Galaxy's First Ruler

Chapter 89: Christin

The Boneless Tavern

Christin looked at the name written in bold letters on a wooden board. It wouldn't be strange if not for the four sentences carved under it.

-No Perception

-No Bargaining

-No woman with Big Tits

Christin stared at the last condition and then looked down at her chest. They were perky and of the size of two ripe oranges. Her jacket let out a trace of her smooth cleavage, which shimmered with a few drops of sweat. She tucked a few strands of purple hair behind her ear and a pinkish blush came upon her cheeks.

'They They seem alright, I guess!'

Even this little thing made her rethink her decision to go in and seek her captain. But then her eyes chanced upon the little writing at the very bottom of the wooden board.

-No conditions apply to a woman with Big Ass

A slight smile surfaced on her lips, and she pulled the tavern's door.

Creakkkk!

The excessive creaking noise of the doors seemed to be a deliberate attempt to announce a new customer. The buzzing of drunk Dreamers stopped for a moment.

Christin felt the eyes of many men staring daggers at her butt, which seemed to burst out from her tight pants. There were a few sounds of gulping here and there, and most of the men almost stood up. The lure of those round and juicy things was undeniably irresistible.

But before anyone could even move, Christin unbuttoned her jacket. There was a black sports bra under her white jacket, which made her unnoticeable breasts stand out even more. The men, not savoring the beauty of that well-placed cleavage, had their eyes planted on the tattoo around her belly button.

"That"

Christin heard a few gasps and the men sitting back down, not daring to approach her anymore. Several women in the Tavern seemed to be intimidated by her arrival too. She flicked her yellowish hat and made her way towards her captain. The towering man in front of her had already stood up from his stool and was looking at her with his face hidden by his hat.

"A glass of milk."

Christin took a seat beside Tomislav and ordered her usual drink. She didn't like the way the Old man in front of her had been staring through her at her butt, but she had become used to such things at this place.

"Let me touch that ass and you can haveth all milk you want."

Christin saw a drool dripping down from the corner of the Old man's mouth and she couldn't help but force her eyebrows together in disgust. But a hand had already got wrapped around her huge butt, to the shock of many. Christin felt the tight grip of Tomislav's hand, squeezing and caressing her ass as he addressed the old man.

"Lay off old man, these things are mine."

Clink! Crankk!!!

Many glasses shattered in the hands of men and precious drinks got spilled. The men in the tavern almost raged out as they saw some unknown idiot enjoying the feeling they couldn't. But then they remembered the tattoo on that flat and sweaty belly and guessed who this man could be.

Christin felt the low pitch murmurs behind her and knew she had done something stupid again. She looked at her captain and saw a smile on his face. She let out a breath of relief and leaned towards him to whisper.

"The Count's son is making a ruckus."

"Again?!"

Christin gave a slight nod as she felt the shock in Tomislav's voice. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a few Dreamers silently leaving the tavern, trying their best to not let the door creak.

"Today's your lucky day, Chinwendu. Death would claim you some other time."

Thump!

Christin heard Tomislav's words as he called out to his old partner without looking back. She did not know that the fat man seated in the corner was her captain's acquaintance. But the fatty's panicked expression as he ran out of the tavern with a loud thump made her recall something.

"Is he"

"Yeah, but we can't afford to catch the eye of big shots today."

Christin acknowledged the gravity of Tomislav's explanation. They surely couldn't afford any mistake today.

"Here!"

She saw the old man handing over her drink. Christin held the large glass of milk and gulped it down in a single go. A few streams of extra white milk dripped down from the corner of her mouth on her bare cleavage and ravaged her breasts from within. The sports bra couldn't absorb all of it and the remaining drops of milk made their way down to her belly button.

"Ah! This taste!"

Christin's cherry-red tongue ran over her lips, catching any stray drop it could. A satisfied moan came out of her mouth as she felt the smooth sensation of traces of milk in her throat.

Thwack!!!

"That's it! For Death's sake, taketh her out of here, Tomislav. The soft parts ofth my body can't handle it anymore."

"Haha! Very well, thanks for the stories, old man. Let's go, Christin."

Christin put down the glass and tilted her head in bewilderment as she heard the conversation between the two men. She followed Tomislav out of the tavern and asked the thing that had been eating her.

"Captain, did you get any information on the Dungeon?"

Christin saw the frown on Tomislav's face and knew something wasn't as favorable to them as they had thought.

"Yeah, I did. The words around spoke of many Parties perishing in the third level of the Separation."

"Hmm? But isn't that normal?"

"No. It would have been if those weren't the Parties having all members as Barons."

"What? How What were Parties of all Barons doing in the third level, to begin with?"

The shock in Christin's eyes and voice was justified in her place. There was no point in such a Party raiding a Dungeon having a Baron level Boss. She couldn't help but stop and asked out her doubt.

"Who's the Boss of that Dungeon?"

"None know Christin It's like the sculpture appeared there suddenly 6 months ago. Our only clue is this piece of parchment given by the Count."

Christin leaned over and saw the blurry words.

"The God of White and Black?!"

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