Ooh! This is where I buried my astral technique.
Kak—his eyes locked onto the cave. The gap between him and the cave was staggering, yet insignificant to him.
"You managed to escape your death date," he muttered coldly. "Whether you die today or another you, you'll seek me out… I am the key to leaving this plane."
He shrugged. "Either way, the road ends in death."
. . .
"Dian, be at ease," I said coolly. "Nothing can enter this place without my authority. This isn't part of your reality—even lifeforms from the higher plane cannot invade this space."
At my words, the tension in her mind loosened. Her wary gaze shifted around the lab—eyes wide with disbelief.
Three bots floated silently nearby—machines crafted far beyond her comprehension. They didn't blink or breathe, just hovered, alive with sleek menace.
"This is your lab?" she asked, awe creeping into her voice. "It doesn't look like any lab I've ever seen… What are you? Some kind of researcher?"
I nodded. "Yes, I am." Rising from my seat, I took a step forward, hands behind my back. "Please, no more questions. Freshen up and get some rest." I turned, pausing mid-step.
"Dian, do you have any books on magic?"
My voice was calm but sharp. She blinked, hesitated, hand reaching toward her ring. With a flick of her finger, she summoned a towering pile of books that crashed onto the ground like a mini avalanche.
"Is this enough?" she asked quietly.
"You have more?"
She nodded, eyes still uncertain.
"Good. When I'm done, I'll come for the next batch."
I extended my hand. "Store."
In a flash, the books vanished into my inner dimension.
"Aid bot," I said, glancing at one of the machines. "Lead her to the shower."
. . .
Inside my private library, I dove into the texts. My reading speed was unnatural—pages flew by, each word dissected and reassembled in my mind.
The sentient AI within me, Inerous, archived the information, breaking it into fragments and threading them into my neural pathways like silk. Within minutes, I absorbed an entire tome on magical theory and foundational spell arts.
This world had five major classes—Mage, Knight, Battle Mage, Tamer, and Paladin. Anything outside this structure was a Special Class.
Magic institutes are divided into six schools: Water, Fire, Earth, Air, Darkness, and Light. Each had two specialized branches—except Light, which stood alone, untainted and reserved for the "blessed," the Heroes.
\[The Mana Rotation Art.]
My eyes flicked across the page.
"Designed to mimic the rhythm of blood through the body, the Mana Rotation Art forms artificial 'mana veins'—a conduit system to maintain continuous mana flow."
I looked down at my arm. Through the Origin Eyes, I saw shimmering replicas—artificial mana veins—glowing beneath my skin like molten filament.
"I already have Origin Veins and Dark Gathering Arts… This is obsolete for me," I muttered. "But knowledge never hurts."
I let it pour in.
A soft chime echoed in my mind:
\[New Archive Created.]
\[Magic Archive.]
I watched as the archive divided itself into categories:
* 600 spells learned
* 200 offensive
* 150 defensive
* 200 support
* 50 arcane
"So many," I whispered, letting the thrill sink in.
The early mages relied on magic circles—an imperfect imitation of dwarven rune spells. Seven thousand years ago, a man named Merlin created the **Mana Speech**, a language that allowed spells to be cast through words rather than drawn symbols.
But I had no need for either.
The strings of mana bend to my will. Now all I had to do… was give it form.
I grabbed a blue string, slowly pouring mana into it. Water gathered in the air, forming a ball. It floated above my palm, swelling with each heartbeat.
I stopped my mana.
It froze.
"Water Jet."
The spell image flashed in my mind. Instantly, the orb exploded with brutal pressure, blasting a hole through the library wall.
**BOOM!**
The roar echoed for five long seconds before the orb collapsed in on itself, leaving a crater in its wake. I ignored the damage—slowly, the wall regenerated, healing like flesh over bone.
I summoned four elemental orbs—Air, Fire, Earth, and Water. They floated around me, shifting forms at my will—arrows, wheels, skulls.
"Lovely," I murmured, clapping once.
. . .
When I returned to my room, I saw a black-haired woman sitting on my bed, her beauty sharp and devastating.
She wasn't trying to be seductive. She just was.
My eyes flicked to her figure—elegant curves, soft skin, and eyes filled with quiet storms. Her breasts… gods, they rivaled Frida's.
This shattered god must've been mad to harm such a woman.
I shook the thought from my head and stepped into the bathroom. The air was thick with steam, warm as breath. The pool simmered quietly beneath veils of vapor that curled toward the ceiling like incense smoke. I slid in—heat wrapping around me, sinking into every joint. My muscles slackened, breath slowing.
Peace.
Until I felt her.
A presence behind the mist. I opened one eye.
Dian stepped into the water.
Her cheeks were flushed—roses blooming in the heat. The pool clung to her bare skin like liquid silk, every inch of her glistening, exposed, unreal. Her breasts rose gently with each breath, slick and high, crowned in soft pink. The curves of her hips shimmered just beneath the surface.
She moved toward me with slow, deliberate steps. Her gaze locked onto mine—raw, fierce, brimming with quiet defiance.
She kissed me.
Her lips pressed to mine—soft but urgent, trembling with something pent-up and wild.
I didn't move. Didn't kiss her back. Not at first.
I pulled away—gently, firmly—resting a hand on her shoulder, my palm warm against her skin.
"You're not in a clear state of mind."
She didn't flinch. Reaching up, she brushed two fingers against my lips, silencing me.
"This is what I want," she said, voice low and trembling—not with fear, but hunger.
I wasn't a good man. I never pretended to be. I was selfish. Curious. Greedy in quiet, precise ways. A man of cold decisions and unfeeling precision. I dissected moments. I didn't *live* them.
But this moment…
This one was different.
She wrapped her arms gently around my neck.
I leaned closer. "You're mine."
She didn't reply.
I pulled her in and kissed her—hard.
Her breath caught—**"Mmnn—!"**—as her back arched against my chest. Her breasts pressed into me, full and soft, warm beneath the water. My lips slid down her throat, tasting her heat. Her scent—sweet, clean, impossibly *hers*—filled my lungs.
I nipped gently at her neck. She gasped, fingers clutching at my shoulders.
My tongue traced a slow, wet path to her collarbone. Down, lower, across her stomach—each kiss made her tremble, every breath hitching in her chest.
"You've never been with a man," I said quietly, my lips brushing her navel, reading the flush burning across her skin and the silence she couldn't break.
She looked away.
Nodded.
I kissed her again—slow, deep, consuming. Our tongues tangled in a dance of raw need, dragging breathless moans from her throat. Forty seconds. Maybe more. Time blurred around the heat of our mouths.
When I finally pulled back, a line of saliva hung between us—thin, shining, clinging.
My hand slid lower.
Her entrance was slick, soft, already aching for touch. My fingers moved gently, brushing her folds—and she moaned—**"Ahh… nnh…"**—a helpless, needy sound that pulsed against my lips.
I moved slow. Expert. My fingers coaxed her open, circling gently, teasing rhythmically. Her legs began to tremble beneath the water. Her breath broke in staggered little gasps.
I cupped her breasts—warm, perfect in my hands—and lowered my mouth. I suckled one nipple slowly, tongue flicking the peak as she gasped.
Her mouth opened in a silent cry. Her eyes fluttered, body arching into the pleasure.
I lifted her carefully and cradled her against the smooth floor of the pool. Water lapped softly at her waist. Kneeling above her, I hovered just over her belly. My lips pressed beneath each breast, tracing a path lower, down her trembling stomach, to the hollow of her navel.
"Mmh… Dax," she whimpered, voice quivering like glass about to shatter.
I reached her.
Her sex glistened, flushed with arousal, trembling with anticipation. She squirmed beneath my gaze, covering her face with one arm—but her legs stayed open.
I kissed the inside of her thigh. She shivered.
My tongue found her.
**"Ahh—nnn…!"**
She moaned helplessly as I slid through her folds, flicking softly over her clit. Her whole body jerked.
I licked again. And again. Slow. Purposeful. Her hips bucked beneath me, and her moans spilled into the air—soft at first, then rising, each one tugging heat from her throat like silk unwinding.
**"Nnn—s-so good…"**
She was divine. Her body—slick, sensitive, utterly vulnerable—was built for sin. Every twitch, every cry, every flutter of her thighs was worship incarnate.
I spread her wider and sealed my mouth around her clit.
Her legs shook. Her back arched.
**"Aaah—ahhh, D-Dax—!"**
Every flick of my tongue drew her deeper, dragged her further into herself. Her voice echoed off the marble, thick with pleasure, soaked in surrender.
"St-stop," she whimpered, overwhelmed. "It's too much…"
I paused only long enough to look up at her.
A smile played against her folds.
"Too late for that," I whispered.
She gasped as I slid up her body and took her mouth again, devouring her breath, stealing her voice. Her lips trembled under mine.