Shield of the Rose

Entering the urban district of Peines, one was immediately greeted by architectures dating from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries. The closer one drew to the city center, the denser these ancient structures became. Many roads were still paved with old bluestone slabs, flanked by narrow, cramped sidewalks that felt like a direct portal to a bygone era.

Walking the streets of Peines, the first impression was one of sheer weight—a gravity distilled from centuries of history. The second was its scale. Glasslovar, where Richie had lived before, was also a grand city. Its central commercial district was nearly as prosperous as Peines, but Glasslovar’s bustling heart was confined to a grid of fifteen streets. Beyond that vibrant core, the rest of the city grew rather quiet.

Peines was entirely different. Here, activity bustled in every corner. After walking for over two hours, every district they crossed seemed just as lively as Glasslovar’s busiest hub, while the cultural atmosphere far surpassed anything Glasslovar could offer.

If Glasslovar was a raw, vivacious girl of seventeen or eighteen, flashing with fashion and vitality, then Peines was a noble, mature lady in her late twenties—subtle, refined, and effortlessly regal.

At least, that was Richie’s view.

The women at his side, however, cared far more about what the locals wore, what they did, and how they carried themselves. The residents of Peines possessed the distinctive air of capital dwellers. They spoke and acted with unflappable poise. Most did not dress ostentatiously, yet the tailoring and craftsmanship of their clothes were top-tier.

Of course, the capital had its share of the impoverished, but the women accompanying Richie naturally filtered them out, their eyes sliding past anyone dressed in threadbare garments.

They had entered the city to register at the Military Commission and obtain temporary residence permits. In times like these, lacking such documents was practically a death sentence. Along the way, they had been stopped by gendarmes several times. It was only by presenting Richie’s officer commission and his father’s reassignment order from the Quartermaster Department that they were allowed to pass.

Besides obtaining the residence permits, Richie’s father also needed to report to the Quartermaster Department. Although Richie’s mother had hoped her husband could delay a few days to treat it as a vacation, positions were highly contested in these times. The longer they delayed, the greater the chance of some unforeseen variable stealing the post.

In the past, Richie’s mother might have coaxed or thrown a tantrum. But ever since the incident in the border town—and specifically since her husband had slapped her—she had become far more subdued. More importantly, she had finally grown wise. She realized she had been putting the cart before the horse all along.

Before, she had cared too much about her sister simply because her sister had married well, possessed wealth, status, and sophisticated views. Subconsciously, she had placed her sister on a pedestal, worrying about her opinions in everything she said and did, while largely ignoring Richie and her husband.

Now, she saw the glaring error of her ways. Her sister was the one relying on her, while she herself relied entirely on her son and husband. With this realization, her attitude did a complete about-face. She became entirely obedient to her husband and exceptionally compliant with her son.

The Military Commission was housed in Victory Square, inside a grand structure that had once been a theater. When the war broke out, many staff members were conscripted, forcing the theater to close. A few months ago, when news of the front line’s collapse arrived, it was converted into a registration center for temporary residence permits.

Currently, the grand hall was packed to the brim. A long line snaked around the room in coils, making it impossible to gauge the sheer number of refugees. The registration desk was set up on the former stage, where a row of long tables stood. Behind them sat two dozen military officers. Though they were many, they were still vastly outnumbered by the crowd, making the queue’s progress agonizingly slow.

The sheer volume of people bred a stifling din. Muffled conversations echoed through the air. Although the windows and the main doors were thrown wide open, the atmosphere inside remained suffocatingly hot.

Fortunately, despite the crowd, order was maintained. The waiting refugees queued patiently. Armed guards kept watch from high stools, wielding ten-meter-long wooden poles. If they spotted anyone attempting to cut in line or start an altercation, they would immediately poke the offender with the pole, followed by a harsh reprimand. If the warning was ignored, the pole would rain down upon the offender’s head and shoulders without mercy.

Richie and his father had initially intended to wait for the women to finish, but they quickly lost patience. Neither of them needed the permit anyway. Richie had his Knight’s credential, and his father only needed to report to the Quartermaster Department, which would handle all his paperwork.

After bidding the women farewell, the two men stepped out of the Military Commission.

As soon as they cleared the gates, Richie’s father clapped his son on the back, a sly, knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Those girls are actually staying right next door to us, aren’t they?” his father asked.

Richie flinched, pausing for a long moment before asking awkwardly, “Does Mom know?”

“No idea.” His father shook his head, though he seemed far more intrigued by something else. “What did you use on them? You actually managed to alter their voices.”

Richie was genuinely baffled. He thought he had been incredibly careful, yet a slip-up had still occurred.

“Since you knew their voices were changed, how did you recognize them?”

Richie’s father pointed to his own nose. “When a man and a woman do that sort of thing, the sound comes from here. You can change their speaking voices, but you can’t change the sounds they make in the heat of the moment.” He clapped his son’s back hard twice and grumbled in mock exasperation, “The bastard who keeps them screaming and wailing all night isn’t you, is it?”

Men were sometimes more reserved than women. Richie’s father was too embarrassed to grab his son’s crotch, despite his intense curiosity.

“Just pretend you don’t know anything about it. And whatever you do, don’t tell Mom,” Richie pleaded, bringing his hands together in a begging gesture.

“You have to give me some truth,” his father sighed.

Though Richie had anticipated this day, he still felt a headache coming on. The lie had long been prepared; he just didn’t know how much of it his father would swallow.

“Some things aren’t meant to be spoken of.” Richie glanced around, pulling his father into a nearby dark alley. Leaning close, he whispered, “It’s a military secret. I took part in an experiment. The goal was to grant ordinary people the capabilities of a Knight… That’s all I can say.”

His father’s expression instantly turned grave, but he was at a loss for words. What was done was done; there was no point in dwelling on it now.

“Does this experiment carry any physical hazards?” Richie’s father did not doubt him. Everything he had seen and heard in the military made him fully believe the high command was capable of such experiments.

Richie shrugged. “I probably won’t be able to have children, Dad. You don’t mind too much, do you?”

Hearing this, his father’s face darkened. He did not care deeply about carrying on the family line, but such news was always hard to swallow.

“Dad, look at the bright side. It’s wartime. What’s more important than surviving and keeping the family alive?” Richie whispered consolingly.

These words finally struck home. His father turned the thought over in his mind and realized it was true. If your life was gone, what else was there to care about?

With that settled, his father actually began to think participating in such an experiment might not be a bad thing after all.

“Look at my build—not bad, right? Do you have any connections to get me in? It’s not about the pay or the allowances. During this time, I’ve realized one thing: on the battlefield, everything else is fake. Only strength and luck are real. I can’t control luck, so I have to find a way to gain some strength.”

Richie rolled his eyes, utterly speechless at his father’s wild imagination. Yet, he felt a twinge of regret. If only such a drug truly existed, the Republic wouldn’t have suffered such a devastating defeat.

Since Richie’s destination and his father’s Quartermaster Department were in different directions, he departed after dropping his father off.

The true center of Peines was Hero Square—a massive plaza nearly a kilometer long. In peacetime, military parades and grand celebrations were held there. The square was the ultimate landmark of Peines.

Richie’s destination lay on the western flank of Hero Square, where a retro-style palace built in the late third century stood. A dozen wide stone steps led up to a grand entrance framed by a row of over twenty stone pillars, each so thick it would take two or three men locking hands to encircle them. Above the roof’s facade rose a bas-relief of a charging Knight.

Guards stood watch on the steps. From a distance, Richie drew his Knight credentials. He usually relied on his officer commission, which was more than enough elsewhere, but here, standard military ID was useless.

The guard inspected the document, and a look of astonishment instantly crossed his face. Every Knight credential recorded its owner’s rank and combat achievements. Richie’s rank was low—he was still registered as an Apprentice Knight, which was normal for his age. His combat record, however, was another matter entirely. His confirmed kill count stood at thirty-two. For an Apprentice Knight, that was an astronomical, terrifying number.

The guard saluted sharply and waved Richie through.

Inside was a vast hall filled with rows of desks. Behind each desk was a chair, flanked by a wastepaper basket. Brass plates engraved with various titles were pinned to the front of the desks. The desks were piled high with stacks of documents, and the baskets overflowed with discarded scrolls. The personnel here moved with frantic haste.

Richie had never imagined the Knight Headquarters would look like this. There were no swords, no suits of Magitech Armor, no epic murals, no grand statues, and certainly no solemn, silent Knights. It was simply a massive office filled with ordinary-looking military administrators.

A map pinned to the wall near the entrance demarcated different departments with red and green colors. Richie was here to register, and the desk responsible for registration was located on the far eastern side—the most crowded spot in the hall.

Still, compared to the chaotic lines at the Military Commission, the crowd here was sparse. A row of chairs lined the eastern wall, where waiting Knights sat. Richie walked over and took a seat at the end of the row.

There were about two hundred people waiting, ranging from adults to young teens. He was by no means the youngest. Out of curiosity, he observed the apprentice Knights of his own age. The young Knights returned his gaze, their eyes flickering with surprise.

Shortly after Richie sat down, two young Knights stood up and walked over. Both looked slightly younger than him. One had short brown hair, a face dotted with freckles, and a prominent forehead; he looked like a troublemaker who could never sit still. The other was dark-skinned, square-headed, and carried a slightly dim-witted expression.

The two had been sitting near the front, but now they moved to the seats right behind Richie.

“I’m Jason,” the freckled boy said, pointing to his companion. “And this is John. You can call him Big Bear.”

The dim-witted youth slapped Jason hard on the back. “This guy has a nickname too. Call him Chipmunk.”

“I’m Richie. Nice to meet you. Are you two newly reassigned here as well?” Richie was not particularly adept at socializing; his past school experiences had left him wary of his peers.

“Do you have a nickname?” Jason asked with a cheeky grin. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you an exchange student returning from abroad?”

Richie knew what exchange students were. The Monstoke Republic was a major nation in terms of population and economy, but its military was considered second-rate. Every year, the Republic sent its most talented young Knights to the Omore Empire or the Packington Holy Empire. Though labeled exchange students, they were essentially being trained by these established military powers.

Richie shook his head. He didn’t want to claim status he didn’t possess. The Knight circle was small; any lie would eventually be exposed.

The freckled Jason was quick-witted. A moment’s thought led him to the other possibility. “You’re a late-awakened Knight?”

His tone lost its previous warmth. Late-awakened Knights rarely had a bright future.

“You guessed right,” Richie replied flatly, watching their reactions.

The blocky John showed no change, simply grinning. “This is the first time I’ve met a late-awakened Knight. How long ago did you awaken?”

Jason’s face stiffened slightly, but he quickly recovered his friendly grin. Having another friend was always a good thing. Even if Richie wasn’t a promising exchange student, he was still a Knight. He might prove useful in the future.

“We’re from the Twelfth Squad, Ninth Legion,” Jason said conspiratorially. “If you need anything, just ask me. I know this place inside out.”

“Yeah, this guy knows everyone,” Big Bear chimed in, hyping up his friend. “It’s easy for him to dig up information or buy things for you.”

“I’m with Squad 105,” Richie said.

Jason and John looked surprised. Independent numbered squads were rare and typically consisted of elite veterans.

Suddenly, John nudged Jason, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Richie turned to look. A group of youths had just walked through the doors.

“You’d better watch out for those guys,” Jason whispered. “The white-haired guy leading them is Rost. He was an exchange student but got sent back halfway. Word is he was too arrogant and offended someone high up over there. The guy behind him is Nic. His family isn’t much—came from some backwater town—but he’s talented and strong. The trouble is his character is garbage; he’s entirely Rost’s lackey. The one behind him is Carnad. He’s also strong but incredibly venomous. His nickname is the Viper…”

As Jason whispered his warnings, the group approached. Jason immediately shut his mouth.

The newcomers glanced at Richie with mild curiosity, but made no move to initiate contact, sitting down in the row behind them.

When Richie emerged from the Knight Headquarters, he carried a brand-new Knight credential and a fresh officer commission. The benefits for Knights far surpassed those of ordinary officers. When the registration officer learned he was a late-awakened Knight with parents and a large group of relatives to settle, he immediately asked if Richie required military housing.

Richie accepted without hesitation. Accommodation in Peines was currently worth its weight in gold. Even if he didn’t live in it, the rent he could collect would be substantial. Unlike other Knights, Richie had a massive household to support.

The military’s efficiency was remarkable. He was handed the key and the address on the spot.

Judging by the address, this dormitory was far superior to the suburban villa Lina had lent him. It was located right in the city center, not far from Hero Square—prime real estate by any metric.

This was fantastic news. Richie ran eagerly toward the Military Commission’s registration gates. They had agreed to meet there, as his mother and the others would undoubtedly take the longest.

When Richie arrived, he saw his father standing by the gates, already changed into a crisp, official officer’s uniform instead of his old blue canvas reserve outfit.

“You had an easier time than me?” Richie asked, surprised.

His father was in high spirits, his face glowing as he explained, “It was a close call. If I had arrived half a day later, my post would have been filled. Good thing I didn’t listen to your mother. I’ve already applied for housing. With luck, the approval will come through in a month.”

Richie retrieved the key and the address slip, tossing them to his father. “I’ve already got a place. Less than a kilometer from Hero Square. It might be a bit small, but it’s surrounded by the main commercial district.”

Looking at the key, his father’s triumphant expression vanished. He suffered a blow to his pride. After a brief silence, he stuffed the key into his pocket and grumbled, “In front of your mother, you tell her I applied for this place.” He leaned in and murmured, “Your old man is looking out for you, isn’t he? I’m giving you the perfect chance to be alone with those girls. We’ll leave the suburban villa empty for you to keep your beauties hidden away.”

Though the words carried a trace of jealousy, it was the truth.

Having nothing else to do, the father and son walked out onto the street to chat. One had been in the reserves while the other was at the front lines; they hadn’t had a proper conversation in a very long time, and the journey had offered no privacy. Now was the perfect time to catch up. Neither had any desire to step back into the cramped, noisy, suffocating registration hall. They both despised waiting in lines.

With plenty to discuss, time flew. Six hours slipped by unnoticed.

By the time the women emerged with their temporary residence permits, it was already four in the afternoon, close to dinner.

“I’ve been allocated a dormitory,” Richie’s father announced, claiming the credit. “Interested in checking it out?”

The response was a resounding yes. The women were exhausted from queuing all day. More importantly, in their original plan, getting the permits was secondary; shopping was the main event. Having finally reached Peines, they refused to return to the suburban villa without exploring, eating, and buying a few things.

With such a large group of women walking and browsing, their progress was slow. It took them over an hour to reach the address.

Before they even arrived, the women’s eyes lit up. The location was nestled right inside one of Peines’ most bustling commercial districts.

Following the numbers, they quickly found the spot. Between two shops lay a narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for one person to pass. The alley was deep—about twenty meters—flanked by four-story buildings with facing windows and doors.

The dormitory Richie had been allocated was on the third floor, the second door from the end on the left.

Cramped, crowded, and dark seemed to be the universal traits of Peines architecture. The alley was narrow, and the entrance door was equally small. Stepping inside, they found a very tight courtyard with a water tap in the corner. At the end of the courtyard lay the staircase. The stairwell was incredibly narrow, allowing only one person at a time, and it was steep and pitch-black. They had to grip the handrails carefully as they climbed.

When they unlocked the door on the third floor, a musty odor rushed out to greet them.

The place had likely been used as a storehouse or something similar. There was not even a bed. The floorboards and window sills were thick with grime, the plaster on the walls had peeled away in large patches, and cobwebs choked the corners. The windows were boarded up with wooden slats, and most of the glass panes were shattered.

The apartment was long and narrow. At one end sat a sealed fireplace, and opposite that was another boarded window.

“We can’t live here without a complete overhaul,” Richie’s father muttered. “The walls need painting, the glass needs replacing, everything needs varnishing, the fireplace has to be cleared, and we need furniture… Oh…” He felt a massive headache coming on. The Quartermaster Department had only granted him two days of leave. He had to report for duty the day after tomorrow, and he had no confidence he could finish all this in a single day.

“The place is actually quite nice,” Aunt Ling said, offering a rare word of fairness. “Having a roof over our heads is already a blessing.”

What she liked most was the room’s length. If they installed a partition wall in the middle, the space could be split in two, allowing her and her daughter to move in as well. The villa was grand, but as a lifelong city dweller, she couldn’t stand the isolation of the suburbs.

“What now? Do we go back?” Ginny asked, disappointed.

“We’ll find an inn to stay in for a few days. We have the coin for that,” Richie’s mother said, showing rare generosity.

Peines had no shortage of inns, especially in the city center.

With the women staying at the inn, they spent their days shopping and only returned late at night to sleep. Naturally, they had no time to clean the apartment.

Fortunately, in Peines, money could buy any service. Professional cleaning and decorating crews were readily available. They worked with far greater speed and precision than Richie or his father ever could. Within three days, the apartment was transformed, complete with new furniture.

The family from afar had finally settled in the capital.

Richie’s parents, Aunt Ling, and his cousin lived in the city-center apartment, while the girls and their mothers moved back to the suburban villa. The arrangement finally gave everyone enough space.

After his two days of leave, Richie’s father began his hectic new routine. As Lina had warned, the post was not dangerous but incredibly demanding. He spent his days dealing with stacks of logs and managing vehicle dispatch. His workdays stretched to over ten hours.

Richie did not enjoy his freedom for long either. About two weeks later, the frontline legions completed their retreat to the second defensive line, and Squad 105 was recalled to the capital.

His peaceful days were over.

Their new quarters were in the suburbs, though in a completely different direction from Lina’s villa. It had once been a quiet town, but the residents had evacuated, leaving the entire area to be requisitioned as a military encampment.

An entire full-strength legion was stationed in this small town, along with two squads of Knights. Squad 105 was quartered in a courtyard on the eastern edge. The yard was relatively spacious for the town, but compared to the commercial plaza they had previously occupied, it was tiny.

The courtyard was barely large enough to park their three vehicles. In the center stood a building. The first floor was requisitioned by Randy as an equipment room. The upper three floors contained six rooms in total. Since one was used as a kitchen, one as a clinic, and one as a bathhouse, the squad members had to squeeze into the remaining three bedrooms.

However, this was no great hardship for Squad 105. Most of the female Knights had intimate relations with Richie, and they spent the majority of their nights in Randy’s quarters. Thus, three rooms were more than enough.

Robin and Dana were not part of Richie’s harem, so they shared a room, which Captain Calli nominally shared with them as well. Nora and Rosa, though intimate with Richie, did not participate in every nocturnal gathering, so they shared a room, leaving a spare bed for Merlin. The final bedroom was allocated to the three sisters, Margaret, and Richie.

Yet when night fell, the place they truly gathered was the cellar. It had once been a root cellar, but after clearing out the debris, they found the space remarkably wide. Once thick soundproofing panels were installed on the walls, it became the perfect haven for their secret trysts and dual training.

The weather was gradually warming, but the cellar remained cool and pleasant. Randy had personally designed the ventilation system, with a row of intake vents at the top constantly pumping in fresh air while exhaust vents at the bottom drew out the stale air. Despite being underground, the air was fresher than in any of the rooms upstairs.

On their first night there, perhaps due to a long period of abstinence, nearly all the women gathered. Not only did the usually reserved Captain Calli attend, but even Rosa, who only joined occasionally, was present. Richie even coaxed Nora, dragging the quiet, melancholic woman down with them.

Once the heavy door closed, the women stripped bare without hesitation.

Randy was the first to step forward, looking slightly bashful—likely because there was an extra pair of eyes tonight. The others gathered around them. Lina, always the most playful, leaned down and began to gently stroke Richie’s massive manhood.

Unable to contain himself, Richie slapped Randy’s soft, pale buttock, the sharp smack echoing in the confined cellar. “Hurry, get on.”

Randy flushed, but she was eager to please. She straddled him, planting her feet flat on the chair’s seat so her knees were raised high, sitting on him in a deep squat.

Lina, working in perfect sync, gripped Richie’s throbbing shaft and aligned his swollen head with Randy’s damp, waiting passage. After so much time together, their coordination was flawless. As Randy lowered herself, Richie’s thick head slid smoothly into her slick, weeping garden.

Perhaps because it had been so long, Randy gasped, a long, trembling whimper escaping her lips. “Ah… mmh…”

Her soft pants stirred a restless warmth in the surrounding women. They felt hollow, a teasing itch spreading through them, filled with anticipation and a touch of bashfulness.

As Randy sank down, Richie let out a low groan of satisfaction. He felt his thick member enveloped by a warm, tight, wet chamber, the walls clinging to his tip like a thousand tiny lips, sucking greedily. Randy’s technique had clearly improved.

Richie squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh of her buttocks, laughing softly. “Ah, that feels incredible. How did you practice this?”

Randy’s face burned crimson, and the other women blushed. Only Lina and Nora remained unfazed. Nora leaned against the doorframe as if none of this concerned her, while Lina gently squeezed Richie’s balls, arching her brow. “What are you worried about? Afraid we found another lover?”

Randy smirked but chose not to let the topic linger. She knew Richie was highly possessive. Lina was only teasing, but if she pushed it, the young man would get anxious.

She leaned down to seal Richie’s lips with her own, her hips beginning a slow, rhythmic rise and fall, her tight sheath sliding along the thick shaft in deep, sweeping thrusts. With each downward plunge, she swallowed his length completely, grinding her soft, supple cheeks against his pelvis. With each rise, she drew him out until only the tip remained.

With every thrust, a surge of foreign energy flowed from Randy’s body into Richie’s.

Perhaps due to the long break, Richie felt a difference. The Aura in his body was like parched earth receiving its first rain. The foreign energy integrated into his own Aura with startling speed. Only when he had absorbed his limit did the remaining energy wrap around his Aura like a protective sheath, circulating slowly.

Suddenly, a strange tremor rippled through Richie. The seed of power he had obtained from Merlin seemed to sprout, unfurling rapidly. This new Aura possessed the fluid, yielding quality of water, matching the exact characteristics of Merlin’s training method.

His Aura, which originally combined the agility of wind and the solidity of earth, now gained a third property.

And that was only the beginning.

Next, the seeds of power he had taken from the three sisters awakened one by one. Their element was fire, characterized by wild, explosive volatility. In an instant, this surging fire Aura threatened to break free of his control.

Fortunately, the seeds of power from Calli and Margaret chose that exact moment to awaken. They carried the opposite element—ice. The freezing, sharp cold instantly suppressed the raging flames.

Agile wind, solid earth, yielding water, volatile fire, and biting ice—these diametrically opposed Aura properties were bound together by Randy’s foreign energy. Forced into a delicate fusion, they did not clash. Richie could feel that as the foreign energy gradually dissolved, these Auras would eventually merge into a single, cohesive force. It was only a matter of time.

The ease of his energy flow made the physical intimacy even more sublime.

He and Randy shared a deep kiss, eyes closed, their expressions a mix of rapture and bliss. His hands roamed wildly over her soft flesh, which possessed a yielding tenderness unlike the hardened muscles of the other female Knights.

Having learned many arts of intimacy from Lina, Randy flexed her inner walls, clamping, milking, twisting, and pulsing around his length. The sheer friction of her slick passage was far more intense than any simple thrusting.

Randy’s movements grew faster. Her beautiful body shuddered as her slender waist snapped up and down. The thick shaft slid rapidly through her tight, weeping sheath, the friction between her slick walls and his hardness growing feverish. The impact at the bottom of each stroke grew heavier.

A wet, messy squelching filled the cellar as Randy’s juices spilled from their junction, soaking Richie’s thighs. Her gasps turned into rapid, high-pitched whimpers. She rode him with frantic urgency.

Finally, her movements seized. Her inner walls convulsed in wild, rhythmic spasms, pouring out a flood of wet heat that slicked their legs.

After a long silence, Randy slowly collapsed against him, her face flushed a deep scarlet.

“Calli, your turn,” Randy murmured, releasing his lips. She slid off his lap and lay down on the floor beside him. The floor was covered in thick cushions over soundproofing pulp boards, making it perfectly comfortable.

Calli was next because she was the only one whose strength could be elevated quickly. The others had hit their bottlenecks. Lina, the only one who had already broken through, needed to stabilize her current realm rather than rush her training.

Calli was poised and mature. Having done this many times, she straddled Richie and lowered herself slowly. She leaned forward, sealing his lips with her own.

Unlike Randy, Calli sank all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion, twisting her hips slightly to ensure the thick shaft was buried as deeply as possible.

There was no frantic thrusting, no wild movements. The two simply held each other in a tight embrace, allowing their Auras to circulate between them.

In the past, Richie’s Aura would have flooded into Calli regardless of its properties. This time, however, only the ice, wind, and water attributes entered the cycle. The other elements remained perfectly still.

Though the volume of circulating Aura was smaller, the efficiency was vastly superior.

Water was the source of ice, and the relationship between wind and ice was like fire and oil. The synergy of these three related properties yielded astonishing results. Calli’s frost Aura had always been slow to train. Even with Richie’s aid, her progress lagged behind the others. Now, that defect was gone.

The dormant elements in Richie’s body were not idle either. Like millstones, they ground the ice Aura flowing from Calli, refining the shards until they became a stream of pure, biting frost.

Richie did not dare be too forward with Captain Calli. His hands remained respectfully on her breasts, ribs, and smooth back, avoiding her lower body entirely. Calli’s skin was incredibly smooth, but beneath the surface lay a firm, unyielding texture, like a thin layer of ice.

This frost Aura was notoriously difficult to master, but once completed, its defensive and offensive capabilities were formidable. That was why, when they had encountered the enemy Knight of Honor, only Richie and Calli had escaped without severe injuries.

Calli allowed Richie’s hands to roam. She tolerated the caresses, even tightening her inner walls to heighten his pleasure. Yet, her pride would never allow her to mimic the intimate tricks Randy and Merlin had learned from Lina.

After cultivating for nearly forty-five minutes, Calli rose, the thick shaft sliding free of her passage. She did not lie down, but retreated to a corner of the cellar, sitting cross-legged to immediately refine the foreign energy and Aura she had received.

Margaret was already waiting, always following the captain. The moment Calli stepped away, she eagerly claimed her spot. It was not out of lust, but because a few days ago, she had felt the faint stirrings of a breakthrough.

Knights of the same element often shared similar temperaments. Margaret also disliked frantic thrusting or sitting too deep, but the choice was not hers to make.

Richie loved to tease Margaret. She was not yet fully mature, her passage tight and relatively shallow, so Richie took pleasure in driving all the way to the hilt, twisting his shaft like a drill. To make it fit, he channeled his cold Aura into his manhood, causing the icy chill to shrink his member slightly.

With a mischievous grin, Richie slowly nudged open Margaret’s cervix, the intense pressure of the tight squeeze sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

Despite his playfulness, Richie did not neglect the dual training. He knew Margaret was on the verge of a breakthrough, and Calli had deliberately left a tenth of her frost Aura inside his body.

To Margaret, that tenth was a massive boon. As the concentrated chill flowed into her, the young girl broke out in goosebumps. The cold energy circulated slowly through her marrow, and the foreign energy wrapping it began to dissolve, merging into her own Aura.

Triggered by the influx, Margaret’s Frost Aura began to transform. Originally resembling a haze of fine ice crystals, the energy began to clump together, freezing into jagged spheres of ice needles.

Initially, these spheres were irregular. Some consisted of only a few crystals frozen together, leaving the needles sparse. Others formed large, clumpy masses. But through constant grinding and refreezing, the shape of the ice needles gradually stabilized.

The cold radiating from Margaret grew intense. The frost, once contained within her body, began to seep from her pores.

Everyone present realized what was happening. Lina and Calli exchanged a glance, both reaching out. Lina pressed her palm against Margaret’s back, while Calli tapped the twelfth vertebra of her spine.

A pale blue mist of freezing Aura erupted from Margaret. The glowing frost enveloped her, making her appear ethereal and cold—a stark, bizarre contrast to her naked, intimate posture straddling Richie’s lap.

An external manifestation of elemental Aura was the true mark of a formal Knight. Unlike Richie, Margaret did not suffer from an inability to use active skills. Her manual contained powerful combat techniques. After a few days of practice, she would be ready for her formal Knight evaluation.

“Keep going,” Lina urged. “This is the most critical moment for Margaret. The instant of a breakthrough is magical. If she can seize this brief window, it will yield immense benefits for her future training.”

Richie’s heart stirred. He recalled the secret he had bartered from Hagert.

Releasing Margaret’s lips, he took a deep breath and said quickly, “Someone told me that if you dual-train with a scout Knight’s discipline, breaking through a bottleneck yields massive benefits.”

Lina blinked in surprise. This was hardly a secret to her. Most members of her family achieved Honor rank sooner or later, and once they did, they always dual-trained in scout techniques.

“That’s true, but you shouldn’t attempt it before becoming an Ace Knight. It’s too risky. The breakthrough can easily go awry.” She pinched Richie’s cheek, laughing. “It’s a good thing you didn’t try to practice scout techniques before becoming a Knight, or you’d be crippled by now. For an Apprentice Knight, the failure rate is a flat hundred percent.”

Lina stuck her tongue out at the others. “I forgot to warn him.”

Hearing this, a chill of fear ran down Richie’s spine. Not long ago, he had grumbled about learning this secret too late. Now, he felt nothing but relief.

“You can decide for yourselves,” Lina said, sharing her family’s knowledge. “When upgrading to Ace Knight, about half the attempts run into trouble. But if you succeed, the path ahead becomes much smoother. The failure rate depends on your manual. The three sisters shouldn’t even try it; you’d probably cripple yourselves before reaching Honor rank. But Calli and Margaret can give it a shot. Your frost manuals are slow, but they are exceptionally safe.”

“What about me?” Richie pointed to his nose.

“Your Aura is a mess, but your foundation is built on Heavy Defender training. That discipline is thick and stable, so you’re perfectly safe.”

Lina’s explanation put Richie at ease.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Margaret remained perfectly still, as if asleep. The silence made the other women slightly envious. They knew exactly what kind of foundation Margaret was building.

A breakthrough set the stage for one’s future height. The method of breaking through directly affected one’s ultimate potential.

The most common, least effective method was breaking through during standard meditation, which was like laying a foundation with rammed earth. Breaking through in battle, as Lina and Richie had done, was like driving deep piles into the ground—vastly more secure.

What Margaret was doing now was on a different level entirely. It was like carving her foundation out of solid granite.

Five minutes later, Margaret collapsed limply against Richie’s chest, her old strength spent and her new power still settling.

As they lifted Margaret off him, Richie grinned, waiting for the next girl. He pulled Lina onto his lap.

Lina did not refuse, tapping his nose before sliding onto his waiting length.

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