“The crotch is the compass of man. Since time immemorial, men have faithfully followed its direction.”

His decree was met with the silent nods of the rapt bar patrons.

The winged waitress paid him a sidelong glance. Her icy glare practically screamed Die!

Swords and sorcery were commonplace in this world, but a woman’s eyes were the most dangerous weapons of all. No small number of men had fallen victim to their petrifying gaze and been rendered an apologetic mess.

Yet the man known as Stunk was still standing. He had the grit to withstand even the most bone-chilling glare.

“Incidentally, I can’t count the number of times my compass has pointed directly at you.”

“Drop dead!”

The waitress didn’t hold back, following her remark by smashing a beer mug into Stunk’s face.

No matter how often he found himself in this situation, Stunk never learned his lesson. This time, however, her bloodlust was palpable, prompting Stunk to run right out the bar and into the local red-light district.

This vast ocean creating a magnetic pull on his compass’s needle was more commonly known as the succubus district.

The main road was littered with every kind of interspecies person one could imagine.

They included the pointy-eared elves, the furry beastmen, winged demons—take your pick—but over 90 percent of those gathered there had one thing in common.

They were men with compasses hanging between their legs.

“Listen, this is just another of man’s adventures, okay?”

Stunk bit down on the cigarette in his mouth and recited his mental mantra: This is the path I’ve chosen. And he really believed it. Stunk wasn’t the kind of adventurer to scale precipitous peaks or delve into dark labyrinths. For his training, there was more than enough pulse-pounding experience to be gained along these magic, lamplit streets. This was training in the form of limitless temptation.

Every shop sign was emblazoned with enticing names and catchphrases, done up in the most flamboyant fonts.

ALL THE FUR YOU CAN FLUFF! ALL THE GIRLS YOU CAN STUFF! ANIMAL EARS, TAILS, AND MORE! COME TO CLAWMARK PARK!

PICK YOUR OWN PIXIE FOR PLAYTIME APLENTY! TINKERBELL AWAITS.

STOUT AND THICK DOES THE TRICK! THE DWARVEN HOLE IS NOW OPEN.

BARELY LEGAL HUMAN BABES! ONLY FORTY YEARS YOUNG! CAN’T BEAT FLEETING BEAUTIES.

FOR A LESSON IN LOVEMAKING, LOOK NO FURTHER THAN IGGWARTS SCHOOL OF SEXCRAFT AND REVELRY! CLASSES ARE NOW IN SESSION.

THESE ICE QUEENS WILL MELT IN YOUR ARMS! SHARE YOUR WARMTH WITH SNOW WHITE.

It went without saying that these establishments offered special services. To be blunt—they were brothels.

As long as men and women existed, this profession would always have a place in the world.

Stunk was walking around the succubus district with one such shop in mind. Approximately 98 percent of his waking life was devoted to succubus joints.

“Hey there, hero. Wanna come in and have some fun?”

A portly orc rubbed his hands together and invited Stunk in. A beginner might have been tempted to reply Sure, I’d love to, but it was a textbook setup. Customers entering without thinking twice and subsequently being subjected to absolute hell was a common story here in the succubus district.

Men like Stunk vacationed in hell.

Stunk laughed to himself as he left the invitation hanging.

“I’m no hero. Just look at my face.”

“Don’t say that, bud; you look so tough! There’s a flame burning behind that cool demeanor; I just know it!”

Is that how it is? Stunk scratched his chin and reassessed his own filthiness.

He had a scraggly, unkempt beard, droopy eyes, and a knowing grin on his lips. His traveling clothes were worn and frayed. At first glance, he looked a bit like a vagrant. Even in the most favorable light, he didn’t give off the vibe of a hero whatsoever.

“Sorry. I have plans, so I’ll be on my way.”

“I should keep this under wraps, but we have an extra-special girl right now… She’s bigger than you can imagine.”

“Is that so…?”

Stunk took the bait. A man’s compass was always drawn toward large assets.

Hang on a sec—

Stunk studied the orc’s porcine face and remembered a crucial detail just in time.

“What’s big about her?”

“Her tits, of course. Her arms and thighs are extra thick, too. She’s a real barrel!”

“…Is this an orc shop?”

“Sure is! All our girls are barrel biddies! Two hundred pounds and up!”

“Pass.”

“But wait, there’s more! Their cheeks are jiggly like pudding! Their noses are flat as pancakes! Hey, come back, hero!”

Stunk had nearly been dragged down to hell again.

Flat noses and flabby bodies were orc staples. Normally, they were mocked for looking like walking pigs, but here in Interspecies Town—a true melting pot of races—there was a pretty good chance they’d find their client base.

It’s not that I don’t like ’em big…

Stunk was prepared to take on a big girl if the situation called for it. Even vagrants had a sense of etiquette when it came to sex.

However, his compass wasn’t currently pointing toward any plumpers.

“Lately, it’s been miss after miss for me…”

The amazon shop he’d visited the other day was chock-full of musclebound gorilla girls—not especially great.

Before that, it was shark mermaids with rough, scaly skin—also no good.

And before that, there was the giant shop. It was the first time he’d found himself asking, “Is it in yet?”

Come to think of it, his compass had been absolutely worthless lately.

“…Oh?”

Suddenly, after eyeing a particular shop sign, his compass needle jumped. THE ELVEN INN.

The shop entrance was far off the road and had a sawtooth oak tree growing out front. The woodsy entryway was a nice touch. An elf shop that didn’t try to oversell the eccentricity was probably the real deal.

As he walked through the doors of The Elven Inn, Stunk’s compass was as hard as a rock.

Succubi fed on men. It was their species’ natural instinct and, as such, was protected by law.

Taking the money and essence of men was a legal service industry. Succubus joints were an important source of revenue in any country, as they always brought in a lot of money.

“Of course! All the succu-girls employed here are of genuine succubus ancestry!”

…Using this line was a trade secret, not to mention one of the oldest hooks in the book. In truth, if you traced back over ten generations, it was rare for anyone to not have succubus blood in them. Past or present, men were absolutely spellbound by the fairer sex.

Stunk was no exception. He routinely delved into the succubus district looking to drown himself in the female form and find himself a starving wolf—a metaphor for a woman, mind, not an actual beast species.

And that was how Stunk came to have a colossal pair of breasts pressed against his chest. The twin peaks were slick with lube as they traveled across his torso, a tantalizing rhythm to their bounce.

Bloop, bloop.

Slosh, slosh.

The bath area was foggy with white steam rising from the tub. He lay on his back, lost in the pillowy embrace.

“How’s this, hun? Feel good?”

Her bright-green hair swayed in time with her movements, an elegant smile playing on her lips. Her downcast gaze, coupled with her slim waist, made her a sight to behold.

More than anything else, her ears, pointed like iris flowers, served as irrefutable proof of her elven blood.

“Yeah, that feels amazing… Elma, you’re so cute, it’s unreal!”

“Ohh, thank you so much. But I’m just a humble village girl.”

“No, no—even an average elf is a beauty by human standards.”

Elves were a magical species who lived in the forest. They were very skilled with bows and had a strong affinity for magic. Part of the reason The Elven Inn was so popular was because their girls had the coveted characteristics of genuine elves.

They all had such youthful appearances.

An elf’s life span was ten times that of a human’s, but even their oldest only ever looked to be in their twenties.

As a bonus, an elf who wasn’t gorgeous was incredibly rare. Typically, they had slender builds, complemented by long arms and legs. An obese elf was unheard of.

Beauty and age aside, the only physical trait that set them apart from humans was their pointed ears. This was another reason elves were a safe bet: What you saw was what you got. There was no chance of them secretly having the body of a snake from the neck down, or poisoning you if you touched them, and so on.

The girls were all perfect in face and body…which meant there was only one way for Stunk to break the tie.

And so he chose Elma for her bountiful bust.

No matter how old men got, they would always love big boobs. They just couldn’t get enough.

Using viscous cleansing lube made from slimes was standard practice for cleaning the body.

“You humans are all so young and cute. I adore you.”

“Y’think so? I’m getting up there in years, though. My skin’s starting to dry out.”

“But your mana is so vibrant and pure. It’s turning me on.”

Elma answered flawlessly and continued massaging Stunk with her breasts. Their surface area increased with the added pressure. The way they seemed to change shape reminded him of two slimes.

So soft and sensual…

Stunk’s face flushed red as his compass twitched.

This immediately caught Elma’s attention, eliciting a sultry smile from her. She deftly moved her hand below Stunk’s waist until she found his compass, now a man’s sword.

“Ah—!”

A sweet sensation shot up Stunk’s rigid blade, and he shivered in response. As Elma spread the viscous gel up and down with her practiced fingers, his blade graduated from a short sword to a longsword, and then to a great sword.

“Ohhh…hrngh…elves even have gorgeous fingers. Shit, this is so good…!”

“My, my, you’re quite blessed… It’s a bit too big to call ‘cute,’ but its reactions are so adorable. What a man.”

“Heh-heh. Yes, I’m quite proud of my little man.”

On average, human members were generally larger than elves’, but Stunk’s great sword towered over the competition regardless. While it was true that size wasn’t everything, it was definitely a point of pride among men.

That said, when comparing sizes, one simply couldn’t take orcs and ogres into account. They were on a completely different level. Stunk would lose to them ten times out of ten—the bastards.

“While we’re here, mind if I slip it between ’em?”

“Of course. Human males love this sort of thing, don’t they?”

Effortlessly, Elma shifted her body and positioned her breasts around the tip of his brandished blade. She then cupped her hands, gathered two palmfuls of lube, and poured it into the valley betwixt. There was a slight splashing sound as Stunk slid right in.

“Ohhh…”

A sound of pure bliss escaped his nose. Every nerve in his sword was heightened. The intoxicating sensation of Elma’s delicate flesh was driving him crazy.

Simply put, it felt really, really good.

“They’re so soft… Tits really are the best…!”

Stunk’s body trembled with pleasure as he lay there in awe. Her breasts weren’t just soft—they were lubed up, slippery, and threatened to rob him of his senses. A man’s sword would likely never tire of the feeling.

“Hee-hee… You’re so big, it’s poking out of the top.”

The deep-red tip of Stunk’s sword was jutting out from between Elma’s twin peaks. An orc or ogre would be sticking halfway out—rather than just the tip—but that only meant they wouldn’t be enjoying the same incredible sensation.

“Okay, here we go.”

Elma began to move. First, she applied pressure from both sides, squeezing her breasts together once, twice, three times. The expanding surface area soon swallowed up Stunk’s tip.

“Unnf—!”

Stunk’s body shook as he drank in the feeling.

This is it. This is what I needed.

This was the unmitigated pleasure that could dispel even the darkest emotions. To have one’s throbbing member lovingly pampered by the softest part of the female body, until no part went unattended—this was ecstasy.

“Tee-hee, you look like you’re enjoying yourself…”

Next, she slid up and down the length of it, as if reverently scrubbing it free of impurity.

“Ah, whoa—whoa! That’s so good…!”

If you rub it, you feel good.

This base principle held true as every bit of Stunk’s blade gave way to euphoria.

And that was only the beginning. Unbeknownst to many, breasts had infinite potential for softness.

“If you liked that, then how about this?”

Elma switched up her rhythm, alternating the movements of each breast along his shaft. Though they were no longer in sync, the sensation effectively doubled in intensity. Stunk’s breathing grew ragged.

“Gotta make sure you’re all clean, hee-hee.”

As Elma dutifully focused on pleasuring Stunk with one breast a time, he was awash with an electrifying sensation as pressure began to build.

“Come on, baby, give me all you’ve got.”

Elma grabbed Stunk’s sword at the hilt, her hands undulating as his hips bucked violently.

It was then that she employed a host of titillating techniques she had been saving for the grand finale.

He was at his limit. It was time.

“Nrgh… I’m gonna cum…!”

Never one to hold back, he erupted with shot after powerful shot.

The pressure that had been building down below now exploded with full force.

Pshuuu, pshu, pshuuuu!

“Wowww—!”

The moment Stunk climaxed, Elma let out an overly dramatic, high-pitched squeal. Her hands remained professional the entire time, however. She constricted the tip of his sword with her chest and watched as his milky-white nectar flowed into the awaiting valley. While he was still sensitive, she grabbed hold of his blade—now slick with a mixture of lubricants, both cleansing and natural—and vigorously stroked it back and forth.

“Unf…unh…just like that…”

Despite the blissful, faraway expression Stunk wore, he remained standing at attention below the waist. His burning blade broke free from her plush prison and fired a parting shot at her face. The viscous fluid landed just between her parted lips, forming a bridge of white across her open mouth.

“Mmfa—!”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get you there.”

On the outside, Stunk offered Elma a sincere apology, but on the inside…

That was so hot! Well done, my son.

“Mmm…ahn…isshokay. I’m, mmpff…used to it…”

Elma grasped a water-willow vine hanging from the wall nearby. It was a special kind of tree that grew in her forest, and its vines worked like water hoses.

Gargle, gargle, swish, swish…ptooey!

Taking in mouthfuls of the cloudy liquid, she repeated the gargle-and-spit ritual three times.

“…You’re used to it, huh?”

“This is my profession, after all.”

Stunk was hoping she would swallow, but her smile was so bewitching that he couldn’t complain.

This was only the beginning. Though he had just climaxed, his nether blade had not yet grown dull. The two proceeded to rinse the cleansing lube off their bodies and enter the bath together, never once breaking contact.

“How ’bout we put that tempting mouth of yours to work?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The warm water added to the steamy atmosphere as Elma found her prize with her eager lips. Her beautiful features contorting for the sake of service inspired an almost sadistic sense of satisfaction.

Between licking and sucking, there was no room to question whether or not it felt good.

Shlorp, shlorp. Gawk, gawk.

The lascivious sounds produced by her talent would send any man over the edge.

“Urk… I’m cumming again…hnng!”

Stunk exploded in Elma’s mouth.

Gargle, gargle, swish, swish…ptooey!

Elma immediately gargled and spat once more.

“Yeah, you’re definitely used to this…”

“It’s my profession.”

He wished she’d follow through, but her smile was so irresistible that he didn’t raise a word of complaint.

Succubus joints weren’t like the average bathhouse. When the laws were still strict, most bathhouses made ardent claims like A customer and an employee fell in love during bath services and ended up having sex. Our establishment faces no liability.

This was all long before Stunk had been born. Today, the rights of succubi were respected, and intercourse with clientele was completely legal. The bed was their battleground.

“Okaaay… Now it’s time to make you feel really good.”

Laying on her back, Elma spread her legs. Between her soft, white thighs was a leaf-green thicket surrounding a pink crevice, which was wet and glistening with anticipation.

“Heh-heh, this is what I’ve been waiting for.”

Now on his knees, Stunk leaned forward and brandished his blade anew. The moment his sword graced the lips of her sheath, the two were consumed by a numbing ecstasy. Elma and Stunk shuddered in sync.

He slid inside, all the way to the hilt in a single thrust. And why wouldn’t he? It was perfectly legal.

“Mmm, ah! You’re so big…!”

“Elma, you’re so tight… You’re perfect…!”

Stunk could feel himself growing red-hot as her every contraction threatened to swallow him whole. This was what it meant to be alive…!

There was nothing he loved more than being inside a woman. It felt incredible and instilled a certain sense of accomplishment. And doing it with an interspecies partner? Even better!

To date, he had racked up a staggering tally of bedding interspecies girls, to say nothing of their variety. And according to the sensory data he’d compiled using his own body, elves were generally tighter than humans.

“Elves are so gorgeous, and you’re all so damn tight! You’re the best…!”

No matter how many times he entered her, it seemed he would never tire of the feeling. Elma’s walls twitched and spasmed, and her hips started bucking on their own.

“Ah—! Unf—! So good… You’re so good…”

Rather than mindlessly pumping away, one often found greater success with a slow, circular motion. As Stunk thrust his way in and around, his sword became coated with Elma’s juices. The addition of her thick love cream allowed him to glide in and out effortlessly.

Stunk took care to enjoy this particular elven trait for as long as possible.

“Oh, oh, ohhh— I can’t— It really is too good, unhh!”

“Oh yeah? You sure you’re not just sayin’ that?”

Stunk let out a laugh before thrusting as deep as he dared, stirring her up all the while.

“N-no… I would never— Hnnh…!”

As Stunk suddenly pinched Elma’s nipple, her eyes snapped shut, and she bit her lower lip. Now he was sure she wasn’t just selling it; her reactions were genuine. To add fuel to the flame, her pointed ears had curled downward.

He then proceeded to give her the gift of a good lay, having found her most sensitive spot through the work of his slow, deliberate hip thrusts.

“Unf…ah…ahn! …Holy sh—!”

Anyone could see that Elma had finally gotten serious. Her mouth hung open, overflowing with the sweet sounds of satisfaction. Her back was arched, and her slender hips were twitching out of control. Her skin flushed red, and the beads of sweat dotting her body added to her glistening sheen.

The percussive beat of flesh against flesh rose to crescendo.

Ahh, I can’t get enough of this.

Such was the indescribable feeling of felling a beauty with his great sword.

Giving a woman what she wants until she can’t even fake it! Now that’s every man’s dream!

Having sex with a professional in the field was fantastic, of course. But being able to best that same professional on the stage of their craft was the best.

Their spirits quaked. Their hearts danced. Their hips bucked.

Plap, plap, plap, plap!

They were slaves to the rhythm.

“Hey now, what’s the matter? Is it starting to feel a little too good for ya?”

Stunk prodded Elma for answers with a mocking laugh. He knew he was being condescending, but he was caught up in the high. An immaculate beauty coupled with a filthy lowlife was a dream pairing in any reality.

“Ohhh, now you’re just being nasty…!”

“C’mon, Elma, you know you love it when I get like this.”

“Unngh, I do love it, but— Hff, ngh, just like that…!”

“Like this? Like this, huh? This is what you like, isn’t it?”

“Ahhhhhhhhn—!”

Elma gripped the sheets and shook her head from side to side. She was approaching her limit when Stunk finally loosened his hips. Getting a woman close to the edge and then giving a bit of slack—forcing her to beg for the final push—was also the way of man.

Three possibilities lay before him: (A) Please have mercy! (B) More! More! (C) I love you, I love you, I love you!

Stunk studied Elma’s face and wondered which of the three her reaction could mean. Through a tortured expression, she then said, “Hff… Hff… If we keep going like this…I’m going to want to see you again…!”

All three of Stunk’s guesses were wrong. This unexpected answer gave him goosebumps.

“You better watch what ya say. I might turn into one of those customers who waits outside for you at all hours of the day, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

“I’m not worried about that. I can tell you’re the type who likes to sleep around.”

“Damn, you recover quick.”

“The place I worked at before offered outcalls. So sometimes, I met clients off-site…and some of them did become totally obsessed with me. Around two hundred years ago, one of them cast repatriation magic on me, and I almost never made it home…”

“An elf’s experience really is on a whole ’nother level, huh…?”

Stunk realized just how different humans like himself were from species with true longevity. He was both stunned and impressed.

“Mmf, anh… Yeah, those types of clients scare me… Some girls end up running off on their clients after they fall asleep.”

“Sounds like whatever was goin’ on was borderline illegal.”

“Most clients like that have dragon fire in their eyes. And about 70 percent of them have rot—deeply mysterious eyes.”

“Were you about to say rotten?”

“Ahhn, ahhn—that’s the spot! I’m going crazy!”

There were a number of things Stunk could’ve called her out on, but he decided to hold off. Foolish was he who troubled the bud before it bloomed. Asking for extras outside the confines of an establishment was bad manners, and it also wasn’t polite to prod a girl on an issue she didn’t want to talk about.

But the fact that she could clearly keep going was a sore spot for Stunk. It was a blow to his pride, and so he decided to play the ace up his sleeve.

Nom! He bit down on one of Elma’s pointed ears.

“Ohhhhh……!”

“Just as I thought, your ears are pretty sensitive. You’re twitchin’ like crazy down there!”

“Hyahhh, ahhhn—!”

The tips of Elma’s ears were especially sensitive. All the better to capture the lewd, sloshing sounds of their intercourse. Stunk was determined to use his accumulated experience from past encounters with many different elf girls to maximize her pleasure.

He quickened his thrusts, changing from a slow, purposeful circular motion to acute, rapid zigzags. This new technique ravaged a number of Elma’s weak points in quick succession.

Plap, plap, shlorp, shlorp. The humble clapping had become a round of applause.

Twitch, twitch, twitch. Elma was a mess of full-body spasms.

“Nnngh— Oh my— Ohhh my Go—fffu—hnnnnnnh…!”

Stunk had utterly toppled the stalwart elf’s defenses. His final blade-assault had shaken her to her core. Man and woman alike were drowning in ecstasy.

The heat their bodies generated threatened to melt them away into nothingness. Lightning leaped between them with every clash. They felt omnipotent, as if they were the only two people left in existence.

This was the hallowed realm, traversable only by those who achieved the pinnacle of sexual union.

“I’m… I’m—I’m cummiiiiiiiiiiiing—!!”

“Third time’s the charm! I’m cumming, too…!”

Quaking in unison, Stunk and Elma felt as if they had glimpsed the creation of the universe—their very own Big Bang—and attained enlightenment.

Molten, white slag flowed endlessly into the sopping-wet crucible.

Pshuuu, pshu, pshuuuu, pshuu!

Though he had already cum twice before, the deluge of life-giving essence was unrelenting.

Fuck yeah! Came inside like a champ…!

In an attempt to prevent even a single drop from escaping, he pushed his way even deeper inside and swirled around for good measure.

“Hahh… Hahh… You came so much… Just—wow…”

Elma’s hips quivered as she took it all in; her lips were like a vice, wringing Stunk dry. With every pulse, Stunk could feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Wow… You took the whole load…!”

“Mmm… Damn right, I did! After all, I’m a genuine succu-girl… Nnn… Anh!”

I bet I could trace your succubus blood back several generations, goddamn it.

You had such a sweet smile on your face while you were cumming your brains out, goddamn it.

Those irresistible lips are mine and mine alone, goddamn it.

Stunk moved his face close to Elma’s but just before he could kiss her, she rejected his advance with a palm.

“Kissing costs extra!”

“Shit, I’ll pay! I’ll pay, so kiss me, please!”

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya!”

While their lower halves were locked in climax, the battle resumed in the north as their lips intertwined—a veritable war on two fronts.

Who cared about the extra charge? That didn’t matter right now. Stunk just wanted to kiss her while they came.

And kiss her he did.

And kiss her… And kiss her…… And kiss her………

For as long as the two were one, they would dance along the precipice of lust and sanity.

In many ways, they had left it all on the battlefield.

Elma accompanied Stunk to the storefront.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay, Stunkie?”

While waving good-bye, she had her arm raised high above her head as a child would. Even tried-and-true succu-girls were still girls at the end of the day.

To Stunk, Elma was so cute that she would likely look adorable no matter what she did.

“Man, there really is nothing better than an elf! They’re all cute, sexy, and look young forever! I just can’t get enough of ’em!”

Stunk’s compass was in rare form today. He had overused it, and he was thoroughly exhausted. But it was the best kind of exhausted.

He heaved a deep sigh, allowing the mellow cigarette smoke to soothe his weary body. Through the purple haze, he noticed a figure approaching.

The figure had a thin frame and pointed ears, just like an elf. But he was male.

“Yo, Stunk.”

The voice he addressed Stunk with was curt. Though his face held the refined features typical of an elf, his unkempt, golden hair spiked off in every direction. Throw in a pair of narrowed eyes that seemed fixed with a permanent glare, and you had the look of a natural-born hoodlum. To Stunk, it was the familiar face of a fellow scumbag.

“’Sup, Zel.”

Zel was Stunk’s brother-in-arms in the succubus district. His face was, in a word, unfortunate. What cruel hand of fate could have dealt him such a punishing blow?

“…Did you bang that elf you were just with?”

The answer was plain from the look on Stunk’s face.

Zel suppressed a gag as he continued, “Dude, seriously? She’s like five hundred years old!”

“…? What’s your point?”

“What’s my point?! She’s a geezer!”

A shiver ran up Zel’s spine, though it could’ve been due to the cold.

Stunk didn’t care that Elma was a few centuries his senior. To him, she was as young and beautiful as the best of them.

But to Zel, who was an elf himself, she was just an old hag with dried-up mana. She was even older than his mom!

In truth, Zel would prefer a fifty-year-old human woman (who was approaching old-bat territory for Stunk) who wasn’t even that hot. He started going on about how elves were only considered young until they were one hundred years old, at which age they could put just the right amount of passion into their performance, and so on, and so forth…

Like Stunk, Zel was a faithful follower of the compass between his legs. But their compasses didn’t always point them in the same direction.

“All right, if that’s how you’re gonna be, let’s put ’em to the test!”

Elves were considered old after they reached five hundred, just as human women were considered old after fifty.

Stunk took it upon himself to conduct a poll among the succubus district regulars at the local haunt, Ye Pubbe.

He would be representing the humans, and Zel, the elves. A beastman and a halfling also got roped in for good measure, and so they all presented the results of the poll in the form of a review.

…In the end, the human hag won in an astounding three-to-one vote.

Stunk alone had cast his vote for the elf.

“…Seriously?”

It was then that Stunk learned that judging women on their looks alone was a woefully human characteristic.

Every now and then, a man followed his compass to an uncharted island, only to discover it was deserted.

Incidentally…

…this first review was the catalyst that propelled Stunk and his companions to relative celebrity at Ye Pubbe.

There had never before been a formal publication reviewing the succubus joints from an interspecies perspective.

And so the writers who charted the course for a great many compasses came to be known as the Interspecies Reviewers…at least by some.

“They’re all a bunch of pervy morons.”

So came the opinion of one of the bar waitresses, her eyes narrowed in disgust. Feeling the ice-cold glare on their backs, Stunk and crew sped off on another adventure.

An adventure to find a yet-undiscovered, top-tier succubus joint—no matter how far their compasses led them.