konosuba luna: Chronicles of an Epic Journey Beyond Imagination

Candlelight flickers through lattice in konosuba luna. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, konosuba luna, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me konosuba luna, punish me konosuba luna, fuck me konosuba luna!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “konosuba luna!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.