In theory, the Hell Soldier’s Gate, with its tenfold ti-distortion multiplier, should have granted Cain and his n only ten months of combat experience.
In reality, however, the figure was much higher.
Well, technically much higher.
A soldier might spend ten months at war, but how much of that ti would actually be spent in direct combat? A few days? A few weeks?
Often, much less than that.
Wars spanned vast distances, demanding long marches, prolonged encampnts, and sieges that could drag on for weeks or entire months without any real action.
Even a veteran with a decade of conflict under his belt would hardly have lived through ten full months of constant combat.
Cain and his one hundred and fifty n, however, were a case apart.
Of the ten months spent in the simulated world of the gate, eight had been of pure, uninterrupted combat.
Their minds, altered by the gate’s arrays, absorbed knowledge and experience at a rate far beyond normal, while their ntal fatigue was kept constantly suppressed.
The one hundred and fifty young n who crossed that portal erged physically identical to when they had entered, but with minds completely unrecognizable.
Now, they were elite warriors, forged in one of the most hellish training regins any soldier could ever endure.
Each of them had faced death at least a hundred tis.
"My lord!" Cain was the first to speak, his voice firm, his gaze even firr. "I have completely mastered the Fourth Form of the Golden Dragon Emperor’s Fencing and led my n through countless battles!"
Ethan rely smiled. "And your mind?"
"As firm as a mountain!"
"Excellent." Ethan gave Cain a firm slap on the shoulder. "Now rest, all of you. Stop by John’s refinery and ask for one hundred and fifty bottles of Green Fairy Wine with stage one beast blood. Drink and relax."
In a way, it was a waste, but Ethan didn’t care much.
Let the nobility of the rest of the continent kill each other over a single bottle of Green Fairy Wine. His people, however, were a different story.
For them, that wine should be sothing ordinary, so common that even a commoner could afford a bottle or two a month.
That was the difference he wanted to forge, sothing that would elevate the people of Goldenveil to a level of prosperity entirely distinct from the rest of the continent.
Naturally, those wines couldn’t compare in quality to those made with stage two beast blood, much less the even rarer ones made with stage three blood, which wouldn’t be ready until the end of winter.
Still, it was a wine of the highest quality.
During those two winter months, with the help of a few dozen employees and thousands of liters of beast blood, John had already produced about three thousand bottles with stage one blood and a thousand more with stage two blood.
By sumr, with the little over forty liters of level-three beast blood they possessed, they planned to finish producing at least two hundred bottles of Supre Green Fairy Wine, sothing that would undoubtedly drive the nobility of the Kingdom of the Burning Ice to madness.
Just thinking about it made Ethan’s eyes sparkle with excitent.
With a broad smile on his face, he dismissed Cain and the one hundred forty-nine guards so they could finally rest.
Then he called Adam over, offered him a few words of encouragent, and sent him straight to hell.
None of Cain’s soldiers had cracked in those ten months, and Ethan expected nothing less from Adam’s n.
Soon, he would put them to the test to see just how much that experience had truly transford them compared to who they had been before.
Honestly, the only thing he was certain of was that Alistair was completely screwed.
Still smiling, Ethan left the barracks and headed straight for his mansion, eager to check in on Ophelia, who by now should be leading the training session with the maids.
As soon as he stepped through the mansion’s doors and approached the hall where the training was taking place, her sweet, sensual voice reached his ears even before he could see her.
"You’re doing well, but you need more concentration. I know it’s uncomfortable, but when you enter the Realm of Shadows, you can’t flinch."
Ophelia spoke as she paced back and forth in front of the maids, scrutinizing each one with a watchful gaze.
The exposed tops of her enormous pale tits jiggled with every step she took, the soft, milky flesh trembling above the strained neckline that struggled to contain them.
The day was cold, but, just like the maids, she was sweating profusely.
Her creamy skin glowed under the grayish light filtering through the overcast sky, and the thin fabric of her white top, now slightly transparent with sweat, clung to her curves and revealed the pink outline of her nipples beneath.
Ethan didn’t interrupt the training.
He stood silently by the entrance, reveling in the sight of those voluptuous, sweaty, and elegant won preparing for another attempt.
It had been about two weeks since they had bonded with the artifact and received so of Ophelia’s shadow mage techniques.
Naturally, however, that kind of power wasn’t sothing one could master so quickly.
Making room for the girls and still with her back to Ethan, Ophelia motioned for them to begin another attempt.
This ti, the mission was to take ten steps before the ability deactivated.
Obediently, the maids nodded, closed their eyes to dive deep within themselves, and then entered the world of shadows.
Their bodies dissolved into shadowy clouds that sank to the floor, gliding toward the opposite side of the hall.
At six steps, the first of them was pushed out of the Shadow Realm. At seven, the other four were expelled as well, all of them wearing looks of disappointnt.
It was at that mont that Ethan finally moved, approaching silently from behind Ophelia.
His right hand slid slowly over her shoulder and descended naturally along her smooth, damp skin until it ca to rest on the exposed tops of her huge tits.
He grabbed and squeezed, his large, powerful hand unable to encompass all that voluptuousness. Her soft flesh, warm and slightly damp with sweat, bulged between his fingers, the heavy mass of her breast filling his palm as her skin slid deliciously beneath his grip.
He never could never grow tired of that woman’s tits.
User Comments
0 comments from readers