The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe

Sara’s POV

Waking up at the exact time I do every morning, I pushed aside the wonderful dream I just had about living quietly with my beloved in a secluded island—just the two of us, no duties, responsibilities, expectations, nothing but the sound of waves and the warmth of his presence beside me.

The dream had been so vivid, so real, that for a brief, blissful moment after opening my eyes, I could still feel the phantom sensation of his hand in mine, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, the way his smile had lit up the golden sands of our imaginary paradise.

But reality came rushing back quickly, as it always did, and I found myself staring at the familiar wooden ceiling of my quarters in Verdant Spire.

I was on my hammock, close to the window, from which I could see Verdant Spire below just waking up as well.

The woven ropes creaked softly beneath my weight as I shifted, the gentle swaying motion that had lulled me to sleep now serving as a reminder that I was back in the real world, back in my duties.

Through the window, I could see the first hints of dawn painting the sky in shades of deep purple and soft orange, the colors bleeding into each other like watercolors on wet paper.

The village below was stirring to life, tiny figures moving through the streets as the Amazons began their day.

It was still a tad dark, and the day had not fully broken.

The sun was still hiding behind the mountains, its rays just beginning to crest over the peaks and spill across the rest of the plains.

The air was cool and crisp, with the scent of dew-kissed leaves and the faint, earthy smell of the forest that surrounded our village.

But this was the time a standard and proper Amazon should arise from slumber.

The early hours were sacred to us, a time for reflection and preparation To sleep past dawn was to waste the gift of a new day, to show weakness in the face of the challenges that awaited.

After all, we only needed said slumber once a week; the one we had now, where we slept every night, was already a luxury.

Climbing down the hammock as it wobbled, my eyes went to the side of the large bed Benjamin placed in my room.

It swung gently beneath me as I descended, my bare feet finding the cool wooden floor.

He claimed he was not very comfortable with sleeping on the hammock, and he felt I shouldn’t too, despite me telling him a thousand times that I have always done so since I was a little girl.

He’d been so insistent and earnest, his blue eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed with concern as he explained that a proper bed would be better for my posture, my spine, and my long-term health.

I’d laughed at the time, amused by his worry, but I’d accepted the gift anyway. It was impossible to refuse him anything.

I moved across the wooden floor and reached the bed of straw and cotton, then left my body to fall on it.

The mattress caught me gently, the straw rustling beneath my weight, the cotton sheets soft against my skin.

I let out a slow, contented sigh as I sank into the warmth, my body relaxing into the familiar comfort of the bed that still carried traces of his presence.

Ah… Benjamin’s scent was a wonder drug I have become very addicted to.

It lingered in the fabric, woven into the threads themselves, a subtle mix of something clean, warm, and completely, unmistakably him.

I wrapped the sheets around my body, sniffing it like a strange person, and nearly convulsing. The smell was intoxicating, filling my senses with memories of his touch, his voice, the way he laughed, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

I buried my face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, letting the scent wash over me like a wave.

A memory soon hit me, and I put my hand at the side of the bed to retrieve it.

My fingers brushed against the soft and smooth texture, and I pulled it toward me, cradling it against my chest.

Only one of it’s kind in existence; blue eyes, light brown hair, and an emotionless face.

It was a child-sized copy of my beloved, Benjamin. A doll.

The craftsmanship was extraordinary, every detail painstakingly replicated, from the gentle curve of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

The blue eyes were the same shade as his, the same depth, the same impossible beauty. The face was expressionless, frozen in a neutral state, but I could imagine the smiles, pouts, and laughter that would have animated it in life.

Deva, our jack-of-all-trade inventor, needed some information about Lulu, for some revenge plot she appeared to be cooking up, so she brought this hoping to appease me.

The memory of Deva’s visit came back to me, her small form standing in my doorway, her eyes gleaming with calculated mischief as she presented the doll with a flourish.

“I’ve seen the way Lady Sara looks at Benjamin… That is why I know, if no one, you will be craz—pardon me—excited to receive this offering.” She had said some days ago, her voice dripping with barely concealed amusement.

Wrapping my body on the naked doll, I was grateful that it even had the scent of Benjamin imbued.

The fabric was soft and warm, very lifelike, and I could smell the faint traces of his essence woven into its very being.

’It truly looked like a small-sized version of him.’ I thought.

Then I bit it’s ear lobe and sucked on its neck, I ruffled it’s hair and I kissed him slow and gradually, my hands roaming all over the hyper-realistic doll’s body.

The sensation was dizzying, a strange mixture of comfort and longing that made my heart ache.

It was sheer ecstasy! I was in paradise. The doll was not a substitute—it could never be that—but it was a small piece of him that I could hold, a tangible reminder of his presence in my life.

The current Benjamin was not mine alone to claim.

He belonged to no one, but was a wide ocean where anyone can jump in. He drew people to himself, his warmth, kindness, and boundless love spreading to everyone who crossed his path.

It was maddening and beautiful all at once, the way he could make every person he met feel validated, cherished and special.

My terrible selfish self can only tolerate this because of his sake.

But Benjamin was different. He was more important than my pride, more important than my jealousy.

Nevertheless, as for this doll, I shall never share with anyon—

[Lady Sara? Thank goodness you’re awake. It’s Deva. I just gave Queen Elara the same doll I made for you.] [Deva]

[…]

[Uhm… So you both will not have a misunderstanding, I wanted to suggest you dress yours up. Uhm… good morning and thank you.] [Deva]

Very well. If it is only my mother, I can find it in my heart to share the doll.

She was a formidable woman in her own right, a queen who had earned her throne.

I mean, if she wanted a doll of Benjamin, who was I to deny her?

We could share this small comfort, this tiny piece of him that Deva had so generously crafted.

Despite this, I truly have to regulate the matter, lest it becomes a trend in Verdant Spire—