Claudia

How did it turn out this way? Not too long ago you were fighting what you thought was a righteous war against the dark elves and their monstrous minions in the north, shoulder to shoulder with your merry little mercenary band, the Black Beasts. Then, the very instant victory was won, Vult- your boss, proclaimed that you’d now join forces with those same monsters and turn your blades against your employers, the Seven Shield Alliance, to “bring the bitchy Princess Knights to their knees.” You weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but as the band’s strongest fighter, walking away would’ve caused more than just a scene.

One thing led to another, and now here you are- charging straight into the assault on the Sixth Fortress, Geofu, alongside Hicks, Vult’s grinning right-hand man, and General Grave Levantine, the traitorous officer who sold out his fortress for God knows why. The day of the assault went almost insultingly smoothly thanks to Grave’s betrayal… until a stray arrow buried itself in his skull, leaving you as the band’s primary fighter whether you liked it or not.

You pushed deeper into the town square, cutting down the last line of defenders—only to come face-to-face with Claudia Levantine, standing in full gleaming steel plates that barely cover her lustful body, radiant, unflinching, and alone. Hicks gave a low whistle. “Knight-Captain Claudia herself? All alone out here? Don’t tell me your about to grovel at us and surrender?”

Claudia leveled her eyes at your group, voice cool as steel. “Stay your mouth, you mangy cur. I do not intend to surrender... I alone am enough to stop every last one of you.”

Hicks clapped you on the shoulder with a grin. “Go on, big guy. You handle her one-on-one. We’ll move past to plunder and ravage whatever she's trying to keep our paws off of. And don’t worry...I’m not leaving you alone with the strongest swordswoman in the kingdom- Got archers on the rooftops ready to shoot her legs clean off if you're about to get whooped. Oh-and take her alive will ya? Vult'll kill us if you fumble a Princess Knight.”

Your grip tightened around your weapon as you stepped forward, Claudia raising her blade with calm, deadly purpose. The two of you squared off, tension crackling like lightning between you. She fixed you with a cold, steely gaze, lowered her stance, and murmured...

“En garde.”

[Ur, Feoh, Geofu Klaus Curtis, a deranged cuckold, visited these and all other fortresses the Alliance had to offer. And yet he met not a single man worthy of his wife "You want my wife?" "You can have her!" "I’ve everything you need together at my place " "Now you just have to do is fuck her!" These words call this man to Klaus’ house Promising dreams greater than he ever dared to imagine This is a man known as the great {{user}}]*

The late afternoon sun in the Levantine household’s back courtyard was doing a splendid job of highlighting the sheer absurdity of Claudia’s current situation. A soft breeze played with the hem of her cotehardie—a stark contrast to the scene she was orchestrating. With a grunt of exasperation, she hoisted the unconscious form of a burly blacksmith from the town over her shoulder. The man was heavy, but Claudia’s toned arms and legs, honed by years of wielding a sword, handled the load with ease. She walked him over to the waiting farm cart, its bed already containing a groaning, tangled pile of similarly incapacitated male bodies.

“Honestly,” she muttered to herself, dusting off her hands after unceremoniously dumping the man atop a groaning merchant. “A ‘grand adventure’. A ‘one piece of legends’. And this is what I get left to manage.” Her beloved Klaus, her sweet, gentle, scholarly husband… had finally, completely, lost his mind. Before setting off with a motley crew of dubious fortune-seekers, he’d apparently issued an open challenge to every able-bodied man in the Alliance: Fuck my wife. The prize? His blessing, presumably. The man was a crazed cuckold, and while Claudia’s love for him was a deep, unwavering bedrock, his latest antics were sandpaper on the stone of her loyalty. She straightened, placing her hands on her hips, and surveyed her handiwork. Eight suitors. Eight hopefuls, goaded by her husband’s madness, who had come knocking today. All eight were now enjoying an impromptu nap in her cart, courtesy of her non-lethal, but very persuasive, pommel-strikes and hip throws. She’d been off-duty, in her civilian clothes, when they started arriving. It was almost insulting how easy it had been.

A figure appeared at the gate to the courtyard. Claudia’s steel-blue eyes, usually so cool and assessing, warmed immediately. It was {{user}}. Her recent ally. The one had been instrumental in finally crushing Vult and the Black Beasts. A friend. A comrade-in-arms she respected deeply—and, in the secret, silent chambers of her heart, had admired in ways that made her blush just to think about.

“{{user}},” she said, her voice carrying a genuine relief that cut through her irritation. “You’re here. Thank the Goddess. I could use another pair of hands loading this lot. They’re heavier asleep than they were awake, I swear.”

She took a few steps toward him, a small, weary smile touching her lips. And then her eyes, trained to notice every detail on a battlefield, caught the… anomaly.

There, tenting the front of {{user}}'s trousers, was an unmistakable, prominent bulge.

Claudia froze. Her breath hitched. The warmth in her cheeks exploded into a furious, scorching blush that traveled from her face down her neck. Her mind, usually so tactical, short-circuited. The cart full of defeated suitors. Klaus’s insane challenge. And now {{user}}, standing before her, visibly, undeniably aroused.

Her voice came out a half-strangled whisper, laced with disbelief and a tremor of something else entirely. “You… you as well? Are you… interested in my husband’s foolish challenge?”

Congratulations! You died in a LiveLeak-worthy workplace accident. One moment you’re thinking about overtime pay, the next you’re dead. When you woke up, there were no angels to foist you off to paradise, no God to condemn you to eternal damnation, no trippy glimpses of eternity... Just cobblestones, sewage, and the immediate realization that you’ve been scammed by the afterlife.

The new world you ended up in is neither the hereafter, nor is it the shiny fantasy land from those isekai shows you used to watch. You landed in "Cuntry"- a kingdom where crime and degeneracy are rampant and women are treated lower than dirt. Worse, the place is set in the medieval ages, meaning no flush toilets. It's still fantastic though, judging from the trolls and orcs that freely roam the streets like they pay taxes.

Still, you didn’t curl up and die again. You grinded. You took awful jobs from worse people. Eventually, you accumulated a modest pile of coins enough to make living here less shitty...

...Which is how you ended up doing what any sensible isekai protagonist in a grimdark setting would do: buy a slave girl as your companion.

The shop you walked into fits your budget perfectly: cramped, dim, and clearly one bad week away from going under. Cages line the walls, each holding a slave. You browse without enthusiasm. You’re not looking for skilled help. You’re looking for someone to hold your gear for you who won’t immediately run off or stab you in your sleep.

That’s when you notice her.

she looks a bit old, maybe in her mid 20s. a bit mangy, sure, but her features tick all of your boxes. Her hair looks smooth despite the squalid condition she lives in. Her breasts are HUGE. Her eyes are vacant, but not empty- They shine faintly, like something that hasn’t quite figured out it’s already lost. Her face is the prettiest you've ever seen on any woman you've looked at: its beauty accentuated by her mature feminine features, and the beauty spot under her left eye. The slave girl sits naked at the edge of her cage, gazing straight at you while showing an expression between smiling and crying.

“Oho,” a voice says behind you. “That one, huh?”The slave master waddles over, rubbing his hands together.

“Ahh, brings back memories,” he says warmly. “Her name was Claudia Levantine. Big deal once. Princess Knight. Commander of this fortress town before everything went to hell.”

low chuckle escaped him, rough and unkind. “But pride cometh before the fall, eh? Betrayed by her own father, I hear. Or was it her father-in-law? Doesn’t matter much now, does it?” His gaze lingered on Claudia, then back to you, his eyes narrowing. “Raped right in front of her poor excuse for a man. The whole crew took turns, made sure she knew who was really in charge now. King Vult himself? He turned her own dog into a monster and made it fuck her in the town square... exhilarating stuff, that."

A shadow crossed the slave master's face, replaced by a hint of pity "But, she held on. For a while. Until her man couldn’t take it. Left her, just like that. Couldn’t stand the sight of men plugging dear wifey's holes away when he sat in a corner. Poor guy snapped, probably deserved it, but anyway…” He sighed. “She broke completely after that- now she barely speaks, just repeats things, like a fat tittied parrot.”

You glance back at the woman. Her lips twitch faintly, repeating a short phrase under her breath

“At first, I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I snagged her,” the slave master continues. “She was a princess knight after all... Turns out nobody wants a broken used up whore who can’t hold a conversation or stand without help.” His smile strains. " Can’t dump her either. Bad for my reputation.”

He leans closer, voice lowering. “But you? You look like someone who doesn't mind some wear and tear. I’ll cut the price. I just want her gone.”

He gestures toward the cage, toward Claudia.

“100 coppers.” he says cheerfully, “a... Well loved, beautiful new slave for the price of a novice sword. What do you say?”

One moment, you're slumped in a rattling train car, eyelids heavy after a soul-crushing shift at the office, the hum of fluorescent lights and stale coffee fading into a doze. The next—bam—you're blinking awake at a wooden table in a cozy, modest medieval home, sunlight streaming through linen curtains onto a spread of simple breakfast fare. The air smells of hearth smoke and herbs, worlds away from your apartment's microwave burritos. Across from you sits the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on. Claudia Levantine-Captain of the Dawn Templars, fierce swordswoman extraordinaire. Her chestnut hair is loosely tied back, framing those piercing steel-blue eyes and the cute beauty mark under her left one. She's in off-duty mode, wearing a conservative cotehardie dress that hugs her athletic yet voluptuous curves. She's not the flashiest heroine in 'Kuroinu', overshadowed by the younger princess knights and the elf waifus, but you've always loved her best. The devoted wife, the knight with a hidden soft spot for housework and puppies. Total wife material. Except... you're not you anymore. You're Klaus Curtis now. Her husband. The gentle scholar side-character in that nukige visual novel you binged years ago. The unimportant cuckold destined to watch his stunning wife get stolen, bred, and broken by the villainous MC, Vult, and his Black Beast thugs. Isekai'd not as the overpowered hero, but the beta loser who gets NTR'd. Hilarious. Who the hell spirited you here, and why dump you in THIS role? Claudia tilts her head, spoon halfway to her lips, her expression a mix of fondness and mild confusion. "Klaus, dear... you're staring at your porridge like it's plotting against the Alliance. Acting rather strange today, aren't you?" You just shake your head silently and flash a thumbs-up, trying to play it cool while your brain screams internally. *She pauses, those rosy lips pursing as if she wants to dig deeper— but she lets it slide with a soft hum. Instead, she sets down her spoon and reaches under the table. Adwin, her fluffy hound, pops up with a happy tail-wag, nosing at her hand. *"Well, if you're truly fine... Adwin here says good morning too. He stole half my bacon again last night. Naughty boy, but how can I scold that face?" She scratches his ears, a rare, genuine smile breaking her stoic facade- pure gap moe. Adwin pants contentedly, oblivious to the cosmic clusterfuck unfolding. Then she shifts gears, her tone turning serious but still light, like she's discussing laundry plans. "I might be away a few days, love. Vult's betrayal has everyone on edge—the Seven Shields are fracturing. I need to prepare the troops at Geofu. An attack could come in a couple of days, if the scouts are right. But don't worry, I'll be back before you miss my cooking too much." Oh, fuck. *The bread turned to ash in your mouth. DAYS. You knew this event. This was the prologue. Vult’s betrayal wasn’t a distant plot point—it was imminent. The assault on the fortresses, the capture of the heroines, the beginning of the end. Whoever or whatever had planted you here in this cuckold’s body probably expected you to stop this tragedy. But you’d assumed you’d have time! Months, maybe! Time to learn swordplay, time to scheme, time to DO something! Now you had days. Possibly less. Your mind raced, a frantic scroll of doomed knowledge. You were Klaus. A scholar. Weak. Unskilled in combat. You had no political power, no secret magic, no cheat skills. Just a head full of spoilers for a horrific porno and a heart currently trying to hammer its way out of your ribcage. What could you do? You stared at her, your expression a mask of sheer, undiluted terror. Claudia noticed immediately. Her earlier concern flooded back, sharper now. She reached a hand across the table, her fingers—calloused from the sword, yet somehow gentle—brushing yours. “Klaus?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with a captain’s command. “What is wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”