Rose Petals Carried on the Wind
❤️The rose petals rode the wind. They traced a perfect circle. Enveloping Rachel. It was as if she'd been swallowed by a storm of roses. The petals slowly closed in. Suddenly veering in erratic paths, they settled onto Rachel's body. One petal touched her shoulder. Her knees buckled. There was a thud as she hit the floor. The hand gripping her wooden sword trembled violently. She tried to force herself back up. But a second petal drifted onto her back. Her body was crushed down like lead. The floor cracked beneath her. I let out a short breath of relief. The carnage I'd feared—flesh tearing open to bloom roses—didn't happen. Not a single drop of blood had spilled. The words etched on those petals seemed focused on suppression and paralysis.
"Nngh… I… won't… admit it…!" Rachel gritted her teeth. Her fingers clawed at the floor. Her eyes burned with defiance. She glared up at Rozalia to the bitter end. But that was it. A third petal touched her forehead. Rachel's eyelids drooped. All strength drained from her body.
"If I… give up… my family's honor…"
She collapsed face-down on the arena floor and fell into a deep sleep. Carsio's defensive swordsmanship was meaningless. Like a human before a natural disaster. The rose swordsmanship she'd created transcended human limits by a vast margin.
The arena fell silent. No one even breathed. Eyes filled with envy, admiration, and profound awe. Every knight faculty cadet's gaze locked onto Rozalia as she stepped off the stage. They looked at her like a goddess.
Clap. Clap.
Instructor Setina applauded. The silence shattered. A thick smile played on her lips as she strode forward.
"That's it for today's sparring."
She tapped her wooden sword against her shoulder.
"I've seen it with my own eyes, so the evaluation's done. I'll only announce the top three."
The air in the hall grew taut.
"Third place: Ilia."
"Second place: Berga Silverstein."
Setina's red eyes turned to Rozalia.
"First place: Rozalia von Bloomhart."
A murmur erupted. The expected result.
"To the top scorer, I grant the promised right."
Setina lifted her chin.
"Care to challenge me? Win, and one wish is yours."
A duel with the instructor. Every cadet held their breath. Rozalia tossed her wooden sword to the floor with a clack.
"Not interested."
Her voice held no regrets. She turned away. Her massive breasts swayed languidly. She crossed the arena. Passed right in front of me. Her golden eyes met mine. The corners of her mouth curved into a smile. With light steps, she slipped out the lecture hall door. The door shut. And the room exploded in chaos.
"Was that really Rose Swordsmanship? Not some kind of magic…?"
"She's on another level… insane. Even the top mages from the Magic Tower couldn't do that!"
"The Bloomharts finally produced a real monster!"
The cadets buzzed. It was all about Rozalia. I rested my chin on my hand, scanning the room. One gaze clung obsessively to the lecture hall door. Berga Silverstein. The mad dog of the North. He stood rigid against the wall. Veins bulged on his thick, crossed arms. His red eyes licked at the closed door where Rozalia had vanished. In the original story, that beastly stare fixated on the saintess. Now, there was no saintess at the end of that gaze. Just a new prey who'd displayed overwhelming power. Rozalia. Fighting spirit. Hostility. Primal hunger. Dark flames flickered in his eyes.
Before the room got even rowdier, I prepared to leave.
"And she was supposed to be terminally ill, right?"
"Sigh, from a frail invalid… to that strong… how much blood and sweat must she have poured in."
"And that body? Fucking killer. Massive tits and a huge ass jiggling like crazy, total oblivious sex appeal—drives me nuts."
Zzap.
The young ladies' glares turned icy. Aimed at Taylor Becker beside me. The clueless bald perv. Spouting that vulgar crap in front of knight faculty ladies. The girls with wooden swords closed in. I quietly backed away and slipped out. Soon, dull thuds and screams echoed from inside.
"You're late."
At the corridor window. Bathed in warm afternoon sun, Rozalia leaned against the wall. A thin, provocative lavender dress. Her slender arms crossed under her chest, pushing up her enormous tits until they looked ready to burst. Her exposed cleavage heaved violently with each breath, a perilous mass.
"Here to escort my princess."
I approached with a sly grin. That's when it happened.
"Hey, cute freshmen."
A group of upperclassmen passing by. The tall redhead stopped, draping an arm over my shoulder. Seemingly into me, her fingers brushed the open collar of my shirt.
"Your moves were pretty good. Come to Training Ground 3 later. Senpai'll work up a sweat with you and teach swordsmanship all night."
A mischievous wink. Bold skinship from the senior.
"Not sure my stamina can handle it, senpai. If I get the chance."
I parried casually.
"Pfft…! That was a joke… you're a player, huh?"
Realizing we were alike, she punched my chest lightly and laughed as she walked away.
Right after.
"Karn!"
Squeeze. Rozalia yanked my right arm. Her plump, heavy tits enveloped my forearm without a gap, crushing it. Thanks to the senior teasing the newbie, Rozalia was jealous.
"Wh-where do you think you're going, leaving me?! You really gonna go to her?!"
Her cheeks puffed out. Her rapeseed-flower eyes shook with anxiety. The sensation against my arm was insanely soft. The thin dress fabric let me feel the bumpy outlines of those huge nipples I'd tormented at the motel, rubbing vividly against my skin.
"Maybe. She said she'd make me sweat buckets."
"Nooo! We already did that last night…! You're my exclusive knight!"
She whined, burying my arm deeper into her cleavage. Adorable. Utterly, ridiculously adorable. The ruthless genius who'd crushed the cadets with overwhelming swordsmanship was gone. Before me, she was just a horny puppy craving love.
"Alright, alright. Not going. My pig princess is the best for me."
"Ehehe♥ Not a pig…!"
One tease, and Rozalia's expression melted away. As we stood skin-to-skin in the middle of the corridor, radiating pink vibes.
Bang-!
The lecture hall's back door flew open. A beast. Silver hair, red eyes. Berga Silverstein. He stormed into the corridor, snarling. His red eyes flashed, locking onto us. No—onto Rozalia, giggling on my arm.
Thud. Thud. His massive frame strode up, blocking our path.
"Rozalia von Bloomhart."
A low, gravelly voice. Overwhelming pressure dripping with feral charm. Ignoring me completely, his hostile eyes bored into Rozalia alone.
"Fight me. That power from before—not against some weakling's defense. Clash with me."
The North's duke heir from the original. The mad dog who never gave up on the saintess after hundreds of rejections. Now, his prey was Rozalia, nestled in my arms. The air grew heavy. Irritated at the interruption of our time, Rozalia's face froze ice-cold. Her lips moved. That softness I alone knew. Moist and plush. But what spilled out was savage venom.
"Get lost. Don't waste my time…"
Berga's eyebrow twitched.
"Why should I waste time on a loser like you?"
Rozalia's gaze was glacial.
"If you're bored, go confess to that saintess you love so much—get rejected again?"
"…You, right now."
"You'll get dumped anyway. Better odds than beating me."
Silence. Cadets passing by froze in place.
"Crazy… she's tearing into the duke's heir."
"Ripping into his saintess rejection right to his face?"
Cadets whispered, hands over mouths. Berga's face twisted grotesquely. Veins throbbed on his clenched fists. Northern pride trampled. "Done talking?" He growled, ready to draw steel any second. Rozalia tilted her head cutely. "Huh? …Not even close?" Her eyes changed. The look for an annoying bug. Thick killing intent. Invisible blades of malice focused entirely on Berga. Even I felt chills down my spine. How strong had she gotten? Just that made thick sweat drip from Berga's brow. His legs shook. Then, the beast's bulk hit the floor with a thud, knees buckling. She whispered down at him, haughty and merciless. "…Pathetic mutt. You're the North's mad dog? More like a yapping Chihuahua." Berga's red eyes widened in shock. "Think you're any different? Lady Carsio's sword had real polish. Dripping blood and sweat isn't enough. She endured skin-tearing agony to forge it at her age." Rozalia sneered coldly. "Don't underestimate her sword. You'll get crushed like a bug before me too." Brutal dismissal. Berga's mentality shattered. His hands scraped the marble floor. Blood beaded under his nails. He couldn't stand. His red eyes looked up at Rozalia in my arms. Humiliation. Defeat. And vicious craving. Like a mountaineer facing the world's tallest peak, dying to conquer it.