Brigid’s expression was relaxed, almost dreamy—like she was lying on a bed of clouds while tiny faeries danced across her skin, easing away every bit of tension.
Cassian’s fingers were the real magic, gliding over her back with practiced precision as he sat astride her thighs. His hips moved just enough for his crotch to brush against her bare ass, drawing a faint frown from her otherwise blissed-out face.
"I said, enough of that..." she muttered, wiggling her hips to flick him away. Cassian sighed, looking mildly disappointed—even though she’d emptied him not long ago, his stamina was monstrous; he could be ready again within a minute.
"Oh yeah? Keep dreaming," she said, amused—almost shocked that he even thought she’d let him put it there.
Cassian’s shoulders slumped as he grumbled, "But you’ve done it before, right? Why not let do it again...?"
"Yeah, I did—but not with a damn log like yours," she shot back, turning to glance at it. Even soft, it looked thick—like a baby’s arm. She snorted and added, "You see the size of that head? It’s bigger than my fist. And you wanna shove that in my ass? No thanks. I like being able to shit like a normal person, not have food fall straight through from my stomach to loo."
Cassian’s grin faltered, the spark in his eyes dimming into sothing between a sulk and disbelief. He looked like a warrior denied victory after coming inches from the prize. With a low sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "Alright, alright... but what if I win you more warriors for your next mission, maybe? Would that earn a chance?"
Brigid turned her head, one brow quirking in surprise. For once, she didn’t bite back with a curse. Instead, she looked like she was actually thinking it over.
"Well," she said slowly, lips curling into a teasing smirk, "if you manage to recruit at least thirty good ones, I might think about it."
Cassian’s eyes lit up again, but before he could say a word, she flopped back down, settling comfortably on her stomach.
"Till then," she murmured, voice muffled against her arms, "don’t even think about putting that damn thing anywhere near it."
Cassian’s grin stretched wide—this was going to be his first ti using that entrance. He’d always planned to try it with Katherine once he got back, but who knew when that would be? So why wait, when the opportunity was right here?
Besides, recruiting twenty—or even thirty—more warriors or mages wasn’t that hard. He was already planning to do that anyway. For his mole finding mission as, even if the low-level ones didn’t know much, he could piece together bigger intel from their scraps. With so luck, maybe even sothing about the mole inside Karn Earldom.
He already had a lead—rumor was, the cult and the earldom had set up a secret magical communication link between this battle post and their main base.
With that goal in mind—and a very specific "reward" driving him—Cassian got to work the next morning. As soon as he woke, he headed straight for the arena.
"So," he called out, standing at the center with a grin, "anyone feeling lucky today? Want to win so gold—and maybe a few warrior slaves? Including this handso guy right here?"
The crowd was bigger than yesterday, buzzing with anticipation. Unlike before, plenty of hands shot up this ti. Most were Second Circle warriors or mages of similar strength, just as the challenge rules allowed. The First Circle ones—or emberling mages—stayed quiet; after watching Cassian flatten three Second Circle fighters yesterday, none of them were stupid enough to risk their freedom for free.
Cassian’s eyes scanned the eager faces before landing on a towering brute hauling a war hamr that looked heavier than most n. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pointed straight at him.
"Well, let’s take the big one first..." he said, rolling his shoulders.
The man lumbered forward, veins bulging across muscles that looked carved out of stone. His Domain flared—a pure strength type, just as anyone could’ve guessed from his size. His circle abilities matched the build too, each one amplifying his raw power until he looked less like a human and more like so oversized gorilla... or a troll that had wandered into the wrong place.
When the hamr ca down, the arena floor cracked, dust bursting up like smoke. Cassian slipped past each swing with calm precision, his movents fluid as water. The brute’s power was monstrous, but clumsy; each miss only made Cassian’s grin widen.
Even so, sothing felt off. Every ti Cassian’s blade t that rubbery wall of muscle, it bit deep but got stuck—like cutting into packed clay. And as he tried to chain his moves into the Thousand Leaf Dance, he felt the drag again. His sword was slowing him down, his rhythm breaking apart.
It wasn’t that his opponent was strong—it was that sothing in him was missing.
Though Cassian still defeated the hamr-wielding brute with ease, his focus was already drifting elsewhere. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he began to wonder—was his current sword really suited for the Gale Whisper style? It felt too heavy, too stiff. What he needed was sothing lighter, one-handed—sothing that flowed with him, not against him.
His next opponent stepped forward—a swordsman like himself, but with a Domain that shimred with pure agility. The man’s speed-enhancing abilities made him almost impossible to track. He darted across the arena like a flicker of light, leaving afterimages in every direction. In an instant, Cassian was bleeding from half a dozen shallow cuts, the air itself hissing with each pass of the man’s blade.
But Cassian only needed one read—one rhythm to predict.
He exhaled, closing his eyes, and whispered, "Still Wind Cut..."
The mont the words left his lips, everything shifted. The chaos of motion faded, the wind itself growing unnaturally still. He could hear every disturbance in it—the slightest tremor, the faintest slice through the air.
There were too many movents, too many flashes—but one of them felt real. Cassian turned toward it and slashed, ignoring the light streaks that danced around him. His blade cut through one flash—and t flesh. He won another slave — though barely alive, the man’s chest split open where Cassian’s blade had torn through bone.
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