CHAPTER 19: BREATHING MANA, SMOTHERING GUILT

The room was still drenched in that suffocating dampness clinging to my skin. My hands trembled, unable to find any support, and my back dripped with a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the heat of the chamber. I just stood there, frozen like an idiot, breath ragged, staring at the beams’ shadows as if they might swallow me whole.

A rustle behind me. The faint sound of fabric being adjusted, followed by a slow step on wooden planks. I spun around sharply.

Ayame.

She was there, lying on her bed, her brown hair spread in a cascade over the rough pillow. Her kimono had slipped open in her sleep, falling low enough to reveal the heavy curve of her breasts, barely held in place by a poorly fastened flap of silk. The flickering torchlight filtered through the shutters and landed on her hips, carving her curves into the darkness like a silent provocation. Yet her face remained calm, serene, almost maternal. Her lashes rested softly on her cheeks, giving her the look of someone deeply asleep—but when her voice rose, low and husky, my heart nearly stopped.

— "What are you doing awake at this hour?" she asked, her low voice resonating through my chest. "Can’t you sleep?"

My stomach knotted instantly. Fuck... no. No way this was coincidence. The timing was too perfect. She knows. She’s always known.

I swallowed, my dry throat betraying me.

— "Y-Yeah... I was just thinking about... certain things... that’s all."

My voice cracked, hoarse, strangled. I wanted to sink straight into the floor.

She sighed softly—the same sigh she always gave when scolding Hikari after some mischief. Her brown eyes glimmered with a tired but tender light.

— "Try not to dwell on it too much. I know it’s hard... but this is our reality now. So, go back to sleep."

She turned her head slightly, a gentle smile brushing her lips. A smile that, in another context, could have calmed an army. But for me, it had the opposite effect: my heart exploded in my chest.

— "Alright... good night, Ayame."

She slowly turned away, her hips swaying with each step, and her voice echoed faintly in the shadows:

— "Good night."

I remained frozen, unable to move, blood pounding in my temples.

Holy fuck... what have I done.

I finally lay back down, heart hammering against my ribs, unable to close my eyes. Every time I blinked, I saw her silhouette again, her breasts swelling beneath the silk, her lips slightly parted in the dark. Impossible to sleep. Impossible to forget.

~

The command hall resounded with the clash of boots and curt orders. Torches fixed to the walls spread a tawny glow, carving sharp shadows across the soldiers’ grim faces. At the center, the platform. The Seven Thorns, stiff as war statues, towered over the assembly. Before them stood us—five silhouettes still marked by the dungeon—pressed among a hundred soldiers breathing discipline.

Albrecht opened the council. His deep voice sliced through the silence like a blade:

— "Raid repelled to the north. Forty casualties. Two patrols missing in the eastern hills. Rumors of demonic movement on the border."

Every word dropped like a stone into our guts. The soldiers took notes, rigid, without flinching. Me, I only half-heard. My eyes burned, the skin under my dark circles pulled tight, my jaw clenched to pain. I couldn’t think of anything but last night. Ayame. Her smile. Her scent still stuck in my throat. Fuck, focus, damn it.

A light nudge. A hot breath at my ear.

— "Hey, Nii-san..." Miyu’s voice, stretched into a carnivorous grin. "You look like death warmed over. What the hell did you do last night, huh?"

I stiffened, unable to lift my eyes. Shame burned my cheeks, and I answered too quickly, voice cracking:

— "... Aftereffects of yesterday’s training, probably."

My words fell like stones in a well.

Hikari, beside me, immediately lowered her head. Her fingers tightened around her staff, lips trembling slightly. Her flushed cheeks spoke for her. Reina, straight-backed, raised a brow with a sharp snap, her icy gaze cutting through the hall and pinning me like a dagger’s tip. And Ayame... Ayame remained still, impassive. Her maternal face hadn’t shifted, her eyes fixed on the platform, but her shadow pressed on me heavier than the entire fortress garrison.

I swallowed, throat dry. My fingers clenched Aurelia, trembling against my will.

Fuck. Stand straight. Stand straight, damn it.

But all I could see was the memory of her silhouette in the dark, her swelling breasts, her soft voice wishing me good night.

After the meeting, we headed to our magic lesson.

We arrived in a circular chamber reeking of sulfur and scorched dust. Torches mounted on the walls cast a tawny light across rough stone, and the air pulsed with a strange heaviness, almost suffocating.

At the center, Maeron leaned on his gnarled staff, his hunched back sagging under the weight of years, but his eyes... his eyes gleamed with an icy clarity that pinned you in place.

He measured us for a long moment, thin lips curling into a disdainful grimace. Then his voice rose, grating, sharp as a knife slash:

— "Raising your levels and acquiring skills is not enough."

He let silence hang, silence that stiffened more than one soldier.

— "You waste mana like children spilling their soup. Seventy percent." His cane struck the ground, sharp. "Seventy percent of your energy goes up in smoke every time you cast a spell."

A murmur ran through the hall. My guts twisted tight. Seventy percent? Fuck...

— "Me," he continued, eyes blazing with pride, "I lose only ten percent. And in a battle of endurance, that difference... is the difference between crushing the enemy and dying like dogs."

His gaze swept across us one by one. Reina met his cold eye without blinking.

Maeron raised a hand, tracing a circle in the air.

— "First exercise. Feel the mana that flows in the air. Not the mana in your bodies, not yet. The world’s mana. The particles already pass through you, like wind or heat. Close your eyes. Inhale. Let it come."

I did as he said. My breath caught instantly, stifled by a diffuse warmth seeping into my nostrils. A shiver ran down my spine, a messy tingling like a thousand needles brushing under my skin. Around me, I heard their breathing falter.

— "Slower..." the old mage instructed. "Let yourselves be soaked in it."

A small stifled moan reached me. Hikari. She trembled, hands clutching her staff, unable to relax. To my left, Reina didn’t move. Lips pursed, eyes closed, and already a layer of frost spread across the floor around her. Cold, sharp, controlled.

Miyu, on the other hand, was panting hard, almost growling.

— "Damn it... feels like trying to catch smoke!"

— "Then focus instead of screaming," Reina retorted dryly, without opening her eyes.

Miyu’s nervous laugh snapped, but she fell silent.

And then... Ayame. Her eyelids closed, her fingers rested calmly on her chest, and with a breath, her whole body seemed to harmonize with the air. Her hips loosened, her shoulders sank, and an imperceptible aura spread around her—soft, deep, like an invisible veil caressing every stone of the chamber.

Maeron arched a brow, his harsh tone softening briefly:

— "Hmph. Natural. As I thought."

Me, I was suffocating. I tried to inhale, exhale, but each shiver slipped away like water through my fingers. Fuck... my body was reacting, but nothing stayed. It was like trying to grip a dream.

The old mage struck his staff again.

— "Good. Second exercise. This time... feel the flow within you. Your organs. Your blood. Mana is not only around you. It is inside you."

Silence. Then pain.

I grimaced instantly, temples hammered by a dull heat. My breath strangled. Beside me, Hikari was already panting, cheeks scarlet, thighs clenched tight with the effort. Reina didn’t flinch, though her knuckles whitened on her staff. Miyu cursed, arching her back as if her belly burned.

— "Focus," Maeron pressed, merciless. "It’s like grasping a serpent inside your own flesh. Let it slip, it escapes. Grip too tightly, it bites."

I bit my lip, eyes shut. My body vibrated. It was there. Slipping down my spine, flowing into my veins, then gone.

Fuck... my body reacts, but I can’t understand a damn thing. It’s like it wants to escape every time.

Then Maeron’s staff cracked against the ground, stone vibrating underfoot.

— "That will be all for today’s lesson."

He swept us with a cold, disdainful gaze, though not without a glint of challenge in his veiled eyes.

— "Now, train whenever you can. Feel both forms of mana: the one circulating in the air around you... and the one dwelling within, in your flesh and nerves. Learn to tell them apart, to tame them. The sooner you manage it, the less likely you’ll die like dogs on the battlefield."

A tense silence followed.

Then he added, his voice grave as a death knell:

— "Good luck."

His staff struck the ground one last time, and the vibration rang through my ribcage like a condemnation.

After lunch, I went straight on.

The training ground shook with the clash of weapons. Soldiers drilled in tight groups, but Elyra had pulled me aside, into a sand square where dust rose with every step. The lance weighed heavy in my hands, my arms still bruised from yesterday. Every move woke a dull ache, yet strangely, I felt lighter. Less tense.

Elyra circled me, lance in hand. Her silver hair clung to her damp nape, sweat glistening on her muscled thighs. Her half-smile unsettled me more than her weapon.

— "You’re holding up better." Her voice cracked, cold and clear. "Almost looks like you know what you’re doing."

I grunted, tightening Aurelia’s shaft.

— "... Thanks for the compliment."

She didn’t give me the chance. Her weapon cut the air. I barely managed to parry, the shock running through my shoulder to my chest. I staggered back three steps, breath ripped away.

— "Too slow."

I lunged forward, panting. Our lances clashed again, wood against wood, vibrations rattling my teeth. I struck clumsily, she dodged with a supple pivot, her thigh colliding with mine. Sand flew. My foot slipped.

A heartbeat later, I was on the ground.

She had swept me clean, and her knee was already pressing into my chest. Her face, only centimeters from mine, glistened with sweat. Her parted lips spilled hot breath heavier than her weight.

— "If you fall like that in real combat, you’re dead."

I choked, hands clawing the damp sand. My gaze climbed her body against my will—her heavy breasts, trapped in light armor, rising with each breath, so close I could almost feel their heat.

I swallowed hard. She smiled.

Then she sprang up, leaving me gasping.

— "On your feet. Again."

What followed was worse. At every exchange, she dominated me—her lithe body circling, striking, forcing me down. Each time, her thigh slammed against my side, her hips knocked into mine, our chests collided in sweaty jolts. I fought to breathe, unable to tell if the burn in my gut came from effort... or something else.

By the end, I was covered in sand and sweat, chest pounding. Elyra hadn’t lost her breath. She tapped my shoulder, her mocking smile stretched wide.

By the end, I was caked in sand and sweat, legs trembling, chest hammering like a forge. Elyra, still unfazed. Silver hair plastered to her damp skin, gray eyes glinting with something almost cruel.

She stepped close, her shadow sliding over me, and tapped my shoulder as one salutes an opponent finally worthy of standing.

— "You’re improving fast."

Her smile widened—carnivorous, almost tender at once.

— "At this rate... I might even invite you into my bed soon."

Her lips curled in a teasing smirk, her amused gaze locked on mine, as if savoring my reaction already.

I froze, choking, unsure if she was joking or not. My stomach twisted, brutal heat rushing to my cheeks.

Fuck... is she serious?!

The training yard’s sand still clung to my skin as I left. Every muscle pulled, my arms trembled as if dragging invisible chains. Elyra’s laugh echoed in my head, hotter than her blows. At this rate... I might even invite you into my bed. Fuck. My cheeks still burned just remembering.

I trudged back to our quarters. The day’s heat had given way to a dry cold, and the fortress stone exhaled soot and metal. When I pushed the door open, the flickering firelight greeted me—along with their eyes.

— "Nii-san!"

Hikari rushed toward me, staff already in hand. She grabbed my arm and sat me by the fire, her face flushed with worry. Her fingers trembled, but her touch was precise: she slid my torn sleeves down, revealing a torso mottled with bruises, scratches, and cuts opened by blows.

— "My god... you... you let yourself get beaten again..." Her voice cracked, but she pressed her lips tight, focused, and golden light flared from her staff.

The warm halo wrapped me, like a moist caress seeping under my skin. Her thin hands guided the light, gliding over my ribs, my chest, my stomach. Each touch sent a shiver through me. I glanced down—and the sight stole my breath: her scarlet cheeks, her parted lips, sweat beading at her temple. She trembled, yes... but not only from fatigue.

A sharp laugh cut us.

— "Heh!"

Miyu crouched on the other side of the fire, katana within reach, bare legs folded under her half-open kimono. She stared at me without shame, a provocative grin on her lips.

— "You look like an old man leaving a brothel after getting fleeced. Covered in marks, drained, barely able to stand."

I rolled my eyes.

— "Shut up, Miyu..."

She burst out laughing, her huge chest bouncing free from her too-loose robe.

Reina, as always, only snorted. Sitting straight, staff laid across her knees, she watched the flames pensively. Her pale thighs peeked out from her hitched kimono, oblivious to it. Her words fell like ice.

— "These people are organized. They didn’t survive by miracle. Their discipline outweighs your boasting."

Miyu shrugged, amused.

— "Heh... maybe I’ll end up respecting those old geezers after all."

Silence settled again. Only the fire’s crackle filled the room. Then Ayame spoke.

She sat apart, legs folded, cream kimono cinched tight around her generous waist. Her chest, swelled by damp fabric, rose slowly, majestically. Her brown eyes fixed the flame with tranquil intensity, but her voice, low and steady, cut like a verdict.

— "In just two days, we’ve learned more than since our arrival here. This fortress is an opportunity. Let’s not waste it."

Her words weighed heavier on me than Elyra’s lance. I lowered my head, breath short.

Two days only... but at what cost?

Hikari’s hand trembled again on my bare skin, and I felt her fingers brush the scar of my empty socket. I closed my eyes, vertigo washing over me. The nights crashed back all at once: her forbidden warmth, her panting breath, her burning lips... and behind her, Ayame’s gaze, always there, closer every time—like a shadow that judged me, or waited for me.

I opened my eyes again. The fire crackled. The girls spoke.

Me, I was already suffocating.