Shield of the Rose

Could anyone name the most prosperous district in Peines?

Hero Square, Victory Avenue, Sunrise Street, the Cathedral of Saint Karoten, the Central Gardens… these were all famous landmarks of the capital, bustling and deafeningly loud.

But if one were to ask where the most beautiful place in Peines lay?

Without a doubt, there was only one answer—Queen’s Avenue. She was known as the Necklace of Peines.

Currently, Richie sat inside a carriage, admiring this famous “necklace.” The avenue was wide, allowing six carriages to drive abreast. The sidewalks on both sides were also exceptionally spacious, a stark contrast to the narrow, gloomy streets typical of the capital.

Along the sidewalks, Moonbloom trees were planted every ten meters. In this season, the trees were in full bloom, their crowns heavy with massive clusters of pink blossoms. The pink completely shrouded the green leaves beneath. A single tree might not evoke much wonder, but an endless row of them created a beauty that defied simple description.

On one side of Queen’s Avenue stood elegant residences; on the other, a river. The river was narrow, spanning perhaps thirty meters, crossed by a bridge every few hundred meters.

Along the riverbank ran a stone-paved promenade, lined with iron-link railings. The promenade was crowded—some rushed past in haste, but most were leisurely strollers. A variety of outdoor cafes and food stalls lined the path, their tables packed with patrons.

Opposite the promenade rose a continuous wall of houses. These residences were breathtaking. Not a single ordinary flat was to be found; all were elegantly decorated mansions dating from the late fourteenth to the early fifteenth century—an era of decadence, art, and cultural convergence.

Richie was not alone in the carriage. Lina sat beside him, her usual lazy demeanor replaced by a rare, quiet melancholy. The carriage rolled along the boulevard for a dozen minutes before halting at Lina’s low command.

Richie looked through the window. The carriage had stopped in front of a grand mansion.

A massive iron gate was set into a brick wall, the bricks laid in beautiful, intricate patterns. Along the top of the wall grew a dense hedge of yellow briars. These plants, adorned with delicate yellow and pale blue flowers, looked exceptionally elegant, but their dense, sharp thorns would deter any intruder.

Lina stepped forward and knocked on the gate. Shortly after, the observation slot slid open, followed by a woman’s surprised voice. “Ah! The young mistress is back!”

The iron gate swung open, revealing a plump maid in her late fifties.

Lina peeked inside. “Where is Father?”

“At this hour, the master must be out for his walk,” the maid replied with a warm smile.

It was the expected answer. Lina knew her father, Galand, was like a clock, running on an absolute, unvarying routine.

She had chosen this exact time to visit precisely to avoid entering the house, as someone she detested resided within.

“I’ll go find him,” Lina offered a strained smile. She had no affection for this maid either. The woman appeared polite, but she was calculating and opportunistic, willing to sell anyone out for the right price.

Turning down the street, they crossed to the promenade and walked downstream along the river.

Richie looked around. The scenery was legendary; a landscape painting of this exact view had hung in his school’s main hall.

The crowd grew denser as they approached a pier. The area around the pier was the most bustling hub, lined with cafes and restaurants. Lina gestured for Richie to follow as she stepped into a modest cafe.

Tinkle.

A small bell mounted on the door rang as they entered.

Richie followed Lina inside. The cafe was ordinary and small, featuring a dark oak counter near the entrance. A glass display case on one side held plates of pastries, while a glass siphon coffee pot sat on the other.

The cafe contained only seven tables inside, but a back door led out to a terrace built over the water, connected to the pier. Four tables were set up on the terrace.

It was an elegant, peaceful spot. While the interior of the cafe was empty, the terrace was fully occupied.

Lina walked over to a table at the far end, where an elder and a middle-aged man sat.

The elder, with a crown of red hair, appeared to be in his late fifties. As Lina’s father, he seemed rather old to have a daughter of her age. The middle-aged man beside him looked humble and scholarly, wearing round-rimmed glasses and dressed like a low-ranking government clerk. Leather patches were sewn onto his elbows—a common modification for office workers to prevent their sleeves from wearing out against the desk.

The middle-aged clerk glanced at Lina, offering a polite, slightly servile nod as he raised his hips slightly from his chair.

The clerk’s excessive politeness struck Lina as odd. Her father was not a social man, his circle confined strictly to Knights, and he rarely associated with outsiders.

Furthermore, they did not look like two strangers who had simply met during a walk. Her father was typically cold to strangers, as a man of his status was constantly targeted by opportunistic social climbers. To avoid such pests, he kept up a stern, unyielding facade.

“Lina, why are you here?” the elder asked. His face showed no trace of joy at seeing his daughter—not because he wasn’t pleased, but because he was accustomed to masking his emotions. Only extreme events could crack his composure. “And you brought a young friend? Your apprentice?”

“Only half an apprentice,” Lina replied quickly. She remained standing, a sign that even the free-spirited Lina had to observe strict decorum before her father. “His official master is Dana.”

“Why are you standing? Sit,” her father remarked, realizing they were still on their feet.

Since her father made no move to introduce the clerk, Lina did not dare ask. She knew her father did not waste time on trivial matters. Though the clerk looked ordinary, he might be a secret envoy from another nation, and their coffee date might be a cover for negotiations of national importance.

“Are you free, Father?” Lina asked.

He nodded.

“My half-apprentice has run into a bit of trouble. I hoped you could offer some advice,” Lina said, getting straight to the point. “For some reason, he cannot project any active combat techniques. Only basic shockwaves and resonance waves.”

“That is simply a lack of progress,” her father dismissed coldly. “When his strength matures, the issue will resolve itself. You worry over nothing.”

“Do you think I’m that incompetent?” Lina snapped, her irritation showing. Her father’s dismissive attitude was a clear snub. “This kid is no ordinary novice. Anyone who underestimates him because of his rank will pay a heavy price—even an Ace or Honor Knight.”

The elder’s indifferent expression cracked, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. He knew his daughter would not lie about such matters. On a battlefield, a veteran falling to a novice was rare, but not impossible.

“You have my interest,” the elder remarked, ringing a small bell on the table.

A waiter approached.

“Two more coffees.”

Lina smiled. She knew her father’s character; if the stubborn old man offered to buy coffee, it meant he was intrigued.

Before the coffee arrived, she detailed Richie’s situation, omitting the details of their group intimacy—she wouldn’t dare mention that to him.

The elder listened in silence, his eyes growing brighter as she spoke. Once she finished, he fell into deep contemplation. He had no immediate answer.

He had never heard of a technique that could deflect attacks. It was an exceptionally powerful defensive art. With such a shield, did it even matter if he lacked offensive skills?

“Remaining a pure defender isn’t a bad path,” the elder advised. “A formidable defender is of immense value to any squad.”

“Everyone knows that,” Lina sighed. “But the kid has a beautiful girlfriend, and you know what that means. He’s already crossed paths with Gerold. They fought a duel, and Gerold unleashed the Cruciate Cleave. I doubt you expected that.”

“Oh?” The elder’s interest flared, and he nodded in approval. “I heard that boy was a genius.”

“Richie is too,” Lina countered, ruffling Richie’s hair. “He blocked the Cruciate Cleave. Barehanded.”

The elder’s stern face softened, though his brow furrowed deeper.

This was a complex problem.

Modifying a Knight’s manual was a monumental task, impossible to achieve quickly. And they couldn’t prevent a duel, as that would challenge the traditional code—a task far more difficult than rewriting a manual.

The elder hated to admit defeat, but he had no choice.

“You heard the situation, old brother,” the elder said, turning to the clerk beside him.

The clerk offered a humble nod, his expression a mix of servility and flattery, looking thoroughly honored by the address.

Lina and Richie exchanged a glance. Lina knew her father’s pride; for him to call this clerk “old brother” meant the man was older than her father, and exceptionally capable.

Richie, however, was unfazed. In his experience, no Knight was entirely normal; all possessed some eccentricity, likely a side effect of their training. This clerk was likely no exception.

“Then I leave it in your hands,” the elder said, rising. Having passed the problem to the clerk, he had no desire to stay and listen to the advice, which would wound his pride.

Turning to Lina, the elder barked, “You only visit when you need something. Why don’t you ever think of coming home? Have I mistreated you?”

Lina did not dare argue, knowing a beating was not worth it. She was smart enough to yield when necessary.

The elder departed, dragging his daughter along, leaving Richie alone with the clerk.

“Don’t be nervous,” the clerk said, his posture remaining that of a timid minor clerk. “I’m just a librarian. I read a lot, so I know a few things. Galand asked me to see if I could help.”

“Can you help me?” Richie asked, feeling a surge of confidence. Experience had taught him that the stranger the character, the more capable they were. Lina, Nora, and Robin were the most eccentric members of their squad, and the most formidable.

“To prescribe the right medicine, you must tell me your training manuals. All of them,” the librarian said, placing his hands on the table like a clerk assisting a citizen. “I know you omitted many details. You train in multiple manuals, and you even dared to attempt mental stimulation—a highly dangerous path.”

Richie looked confused. The librarian’s ability to read his secrets at a glance was impressive; even Lina’s father lacked such insight. But the mention of mental stimulation baffled him. He trained in many things, but mental stimulation was not among them.

The librarian smiled, tapping the space between Richie’s brows.

“The source of mental power is the pineal gland in the brain. Mental force and physical strength are linked, so some Knights attempt to enhance their bodies by dual-training in scout disciplines or Psion techniques.”

At the touch to his forehead, Richie felt a brief wave of dizziness, which quickly passed. He focused entirely on the librarian’s words.

He realized there was always a higher mountain. Hagert was formidable, and Lina knew more. But compared to this librarian, their knowledge was superficial.

And more revelations followed.

The librarian continued smoothly, “Your secrets do not end there. Usually, training in so many manuals would halt your progress, but you did the opposite. In the past six months, you broke through your Apprentice and Knight bottlenecks in quick succession. Am I correct?”

Richie could only nod.

“No talent alone can achieve such speed,” the librarian smiled, leaning closer. “You used external help. You dual-trained with your half-mentor, didn’t you?”

The librarian let out a low chuckle, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You are a fortunate young man. You have dual-trained with at least five women. Galand’s daughter is one, one uses frost Aura, one uses fire, and two others are unusual—one favored a gentle, grappling style, and the other is so strange even I cannot read her.”

Richie felt a cold sweat break out. The librarian’s insight was terrifying.

But he felt a wave of relief; Randy’s unique energy-absorbing trait remained hidden. The librarian was not omniscient; he couldn’t read what he had never encountered.

“Are you willing to share your manuals? I might find a solution,” the librarian offered.

Richie hesitated. Asking him to reveal all his secrets without guaranteeing a solution sounded like a scam. But if the man were a fraud, Lina’s father would never respect him so.

“Very well. It’s a deal.”

Richie detailed everything he could, including the vibration strike Lina had taught him. He had always wanted to know the nature of that technique.

The librarian listened in silence. Unlike Hagert, he required no notes, storing the information directly in his mind. As he memorized, he calculated. He knew ninety percent of the thousands of Knight manuals in existence. Galand had never heard of a deflection technique, but the librarian had encountered something similar, though not identical.

However, he had never met anyone who trained in such a chaotic mess. This presented a problem; he couldn’t determine if Richie’s blockage was due to the “Mirror Reflection” manual or a side effect of his chaotic training.

Without knowing the cause, he couldn’t provide a direct cure.

But the librarian was brilliant. If he couldn’t break the blockage, he would bypass it.

He knew Richie could project a small amount of Aura, though the attacks lacked power. To him, this was simple.

“Your half-mentor has already shown you the path,” the librarian said, raising a finger and poking Richie’s right ribs.

The movement was slow, but Richie failed to dodge. The moment he thought of moving, the finger was already pressed against his ribs.

An unbearable, agonizing itch flared in his side. Richie collapsed onto the table, laughing hysterically. He rolled on the surface, unable to straighten his back or close his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

The other patrons stared at his sudden outburst in confusion.

The librarian ignored them, sipping his coffee and looking at the river. When the cafe owner approached, the librarian smiled. “Apologies, my nephew suffers from fits. He’ll recover in a moment.”

He nudged Richie under the table with his boot, and the fit instantly ceased.

As Richie gasped for air, the librarian explained, “To defeat an opponent, you do not need raw force. The human body is fragile and complex, and its senses are delicate. Physical touch alone includes sourness, numbness, pain, itchiness, bloating, tightness, hardness, cold, and heat. Each can be split further—pain includes stabbing, tearing, dull aches…”

The librarian spoke with the calm poise of a schoolteacher. His lecture was detailed and systematic, spanning human anatomy and the nervous system.

Richie was amazed. He had never imagined such knowledge could be applied to combat.

An ordinary Knight, trained in traditional martial arts, would have struggled to grasp the concept. But Richie’s school curriculum had been broad, covering biology, physics, chemistry, history, and geography. His broad knowledge made the librarian’s theories easy to comprehend.

“This concept can be expanded. Humans possess six senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and intuition. What we discussed belongs to touch. You can apply it to the other five.”

The librarian had opened a new door for him.

Richie pondered the idea. He had used similar tactics in the past. In Morena, he had thrown lime to blind his enemies. Mental pressure was an attack on intuition. During their escape from Glasslovar, Randy had used mental interference to disrupt the enemy Knights while he attacked.

At the time, he was a novice, yet they had killed four enemies and forced one to flee.

Among the six senses, only smell and taste lacked obvious combat applications. For the other four, Richie could think of dozens of tactics.

“Do you know the highest realm of strength?” the librarian asked.

Richie sat up straight. “Invincible destruction.”

He had asked Dana the same question, and that was her answer. He had also asked about speed and technique, receiving “omnipresence” and “unstoppable form” as answers.

The librarian smiled. “Different paths lead to different heights. That answer wasn’t yours, was it?”

Seeing Richie nod, the librarian continued, “The one who told you that excels in brute force, correct?”

Richie could only nod.

“Your starting point is excellent. Many only realize their chosen path doesn’t suit them after reaching the Honor rank, when it is too late to change.” The librarian sighed, his eyes filled with memory. “Besides brute force, there are other peaks. I won’t limit your growth, but I will offer a suggestion: the path of ‘flawless precision’ might suit you best.”

The librarian rose to leave, but paused at the edge of the table.

He searched his pockets, retrieving a thin steel plate from his left pocket and handing it to Richie. It was a library card, its surface rusted with dark spots, the letters stamped into the metal.

“A gift. You have no use for it now, but you will in the future.” The librarian paused, adding softly, “I hope you have the chance to use it.”

Richie checked the address and felt a wave of dizziness. The library was located in the Free City of Capech.

Currently, he had no way of visiting, and he couldn’t guarantee it would ever be useful. But he stuffed the steel card into his inner pocket.

---

“You idiot, do you even know what ‘scam’ means? Do you fight without armor? How are you going to poke their ribs through a steel chest plate? If you can get past their guard, why not just strike their throat? Idiot, complete idiot. If theories alone worked, the world would be filled with Honor and Glory Knights, instead of the mess we have now.”

Emma, the youngest of the three sisters, sneered.

Richie memorized her insult. He resolved to punish her in bed tonight, riding her until she begged for mercy, though he knew he couldn’t actually exhaust a female Knight. They always recovered after an hour of rest.

The others smiled but remained silent. Only Lina, who had witnessed her father’s respect for the librarian, sat in deep thought.

Richie had repeated the librarian’s words verbatim, and she had caught the underlying meaning. The librarian had validated her choice to teach Richie the vibration strike, because vibration attacks had high penetration.

“Theories aren’t useless. It depends on who is speaking them,” Lina remarked.

The three sisters respected Lina’s strength. Their past defeat at her hands remained a fresh wound, and now that Lina had broken through to the Ace rank, she could defeat them even more easily.

“Follow me. The librarian’s words gave me an idea, and I want to test it,” Lina said to Richie.

The sun had set by the time they returned from the city. But the female Knights didn’t mind. Randy drove a vehicle, transporting the entire squad to the riverbed. Except for Rosa, who was on guard duty, everyone attended.

The vehicle carried only two training suits to accommodate the crowd.

Once they arrived, Randy turned on the headlights, illuminating the riverbed.

“This is where you crippled that Knight. Do you remember the feeling of that strike?” Lina asked.

She drove a straw dummy with a steel rod leg deep into the mud. The dummy lacked arms and ended at the knees.

“Try it,” Lina said, patting the dummy.

Richie had practiced the strike countless times during his wait for the punishment ruling, using the training to distract himself from his anxiety. The repetition had allowed him to master the technique.

Mastering a technique relied heavily on luck. If you found the knack, you could master it in an instant; if you didn’t, no amount of mentoring could help, as the physical sensation defied description.

Of course, Richie’s success rate was still low—less than one in ten. And he had been lax in his practice recently, making the movement rusty. Furthermore, the strike only worked when delivered directly against armor, rendering it useless in a standard fight.

Drawing a deep breath, Richie recalled the sensation of the brawl. Suddenly, he stamped his foot and threw a rapid punch.

Smack!

The dummy wobbled under the impact.

Richie looked sheepish; the failure was expected. He stepped back, searching for the feeling.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sound of his blows echoed in the night.

After a dozen attempts, a deep, muffled pop sounded.

The straw at the point of impact was pulverized, and the surrounding straw peeled back, leaving a crater the size of a basin.

“You’ve grown rusty,” Lina remarked, pulling him back. “Try again, but at the moment of impact, imagine you are striking an invisible drum. You don’t use brute force to beat a drum, or you’ll tear the skin. The trick is to strike and retract instantly, transferring all the energy to the surface.”

Richie understood, but applying the concept was another matter.

The sharp smacks were replaced by the soft whoosh of his fist cutting the air.

“Too slow!”

“No power!”

“Fast strike, instant retraction! Don’t swing!”

Lina’s critiques echoed in the dark.

Eventually, Robin grew bored, yawned, and returned to the vehicle. The others remained.

Suddenly, a sharp pop rang out, like the crack of a leather whip.

The straw dummy shuddered violently, and the straw on its surface shattered.

“Perfect. That’s it,” Lina clapped. “Remember that feeling. The next time you strike, focus your Aura into a single point. It was too dispersed this time.”

Merlin interjected, “If he needs to focus the energy into a single point, why not have him use a finger instead of a fist?”

Lina blinked, then nodded. “A brilliant idea.”

“A finger?” Richie looked amused. The metallic fingers of a training suit lacked the flexibility of human fingers; they could grip, but they couldn’t snap.

Lina knew the limitations of the suits. “Randy can modify the fingers. It’s simple—just add a spring.”

Richie realized she was right. Snapping a finger with a spring-assisted mechanism was simple enough.

He resumed his practice. Having succeeded once, the second time came more easily.

Another pop sounded, softer this time.

The dummy shuddered, and a shower of straw erupted from its back.

They walked over to inspect. The front of the dummy was unmarked, but a massive rupture, a meter long and half a meter wide, tore through its back.

“Randy, get the other training suit and place a straw dummy inside it,” Lina ordered.

With everyone helping, they set up the armored target, securing it with a steel rod at the back.

Whether through luck or mastery, Richie failed only four times before landing a strike on the right side of the steel chest plate.

Clang!

The steel plate remained unmarked.

Lina stepped forward and popped the chest plate, exposing the straw beneath.

At the position corresponding to the right lung lay a fist-sized crater of pulverized straw. Though not deep—about the thickness of three coins—it proved the shockwave had penetrated the steel plate.

“The librarian was right. This works,” Lina remarked, stepping aside so the others could see.

Once everyone inspected the target, they sat on a dry patch of the riverbed.

“The destructive force is too weak,” Dana remarked, her brow furrowed. Her style relied on brute force, and the librarian’s concept clashed with her training.

“Don’t worry. My teaching is never weak,” Lina replied confidently, knowing the potential of the technique.

The others stared at her. She had kept the identity of the technique a secret from the squad.

“Focus on the immediate task. The invitation has arrived. The ball is in six days. Can he master this in six days?” Calli asked. She had her suspicions about the librarian, but she hadn’t witnessed his demonstration.

“Gerold has no other technique that can threaten Richie besides the Cruciate Cleave. As long as he remains alert, he will be safe,” Lina replied. “For the next six days, we will train him. Dana, Merlin, you two will spar with him.”

“Agreed,” Merlin said.

Dana nodded.

“I will research a few things,” Lina added.

No one objected.

---

Under the moonlight, they returned to camp. Only Dana went to her room, while the others gathered on the porch.

“We don’t need everyone,” Lina whispered. “For the next six days, we must boost his Aura capacity. Merlin, your Aura is too slow to circulate. Margaret, your frost Aura is too specialized to help him. So only the three sisters, Calli, Randy, and I will dual-train with him.”

“Why do you need me?” Calli’s icy face flushed.

“The sisters’ manuals are too volatile. If his capacity grows too quickly, it will harm him. We need your frost Aura to moderate the fire. You are the only one who can do it,” Lina explained.

With the plan settled, Merlin and Margaret went upstairs, while the others led Richie to the cellar.

Randy was already prepared. The chair had been replaced by a narrow mattress, the width of a single person, salvaged from the clinic.

“Lie down,” Lina ordered, taking charge.

Randy was the first, as she always was. As she prepared to straddle him, Lina stopped her.

“Wait.”

Lina produced a small jar of pink ointment and a cotton swab. She painted a layer of the salve over Richie’s glans.

His manhood instantly engorged, turning a dark red and swelling beyond its usual size, accompanied by an intense, maddening itch. Richie squirmed, the sensation agonizing.

“I’ve realized the quality of the physical union directly affects the dual training. I had this prepared,” Lina grinned.

“What is this stuff?” Richie groaned, unable to scratch the itch.

“Stop complaining,” Lina pulled Randy over, guiding her onto his length.

Due to the swelling, Richie’s shaft was longer than usual, prompting a sharp cry from Randy as she sank down. The ointment coated his tip affected her as well.

“Ah… let me up… it’s too much…” Randy writhed, but Lina held her waist down.

An intense itch spread through Randy’s inner passage, causing her legs to tremble violently as her juices poured out. Yet her body was accustomed to Richie’s touch, and despite her frantic state, she clung to him.

They kissed.

Lina’s theory proved correct. Their Auras circulated with unprecedented speed, and the volume of foreign energy Randy injected was far greater than before. Under the heat of their arousal, the energy fused into Richie’s marrow.

He felt the energy take root, rather than dispersing as it usually did. In the past, dual training was like mixing mud and water to make bricks and drying them in the sun. Now, it was like firing clay in a kiln, transforming the material into something solid and unbreakable.

Furthermore, the heat of their desire acted as a catalyst, allowing his Aura and the foreign energy to fuse far more rapidly.

After an unknown stretch of time, the heat subsided, leaving his shaft aching. He realized intimacy could be exhausting.

But his exhaustion was only beginning.

Randy slid off him, replaced by the eldest sister, Ailie. Lina painted another layer of the pink salve over his glans, causing it to swell once more.

Ailie straddled him, her body curling from the sudden, intense itch.

“Stop whining. It’s for your own good,” Lina laughed.

“Yes, stop whining,” Ailie pinched Richie’s nose.

She sank down, her passage swallowing his length. The salve affected her instantly, throwing her into a violent tremble.

“Are you going to yield?” Lina teased.

Ailie refused to be look weak before Lina. Gritting her teeth, she sank all the way to the hilt, curling into a tight ball as the sensation overwhelmed her. The itch spreading from her depths made her want to claw at her own abdomen.

Lina had applied three times the amount of salve this time.

Ailie was consumed by a burning desire. Realizing she had to release the heat, she leaned down to kiss Richie.

Their Auras clashed, carrying a volatile heat. Fortunately, their dual training was an instinct, and the energy followed the established cycle.

The sisters’ manual was volatile, and their Aura grew rapidly. Ailie’s “Beacon-fire Aura” was twice as dense as Dana’s, though its quality was lower. But Richie only needed volume, not quality. Since his skills were restricted to resonance and shockwaves, the element made no difference.

Under the heat of their desire, the fire Aura fused rapidly with Richie’s. After two dozen cycles, Lina reached down and pulled Ailie off him.

The training was only halfway complete, leaving a tenth of Ailie’s fire Aura inside Richie. This massive influx of energy boosted his capacity, though it belonged to Ailie and would eventually fade. But for now, it accelerated his training.

Ailie glared at Lina, but understood her intent. It was the same method Calli had used to help Margaret.

Aileen, the second sister, stepped forward. But Lina stopped her.

“Let him digest this first. If he takes in too much at once, he’ll burst.” Lina squatted down, gently massaging Richie’s testicles. “This little thing needs to breathe. If we break it, I won’t be the only one crying.”

​