vhhmmm—
The last of the Rainbow Mist shuddered, screamed, and dissolved into him. The voices of the damned silenced forever.
The fog itself vanished, leaving only open sea — calm, silent, empty.
The prison of centuries was gone.
And Lakeman had devoured it.
The Rainbow Mist was gone.
Its colors, its whispers, its curse — all dissolved into Lakeman’s body. What had been a timeless prison for centuries was now nothing more than energy pulsing in his veins.
The sea lay open, blue and endless.
The sun burned above, the waves rolled below.
For the first time in five years, the world looked normal.
But Lakeman was not the same.
He stood at the prow of the golden cruise, black hair tousled, crimson eyes gleaming. Behind him, his women knelt in reverence, their bodies glowing faintly from years of indulgence inside eternity.
Robin whispered, “Master… we are free.”
Mirana licked her lips, her red curls clinging to her sweaty face. “Not free. Victorious. The Mist belongs to you now, Master.”
Scarlet and Stella pressed close together, their breasts still glistening from earlier use, sighing, “Five years… and still, we crave more…”
Lakeman’s smirk widened. “Five years inside, five years outside. The world has moved on… but it no longer matters.”
He clenched his fist. The sea seemed to shiver beneath his aura.
“I’ve eaten eternity. What is time to me?”
But there was a price — not to him, but to the world itself.
Because five years had passed outside, the balance of power had shifted. Pirates had risen and fallen. Marines had waged wars. The seas had changed.
And more importantly…
Beauties who were once girls were now ripe.
Countless daughters of kings, nobles, and empresses — all five years older, their bodies now ripe for his touch.
Lakeman chuckled darkly. “The world thinks time strengthens them. But all it has done… is ripen my prey.”
As the golden cruise descended toward the Blue, CP agents hidden across the seas raised their heads.
And far away, in the New World, Shanks raised a glass, laughing with his men, unaware that the shadow he feared had returned far stronger than before.
The golden cruise glided into the Holy Land of Mariejois, its sails gleaming under the sun. For five years the world had not seen it, and now its arrival was like the descent of heaven itself.
On the red carpet leading into the sacred capital, the Five Elders stood waiting. Their aged faces — once prideful, once commanding — were now pale with reverence.
Lakeman descended in his black silks, crimson eyes sharp. Behind him trailed Robin, Lily, Scarlet, Stella, Sofia, and Mirana — but their beauty was nothing compared to the overwhelming aura of their Master.
The Five Elders fell to their knees.
“Welcome back, Lord Lakeman!”
“Your will rules us!”
Their voices trembled. Even they, immortals in their own right, knew their worth was dust before him.
Lakeman barely spared them a glance. His voice was calm, dismissive. “Stand aside. I have business.”
And like obedient dogs, the rulers of the world obeyed.
The Flower Fields
Lakeman strode alone into the flower fields — vast, radiant, blooming endlessly. At their heart stood a palace of pale stone, its gates parting soundlessly at his presence.
Within, on a throne of living blossoms, sat Imu.
Her eyes widened, her lips curving into a rare smile. “So… you’ve returned.”
Lakeman smirked. “And stronger than ever.”
He told her of the Rainbow Mist — of its whispers, its trapped souls, its treasures, its devouring — while her eyes glimmered with hunger.
“Five years inside eternity…” she murmured, rising from her throne. She reached for his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles. “Show me what you’ve become.”
Imu dragged him to her chambers.
And for a month, the flower palace shook with their cries.
They fucked against walls of living vines.
They fucked on beds of petals, on balconies, in bathing pools filled with rosewater.
Slap! Slap! Slap! — his hips drove into her as she clawed at his back.
Schhhllrp! Slrrppp! — her soaked folds clung to him, dripping across marble floors.
Ahhhhhhhnnnn! — her moans rang through the flower fields, echoing into the skies.
Day became night, night became day, but for a month there was no difference.
Their divine bodies clashed endlessly, tearing apart furniture, shattering crystal, staining every chamber of her palace with sweat and seed.
When he finally left her bed, she lay collapsed on silken sheets, glowing faintly, whispering:
“…more…”
Lakeman returned to his villa.
Stussy had made it grander than ever — golden halls, silken chambers, gardens that shimmered with waterfalls and rare flowers.
Shakky stood by her side, their figures glowing with devotion. Countless queens, princesses, and slaves waited within, their bodies trembling with five years of pent-up hunger.
But when he entered, silence fell.
Dozens of eyes stared at him. Not with joy, but with heat — resentment, jealousy, longing.
Five years they had waited.
And then another month… as he drowned in Imu’s body.
They had dreamed of him every night.
And he had ignored them.
The villa pulsed with unspoken demand.
Lakeman smirked, crimson eyes sweeping across them all. His voice was calm, amused.
“You missed me.”
The silence broke into moans, sobs, desperate cries:
“Master—!”
“Don’t leave us again!”
“Use us—punish us—please!”
Their resentment collapsed into devotion as he opened his arms.
And inside waited his women.
Not just one or two. Not a handful.
But dozens upon dozens — queens, princesses, noble daughters, slaves — every one of them conquered and broken long before Lakeman’s battle with Imu, every one of them aching for their Master.
At the front knelt his most beloved toys:
Stussy, elegant, her golden hair shimmering, lips trembling with restrained need.
Shakky, radiant in her eternal youth, eyes sharp with jealousy and hunger.
Robin, dark-haired and proud, though her clenched thighs betrayed her longing.
Lily, his silver-haired maid, flawless body trembling with pent-up lust.
Scarlet, the princess-slut, biting her lip, eyes watering with need.
Stella, the dancer, hips swaying unconsciously in silent plea.
Sofia, mature queen, her heavy breasts rising with every ragged breath.
Mirana, his red-haired Figarland toy, her body still glowing from his last use.
And behind them, kneeling in silks, were the royals:
Viola of Dressrosa, curves ripened by five years, dark eyes burning with jealousy.
Queen Otohime of Fishman Island, petite and delicate, trembling with her heart-shaped ass lifted high.
Queen Titi of Alabasta, elegant and mature, her regal poise shattered into a slut’s submission.
And beyond them — dozens more. Queens of fallen nations, princesses traded by Cipher Pol, empresses dethroned. All his.
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