Shield of the Rose

Richie tested his footing on the sandy floor, gauging his leverage. Feeling the grip beneath his boots, a trace of confidence settled in his chest. He did not fear a duel.

However, fighting in a place like this was unfamiliar.

He wore a standard training suit, but the weapons provided felt awkward. His signature mirror shields were far too obscure to be found in a standard camp’s armory.

Richie didn’t mind. He had no intention of revealing his “Mirror Reflection” technique anyway. Even without the shields, he was prepared to fight barehanded if necessary, though a weapon was required; this was a formal duel, not a street brawl, and Knights relied on their steel.

While he could thrash two formal Knights in a close-quarters grapple, he lacked the confidence to pull off such a feat in a regulated duel.

Instead, Richie chose a pair of elbow blades. Each curved blade spanned a meter and a half. It was a highly unusual weapon, typically relegated to a secondary defensive role.

He had little choice. He had searched the armory but failed to find bucklers that could be mounted on his elbows. That area of the training armor lacked the flexibility for active parrying, so shields were either held in the hands or strapped to the forearms. No one but Richie ever thought of mounting shields on their elbows.

Today, Richie’s role was that of a sparring partner. The Knight evaluation process included a practical combat test. Typically, a dedicated sparring partner was assigned, though occasionally applicants were pitted against one another. The young assistant instructor was supposed to fill the role, but he had deliberately baited Richie into taking his place.

Richie was no fool. He knew the task was thankless, but he didn’t care. He would have to face these noble scions sooner or later; getting a measure of their strength now was a valuable opportunity.

Originally, Margaret was scheduled to fight first, ahead of the blonde youth. But the two evaluators had waived her practical test. Her frontline record and six confirmed kills were more than enough to prove her combat competence.

Thus, Richie’s first opponent was the blonde, blue-eyed Gerold.

Gerold also favored an obscure weapon—a pair of curved, crescent-shaped moon blades. Each blade was a meter long, double-pointed, with the grip positioned in the center.

It was a difficult weapon to master, carrying a high risk of self-injury. But once mastered, its defensive and offensive capabilities were formidable, offering exceptional speed and versatility.

Since stepping into the hall, Gerold had been plotting his strategy. Initially, he had paid little attention to Richie. But when he learned Margaret had six frontline kills, he was surprised and quietly questioned the young evaluator.

When he discovered Richie possessed thirty-two confirmed kills, he realized he had run into a monster.

As the duel began, both youths moved with extreme caution. Neither rushed to strike. Separated by five or six meters, they circled one another slowly.

Richie remained mostly stationary, his eyes locked onto Gerold as he turned. Gerold took the opposite approach, spinning his twin crescent blades. His movements started slow, but rapidly accelerated.

When the strange weapons spun into a blur, leaving only two arcs of white light swirling around his body, Gerold struck. With a snap of his wrists, a flurry of crescent energy blades flew toward Richie.

Richie drew circles with his hands, deflecting the incoming strikes. He did not block them head-on; instead, he used the deflecting hand from his “Octave Sunder” and his own “Rubbing Strike” to redirect the kinetic force away from his body.

The two crossed paths, swapping positions. In that single instant, they exchanged a dozen blows. The skirmish left a few shallow scratches on Richie’s training suit, while Gerold’s shoulder plate was struck.

Though it was only a brief exchange, Richie realized their raw strength was comparable. Unless Gerold grew impatient and left a glaring opening, defeating him without an active offensive skill would be nearly impossible.

Of course, losing was equally unlikely. Richie could see that while the crescent blades were versatile, they lacked a single, decisive finisher. In martial arts, a weapon that achieved perfect balance always sacrificed extreme lethality.

Richie’s boots snapped against the sand like springs, closing the distance.

Gerold met him with a wall of spinning blades, a defense that doubled as an offense, sealing Richie’s approach.

But this time, Richie did not rely solely on his palms to deflect the blows. Stamping his toes, he slid laterally, then snapped his footing to shift angles again.

Such footwork would have been useless against his mentor Dana, but against a peer who had only recently broken through his bottleneck, it was highly effective. The web of blades was thrown off balance, exposing a massive gap.

Richie stepped inside the guard, penetrating the three-meter threshold where his hands could display their true power.

His palms blurred, unleashing a flurry of strikes interspersed with sudden flashes of his elbow blades. Richie used the mechanics of his shield bash to drive these strikes. Since he wore no shields, each bash generated a curved shockwave of compressed air.

These were short-range resonance waves, but they threw Gerold into a panic. Twice, Gerold failed to react in time and was struck.

Both Richie and Gerold favored continuous, rapid assaults. Their strikes clashed in a dizzying blur.

Yet any skilled observer could see that Gerold was losing ground, his situation growing increasingly dire.

With a sudden roar, Gerold crossed his wrists and unleashed a massive, glowing cross of energy. A series of metallic shrieks echoed as the metal forearms of Richie’s training suit crumbled into scrap under the impact of the “Cruciate Cleave.” The cross blade plowed forward.

The sudden escalation caught Richie by surprise. He retreated frantically.

The sound of shattering metal grew deafening. Within a heartbeat, the forearms of his training suit were reduced to shards of steel, but the cross blade was successfully deflected.

Richie felt a cold shiver run down his spine. If the training armor had not been fitted with energy limiters, that strike would have carved a cross through his chest, slicing him into quarters.

This was a high-tier secret technique, on par with Lina’s “War Wave.” Richie wanted nothing more than to return to base and ask Lina about its origin.

Looking at his ruined, flower-like metallic arms, Richie felt a surge of anger. This was a spar, not a life-or-death battle. Was there any need for such lethal force? If he had been a fraction of a second slower, his hands would have been reduced to ground meat.

He raised his elbow blades, preparing to retaliate.

“I concede!” Gerold cried out, his body swaying. The strike was far beyond his current level. He had exhausted his reserves and lacked even the strength to stand.

Just as Richie had been shaken, Gerold was horrified. His “Cruciate Cleave” was a Heavenly-stage secret technique, designed to be unstoppable. Even though he could only channel a tenth of its potential, it should have been impossible to block. In his mind, his opponent would be lucky to survive, and his arms should have been severed.

Yet those bare hands had projected a strange yellow light—a vibration so dense it felt harder than a steel shield, rapidly bleeding the energy from his cross blade.

If those hands had been fitted with shields, would he have even scratched him?

Both youths felt a lingering dread, but the evaluators were even more terrified. They had never imagined a training spar could turn so lethal.

The middle-aged Knight, who was the chief evaluator, felt a deep regret. If a fatal accident occurred, the responsibility would fall entirely on him. He glared at his young assistant.

Yet alongside his fear, he felt a spark of awe. He had never seen anyone bypass the safety limiters of a training suit. He did not know what technique Gerold had used, but he was certain it was a secret technique. And he suspected Richie’s defense was also a secret technique.

Seeing two secret techniques clash between Apprentice Knights was unheard of.

When Richie had boasted about his achievements earlier, the chief evaluator had dismissed it as youthful bravado. Now, he knew it was the absolute truth. A apprentice Knight who mastered a secret technique could toy with ordinary Knights with ease.

“You’re strong. I’d love to spar with you,” the red-haired youth remarked, walking over to greet Richie.

In their world, strength commanded respect. Though the noble scions had been hostile initially, their attitude shifted after witnessing the duel.

The redhead was second only to Gerold in strength, and he knew exactly how formidable Gerold was. In his eyes, Richie’s strength was far superior, as Richie had dictated the pace of the fight from start to finish. He even suspected Richie had held back, using basic shockwaves rather than an active offensive technique. No one would believe a Knight of Richie’s caliber lacked offensive skills.

The redhead assumed Gerold had been driven to desperation by Richie’s teasing, prompting him to unleash his trump card. Gerold had never suffered such humiliation in his life.

Seeing the spark of challenge in the redhead’s eyes, Richie felt no interest. He was still shaken from the near-death experience of the previous exchange.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I have no interest in fighting you. If I hurt you, some red-haired woman might use me as a punching bag.”

The redhead’s face darkened at the first half of the sentence, but he froze at the second.

“Do you have a sister named Lina? Her personality is… wild. Yes, wild is the word.”

“You’re talking about my cousin,” the redhead replied, his expression shifting to a mix of embarrassment and wariness. “Is she… still fond of changing her suitors?”

“How is your relationship with her?” Richie asked, draping an arm around the redhead’s shoulders.

“Decent,” the youth replied, keeping his distance from his family’s notorious black sheep.

“Then I’m relieved. As long as I don’t break your bones, she won’t mind,” Richie joked.

Had he heard this earlier, the redhead would have been furious. But now that a connection had been established, his anger vanished.

“You’re with my cousin?” The youth was instantly curious, his mind filling with questions about Lina.

“She is half my mentor,” Richie shrugged.

“Then have you…” The redhead glanced at Richie’s crotch.

Richie nudged him with his elbow, whispering, “Like I said, she’s half my mentor.”

A mentor could teach martial arts, or the arts of the bedroom.

The redhead understood immediately, and the two shared a low laugh. But the youth quickly recovered his composure, stepping back.

Birds of a feather flocked together. He knew his cousin’s character, and anyone trained by her was bound to be trouble—arrogant and sharp-tongued, as Richie had already demonstrated.

Keeping a safe distance, the redhead turned to business. “There is a ball coming up soon. Would you be interested in attending?” He hesitated, then added, “It was Gerold’s idea. I suspect he wants a rematch. You won’t back down, will you?”

The final question carried a hint of provocation.

At the mention of a ball, Richie’s eyes lit up. This wasn’t Glasslovar; Aunt Ling had often described the grand balls of Peines, which were attended by the cream of society.

But a sudden thought struck him. “Is there food at this ball?”

The redhead stared at him in disbelief. To receive an invitation to a high-society ball and ask about the food was incredibly crude. For the first time, he doubted Richie’s background. The Knight academy held four balls a year, and a grand banquet on New Year’s Day, so they were all familiar with the etiquette. This youth had clearly never set foot in an academy.

He noticed Margaret standing at a distance, pretending she didn’t know them.

“There is a dining room prepared for the guests,” the redhead explained dryly.

“Do I have to wear those uncomfortable clothes?” Richie continued.

The redhead felt a headache coming on. He wondered if inviting this crude youth had been a mistake. But the invitation was Gerold’s idea, so the consequences would fall on him.

“You don’t own a dress uniform?” the redhead asked. From Richie’s blank look, he had his answer. “It will be provided for you.”

The redhead turned and walked away, heading straight for Gerold.

Gerold sat on a chair, still weak, his hands trembling out of his control. A crowd of admirers surrounded him.

The redhead leaned in and whispered, “I’ve delivered the invitation. But let me warn you, I wash my hands of this. Inviting that guy is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You think I can’t beat him?” Gerold replied flatly.

“I don’t care about the fight. The kid is late-awakened, probably from some backwater town, and has no concept of etiquette. He doesn’t even own a dress uniform. When I invited him, his first question was about the food.” The redhead smirked. “I hope you don’t regret this. The Empress of Packington will be attending, and the hall will be filled with high command.”

Gerold’s pale face turned a shade of green.

---

“A ball in a few days? That arrogant brat Gerold invited you?” Lina looked astonished.

“Were you invited too?” Richie asked.

“Of course,” Lina replied instantly.

“How unfair,” Richie grumbled.

Lina frowned. “You have no interest in dancing anyway. When you get there, just stay in the dining room and eat whatever you want. Most importantly, don’t look for me, and don’t tell anyone you know me.”

“I want to ask you something. At the end of the duel, that kid unleashed a diagonal cross of light that shattered my training armor’s arms. What was that?” Richie needed to know; he had almost lost his hands today.

“A diagonal cross of light?” Lina looked surprised. “That kid can use that move?” She let out a long sigh. “He really is a genius. He will be a troublesome rival for you.”

“Hmph, I’m not afraid of him,” Richie boasted.

“The technique is called the Cruciate Cleave, a Heavenly-stage secret technique,” Lina explained. “No secret technique is simple. It compresses a massive amount of energy before releasing it. At Gerold’s age and strength, he needs at least thirty seconds to gather and compress the energy. You just need to disrupt him during that window to win.”

Richie tapped his fingers on the table, recalling the duel. If the technique required a gathering phase, there must have been a tell.

Richie slapped his thigh. Before unleashing the strike, Gerold had kept his hands close together. He had assumed it was a defensive posture.

“Does the technique change as it develops?” Richie asked, cautious of any secret technique.

“No, the form remains the same, and it has no ultimate limit. The higher your mastery, the shorter the gathering time, the faster the light blades fly, and the greater the destructive force.”

Richie’s face turned slightly pale. He suddenly lost all interest in fighting Gerold again. Even if he could disrupt it now, he couldn’t guarantee he could do so in the future. If Gerold targeted him as a life-long rival and mastered the technique, Richie would eventually fall. And that strike was lethal; losing meant death.

“Why did the training suit’s safety limits fail? How are we supposed to survive?” Richie grumbled.

Lina offered no comfort, instead teasing him. “The technique I taught you isn’t bad either. Didn’t you use it to send a fool to the hospital?”

“Is that also a secret technique?”

“I won’t tell you. Guess for yourself.”

Richie clutched his head. “Why do these safety limits fail against secret techniques?”

“Of course they do,” Lina laughed. “A master of a secret technique doesn’t even need armor. They can slice through an armored Knight with a wave of their hand. If you ever see someone standing on a battlefield in civilian clothes, run as fast as you can.”

“Can I refuse the challenge?” Richie asked miserably.

Lina smiled, a sweet but wicked grin. Pinching his cheeks, she said firmly, “No. If you lose, it’s your own face you’re losing. But since you told everyone I was half your mentor, you represent me now.”

Seeing him so despondent, she added, “A bit of pressure is good for you. A study showed that a third of all Heavenly Knights were pushed to their limits by pressure—whether love, hate, or rivalry. The intense pressure forced them to climb to those heights.”

“What about the other two-thirds?” Richie asked weakly.

“That’s complicated. Many are simply obsessed with training, like the Honor Knight who captured me. Others rely on their bloodline. War is also a factor; every grand conflict produces a wave of Heavenly Knights.”

Richie sighed. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around Lina’s waist, sliding his hand into her trousers. “I have the pressure, but no motivation. You know where my motivation comes from. Give me some?”

Lina laughed, her eyes flashing with suggestion.

Richie’s hand reached between her thighs, his fingers teasing her swollen clitoris.

She giggled, slipping from his grasp. “Not here. People are watching. Ever since you sent that Knight to the hospital, everyone has been looking for an excuse to catch us.”

Though she pulled away, she did not refuse him. Instead, she grabbed his hand and led him downstairs.

Passing the next room, Lina peeked inside.

Nora sat huddled in a corner. In their squad, Nora was the only one who was always available, and the only one whose consent was never questioned.

Lina opened the door and dragged Nora out by her arm. Nora remained silent, offering no resistance as she was led to the ground floor.

In the equipment room, Randy was inspecting a suit of Magitech Armor. She looked up as Lina dragged Nora inside, followed by Richie, showing no surprise. She knew she would be dragged into it as well.

Tossing her pen onto the desk and covering the armor, Randy rose.

---

The cellar was soon filled with heat, their naked bodies tangled on the mats.

Lina, Nora, and Randy’s thighs were slick with white secretions. Without Calli present, they played without restraint. Lina and Nora knew exactly how to extract every drop of Richie’s stamina.

Currently, Richie’s thick shaft was buried deep in Nora’s rectum, the intense, rhythmic suction of her bowels threatening to draw the very marrow from his bones. Had he not already ejaculated several times and had Lina not used an Aura block to seal his seminal ducts, he would have been drained completely.

Lina kneaded Nora’s buttocks, which felt soft and yielding, lacking the hard muscle typical of female Knights. Though scout Knights were weaker in raw strength, they were rarely this soft.

Lina pinched Nora’s breast. It was exceptionally elastic and large, but when squeezed, it compressed easily without any firm tissue.

Her hand slid lower, two fingers slipping into Nora’s vagina.

As Nora’s rectum contracted, her vaginal walls tightened in perfect synchronization. Even with her fingers, Lina could feel the crushing pressure—not a hard, muscular squeeze, but a deep, hydraulic force, like the crushing weight of the deep ocean, where the water itself remained soft.

Lina was now certain of her theory.

Nora was an experimental human.

She had heard rumors circulating in exclusive circles of a secret department attempting to create artificial, pure-blood Knights. No one knew when the project had started or how far it had progressed. But she was certain Nora was not a success of that project; she was likely a custom creation designed by the researchers to satisfy their own desires—a perfect pleasure woman.

Looking at Richie, Lina realized he also resembled a successful experiment.

Richie had been raised in Glasslovar, but his parents possessed no Knightly bloodline. It was highly likely they were not his biological parents. The most plausible explanation was that Richie was a failed experiment who had shown no signs of awakening at birth. The researchers had discarded him, swapping him with another baby at the clinic. That was how he had become the couple’s son.

She even suspected the clinic where Richie was born was a front for the research organization.

Of course, these were only theories. Lina had no intention of speaking of them without proof.

“Ah… mmh…”

Richie let out a low groan. He felt the urge to ejaculate returning. Nora’s grip was too intense, rendering even Lina’s Aura block useless.

Fortunately, Nora knew Richie had reached his limit. Pushing further would only harm his body. She relaxed her rectal muscles, releasing the suction.

Richie closed his eyes, drawing a dozen deep breaths to master the urge.

“I can’t take it. You’re too strong,” he gasped, slapping Nora’s soft, rippling buttocks.

Nora responded by flexing her anus in short, rhythmic pulses, sending jolts of pleasure through his sensitive shaft, though the intensity was manageable. She kept him balanced on the very edge of release—an agonizing but exquisite sensation.

Lina watched, her fingers gently scraping the sensitive skin between Richie’s scrotum and anus, driving him wild. Under their combined assault, Richie could only lie on the mats, surrendered to the pleasure.

Suddenly, Nora arched her hips, releasing his shaft. She turned and took his member into her mouth. She did not use any elaborate technique, simply using her lips and tongue to clean him.

Once he was clean, Nora straddled him, guiding his shaft back inside her—this time into her vagina.

“Don’t move,” Nora said flatly.

A sudden, powerful suction flared deep within her vagina, drawing Richie’s shaft deep inside. The inner cervix seemed to expand, swallowing his head completely.

The cervix began to ripple and contract, drawing his member deeper. At the same time, a suction flared from her anus. Having been penetrated for so long, the anal muscles were soft and loose, allowing the passage to open slightly and draw in Richie’s testicles.

It was an entirely new sensation.

Richie felt a surge of novelty, followed by sheer disbelief, before the waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. The sensations from the front and back were completely different.

Nora’s vagina rippled, her soft walls rubbing, sucking, and twisting around his shaft. Her anus held his testicles in a tight, warm, squeezing grip, the intense heat driving him wild.

Suddenly, a strange warmth rose from his lower abdomen. He assumed it was lust, but soon realized it was different. It was triggered by his desire, but felt like a mix of vital energy and Aura. The heat circulated downward, passing through his shaft into Nora, before gathering in his testicles and returning to his shaft.

It was a tiny, localized cycle. Richie couldn’t imagine what use such a short circuit had, unless it was to grant him endless stamina.

“Lina, release the block,” Nora whispered.

Though puzzled, Lina complied, sensing this was a form of dual training.

With the seminal ducts unblocked, the warmth in Richie’s abdomen grew tenfold, expanding into a rushing torrent.

Nora did not actively direct the flow. Once started, the cycle maintained itself. She focused entirely on the level of physical stimulation. She had to manage both Richie’s arousal and her own. If either of them reached a climax, the cycle would break, causing internal injury. If the stimulation was too weak, the desire would fade, and the cycle would die.

Her earlier anal play had been a test of Richie’s tolerance. Currently, the cycle was running smoothly.

Lina, an expert in these matters, quickly recognized the mechanism. She smiled and leaned down to suckle Richie’s nipples. The sudden spark of pleasure from his chest dispersed his focus, safety-valving his arousal.

Seeing Nora offer no objection, Lina knew her guess was correct.

This was a “Life Furnace” technique.

Lina had only heard rumors of such arts. They were difficult to classify, seen by some as secret techniques and by others as heresy. The human body possessed immense potential; Knights unlocked the physical potential, while Psions unlocked the mental. Most only scratched the surface. Even Heavenly Knights unlocked at most half of their body’s potential. Only the legendary Saint Knights achieved complete mastery.

A “Life Furnace” technique used extreme methods to unlock physical potential. The most famous was the Frankish Empire’s “Explosive Aura,” a suicidal technique that burned vital energy to temporarily unleash massive power.

Richie felt a hot, bloated pressure building in his lower abdomen. A portion of the heat current split off, forming a dense sphere between his navel and crotch.

When the sphere grew to the size of a plum, Richie’s Aura broke free of his control, circulating rapidly. Each elemental Aura ran along its respective path, perfectly segregated.

The sphere sat at the junction of these paths. Initially, Richie noticed nothing. But gradually, he realized his Auras were losing their elemental properties as they passed through the sphere.

The neutral Aura resembled pure vital energy. With each cycle, the neutral Aura grew larger, but it extracted a massive toll from his body. His muscles, veins, and nerves groaned under the strain.

The foreign energy he had received from Randy vanished at a visible rate.

Richie’s skin turned a dark, burning red, while Nora’s skin grew paper-white. Both were drenched in sweat, their chests heaving as they drew ragged breaths.

An hour later, the cycle ceased.

Nora collapsed onto the mats, completely exhausted and drenched in sweat.

Richie lay beside her, his body steaming, his massive member still fully erect and purple. When he opened his eyes, a sharp, piercing light flashed from his gaze.

Once separated from Nora, his Auras regained their elemental properties, though the heat sphere in his abdomen remained, albeit shrunken.

“Once… every two weeks,” Nora gasped, her face pale. The toll was immense, requiring ten days of rest to recover. “I can only… help you this much.”

“What is this technique called?” Lina asked, curious.

Richie also wanted to know. His Auras were overflowing, but his body felt hollow and exhausted, his muscles aching as though he had run a marathon while starving. He felt a ravenous hunger.

“The Life Furnace,” Nora replied, offering no details on its origin.

Lina frowned. The name sounded ominous. “Is it dangerous? Does it burn your lifeforce?”

Nora shook her head, pointing to her pelvis and Richie’s crotch. “The womb… and testicles… are the sources of life… they generate desire… We use desire as fuel… and the organs as the furnace… This is the Life Furnace.”

Lina understood. Mental power, vital force, and reproductive energy were considered the three most mysterious forces of the human body. “Explosive Aura” tapped the vital force, while the “Life Furnace” tapped the reproductive energy.

“Can you teach me?” Lina asked.

“Yes.”

“What about me?” Randy asked.

Lina leaned over, placing her left hand on Randy’s abdomen while her right hand slid between her thighs, pinching her clitoris, inserting two fingers into her vagina, and pressing her thumb against her anus.

With a sudden flick of Lina’s fingers, Randy let out a sharp cry, her face flushing crimson as her body curled like a shrimp.

“You can’t even handle this basic stimulation. You should practice with Richie for a few more years first. This technique requires absolute control over both your own arousal and your partner’s. If you lose control, the backlash is severe.”

Lina smirked. “Randy, if you want to help, find a way to inject your foreign energy directly into us. Passing it through Richie every time is too tedious.”

Lina didn’t mind their group intimacy, but doing it constantly was exhausting, especially now that Calli was here. She preferred smaller gatherings where they could play without restraint.

Rising from the floor, Lina said to Randy, “Take care of Nora.”

She grabbed Richie’s arm and pulled him up. “Don’t slack off. You represent our squad now. You cannot lose.”

The cellar was divided in two, with a small bathhouse outside. After washing and dressing in their uniforms, Lina and Richie emerged.

They were met by the three sisters. The eldest offered a knowing grin. “I knew you two were down there.”

“We were training. I need to elevate this kid’s strength and teach him an offensive technique as quickly as possible,” Lina replied.

“Are you serious?” the sisters looked surprised. Lina rarely spoke with such gravity.

“Why don’t you join us and see?” Lina winked. “My family’s techniques cannot be taught, but no one said we can’t spar. As long as the core mechanism remains secret, it’s fine.”

The sisters understood immediately. They were going to bend the rules. A technique consisted of form and energy control. Richie didn’t need the form; he only needed to learn how to project his Aura.

“Perfect. I’ve wanted to spar with you for a while,” the eldest sister grinned. “Let’s call the others. Merlin’s garrote is also formidable.”

Merlin joined them shortly, having heard of the duel from Margaret. She shared Lina’s view.

Only the techniques of these five would be useful to Richie. Calli and Margaret’s techniques required frost Aura, which didn’t suit him. Rosa and Nora lacked combat techniques to teach.

They gathered in a forest clearing near their training ground. Even Robin and Dana attended.

Richie glanced at Robin, who glared back. “I’m only helping because your opponent is Gerold,” she sniffed.

“Her family and Gerold’s have a long-standing feud, but they have a truce,” Lina whispered in Richie’s ear. “But don’t expect her to teach you anything. Her family guards their techniques fiercely.”

Richie felt a twinge of regret. He had heard the cross-dressing girl knew many strange techniques. Her family relied entirely on technical skill, and Robin herself favored shortcuts over hard training, resulting in a bizarre combat style. While her raw Aura was comparable to Margaret’s, even Lina might lose to her in a fight.

Still, Richie was grateful. Having so many veterans willing to help him was a massive advantage.

Now, he needed to find an offensive technique he could use.

​