Inazuma Battlefield

The crimson glow of distant flames painted the night sky above Inazuma, casting flickering shadows across the palace grounds. Ei stood at the great gate, her gaze fixed on the inferno consuming the outer districts. The clang of steel and cries of battle drifted on the smoke-laden wind, each sound a needle piercing her heart.

Her figure was a study in contradictions—a goddess clad in garments that spoke more of allure than authority. The purple fabric of her skirt barely reached mid-thigh, leaving an expanse of flawless skin exposed above the tops of her thigh-high stockings. Her corset lifted her full breasts high, the swell of them pressing against the embroidered collar of her kimono. Long purple hair cascaded down her back, catching the firelight like strands of amethyst silk.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek before she brushed it away.

“This is all my fault,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a nation’s ruin. “I have been obsessed with the study of martial arts, neglecting the governance of the nation, leading to its decline!”

She turned, and behind her stood the Traveler—a figure whose golden hair seemed dull against the flames. He had arrived in Inazuma only days ago, seeking passage to the next nation in his search for his lost sister. Instead, he had found a nation at its deathbed.

The Traveler said nothing. He had heard the stories in every tavern and teahouse along the way. Inazuma’s army was composed mostly of women—female samurai who valued loyalty and honor above life itself. From childhood, every girl learned the way of the samurai, and the first lesson was always the same: the resolve to die for loyalty and honor. Seppuku was not merely a form of execution; it was an art, a tradition, a sacred act.

The source of a female samurai’s Vision energy lay in the abdomen, especially the womb—the place where new life is nurtured and the primary source of all energy. The navel was where that energy converged, making it exquisitely sensitive. When a woman performed seppuku, the blade cutting through that convergence brought not only excruciating pain but also waves of overwhelming pleasure. It was a paradoxical ecstasy that many craved.

And so they craved it too much. Over the generations, the reverence for seppuku had grown into obsession. Female samurai would choose to perform it at the prime of their lives to display their most magnificent side. They would argue over a slight insult, a perceived dishonor, and then cut open their bellies to prove their resolve. The nation had bled itself dry from the inside.

“My people are suffering, and I am powerless,” Ei said, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes. “The divine cannot intervene in mortal wars. That is the law of heaven. But as the ruler of Inazuma, I should cut open my own belly to atone.”

The Traveler stepped forward, concern etched on his face. “Lady Ei, as a deity, your vitality and sensitivity are hundreds of times that of mortals. Cutting open your belly—you will endure a hundred times the pain of ordinary people. You might not even die immediately after severing all your intestines.”

Ei smiled, a sad, beautiful expression that held no fear. “Mm, my mind is made up.” She raised her voice, carrying it across the courtyard. “Yae Miko, lead the remaining defenders to hold off the Mondstadt army and buy time for the evacuation of the people!”

“Yes!” A girl with long pink hair stepped forward from outside the hall. Yae Miko was the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, Ei’s trusted confidante and closest friend. Beneath her delicate appearance lay formidable combat power. Her legs, long and shapely, were displayed beneath a short shrine maiden’s skirt, the muscles defined but graceful. Her ample breasts strained the fabric of her outfit to its limit, as if threatening to burst free with every breath.

Yae Miko turned and left the hall without another word, her footsteps echoing against the stone. The heavy doors groaned as guards pulled them open, and she strode through, a lone figure silhouetted against the firelight. Beyond her, the sounds of battle grew louder—the Mondstadt army was pressing toward the inner city gate.

Ei watched her go, then turned back to the Traveler. Her hand moved to the sash at her waist, loosening it slowly.

“I will perform seppuku here shortly. I invite you to witness it.” Her voice was calm, almost serene. “Also, I have no experience, so if there are any issues during the process, I hope you can offer guidance and help.”

The Traveler bowed his head. “No problem. It is my honor.”

Ei stepped back into the hall, the shadows of the pillars swallowing her silhouette. The door slid shut behind her, leaving the Traveler standing alone in the courtyard, the distant screams of battle and the crackling of flames filling the night. He took a breath and followed her inside to attend what would be both a death and a rebirth.

Eula lay limply on the blood-soaked ground, her eyes closed and her face flushed a deep crimson. A serene smile of pure bliss curled her lips, utterly incongruous with the gaping wound in her abdomen. Her hands moved with a languid, almost tender rhythm, holding the slick, grayish coils of her own intestines that had spilled onto her stomach. She kneaded them gently, her fingers sliding over the warm, slippery surface, then pressed them back into the open cavity of her belly with a soft, satisfied sigh. There was no trace of pain or fear on her face—only a dazed, ecstatic contentment.

Ayaka stood a few paces away, her chest heaving, her gaze sweeping across the chaotic field. The battle raged on, but the tide had turned irreversibly against the defenders. The Imperial Guard fought with desperate valor, but they were outnumbered, often surrounded by two or three enemies at once. A single female soldier would raise her sword to parry a blow from the front, only for a blade to slide into her from the flank, piercing her side or her belly. Ayaka watched as a young girl—no older than sixteen, with a braid of dark hair—lifted her sword to block a heavy strike. In that instant, an enemy soldier who had been waiting in the shadows lunged forward and drove his blade straight through her navel. The steel emerged from her lower back, glistening with blood. He twisted the hilt, then sliced downward with brutal precision, the blade carving a path through her body, splitting her lower belly from the navel all the way down between her legs. A massive tangle of intestines spilled from the wound, falling between her thighs and landing in the mud with a wet slap. The girl screamed—a high, piercing sound of raw agony—and crumpled to her knees, clutching her ruptured abdomen. She rolled wildly on the ground, her hands scrabbling at the slippery loops of intestine now tangled around her legs. In her thrashing, she kicked and tore at them, ripping the soft tissue apart with her own frantic movements.

Ayaka’s stomach churned. She knew with cold certainty that they would lose this war. And when the Mondstadt soldiers claimed victory, they would not show mercy. The women of the defeated army would be stripped, gang-raped, and disemboweled slowly, their intestines pulled out inch by inch as they screamed and died under a sky filled with laughter. She had seen it before, in other battles, other conquered cities.

She turned her gaze back to Eula, who lay moaning softly on the ground, her fingers still playing with the edges of her own wound. When Ayaka had cut open Eula’s belly earlier, she had been careful—deliberately not thrusting too deep, avoiding the intestines and the major arteries. She had wanted Eula to suffer the torment of disembowelment, to feel the slow, agonizing death of a gutted woman. But instead, Eula had drifted into a state of ecstasy, her body responding with shudders of pleasure rather than pain. Ayaka had heard the stories. The nerves in a woman’s navel and intestines were connected to those in her pussy and uterus. When the belly was opened, the stimulation could trigger a flood of sensation, a violent, orgasmic release. But the women of Inazuma were different. Their bellies were blessed—or cursed—with a sensitivity that multiplied pleasure and pain tenfold. Every touch, every cut, every caress of the exposed viscera sent waves of electricity through their bodies.

Ayaka made her decision.

She threw her weapon to the ground with a clatter. Her hands went to the last scraps of her underwear, and she stripped them off, standing naked in the midst of the carnage. Around her, the sounds of clashing steel and dying screams continued, but she paid them no mind. She picked up a fallen dagger from beside a dead soldier, its blade still wet with blood, and straddled Eula’s thighs, her bare skin pressing against the other woman’s.

Eula’s eyes fluttered open. The haze of pleasure slowly cleared as she looked up, confusion flickering across her face. She saw Ayaka, naked, the dagger pressed against her own navel. Was she going to commit seppuku? After all this?

Ayaka took a deep breath. She pressed two fingers on either side of her navel and pushed them hard into her lower belly. The normally concave pit of her navel bulged outward under the pressure, a small, rounded mound of flesh. She placed the sharp tip of the dagger directly in the center of that protruding navel, then thrust with all her strength.

The point drove the navel deep into her belly. Her soft lower abdomen caved in, creating a large depression centered around the blade. The pink navel pit struggled against the stabbing steel, puckering and straining. Though not yet pierced, the skin began to seep blood, a thin trickle flowing down the curve of her navel and along the midline of her stomach.

A tearing pain erupted from her navel, sharp and white-hot. But it was immediately followed by a current-like sensation, a wave of electricity that traveled directly from the wound to her pussy. Her entire body trembled violently, her thighs clamping around Eula’s hips. The pleasure was almost unbearable, a lightning strike of sensation that made her gasp.

Eula, well-versed in the strange truths of a woman’s body, understood immediately. She reached up and pressed both hands flat against Ayaka’s lower belly, then began to knead the flesh vigorously, her fingers digging into the soft skin.

Ayaka jolted at the sudden touch. She looked down, seeing Eula’s hands working her belly, and cast her a grateful glance. Then she focused on the dagger. She wrapped both hands around the hilt and began to rotate it slowly, the blade grinding against the inside of her navel. She tilted her head back, her eyes closing, savoring the intense mix of agony and ecstasy that radiated from the wound.

Eula changed her rhythm. One hand continued to press and rub Ayaka’s belly, while the other slid down between Ayaka’s legs. Her index and middle fingers found Ayaka’s pussy, already slick and wet from the stimulation, and she pushed them inside, thrusting and rubbing roughly.

“Mmm… mmm… ah… ah… ah… ah… oh~~~…” Ayaka’s moans came out in ragged breaths. She groaned loudly on the battlefield, her voice carrying over the clash of steel. Other soldiers glanced their way, but no one disturbed them—they watched, some with grins, others with blank stares, enjoying the bloody, erotic spectacle.

Under Eula’s relentless stimulation, Ayaka felt the pressure building. Her climax rose like a wave, cresting and crashing. Her love juice gushed uncontrollably from her pussy, a hot, slick flood that splashed directly into Eula’s opened belly, mixing with the blood and viscera already there. At the same moment, Ayaka thrust her belly forward with a violent jerk and used both hands to push the dagger all the way into her navel.

“Ah!!!” The scream tore from her throat, shrill and piercing. The pain was many times greater than what Eula had experienced—the blade sinking deep into the cavity of her abdomen, the steel cold and foreign inside her. But she stifled the scream, turning it into low, guttural moans. The dagger stuck in her navel pulsed with every beat of her heart, the hilt trembling.

Eula pulled her fingers out of Ayaka’s pussy, now slick with her fluids. She grasped the hilt of the dagger, feeling the vibrations. Ayaka gave a small nod, and Eula began to turn the hilt slowly, making the sharp blade rotate in a circle inside Ayaka’s lower belly.

A cold sweat broke out across Ayaka’s skin. Her hands dug into her own waist, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her lower abdomen. The blade stirred her small intestine, and a violent wave of nausea rose in her throat. She clutched her chest and began to retch, dry heaves that wracked her body. She had not eaten in days, and her stomach was empty—nothing came out. She gagged and choked, the dagger still embedded in her navel, Eula’s hand still gripping the hilt.

Around them, the battle continued to rage. But for these two women, the world had narrowed to the blade, the blood, and the unbearable pleasure.

Eula’s fingers trembled as she released the dagger. It clattered softly against the blood-slicked stone. Without hesitation, she plunged her hand into her own open belly, the wound gaping wide like a second mouth. Her fingers searched among the warm, slick coils until she found what she sought. She scooped out the intestines in great handfuls, the loops sliding wetly over her wrists, and piled them carefully between her breasts. The mass sat there, heavy and glistening, pulsing with the last remnants of life.

Then she turned her gaze upward. The dagger still stood from Ayaka’s navel, its hilt dark with blood. Eula grasped it, her fingers slick, and pulled it slightly outward. The blade scraped against the ring of torn flesh. She looked into Ayaka’s eyes. There was no fear there now, only a strange, calm understanding. Ayaka nodded once, a small movement, and placed her own hands over Eula’s on the hilt. Their fingers intertwined. Together, they pushed. The blade sank deeper, then cut downward.

The sharp edge sliced through Ayaka’s lower belly along the light brown midline, the skin parting like cheap cloth. Blood welled up instantly, dark and thick, pouring over the pale flesh. For a moment, the pinkish-gray of the inner fat showed through, then the wound spread wide. Before the intestines could tumble out, they reversed the blade and cut upward from the navel, all the way to Ayaka’s solar plexus. The sound was wet, tearing, final.

Now Ayaka’s belly lay open from the solar plexus to the pubic bone, a long crimson canyon. They dropped the dagger together. It hit the ground with a dull ring. Eula grabbed the edges of her own belly flaps with both hands and pulled them wide, stretching the wound to an opening wider than her waist. The exposed cavity steamed in the cold air. Ayaka did the same, her fingers sinking into the torn flesh of her own abdomen, and tore the flaps apart. Her internal organs spilled into view: the pink stomach, softly rounded; the small intestine, delicate and coiled; the thick large intestine, darker and heavier. Yet compared to Eula’s, Ayaka’s intestines were noticeably thinner, almost fragile.

Without the support of the belly wall, the entire mass of intestines slipped from Ayaka’s lower belly in a heap, tumbling downward in a wet cascade. They fell directly into Eula’s open belly below, landing with a soft splash against the exposed cavity. Once all of Ayaka’s intestines had settled inside Eula’s body, Eula released her grip on her belly flaps, letting them close back together. Then she quickly scooped up the pile of intestines lying on her own chest—her own entrails—and stuffed them into Ayaka’s open belly. The coils were slippery, stubborn, resisting her grip.

They fumbled together, struggling to get all of Eula’s intestines into Ayaka’s cavity. Because Eula was lying down and Ayaka was straddling her, the intestines in Ayaka’s belly kept slipping out, pulled by gravity. Ayaka’s body shuddered with the effort, and Eula had to help plug the gap, pressing her hands against Ayaka’s wound to keep the guts inside. It was hard to imagine that moments ago they had been locked in mortal combat, blades flashing, hatred burning. Now they helped each other with the harmony of old friends.

Eula’s intestines were slightly thicker than Ayaka’s, and covered in a film of mucus that made them hard to grip. Stuffing such a large mass into Ayaka’s belly was difficult, the coils constantly escaping. Ayaka whimpered, the pain sharp and white. She shifted off Eula, her movements slow and pained, and lay down on the ground beside her. Gravity would be kinder this way. With Eula’s help, she settled onto the cold stone, her body pressed close to Eula’s, facing each other. Their wounds touched, and some of the intestines spilled out again, mingling together in the narrow space between their bodies. The loops of pink and purple and red lay intertwined, indistinguishable, a single living knot.

They rested for a moment, panting, their foreheads almost touching. Then Eula’s hand moved downward, her fingers finding their way between Ayaka’s legs. She inserted her fingers into Ayaka’s pussy without asking, without hesitation. Ayaka gasped, her back arching, and she returned the gesture, thrusting her own fingers into Eula’s pussy. Their fingers met inside each other, warm and wet. They began to finger each other, slowly at first, then with growing intensity.

While they worked each other’s cunts, their free hands reached into their own bellies. They found the other’s intestines nestled there—Ayaka’s hand inside Eula’s belly, Eula’s hand inside Ayaka’s—and began to knead. The texture was soft, yielding, alive.

Ayaka deliberately increased the force when she grabbed Eula’s intestines, squeezing hard. Eula let out a pained scream, her body jerking. The sound echoed in the empty space. Once she recovered, Eula looked at Ayaka with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She tightened her own grip, kneading Ayaka’s intestines with equal force, and then pinched them with her nails. The sharp sting cut through Ayaka like lightning. Being a woman of Inazuma, her intestines were several times more sensitive than Eula’s. As soon as Eula’s nails bit into the delicate tissue, Ayaka screamed within seconds, her voice breaking into begging. “Please… no more…”

Eula didn’t continue bullying her. She softened her touch, rubbing Ayaka’s intestines gently inside her own belly. She looked at the sweat-drenched Ayaka like a big sister, her eyes warm and satisfied. The kneading became soothing, almost tender.

Their movements grew faster. Their moans grew louder. Their bodies writhed more violently against each other. Both involuntarily increased the pressure on each other’s intestines, whether intentional or not. They squeezed harder and harder until the intestines began to crush, the pink tissue turning dark purple under their fingers. While they kneaded, they searched for each other’s wombs inside their own bellies. Their fingers wandered, probing, until they found the firm, muscular organs. Once located, they grabbed the intestines and wombs together, rubbing them vigorously, the dual stimulation overwhelming.

Under the combined assault of pussy, womb, and intestines, Ayaka and Eula soon reached their peak. They convulsed almost simultaneously, their bodies arching and trembling. Large amounts of love juice spurted out in violent tremors, soaking their thighs and the ground beneath them.

After the passion, both lay limp on the ground, motionless. Their breathing was shallow, ragged. The only sound was the soft drip of blood and fluids.

After a brief rest, Ayaka launched a new offense. She reached into Eula’s belly to rub her own intestines—the ones now resting there—while pressing her lips onto Eula’s. Eula’s teeth were clenched, but Ayaka pried them open with her tongue. They engaged in a fierce French kiss, tongues twisting and tasting the copper and salt of blood and sweat. Their hands continued their work inside each other’s cavities, exploring, kneading, pushing.

After who knows how many releases—time had lost all meaning—the two finally embraced and grew still. Their bodies were messy, ruined, but peaceful. They held each other in the spreading pool of blood and juices, their breath slowing, their hearts beating together. The night grew quiet around them, and the battlefield faded into shadow.

A cry cut through the noise of the battlefield, sharp and desperate, but no one turned. The field was a nightmare painted in red and gray, strewn with the broken bodies of soldiers from both armies. The Inazuma women had suffered the worst. Every corpse lay with its belly torn open, entrails dragged out and strewn across the mud. Some had their own intestines stuffed into their mouths, a grotesque mockery of life. Others had their lower bodies violated in the same manner, the same glistening coils packed into their vaginas as if by some sick, deliberate hand.

Kokomi stumbled forward, her white robes stained with blood that was not her own. She had seen death before, in the healing tents, but this—this was a slaughterhouse. Her eyes fixed on a female soldier writhing on the ground, clutching at the ropes of intestine spilling from her torn abdomen. The woman was alive, still fighting, still screaming. Kokomi ran toward her, her bare feet slipping on the wet grass.

She tripped. Her foot plunged into something soft and yielding. Not mud. Not grass. A body, lying face-up in the dirt, its belly split wide open like a melon. Kokomi thought the woman was dead—she stared at the cavernous wound, the dark cavity where organs should have been. But when her foot landed inside that open belly, the corpse screamed. A raw, guttural sound that tore through the air.

Kokomi shrieked in shock. Her instinct took over. She yanked her foot back, then kicked out with both legs, striking the woman’s exposed abdomen again and again. Each kick sent a fresh spray of blood across her shins. The woman’s body bucked, her hands clawing at nothing. All of her intestines, what little remained inside, were kicked clean out of the wound. The soldier stared blankly at the glistening pile in her lap, then fell backward, dead.

Kokomi froze, panting. Her foot was wet, warm, and sticky. She looked down and saw her own footprint stamped into the woman’s empty belly. A sob escaped her throat. There was no time for guilt. She scrambled up and ran again, reaching the writhing soldier just as her screams faded to whimpers.

She knelt and lifted the woman’s head. It was a girl, barely older than sixteen, her face pale with shock and blood loss. Her small hands held her own intestines like she was cradling a baby.

“Please,” the girl whispered, her voice a thread. “Pull them out. Let me go. Please, I can’t—I can’t feel anything but this.”

Crying freely now, Kokomi nodded. She reached her hand into the girl’s open belly. The warmth of the wound shocked her. Her fingers found the tangled mass of intestine, slick and rubbery. She gripped a handful and pulled.

The girl’s back arched violently, her belly lifting high off the ground as if reluctant to let go of its contents. A long, wet sound followed as the intestines slid free, unspooling like a rope. The girl gasped once, then went limp.

Kokomi laid her down gently, closing her eyes with a trembling hand. She stood, wiping her tears with the back of her wrist, and forced herself to move. The palace. She had to reach the Shogun. Defeat was certain. They had to retreat before the enemy broke through the final gate.

She ran through the carnage, past the groaning wounded and the silent dead, until she reached the steps of the Tenshukaku. There, standing outside the great doors, was the Traveler. His golden hair was dull with ash, his clothes torn. He looked at her with hollow eyes.

“Kokomi,” he said. “What’s happened?”

“I need to see the Shogun,” she panted. “We’ve lost. We need to retreat—I have to tell her—”

“She’s already dead,” the Traveler said flatly. “Seppuku. She took her own life not ten minutes ago. I found her in the throne room.”

Kokomi’s legs gave out. She slumped to the ground, her robes pooling around her. The Shogun was gone. The leader of Inazuma, the woman who had commanded them, had chosen death over capture. And on the battlefield, her sisters had died in ways too cruel to describe. Their bellies cut open. Their entrails played with like toys. Their bodies used even after death.

Kokomi could not bear it. She could not bear the thought of being taken alive, of being spread on the ground with her own intestines pulled out and stuffed into her mouth, into her cunt. She looked up at the Traveler, her eyes red but resolute.

“I want to follow her,” she said. “I want to cut open my belly too. Please—help me perform seppuku. And when it’s time, be my kaishakunin. End my suffering.”

Without waiting for his answer, she tore at her clothes. The white robes fell away. The under-kimono followed. She stood naked in the fading light, her body pale and smooth, unmarred by the filth of the battlefield. Her breasts were full and heavy, swaying as she moved. Her waist was slim, her hips round. And her belly—her lower belly—was flat and clean, with a deep, dark navel at its center. It was like a small pit, so profound that the eye could not see its bottom. It seemed to pull the light into itself.

Kokomi knelt on the stone steps, her hands pressed to her thighs. She pulled the small surgical knife from her obi—the one she always carried for field amputations—and held it out to the Traveler on her open palms.

The Traveler took the knife. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he moved behind her, sliding one arm around her waist. His hand came to rest on her lower belly, just above the navel. In her kneeling position, her intestines and body fat had shifted forward, making her normally flat stomach protrude slightly. When he pressed his palm against her skin, it felt like pressing into the softest cotton. But there was something more—a resilience, a springiness that made the flesh yield under his touch and then return immediately when he lifted his hand.

He began to rub her belly in slow circles. Kokomi’s breath hitched. Her eyes closed. Her body trembled, not from fear, but from a strange, unexpected pleasure. She leaned back against him, her head lolling onto his shoulder.

“Just a little longer,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or to herself.

As he kneaded her belly, she felt a warmth pooling low in her abdomen, spreading downward. Her pussy grew slick, secreting a flood of love juice that ran down her thighs. She was wet, soaked, her sex aching with a need she did not fully understand.

The Traveler’s hand moved from her belly to her navel. He slipped one finger into the deep hole. His fingertip scraped against the walls of the cavity, but he could not reach the bottom. The navel was like a well without end. He pushed harder, and his finger pressed the soft flesh deeper into her abdomen, as if her navel were a button pushing into her body. He tried several times, but each time the fold of skin resisted.

Kokomi, still trembling, seemed to understand. She reached down with both hands and spread the edges of her navel apart. Normally a small opening, now it stretched into a hole as thick as a thumb. Through the gap, the Traveler could see the faint wrinkled folds at the very bottom of the cavity. The skin was pink and clean.

“I always kept it clean,” Kokomi murmured, her voice dreamy. “I’m a doctor. I used a cotton swab every day. It never gets dirty. It smells good, doesn’t it?”

The Traveler leaned closer, drawn by the faint, clean scent that rose from her navel. He pressed his finger deeper into the hole, past the ring of flesh, into the warm, soft darkness at the center of her.

After peeling open her navel, the Traveler didn't rush to stick his finger in; instead, he pressed his mouth to her belly button and used his agile tongue to thrust into that black hole of endless allure. The Traveler's slick tongue forcefully squeezed into Kokomi's navel, and she quickly responded to his teasing. She held the Traveler's head tightly, pressing it hard against her soft belly while actively pushing her stomach forward to meet him.

Although Kokomi had never married, given birth, or experienced intimacy between men and women, given her age, she understood these matters well. Her mind was more mature, unlike a young girl who might be shy. Kokomi cried out wantonly, her soulful moans clearly audible from hundreds of meters away.

"Ah~... ah~... ah~... ah~... hmm~! Ah~... ah~... harder~ harder... thrust into my navel!"

Kokomi's cries, her physical reactions, and her soft belly brought the Traveler immense satisfaction. He had never played with such a soft stomach, and he couldn't help but fantasize about what her intestines looked like to be so soft. Although he would soon see and touch them with his own hands, he was still impatient.

Kokomi, being a very sensible woman, seemed to sense the Traveler's anticipation for her intestines. While he was diligently thrusting his tongue into her navel, her hand slowly moved to his, taking the scalpel from his grip.

Reluctantly, Kokomi pushed the Traveler's head away. He looked at her with some confusion, but when he saw the scalpel in her hand, he seemed to understand what she intended. He voluntarily used both hands to spread open Kokomi's wet navel. Kokomi felt a cool breeze enter her belly through her navel, causing her small intestine to spasm and a piercing pain to immediately strike her belly. Hearing a gurgling sound from Kokomi's stomach, the Traveler quickly stopped her from covering her belly. He pressed his ear to her navel, listening to the beautiful borborygmi inside, and rubbed her lower abdomen with his hand.

After listening for a while, Kokomi was sweating profusely from the pain, yet she didn't interrupt him. The Traveler listened silently for a long time before reluctantly leaving her navel. He reopened the navel and looked at Kokomi with encouraging eyes. She did not hesitate to thrust the sharp scalpel down into the large navel. The scalpel was so sharp that it cut through the umbilical core at the tip's contact. Kokomi endured the immense pain in her navel, carefully sliding the scalpel up and down. With her skilled technique, she removed the entire umbilical core without damaging the navel entrance, then cut through layers of fat, the fascia between abdominal muscles, and the peritoneum, stopping only when the scalpel had completely pierced the belly skin.

It must be said that as a military medic, Kokomi's skills were top-notch. She opened the navel and created a direct passage to the small intestine without injuring any internal organs. Only a few drops of blood flowed down her lower abdomen, which she quickly wiped away with her clothes.

To the Traveler now, the navel looked the same from the outside, with no visible changes. However, when he reopened the navel with his hand, he saw a small red hole inside. By adjusting the angle to let sunlight shine in, he could even see the incredibly soft, wriggling small intestine inside.

The Traveler praised her and took off his pants. He rubbed his already rock-hard cock back and forth against Kokomi's vaginal opening, coating it with as much of her love juice as possible to make insertion into the navel easier. Kokomi, in turn, inserted her fingers into her navel, forcefully dilating it into a large hole, waiting for the Traveler's penetration.

The waiting was agonizing; those few seconds felt like a year to Kokomi. The Traveler didn't keep her waiting long. After covering his cock with love juice, he thrust it straight into her tiny, baby-mouth-like navel.

Pfffft...

"Ah!!!"

The sound of his cock entering her navel and Kokomi's moan sounded simultaneously. The moment his cock entered, the Traveler felt a mass of incredibly soft material quickly envelop it. A warm sensation came from all sides, and he could clearly feel the mass wriggling rhythmically, as well as the pulse beating within Kokomi's belly.

This must be her intestines! The Traveler had just helped Ei with a cesarean and vividly remembered the feel of her intestines—incredibly soft yet resilient. But Kokomi's intestines were even softer, almost unbelievably so. He thrust his cock vigorously, stirring it through the whole mass of intestines. The soft intestines wrapped around his cock like water; no matter how he moved inside Kokomi's intestinal pile, there was no resistance, as if her intestines were fluid, constantly enveloping him from every angle.

The churning and stirring of her intestines gave Kokomi a strong feeling of nausea. She covered her chest and arched back, enduring it with great effort, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The Traveler's movements were relentless, each push deeper into her core sending waves of mixed sensation through her body. After stirring for a while, he began to thrust in and out with a steady rhythm. To give the Traveler maximum satisfaction, Kokomi voluntarily placed both hands on her lower belly. She cupped her belly, using her hands to push her intestines toward her navel, then grabbed her own intestines along with the Traveler's cock through her belly skin, jerking him off in sync with his thrusts. The Traveler, in turn, fingered Kokomi's vagina fiercely, his fingers probing and stretching her sensitive inner walls.

The Traveler experienced unprecedented pleasure. He supported Kokomi and thrust vigorously, immersed in immense ecstasy, his mind clouded with pure sensation. Kokomi endured not only great pleasure but also intense pain, a sharp ache radiating from her depths that mingled with the rising tides of pleasure. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her vision swimming.

After an unknown amount of time, the Traveler finally shot his seed onto Kokomi's intestines, a hot flood that filled her cavity. Kokomi, having ejaculated a large amount of love juice, collapsed limply onto him, drenched in sweat. Her body trembled with aftershocks as she lay on his chest, her heart pounding against his. She whispered, her voice hoarse and weak, "Next, please make me a true woman, and please cut open my belly. Don't leave me to the beasts of Mondstadt!"

The Traveler hesitated, his hand resting on her back. He reluctantly agreed to her request, his eyes clouded with a mix of desire and sorrow. He lay down, and Kokomi straddled him, beginning to thrust again, her movements slow at first, then gaining momentum.

Kokomi, who had just climaxed, was once again enveloped in endless pleasure. She voluntarily thrust the scalpel into her navel, the cold steel piercing her skin with a sharp sting. She began recklessly twisting the handle, driving the blade deeper. Kokomi had already accepted death; she had often fantasized about her belly being brutally stabbed and cut open, never expecting her dream to come true so soon. The pain was a searing fire, but it mixed with the pleasure into a delirious haze.

Her small intestines had no chance to evade the sharp scalpel. In no time, she had shredded a belly full of soft intestines into pieces. Some small bits of intestinal tissue oozed out of her navel and fell onto the Traveler's belly, warm and slick against his skin. After fully mincing her intestines, she shouted loudly to the Traveler, "Quick... hard... punch my... belly!"

Hearing this, the Traveler punched the highest point of Kokomi's soft belly with all his might. Her soft stomach immediately caved into a deep pit, and blood mixed with shredded intestines sprayed out of her navel, the force sending the fragments two meters away. The Traveler was sprayed all over his face with blood and intestines, the warm liquid dripping down his chin.

Both of them laughed excitedly, a wild, unhinged sound that echoed in the room. Kokomi gripped the edges of her navel with both hands, finding it amusing how her intestines spurted out in rhythmic bursts. Then the Traveler punched her lower belly again and again, each punch heavier than the last. Kokomi kept twisting her belly, spraying her intestines all over the floor, painting the wood with red.

When no more intestines came out of her navel, she released her hands. Her navel returned to its original shape, now only slightly red and swollen. If not for the blood around it, there would be no sign of any wound. She handed the scalpel to the Traveler, who thrust it back into her navel and began pumping it rapidly, the metal sliding in and out with a wet sound.

Just as Kokomi was completely overwhelmed by sexual pleasure, the Traveler sliced down forcefully toward the bottom of her belly. Because the scalpel blade was short, there was no risk of injuring his own cock. The blade was just long enough to cut through Kokomi's belly skin, and the remaining intestines inside her belly spilled out onto the Traveler's stomach in a rush, a cascade of slippery coils.

"Ah~~!!!" Kokomi gasped and quickly reached out to press her intestines onto the Traveler's body, not wanting them to fall onto the floor and get dirty. The Traveler continued thrusting vigorously, his hips pounding upward. Kokomi picked up her intestines and gently pressed them against her face, wanting to feel how soft they were. They were warm and slick, quivering against her cheek. The Traveler was also curious; he grabbed a handful of Kokomi's small intestines and kneaded them carefully. They were indeed much softer than Ei's intestines, feeling like water in his hands, slippery and hard to hold as they squirmed between his fingers.

After cutting open Kokomi's lower belly along the faint midline, the Traveler began his final sprint. He drove into her with increasing urgency, his breath ragged. Just as they were about to climax, he thrust the scalpel deep into her lower left abdomen and drew an arc across her belly, passing through the highest point and all the way to the right.

A large cross-shaped wound appeared on Kokomi's lower belly, and all her intestines fell out. The winding small intestines were still wriggling vigorously, and the large intestine, about the thickness of a baby's arm, also tumbled out, landing with a wet slap.

As soon as Kokomi's belly was completely opened, they both reached climax simultaneously. Waves of pleasure crashed through them, a final, shattering release. After the climactic release, Kokomi lay weakly on the Traveler, her intestines scattered all over the ground, a glistening heap. Her body rested on him, and he picked up her intestines, sliding his hands through the gap between their bodies and stuffing some back into her belly, playing with her soft intestines inside her cavity. The sensation was strange, almost tender.

Kokomi closed her eyes, a happy smile on her face. Her consciousness grew fainter and fainter, until she felt as if she were floating in midair, with Ei-sama, Yae, Ayaka, and many other sisters waving to her from afar. The world dimmed, and she let go.

A day later, Mondstadt breached Inazuma City. Due to fierce resistance from the city's people and soldiers, Mondstadt suffered heavy losses. The Mondstadt commander ordered a massacre: all men beheaded, and all women had their bellies cut open and intestines pulled out, then tied to the tails of horses to drag their naked bodies through the streets. The cobblestones ran red as the screams of the dying echoed into the night.

Thus, the once powerful Inazuma fell, leaving only a brutal record in history of this war of annihilation.

Without another word, Ei picked up a sharp dagger from the low table. The blade gleamed under the pale light filtering through the shoji screens. She walked straight to the center of the hall, her bare feet silent on the tatami mats. As she walked, she unfastened her corset with deliberate, steady fingers. The intricate lacings came undone, and her clothes, freed of restraint, fell open instantly, revealing a patch of flawless white skin down the middle of her body. Her sexy navel was exposed to the Traveler—a vertical slit, deep and inviting. Her breasts, previously pressed together by the tight garment, now parted, revealing a deep cleavage that showed off the scenery below. Along the cleavage ran a distinct linea alba, a pale line extending down to her navel, and further to the secret places hidden by her low-rise panties. Through the shallow pit, every pink fold at the bottom of her navel was clearly visible, glistening faintly in the dim light.

Just then, a breeze blew past, lifting her clothes. Her full breasts and entire belly were exposed to the Traveler. The abdominal lines that had been hidden beneath her clothes were now visible—soft curves of muscle beneath smooth skin. Ei's waist was extremely slender, only about fifty centimeters in circumference, making it exceptionally enticing against her broad hips. Her entire lower belly was free of fat, taut and flat. Three fingers below her navel, a slight protrusion marked the area where her small intestine was most dense—the dantian. Taking advantage of the wind, Ei shed her clothes completely, letting them fly away behind her like discarded petals. Now she wore only an extremely low-rise pair of panties that barely covered her hips, and purple stockings that climbed up her thighs. The Traveler was stunned, staring fixedly at Ei's perfect body until she called him several times before he snapped out of it.

“I will begin seppuku now. Please take care of me!” Ei knelt in the center of the hall, her knees pressing into the tatami. She raised the dagger, the tip aimed at her lower left abdomen, ready to stab.

“Please wait!” The Traveler quickly stopped her, his voice urgent. He stepped forward, his hand raised. “Before seppuku, you should fully massage and knead your lower belly. This will accelerate intestinal peristalsis, so that when you cut open your belly, the intestines will come out faster. Also, rubbing your belly can reduce the pain of cutting.” He offered this kind advice, worried that she might not withstand the agony.

Ei hesitated, then set down the dagger. She placed both hands on either side of her navel, her fingers splayed. She pressed her thumbs into her navel pit while the rest of her fingers pushed deep into her lower belly. Ei's belly was very soft; her fingers sank effortlessly into the depths, disappearing into the pliant flesh. She grabbed a large handful of abdominal skin, which felt heavy and warm in her grip. Her belly let out a gurgling sound of fluid, a soft, wet noise that echoed in the quiet hall. Since deities do not need to eat to sustain themselves, Ei's intestines contained no filth. Her intestines were soft and pink both inside and out, flowing only with intestinal fluids.

Because she was kneeling, Ei bent over to look down at her belly. Her abdominal skin and intestines were piled together, and her belly became very loose, slightly protruding. She kneaded her internal organs through her skin, her fingers moving in slow, circular motions. The intestines shifted shape under her fingers, constantly pressing against her uterus. Red scratch marks appeared on her white belly skin—faint, then deeper, as her nails dragged across the surface.

Gradually, her pristine white belly turned pink, flushed with warmth. Ei's breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling. She felt a warm current rising from deep within her lower belly, making her body hot and restless yet immensely comfortable. Though Ei was a goddess, she knew nothing of sex. She did not understand what this feeling meant and naively thought it was a normal reaction to the massage. Soon, soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden. She felt a viscous liquid seeping from her private parts, making the area wet and slick. Startled, she thought she had lost control of her bladder. She stopped her hands, embarrassed, and grabbed the dagger to begin seppuku proper.

Composing herself, Ei raised the dagger above her head, the blade pointing skyward. Her breathing grew more rapid, her chest heaving. She closed her eyes, then opened them, steeling herself. Finally, she mustered the courage to stab the dagger fiercely into her belly. The blade, sharp as a whisper, easily pierced the skin of her lower left abdomen. It plunged deep into the mass of small intestine, skewering one of the coiled loops.

“Ah!” Ei let out a bloodcurdling scream. She saw blackness before her eyes. A searing pain erupted from her abdomen, a white-hot fire that spread through her core. Although as a deity her vitality and perception were hundreds of times greater than a mortal's, her physical endurance was no different. That she did not immediately lose consciousness showed her remarkable willpower. Through her powerful spiritual sense, she could clearly perceive the blade slicing through her small intestine, blood and intestinal fluid seeping from the wound—as if she were witnessing the sharp edge cutting her entrails firsthand. She now endured not only physical torment but also sensory shock. Ei's expression fluctuated between agony and tension, her teeth gritted, and she could not help but cry out loudly.

The sharp dagger brought only excruciating pain when it first entered her lower left abdomen. After a moment of gasping, Ei pulled the dagger to the right. The blade left a thin red line across her white belly, a crimson trail that deepened as she dragged it. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down her temples. Her body trembled violently, every muscle quivering. She felt a burning sensation in her belly, as if a bomb had exploded inside. Because the dagger had been thrust so deep—almost the entire blade inside—when she cut to the right, she did not withdraw it slightly, resulting in all the intestines in its path being severed. As the wound expanded, the sliced edges of her belly curled outward, revealing the layers beneath. Since Ei maintained a perfect figure, the exposed belly skin had only a thin layer of fat, making the red abdominal muscles stand out starkly against the white skin. Soon, blood gushed from the wound on her lower belly, a torrent that streamed down her thighs to the floor, pooling on the tatami. Countless severed ends of small intestine bulged out under abdominal pressure and hung over her belly, pink and glistening, writhing slightly.

Ei was on the verge of fainting from the pain. She clearly felt the dagger severing the blood vessels and nerves along with the intestines, each cut a fresh wave of agony. Just as she was about to collapse, her vision swimming, she suddenly felt a warmth rising from deep within her belly, accompanied by a tremendous pleasure. It felt similar to the sensation from the massage before seppuku, but far stronger, a wave of ecstasy that washed over her, alleviating the pain. In fact, this sensation had been present ever since the blade entered her belly, but it had been overwhelmed by the intense pain at first. As the dagger cut closer to the center of her belly, the feeling grew stronger, finally reviving her just as she was about to pass out. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took a ragged breath, the pleasure and pain intertwined, a sensation she could not name.

At that moment, the dagger had just reached the very center of her belly, directly below her navel. Ei's body jerked violently, like an electric shock, and a rapturous moan escaped her lips. “Ah~ah~ah~ah~ah~~~!!!” She threw her head back, arching her belly forward, while pressing down hard on the dagger's hilt, driving it even deeper into her lower abdomen. The arched motion tore open the wound on her belly, spilling out more intestines. The writhing small intestines slowly piled up on her thighs. Blood and intestinal fluid dripped from the severed ends, plopping onto the floor. Ei's body convulsed violently. Suddenly, a large amount of milky white liquid seeped from her tiny panties between her legs—she had climaxed during seppuku. With the last of her strength, she yanked the dagger to the right, slicing through the remaining skin on the right side of her belly, along with the intestines inside. Now a horrific wound stretched from left to right across her slender waist. With a gush, the intestines spilled out, some hanging at the wound, but most piling onto her lower belly.

Ei's face was flushed crimson, whether from the orgasm or the shame of cutting herself open before a man. Though the pain in her gut was still unbearable, the pleasure now outweighed it. But after the climax, the pleasure quickly faded, and the intense pain regained dominance.

“What was that? Such a strange feeling... So comfortable.” Ei set the dagger aside, cupped both hands over the wound on her belly, and murmured as she kneaded the intestines that had spilled out.

“That was sexual pleasure. I've heard that the bellies of Inazuman women are extremely sensitive—a gentle touch can arouse strong lust. It seems the rumors are true,” the Traveler explained calmly as he watched the gutted girl.

“I see!” Ei's brow suddenly furrowed, and her face twisted in agony. “This… process… of seppuku… is too painful. I… can't bear it. Can you… help me? While… making love to me… and… cutting open my belly… from the navel downward!” Ei looked up, pleading for the Traveler's help. The unbearable pain made it impossible for her to stay upright; she hunched over, clutching her belly, her hands buried deep inside.

Without a word, the Traveler walked behind Ei, knelt, and embraced her from behind. His hands slid from her waist down to her lower belly. Ei went limp, leaning back into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hands grabbing the intestines spilling out, unsure what to do. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

The Traveler's hands moved from her waist to the wound, then traced along the edges of the large gash toward the center, gently caressing the intestines that had spilled out. Finally, his hands met in the middle, then traveled down along the brownish linea alba, over her panties, toward her private parts. He teased the nub through the fabric, quickly making it soaking wet again.

Ei wriggled her waist, pressing her sex against his fingers. Just as his fingers were about to penetrate, he pulled away. This teasing repeated several times, leaving her desperate and aching. The torment of wanting but not getting was unbearable.

Finally, as Ei pressed her sex against his fingertips again, he thrust his fingers hard against her panties, pushing them inside. At the same time, Ei's belly arched forward. The Traveler had picked up the dagger from the floor and now held it aimed at her navel. As she thrust her belly upward, the tip pierced her navel center. With a soft “pfft,” the dagger plunged into her navel. The Traveler shoved the entire blade inside.

“Ah~~!!” Ei let out an incredibly ecstatic cry. She had been completely absorbed in the intense pleasure and hadn't noticed what the Traveler was doing. The belly she had just arched was instantly stabbed back, and she sat down hard, forcing his fingers—along with her panties—deep into her private parts.

“Ohhh~~~!” As she moaned, the Traveler withdrew his fingers, ripped off her panties roughly, and threw them on the ground. Her already drenched sex was now fully exposed. He quickly stripped himself, picked up the limp Ei, and sat her astride him. Aligning his member with her opening, he let go. Gravity did the rest—with a wet sound, it plunged into her moist core. Ei felt an indescribable fullness in her belly, and the pain from the cut seemed to diminish.

The Traveler supported her waist with his hands, and Ei began to move up and down naturally. The vigorous motion made her full breasts bounce wildly. The Traveler freed one hand to knead them alternately.

Of course, it wasn't just her breasts that were bouncing. The intestines piled on her belly flopped up and down with each movement, slapping against the Traveler's stomach like a bloody whip. More and more intestines spilled out, the slender coils piling into a small hill on the Traveler's abdomen.

Ei's breathing grew ragged, each thrust sending a jolt of agony and ecstasy through her ravaged body. The dagger still embedded in her navel shifted with every motion, widening the wound further. Blood trickled down her belly, mixing with the fluids seeping from her core. She wrapped her arms around the Traveler's neck, pulling herself closer, driving him deeper into her.

“Don't stop,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Finish it... finish me.”

The Traveler complied, increasing the pace. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust upward. The room filled with the sounds of wet slapping and Ei's broken cries. The pile of intestines grew, spilling over his thighs and pooling on the floor beneath them.

Ei's vision blurred. The pleasure and pain merged into a single overwhelming sensation. She felt herself approaching another peak, her body tensing around him. With a final, shuddering cry, she climaxed again, her inner walls clenching tightly. At the same moment, the Traveler drove into her one last time, spilling his seed deep inside her ruined body.

Ei went slack in his arms, her head lolling back. The last thing she saw was the ceiling above her, splattered with crimson droplets. Then darkness claimed her.