"Arina..." Aiden voiced.
The silver warrior stood in the half-lit chamber, her armor clicking with each shift of her weight. The sound was sharp, metallic, invasive—cutting through the humid musk that still clung to the room.
Her back arched ever so slightly, the posture of someone who carried her pride like a weapon. Her red eyes wandered, slow and deliberate, sweeping over the chamber without shame or hesitation.
She ignored the two naked figures, who even now were still trembling from their final cries of climax. Their breath hung heavy in the air, ragged and uneven, the remnants of something raw and shameless.
Sniff. Sniff.
"You both went at it..." Arina’s voice fell somewhere between a tease and a judgment. Half gentle, half deep, each word rolled off her tongue with the weight of steel but the curl of mischief.
Her silver hair, long and wild, fluttered around her shoulder plates as if even the air dared not cling to her too long.
"How long did you... fucked?" She paused, correcting herself with a smirk. "I mean—how long? This whole place smells like cum and....." Her nose twitched again, her eyes now locking on Cathe, who was hastily fixing her gown, pulling it down.
Arina’s lip curled. "Nobles and their debauchery..." She tilted her head, her gaze wandering over the viscountess’s luscious frame, barely draped in that thin, ruined mini gown.
The way she said it, the words themselves dripped with jealousy, even if her mouth pretended it was mockery.
Her red gaze sharpened, shifting. "And what do we have here..." she murmured as her attention fell to Aiden. He was smiling—not a nervous smile, but that faint, knowing curve of lips that unsettled warriors far more than monsters ever could.
the boy who had nudged the world itself with scandal, sat bare before her. And Arina’s eyes finally fell, unashamed, to the heavy shadow resting at his lap.
Her pupils dilated. Her chest rose, breath caught between disbelief and awe.
"Suuuuuuu..." she whistled low, a wicked grin spreading across her mouth. "Boy, you are paaaccckkiinnggg."
Cathe jolted forward, her body instinctively shielding Aiden as if her pride itself had been pierced. "Who the fuck are you?" Her voice thundered in the chamber. "Why in the holy heaven are you in my fucking room?! You know this counts for beheading!"
Her words cracked, edged with both fear and fury. A noble’s wrath was never soft, but there was something different in Cathe’s tone: desperation.
She could not let this intrusion stand—not when her dignity and her forbidden love were both bare to the world.
Arina did not flinch. Her armor clanked with every step as she walked further into the chamber, her boots leaving the faintest echo against the marble. Her nose twitched again, mockery dripping from every sniff.
"...On the wall. On the sofa. Near the table. At the cupboard." Her voice was steady, her words knives drawn casually. "Fuck! How much cum do your balls produce, boy?"
Aiden smirked faintly, but Cathe’s entire body quivered with rage. Her hands twitched, shifting into claws, nails sharpening like a dragon’s. "You are ignoring me. In my own house. In my own room. Answer me—or die. Bitch"
Her roar filled the room, the tension snapping sharp as a blade pulled free of its sheath.
Arina raised both hands slowly, her silver gauntlets clanking. Her grin widened. "Your house?" she asked, tilting her head toward Aiden. "Funny... because I smell his scent everywhere in this mansion. On the walls. On the furniture. On the servants." She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a second. "...Even on the women I passed in the hall. It’s hard to believe you when you say this is your home."
Cathe’s arms dropped from her chest, rage overtaking modesty. Her dragon-blood stirred—her nails lengthening, her skin heating, the faint shimmer of scales pressing against her flesh. She was seconds away from lunging—until a hand touched her shoulder.
"Cathe..." Aiden’s voice, calm but heavy, anchored her. The tension in her body shivered, then eased, as though his very tone pulled the chains on her wrath.
"She is the one Augustus told us about," Aiden continued. "A slayer."
The word made Cathe recoil half a step, her eyes narrowing. Not a mercenary. Not an adventurer. A slayer.
The title itself carried the weight of madness. Slayers willingly entered the deepest dungeons on the sky, where monsters thrived in darkness and blood painted every stone.
They were not soldiers or knights. They were lunatics with strength beyond measure, men and women who brushed shoulders with death every day until fear became meaningless.
Cathe’s lips curled. Only a madman like Aiden would summon a lunatic like her.
"I called you here, Arina," Aiden said evenly. "The letter you received... wasn’t my name signed to it? Aiden?"
Her red eyes snapped to him. The playful grin remained, but something beneath it shifted. Her eyes deepened, heavy, weighing the truth of his words.
"...A mating invitation," she finally murmured, her voice low, slow. Then she smirked, lips curling wide. "You don’t just have a big dick, but also big balls, huh?"
Cathe’s eyes flickered, betrayal searing into her heart like acid. Was I not enough? Her gaze screamed the words even as her lips stayed closed.
Aiden, sighing softly, pulled her against him, his hand gripping her arse tightly. He leaned into her ear, his whisper slow, deliberate.
"You are still my favorite. Don’t worry."
The warmth of his words dulled the fire for just a heartbeat. But she could feel it—Arina’s smirk widening, her eyes cutting, as if enjoying the fracture between them.
"...What you said in the letter," Arina spoke, her gauntlet resting casually on her hilt, "besides the bed invitation... how did you know?"
Her gaze sharpened. "...that’s a well guarded secret, you wrote on that letter....so if I were you, I would choose my words wisely.... Otherwise I’ll chop that dick of yours right off....." She threaten ever so casually.
Cathe’s claws flared again, ready to tear the silver warrior’s throat open, but once again—Aiden’s hand lifted. The silent command froze her in place. She swallowed her rage. And in that quiet submission, Arina’s grin grew. Indeed... the boy was the true master of the house.
"What I said in that letter," Aiden’s voice rang, cold and heavy, "every single word is true. Every. Single. Word."
The words struck like a hammer. Bold. Reckless. Spoken by a boy who, by all rights, should not even be alive in the same room as warriors like them.
And yet...
Arina’s red eyes narrowed. How?
He was weak—his aura frail, his body untrained. If she unleashed even a fraction of her power, he would break apart like glass. And yet...
How did he know? How did someone like him—someone so weak—speak of the dungeon, of the war, of secrets buried deep in the guild’s vaults? She researched on him, a laundry boy now turn knight, she was confused at first but now seeing him bedding the Viscount’s wife, things made more sense....but the question was how?
As she knew, the viscountess was not the only one, she knew he seduce not just her but also the duchess, then the maids, the priestess...she knew it all.
Even now, their scents lingered on him. Their bodies marked by him. Their eyes softened by him.
And those golden eyes—his golden eyes. She tried to pierce them, to dig past the surface, to find a chink of fear or doubt. But there was nothing. Only hunger. A gnawing, endless hunger.
The more she knew about him, the more questions arose, and she hated it. But a thought prickled her mind.
’Is he the chosen one?’ The thought clawed at her mind. No... the scribe said he would be charming. But this—this is beyond charm.
Her hand slipped from her hilt. The sword clanked back into place.
"Consider me intrigued," Arina said finally. Her grin remained, but her eyes glowed with fire now. "You have guts. I’ll give you that. So... you want to discuss this like this? Both of our swords drawn, out in the open?"