But before her boots could even grind against the ground, Eros opened his palm—and the orb that held the dungeon map gleamed in his grasp.
She looked to her side in a quick snap, only to find her belt was bare.
She hadn’t even felt it.
"When—?!" she gasped.
Her body shot forward, rage flaring through every limb. "GIVE THAT BACK, YOU—!"
But her voice caught in her throat.
Her garments crumpled from her shoulders like falling leaves, sliding from her form as if sliced by invisible blades. Her armored skirt, blouse, and innerwear all loosened, falling apart into fluttering pieces before even hitting the ground.
A second later, a shriek escaped her lips. "WHAT!?"
Her knees hit the floor in one motion. She squatted, one hand desperately covering her breasts, the other folded tightly over her thighs. Her violet hair whipped about in agitation, wrapping around her shoulders as if trying to clothe her.
Eros’ voice, ever so casual, floated to her ears.
"You should really learn to protect your clothes with your soul energy," he said lightly, still looking down at her. "Unless you don’t mind your dignity."
Her teeth clenched as her face went red. "Y-You... you pervert!"
He chuckled, and the sound was low, warm, completely unbothered. "I’ve been called worse."
What she didn’t know was that from the very moment he entered her tent, the game had been over. Eros had silently released a web of primordial energy into the atmosphere—so fine, so clean, that it had dissolved the weave and soul-thread of any non-defensive clothing in its range.
Not all battles needed fists and kicks.
Her garments had lost integrity the moment she flared her power.
He had been watching her. Studying her. Waiting.
"Young girls," he muttered, turning with a shake of his head, "shouldn’t play with sharp objects."
With the orb now safely tucked in his coat, he turned to leave.
But just as he reached the tent’s opening—he stopped.
Another figure stood there.
She was pale—not in complexion, but in presence. Her breath was shallow. Her body was trembling slightly. Yet she stood tall, sword in hand, leveled at him despite the shake in her wrists.
His eyes narrowed beneath the mask.
Suddenly, memory returned to him in a flash—back beneath the old tree where he’d bribed the information broker for information on the nobles. As he had approached that hidden place, someone had just been leaving.
Her wounded scent. Her posture. It was unmistakable.
Now, here she stood, in the light of Violet’s tent, her eyes filled with pain—but not fear.
"Ah..." Eros said. "So you’re the one."
He could see the tremor in her arm.
Her sword shook as she spoke, voice laced with fragile defiance. "It’s none of your business. Drop the orb... or I’ll gut you."
He raised a brow, stepping closer. "Oh really?"
"You can’t even keep it steady," he said calmly. "Fighting’s not in your capability."
She had seen what he did to Violet. And Violet was feared even among battle-hardened men.
Still... she needed that orb. She needed it not just for the mission—but for herself. She was too sick, and was on the verge of losing it all to her useless husband.
"I am a Grand Duke’s daughter," she spat, eyes burning, trying to hold her stance. "Meaning I am heir to the title, and I command—!"
A cough cut her off mid-sentence.
Blood sprayed from her lips.
Eros was there before she could fall.
His arms caught her lightly, gently—effortlessly. He held her as her sword clattered to the ground.
From behind them, Violet screamed.
Still crouched, still bare, she forgot everything. Her hands dropped, covering nothing now. She ran forward, tears already in her eyes. Her pride, her embarrassment—all vanished in that moment.
She only saw her best friend collapsing.
Eros pressed a hand to the unconscious girl’s neck, brow furrowing slightly. "Her soul is injured," he muttered.
Violet grabbed a dagger nearby and raised it shakily, her voice breaking. "Let her go—let go of Alexis or I swear—!"
"Stop." His voice was calm, but held something weightier than command.
"I’m feeding her soul energy," he said plainly. "Supplementing the missing strands in her spiritual core. If I let her go now—she’ll die."
He turned his masked face toward Violet, voice cool as snow. "Do you want to carry her corpse in your arms?"
The dagger in her grip trembled... and then clattered to the floor.
She fell beside them.
Naked, shivering, confused—and helplessly human for the first time in years.
She reached out and clutched Alexis’ hand tightly, sobbing now as her forehead touched her friend’s shoulder.
Eros looked down at them both—one unconscious and glowing faintly with his energy, the other kneeling, vulnerable, and exposed in every way.
A strange stillness fell over the tent.
Violet raised her tear-soaked face, glaring at him through pained eyes.
"Why..." she whispered, voice thick, "why are you helping her?"
Eros looked at Alexis, her breath slowly returning, her lips now relaxed as the color returned faintly to her cheeks.
And then he smiled behind the mask.
"Because," he said, "I just found me another wife."
Violet did not believe what she heard. And was very tempted to raise the blade again.
Alexis was already married to Luke. Even if, there was no way she woukd be inclined to agree marrying a creep like the one before her.
But there was something about the way he held her. It was tender. Also, there was spark in Eros eyes, like he had found treasure hidden in mud.
Violet had never seen any man look at her friend in such a manner.
Eros raised his head to her, "she is in a very delicate state. If we are going to save her, I’ll be needing my other women..."