Shield of the Rose

“When are we leaving?” Richie asked eagerly.

“In the next day or two, I suppose,” Calli answered, though her voice held a note of uncertainty. Troops moving to the front lines usually dispatched quickly, with transfer orders coming down within an hour. But transfers back to the rear were unpredictable—far from two or three days, delays could sometimes stretch out for two or three months.

Before Calli could finish speaking, a voice called out from beyond the door: “I’m afraid it won’t take that long.”

The speaker was Haigert. The meeting had just concluded, and his adjutant had brought the official transfer orders, so he had rushed over immediately.

Opening the door to let him in, Randy stood up to offer her seat.

“No need, I can just stand,” Haigert declined politely. Though elevated to the rank of Legion Commander, he would never put on airs before these women.

“The transfer order is already in my hands. You will set out tomorrow morning,” Haigert stated.

“So fast? When did those bureaucrats at High Command become so efficient?” Lina muttered from the side in disbelief.

Haigert paid no mind to Lina’s exclamation; he was all too familiar with High Command’s quirks: “The reason is simple. The new standardized magitech armor has completed field testing and is ready for small-scale mass production. The First Assault Corps is on the priority list to receive this initial production batch.”

“That was fast!” Richie sighed involuntarily. “Isn’t this a bit too rushed?”

As its initial designer, whenever he thought of this suit deciding the life or death of countless knights, he felt an immense weight pressing upon his shoulders, making even breathing feel heavy.

“There is no alternative,” Haigert sighed. Although tests on the suit had been rigorous, the timeframe had been dangerously brief. Reliability issues often revealed themselves over time. Everything might look fine now, but there was always a risk the entire fleet of armor might suddenly breakdown simultaneously on the battlefield. Unfortunately, time waited for no man. “The Alliance has already begun mass-producing the ‘Cube’. We have fallen behind.”

“That’s true. The ‘Cube’ is indeed formidable,” Richie agreed with a nod. He had fought enemies equipped with the ‘Cube’ and dismantled suits for research. In terms of raw performance, that suit was exceptional.

Even more terrifying was its capacity for rapid field repairs, a trait that gave the Alliance a tremendous strategic advantage. In all honesty, the ‘Cube’s design surpassed his own new magitech suit in terms of modular utility.

“Since small-scale mass production has begun, the new suit must have an official name. What is it called?” Rosa asked, her mind drifting to details while others pondered high strategy.

“‘Dragon’. Pretty good name, isn’t it? Espol picked it out himself, though it has something to do with this kid here.” Haigert pointed a finger at Richie. “He once mentioned his inspiration for designing the suit came from a ‘lobster’. But ‘Lobster’ sounds far too weak and undignified—something served on a dinner plate. Not only did it lack prestige, it sounded downright unlucky. So Espol took the first character and named the suit ‘Dragon’.”

“‘Dragon’?”

“Dragon Magitech Armor.”

“Dragon Knights.”

The female knights savored the name in their mouths.

Meanwhile, Richie noticed Haigert secretly waving to him. He knew Haigert had something private to discuss.

Stepping out of the room, Richie followed Haigert toward a small wooden cabin beside the command post. That cabin was used only for crucial council meetings and drafting operational plans; its thick double-layered timber walls filled with cotton padding ensured no sound leaked outside.

The moment they stepped inside, Haigert’s expression turned grim: “There is something I must tell you immediately. When Espol departed, he originally intended to take Emily and the other girls with him, but he failed. They were detained by the Internal Security Bureau. The man who personally confronted Espol was Tactel, Chief of the Security Affairs Division, but the real mastermind behind it is Macaulay Hershaw, Chairman of the Defense Committee. That man is big trouble.”

“Big trouble?” Richie was startled, a dark premonition abruptly rising in his heart.

“He claims to be a pacifist, constantly advocating diplomatic solutions to avoid war while opposing our Republic joining the Dante Alliance. Yet this so-called pacifist established a Defense Committee of all things—which is rather telling. Even more interestingly, while his Defense Committee constantly drags its feet on military affairs, it shows an obsessive interest in the development of our new magitech armor… Heh!” Haigert laughed coldly, his laughter devoid of mirth, radiating a thread of killing intent.

“Is that guy an Alliance spy?” Richie caught the implication in Haigert’s words.

“I didn’t say that,” Haigert feigned detachment, though his expression made it glaringly obvious he believed exactly that.

“What does he want to do now? Hand Emily and the others over to the Alliance as a gift?” Richie clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles popped, filling the cabin with dense killing intent.

“What he wants to do isn’t important. What matters is: what do you plan to do?” Haigert pulled out a chair and sat down.

Richie paced back and forth across the room with his head lowered, knowing Haigert was pressing him to make a stance.

All along, he had favored the Junior Army while maintaining a subtle distance from them. Clearly, certain people were growing impatient with his neutrality.

“Is this your idea? Or someone else’s?” Richie asked unexpectedly.

Yet Haigert understood the implied question instantly. He knit his brows in thought, then pointed upward with a finger.

“It’s not entirely unanimous. The top brass are divided as well,” Haigert added.

Richie nodded in understanding. The leaders of the Junior Army held two differing views on him: one faction sought to pull him fully into the Junior Army, while another felt no rush to force the issue. Haigert clearly belonged to the latter group, though judging from Haigert’s message, he was under considerable pressure. The first view likely held the majority.

Truth be told, Richie had always felt conflicted about the Junior Army.

Having witnessed so much of the Republic’s dark underbelly, the Junior Army’s ideals genuinely appealed to him. Yet Lina’s past warning remained valid: once a radical organization like the Junior Army lost control, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Previously, he had only seen the noble side of the Junior Army. But today, he finally caught a glimpse of their domineering nature—though they still exercised restraint around him.

“So you plan to persuade me to join the Junior Army again?” Richie chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“I am merely carrying out orders. Whether you join or not is your own choice.” Haigert wasn’t offended by Richie’s refusal; the bond between him and Richie wasn’t something external pressure could easily shake. “However, as a friend, I still advise you: you are no longer a nameless nobody. While you aren’t at the eye of the storm yet, you are under intense scrutiny. If you don’t find a powerful faction to lean on, even if you can endure the pressure yourself, what about the people around you?”

“Even if I join the Junior Army, so what? Would the Junior Army dare open conflict against the high command?” Richie countered dismissively. “I just heard that while appointing you as Legion Commander, the top brass appointed four other Legion Commanders—two from Headquarters and two neutrals. That was a deliberate move to suppress the Junior Army’s growing influence, wasn’t it? How many Legion Commanders like you exist among the Junior Army’s mid-tier ranks? Didn’t you have to work several times harder than others to secure this post?”

“It seems you don’t understand what real political influence means,” Haigert replied with a bitter smile, shrugging his shoulders. He had been through that exact struggle himself; fortunately, he was strong enough to weather the storm. No matter how others tried to suppress him, they couldn’t hold him down. “Political backing doesn’t guarantee raising your people to high positions; sometimes, having a massive faction creates the opposite effect because rival factions will unite to suppress it. But having a faction backing you makes a world of difference. A supported member might suffer suppression, but they won’t be pushed into a dead end.”

“Not necessarily. If that were true, scapegoats wouldn’t exist,” Richie argued.

“Scapegoats?” Haigert burst into laughter. “Those are mostly people without real backing, or idiots who only thought they belonged to a faction. Genuine core members of a faction are never lightly abandoned unless their actions inflict catastrophic losses upon the organization. Abandoning a member inflicts immense damage on a faction’s cohesion—damage that is often irreversible and leads to total collapse.”

Seeing Richie look slightly confused, Haigert remembered the boy had just turned seventeen. Genius though he was, political wisdom required time and experience to cultivate.

“I remember now—you skipped out on classes back at the academy. Talking politics to you is like playing music to a cow. Let’s switch to street gangs; you should be familiar with those.” Haigert had done his homework on Richie, even investigating his background at school. “Successful gangs come in two types. One is a poor gang, where members join simply seeking protection. Such gangs must emphasize loyalty and brotherhood—if one brother gets into trouble, everyone steps up to help. The other is a rich gang, dripping with profit, so people scramble to join. In such a gang, climbing to a certain rank guarantees food and wealth. Morality and loyalty are non-existent; you only find profit and connections. When bosses mess up, they routinely throw a low-level lackey out to take the fall. Your hometown of Glasslovar operates much like that, doesn’t it?”

This time, Richie understood completely.

Haigert had indeed researched his past deeply. Glasslovar was controlled by two major syndicates.

One was called the Bamboo Slats Gang, composed mostly of manual laborers. It controlled every dock, warehouse, and freight yard in Glasslovar, possessing vast numbers and immense street power. Richie didn’t know if they truly valued loyalty, but he knew crossing the Bamboo Slats Gang brought terrifying retribution. They refused to suffer losses and would hound even powerful figures to the death.

The other was called the Merchant Association. It sounded like a legitimate trade association, but it had started by collecting protection money before expanding into black markets and smuggling. The black market shop Richie had visited in his youth was one of their strongholds. Richie had dealt with them numerous times. During Glasslovar’s worst shortages, when military officers were reduced to eating green beans, the Merchant Association could still procure beef. Relief supplies shipped from the rear with immense difficulty didn’t reach the refugees, but ended up on their shelves instead—showing how terrifyingly connected they were.

Richie disliked joining gangs. It had been true at school, and it remained true now. Yet this time, he felt genuinely moved.

In Glasslovar, you either owned nothing, like his family in the past, or you possessed power and authority that made everyone wary. Otherwise, your only option was to lean on a syndicate.

“Give me some time to think it over. The next time we meet, I will give you a clear answer,” Richie requested. He wasn’t stalling; he was returning to the capital, Peines, immediately.

The next time they met, Haigert would either return as a full Legion Commander, or his legion would be shattered and merged into other units while he returned to the capital as an unassigned officer awaiting reassignment.

If it were the former, Haigert would truly rank among the top brass. Leaning against a massive tree for shade, joining the Junior Army wouldn’t be bad at all.

If it were the latter, Richie would have to re-evaluate his options.

Before the joy of reunion had even faded, it was time to part once more.

Early the next morning, the newly formed First Assault Corps set out, with Squad 105 following close behind.

Looking back at the receding encampment and the comrades seeing them off, everyone felt a pang of sorrow in their hearts, uncertain if they would ever meet again.

To Richie’s utter surprise, Mosalai’s precious daughter was traveling right alongside Squad 105.

“You… Why are you traveling with us?” Richie asked, stutering slightly in surprise, wondering if Squad 105 was taking in another member.

Tidi glounded at him, answering coolly: “Am I not allowed to return to Peines? There are special protection regulations for underage knights. Didn’t you know?”

Richie scratched his head; he really hadn’t known. There were so many military regulations he couldn’t possibly memorize them all.

Glancing around, he saw no other teenage knights around, and his gaze turned somewhat contemptuous. He suspected Tidi’s words; if such a regulation truly existed, Tidi wouldn’t be the sole underage knight returning to Peines when Mosalai’s corps contained several minor knights.

“Where are your followers?” Richie’s tone sounded unfriendly. Previously, he had favored the Junior Army because they appeared far purer, with members rarely pulling rank or demanding special treatment.

Fortunately, Tidi’s next words relieved his doubts: “The others are up ahead. I don’t like them hovering around me.”

Though he had misunderstood, Richie was too stubborn to back down easily, remaining stiff-necked: “Then why follow us?”

“Is it any of your business? I didn’t come looking for you—I just wanted to talk with my old classmate.” Tidi’s eyes fixed on Margaret.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Margaret responded with an equally cold expression. Being classmates didn’t make them friends. Margaret was naturally aloof, possessing virtually no friends at the academy, and had hardly spoken a word to a tomboy like Tidi. Furthermore, having been constantly outranked by Tidi in class, it would be weird if she felt pleased!

Had it been anyone else, they might have exchanged polite pleasantries to save face. But Margaret cultivated a cold-attribute art, leaving her entire demeanor icy and detached, speaking without a shred of leeway.

“Then how about spar with me?” Tidi wasn’t one to take insults lying down either. Raised as a boy, she possessed a boy’s fierce competitiveness alongside a girl’s delicate sensitivity, having long sensed Margaret’s hostility and guard.

“Nothing would suit me better,” Margaret agreed without hesitation. Back at the academy, she couldn’t remember how many times she had sparred with this tomboy, never winning a single match and suffering humiliating defeats several times. Now that an opportunity for payback presented itself, she certainly wouldn’t let it pass.

“Damaging magitech armor isn’t good, and using real weapons is too dangerous. How about we spar without weapons?” Tidi proposed with a touch of rogueish charm.

“I know your tricks inside out. Do you think I’ll fall for it like this fool here?” Margaret cast a contemptuous glance toward Richie, leaving him thoroughly embarrassed.

The moment her words fell, Margaret leapt into the air, twisting her body mid-air to land on a nearby snow pine. With a fierce strike of her hand against the trunk, a sharp crack echoed as she shattered the hardened timber, tearing off a two-meter wooden pole.

The pine pole had been damp initially, but in Margaret’s hands, it was instantly coated in a layer of white frost, the sap inside completely frozen solid, turning the pole as rigid as steel.

“Brilliant!”

“Well done!”

The accompanying knights were all martial experts who recognized true skill, erupting into applause at Margaret’s display.

The chorus of praise instantly stung Tidi’s pride. From childhood to maturity, except for her loss to Richie, she had never been upstaged by anyone.

“Do you think you’re performing acrobatics?” Tidi mocked verbally, yet she leapt into the air just like Margaret. However, her target wasn’t a snow pine, but a sparse locust tree.

The ‘Torrential Wind Aura’ Tidi cultivated was a rare dual-attribute Aura, possessing the agility of wind and the fluidity of water; in terms of airborne maneuvers, ten Margarets were no match for her.

Like a falling leaf, she landed lightly on an extending branch, casually breaking off several twigs.

The branches of a locust tree were tough and hard; ordinary men with axes would struggle to chop them through, yet Tidi plucked them as easily as willow shoots. Her hands blurred in a flurry of movement, instantly crafting the twigs into two claw-shaped weapons.

“I remember Mosalai used knightly swords,” Richie recalled aloud. He wasn’t entirely clear on Mosalai’s weapons; as a cautious Corps Commander, Mosalai’s style differed completely from Haigert’s. He never charged on the front lines personally, so Richie only vaguely remembered him carrying a pair of knightly swords.

“Those are weapons for the battlefield. The O’Hara family’s ‘Heavenly Fiend Claw’ is quite famous in the Manual of Exotic Weapons,” Trisli explained to Richie.

Everyone turned to look, and even Lina couldn’t help admiring her long-time rival.

“Is the Manual of Exotic Weapons a book? Can I take a look at it?” Richie asked, his interest instantly piqued.

“No problem, though I’ll have to dig it out once we get back. It’s essentially an illustrated catalog recording over three thousand seven hundred exotic weapons. Claws form a major category, and those named ‘Heavenly Fiend Claw’ are particularly numerous, which is why I remembered it.” Trisli spoke casually, but the members of Squad 105 were extremely intelligent, knowing she was being modest while guessing why Trisli had memorized such knowledge.

Exotic weapons possessed unique execution methods. Anyone unfamiliar with their mechanics easily suffered losses, and such techniques often relied on unorthodox mechanics—devastating in power, yet bearing significant drawbacks. Knowing their underlying mechanics allowed one to defeat an opponent in a few moves.

And right now, the duel between Tidi and Margaret proved that point beyond doubt.

In terms of rank, Tidi was inferior to Margaret. Both girls had become formal knights only about a year ago. While Tidi possessed great talent, she lacked Margaret’s rapid advancement through dual-training, leaving her at the early stage of formal knight, whereas Margaret had reached the late stage and was approaching the bottleneck.

In terms of Aura capacity and purity, Tidi couldn’t compare to Margaret either. ‘Torrential Wind Aura’ was unique, but offered no advantage in sheer Aura density. Margaret’s ‘Frost Aura’ advanced slowly, but was exceptionally dense, far surpassing ‘Torrential Wind Aura’ in both quality and quantity.

In terms of battle experience, the two girls were evenly matched. Both had fought on bloody battlefields and experienced life-or-death struggles. Before joining Squad 105, Margaret had been a leader among her peers, possessing rich combat experience.

In terms of martial techniques, Tidi held the upper hand this time. ‘Nine Whispering Wind Transformations’ and ‘Ten Continuous Rain Strikes’ paired with ‘Torrential Wind Aura’ yielded power no inferior to secret arts.

Those two techniques comprised not just hand strikes, but footwork and movement. Executing ‘Nine Whispering Wind Transformations’, Tidi moved like a leaf in the wind or a skiff upon the waves, turning and twisting effortless. Executing ‘Ten Continuous Rain Strikes’, her advances and retreats were as swift as lightning, sharp as a whip crack.

Richie watched every move of the tomboyish girl intently. He had already traded ‘Wind-Control Art’ for the execution methods of these two techniques. Without ‘Torrential Wind Aura’, he couldn’t execute them directly, but that didn’t prevent him from drawing inspiration from them. He had always believed self-created techniques suited him best.

Knowing the execution method alone wasn’t enough; real combat was required to showcase their full potential, and this duel between Margaret and Tidi presented a rare opportunity.

The two girls fought to a standstill. Margaret maintained a calm, tight defense, spending eight out of ten moves blocking. Yet whenever she struck out, her attacks were fiercely swift. Having been Tidi’s classmate for years, Margaret knew Tidi’s slippery nature and had prepared counter-tactics long ago.

Likewise, Tidi knew Margaret well. The most dangerous aspect of ‘Frost Aura’ was its silent infiltration into an opponent’s body, meaning matches against Margaret had to be decided quickly.

Tidi’s attacks grew increasingly rapid. She began sensing her stamina waning, but she couldn’t care less, knowing full well that prolonged delay meant certain defeat.

“You’ve already lost,” Margaret sneered, noticing Tidi’s declining momentum.

Even while speaking, Margaret’s strikes never faltered. Sweeping her frozen pine pole horizontally, a shimmering veil of brilliant white light erupted from the edge.

This move, ‘Thousand-Mile Frost Lock’, was her most lethal attack. The veil of light was as sharp as razor blades and carried an icy chill; taking a direct hit or even getting grazed would prove unbearable.

Back when graduating from the academy, she had been a mere apprentice knight, unable to execute this move—otherwise she would have let Tidi taste it long ago.

Margaret held back this move until now to ensure a guaranteed hit. Without magitech armor amplification, she could execute ‘Thousand-Mile Frost Lock’ at most three times before depleting her energy; if she missed, she would be in grave danger.

Before the light veil fully erupted, Tidi sensed danger. Anyone who had survived a bloody battlefield could sense shifts in an opponent’s aura; in that split second, Margaret’s aura had surged explosively.

Tidi’s hands slashed frantically through the air, her claw tips drawing five fine threads of light at a time, exactly like claw marks.

The white light curtain collided with the crisscrossing claw marks, instantly warping and distorting, though the claw marks weren’t enough to tear the curtain apart completely.

That brief buffer was enough for Tidi. Her body shot backward, retreating over ten paces in the blink of an eye.

“The outcome is decided. Stop now,” Lina called out from afar.

Neither Margaret nor Tidi wanted to stop, glaring at each other with fierce eyes.

“Not listening?” Lina’s tone turned severe. As sound spilled from her lips, the air before her mouth distorted and vibrated intensely.

Almost simultaneously, both girls felt a thunderous roar explode beside their ears, their bodies stiffening instantly.

Seeing this, not only Margaret and Tidi, but everyone around stared at Lina in astonishment.

“Nothing special, just a mutated application of ‘Battle Wave’,” Lina remarked with rare modesty.

“Developing a sonic kill technique out of ‘Battle Wave’—you’re impressive,” Trisli turned to her old rival, her gaze resembling Tidi’s look toward Margaret earlier.

However, Trisli quickly resumed her calm demeanor; an incomplete sonic technique wasn’t enough to ignite her competitive urge. She turned to Richie: “Having watched from the sidelines for so long, what are your thoughts?”

Richie was startled, not expecting Trisli’s attention to shift to him suddenly.

“Tidi’s strength is surprisingly formidable, but such techniques aren’t suitable for the battlefield,” Richie voiced his assessment.

In the world of knights, rank didn’t dictate absolute strength. Back when he was a common knight, he could exchange dozens of moves with Claude because he possessed ‘Mirror Reflection’ for defense and ‘Half-Moon Cup’ for offense. Thus, martial techniques were sometimes more critical than rank.

His mentor Dana was the same; her extreme ‘Lightning Battle Techniques’ rarely met a match among Ace Knights. Then there was Merlin, whose ‘Briar Waltz’ ranked among top-tier defensive arts, capable of blocking an Ace Knight’s attack as a common knight and fighting a Knight of Honor once she reached Ace rank.

However, martial techniques had severe limitations; none were perfect. ‘Lightning Battle Techniques’ were supreme for charging, but faltered in prolonged or defensive battles. ‘Briar Waltz’ was an impenetrable defense, but possessed pitiful offensive power. Tidi’s techniques were like relentless storms, but required close-quarters combat while offering weak defense—making them practically useless on battlefields dominated by mid-range lethal energy strikes.

Richie felt somewhat hesitant. He had traded ‘Wind-Control Art’ for those two execution methods intending to draw inspiration to forge a style of his own.

Unlike other knights, he had zero interest in duels; gaining strength was solely to survive battlefields safely. Thus, techniques useless in war held no value for him.

“That might not be true!” Trisli glanced at Lina, seeing no reaction from her, and realized Lina herself didn’t fully grasp the concept. “Richie, you used to excel at close-quarters combat. Early on, that was a disadvantage, but once you become a Knight of Honor, you’ll find it gives you an immense advantage against others.”

“You mean I should stick to close-quarters combat?” Richie was confused. He had expended immense effort to master ‘Half-Moon Cup’ precisely because close combat was too dangerous, yet now he was being advised to switch back.

“That wasn’t my meaning,” Trisli laughed, denying it. “You should think carefully: why did Espol forge that knightly blade for you?”

“The knightly blade?” Richie murmured to himself. He had occasionally pondered that question; the knightly blade was too short and slender, hardly looking like a weapon suited for war. He had assumed the Librarian Uncle had forged it specifically for that duel. Now hearing Trisli’s hint, it seemed there was more to it.

By evening, the column halted. Squad 105 maintained a slight distance from the main body.

Times like these didn’t allow open group intimacy like before.

Nora, as an Ace Knight, watched the perimeter, while Rosa patrolled. Calli, as Captain, was frequently summoned for meetings, and Randy stayed busy handling external communications. Vice-captains Merlin and Dana carried out their duties, leaving only Richie, Lina, the three sisters, and Margaret inside the quarter.

Margaret straddled Richie, both of them naked.

The eldest of the three sisters held the vibrating sphere, asking the girl with concern: “Can you handle it? Without this, you were almost killed by this boy; using this might actually end your life.”

Margaret felt herself trembling. She had seen the miserable state of other women after having this item inserted, but this time, her mind was made up: “Yes! Didn’t you all say dual-training with this yields far better results?”

“Better, sure, but it’s practically trading your life for progress,” the eldest sister advised out of goodwill.

“No! Even though I won the match today, I won purely because my rank was higher. If she were at my rank, I would have lost for sure. I must pull further ahead of her!” Margaret answered without hesitation.

“You’re joking. At your current cultivation speed, how could she ever catch up?” the second sister laughed.

“Hard to say,” Margaret cast a cold glance toward Richie. “I just noticed Tidi, strange as she is, is quite pretty. Before long, someone might not resist pulling her in for dual-training too.”

That glance dripped with jealous grievance, sending a chill from Richie’s head to the soles of his feet.

“I definitely won’t touch her, alright?!” Richie surrendered immediately. He knew explaining was useless in such matters; when a woman ate jealousy, logic flew out the window.

“Heh, the little wife is getting jealous of the little husband. What should we lovers do then?” the second sister remarked sarcastically, though without malice, merely poking fun.

“I don’t care about others, but Tidi is strictly off-limits!” Margaret asserted herself in the position of his wife. A cold smile touched her lips as her hand caressed Richie’s shaft a few times, suddenly gripping it firmly while her other hand formed a scissor shape with two fingers: “If you dare touch her, I’ll snip it right off!”

“My! Isn’t that too cruel? He doesn’t belong to you alone—he’s everyone’s treasure!” Lina teased from the side.

“I can’t stand you all acting as though I’ll definitely touch Tidi! Is a tomboy like her really that interesting?” Richie defended himself hurriedly. “Playing with her is worse than playing with Robin—at least Robin is fully developed!”

“Haha!”

“So you’re interested in Robin!”

“Whoa! Pervert!”

The women erupted into laughter and banter.

“I… I didn’t say that…” Richie panicked slightly. These women wouldn’t harm him, but playing pranks was right up their alley. Lina and the three sisters had “prior records” of tormenting him. If they secretly let Robin know about his comment, he would be in for a rough time.

Richie didn’t fear Robin; two Robins were no match for him. What he feared was Trisli behind Robin. The more he understood that genius girl, the more terrifying she seemed. Furthermore, the romantic bond between Trisli and Robin was deeply possessive.

“Why panic? At worst, Trisli will beat you up,” Lina laughed. Richie indeed understood these women well; Lina was already pondering how to pull off the prank.

“What do you think Trisli meant by her words today?” Richie attempted to shift the topic.

“Don’t change the subject!” several hands reached out simultaneously, pinching and twisting his cheeks.

“I’m not changing the subject!” Richie cried out in protest.

Lina pinched a few times until satisfied before pulling her hand back.

“I’ve been pondering it too, and just remembered something,” Lina sighed, the memories distant from her time as an exchange student in the Omore Empire. “I heard a Heavenly-stage knight mention that on the battlefield, mid-range and close-range attacks are most effective.”

Lina paused, reflecting deeply. She was still far from that realm, only catching a vague glimpse of the truth.

“Long-range attacks are hard to hit; firing them wastes an attack opportunity, so closing in to strike is better. Is that the logic?” the second sister murmured. She felt somewhat uneasy, as the three sisters specialized in joint combination attacks, mostly mid-to-long range.

“It’s the ‘Realm’,” Lina sat bolt upright. Aima’s guess wasn’t entirely correct, but touched upon the edge, pointing her in the right direction. “Upon reaching the Heavenly stage, a ‘Domain’ evolves into a ‘Realm’. A ‘Domain’ only perceives an enemy’s intent to attack, whereas a ‘Realm’ perceives the exact target location and trajectory of the attack. Another ability of Heavenly-stage knights is absolute control; with a single thought, their body reacts instantly. Thus, as long as the ‘Realm’ remains unbroken, a Heavenly-stage knight is invincible. And the only thing capable of breaking a ‘Realm’ is another ‘Realm’. Battles between Heavenly-stage knights are essentially collisions between ‘Realms’. A ‘Realm’ spans at most a dozen meters, so at that level, only mid-range and close-range attacks are effective.”

“Heavenly-stage knights?”

“‘Realm’…”

Everyone sighed and shook their heads; that realm was far too distant.

“Let’s focus on advancing to Knights of Honor first,” Richie brought everyone back to reality.

“What I need to think about is becoming an Ace,” Margaret felt somewhat disheartened after hearing those words. Casting a cold glance at Richie, she placed one hand on her hip and pointed a finger at his nose, shouting: “Work harder for me! I know you have ways to boost dual-training efficiency. Before reaching Peines, I must become an Ace Knight!”

Before her majestic display finished, Margaret’s body went limp. Behind her, the eldest sister held a finger straight, the tip inserted into Margaret’s anus, having pushed the vibrating sphere deep inside.

Richie’s shaft hadn’t even entered Margaret’s body, yet the cold girl was already trembling like a quail in snow.

The eldest sister didn’t pull her finger out, inserting it fully and swirling it inside.

“Mm…” Margaret knit her brows, clamping her lips tight to hold back any groans.

“You’re being mean! Bullying her right after teasing me!” Richie couldn’t bear to watch.

“What do you know?” Lina glared at Richie, knowing Ailie’s intention. She reached out her hand, teasing Margaret’s clitoris. “This is to let her adapt gradually; otherwise, if that giant thing of yours thrusts straight in, it might kill her.”

“Is it really that powerful?” Richie asked, though his heart overflowed with pride.

“You’re powerful,” Lina pinched Richie’s nose. “Satisfied now?”

Richie pulled Lina by the waist, pinning her down onto the floor, aligning his swollen shaft to enter her vagina.

He aligned correctly, but before even half the head slipped in, he felt Lina’s entrance as firm as iron, refusing to yield an inch.

“Heehee—“ Lina giggled, pointing at Margaret. “Your little wife issued her decree earlier; we mistresses and lovers naturally have to know our place.”

While teasing Richie, Lina’s hands moved deftly, her index and middle fingers pinching Margaret’s clitoris while her fingers pressed into a cone, working Margaret’s entrance.

Margaret was already flooded with arousal; in moments, Lina’s hand was covered in lubricating fluid flowing from inside.

“Go on!” Lina clapped Richie’s buttocks. “Your little wife is fully ripe and ready to be eaten.”

Glaring at Lina, Richie lifted the limp Margaret into his arms, placing her onto his lap as his massive shaft aligned with the girl’s slick floral path.

The fluids were slick, allowing the thick shaft to plunge all the way inside, halting at the cervix.

Richie lifted Margaret’s legs high, supporting her weight upon his shaft as all pressure concentrated on the narrow opening of the cervix.

Margaret’s cervix yielded to the intrusion; while she had experienced this before, having the vibrating sphere inside her anus made the sensation overwhelmingly intense.

She wanted to cry out, but her mouth was blocked by a salty, warm tongue sliding inside.

Almost simultaneously, her Aura poured out like a breached dam, entirely beyond her control.

Her Aura drained completely in moments.

Just as panic seized her, a thread of Aura entered her body—slender to the eye, yet extraordinarily rich and pure once it dissolved inside.

Accompanying the thread of Aura were numerous fine frost crystals, radiating an aura identical to her ‘Frost Aura’, yet ten times colder.

These frost crystals dissolved quickly into her energy, restoring her drained reserve into ‘Frost Aura’—though Margaret vaguely sensed this newly generated ‘Frost Aura’ differed from before.

Before she could pinpoint the difference, another intense surge of stimulation hit her from behind.

Two round spheres pressed firmly against her entrance—Richie’s testicles.

Beside pleasure, an unbearable itch radiated from within. Margaret wanted to scratch, but the itch was deep inside her anus, entirely beyond reach.

The unbearable itch amplified the intense stimulation, driving her near the brink of madness.

​