Roia's Ordeal (1)

"A proposal?"

Chloe, who had been nestled obediently in my arms, echoed my words. I fondled her breasts idly as I spoke calmly.

"I'll help make you the undisputed heir to the Aiterne Merchant Group."

At that, Chloe twisted around to face me. Still completely naked, she shyly covered her chest with her arms for a moment.

But those red eyes of hers brimmed with curiosity, as if she'd heard something utterly unexpected.

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

With just that one reply, Chloe's expression turned grave. She knew full well this wasn't the empty bluster of some spoiled young lord.

What I'd just said carried the weight of Essemont's next ruler.

"You're the future grand duke, Lord Yulian—a man whose position as heir is rock-solid, unlike mine. So, I can take that to mean Essemont itself will back me?"

"Obviously. We've already been hashing out concrete terms for a new alliance with the Aiterne Merchant Group. And the man handling the details? Viscount Mason, the Reinhardt retainer you saw at His Majesty's birthday banquet. Ring a bell?"

"Of course! The one who came with you as Essemont's delegation head? We've already pegged him as a core figure in Essemont back at the Group."

Chloe had it right.

Viscount Mason, right-hand man to Margrave Wilhelm. When he visited the capital over the ice crystal shipment, we'd talked at length.

Especially after the banquet, when we dove into specifics on the Aiterne deal.

Mason was a practical sort. Noting that Chloe and I already knew each other, he'd probed our relationship.

"That Lady Chloe of House Aiterne had quite the look in her eyes when she gazed at you, Viscount Yulian. Dare I ask if you're already... intimate with her?"

I'd nodded affirmatively, hinting that our bond ran deeper than casual acquaintance.

"Things just happened that way. I know quite a bit about her."

"I see. With her looks and Aiterne blood, you'd expect sky-high arrogance. Impressive as always, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠haha."

By then, Chloe and I had already tangled bodies multiple times, so it was the truth.

Mason probably assumed we were lovers. Close enough, no harm done.

I already had a fiancée in Lilia, so any "lover" talk here meant something less than honorable.

But Mason cared less for gossip and more for what benefited Essemont.

"Lady Chloe is the top contender for Aiterne succession. Word is, she's already handling major Group affairs in her name. So... if Essemont backs her—someone with deep ties to you, Viscount Yulian—the succession battle gets interesting."

And if Chloe took the reins of Aiterne? Essemont would gain a massive asset.

Melding Essemont's military might with Aiterne's wealth could birth a force rivaling imperial power.

Of course, Margrave Wilhelm is the emperor's ultimate loyalist. But with the empire's chaos brewing...

The imperial house—Asterik—had long been tainted by Cardinal Grius. Ties to them alone wouldn't save Essemont.

To counter the southern juggernaut of Duke Pedro, we needed Aiterne in the north's corner.

If Aiterne sides south, the future gets brutally tough.

But the key player who could tip that scale was already under my blanket.

I continued.

"So let me toss you some tantalizing business leads. Expanding your contract with Cecilia. Exclusive resale rights to the ice crystal mines in my territory, Harsen. And..."

I laid out every viable offer I could extend in my name right then.

Her eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠glazed with ecstasy utterly unlike our recent lovemaking—pure thrill at how these would crush her succession rivals.

"These ideas... they're incredible. See? You and I make a perfect match. Helping each other like this."

As she spoke, Chloe slyly slipped a hand downward, caressing my cock while shooting me a seductive glance.

"And our chemistry in bed, too. Hehe. Doesn't this mean we're getting even closer? Needing each other desperately like this. Hnng..."

She wasn't wrong. But I had no intention of playing proper boyfriend just yet.

I seized her ass roughly.

"Eek?! W-what, grabbing so hard out of nowhere!"

"Forget that. Don't you owe me something first? You know offers like this aren't handed out lightly."

I gave her ass a light smack—not painful, just firm. Chloe's hips twitched reflexively.

"S-something to say...? Oh! Right! For these amazing offers, I need to thank you properly, Lord Yulian!!"

"Say it again. Properly."

"Thank youuu, Lord Yulian!! I mean it—thank you so much!!"

Even a mild scolding drew such eager response. Impressive. I kneaded the naked form of this thoroughly trained marquess's daughter with abandon.

"Special reward time."

I slid my raging tyrant—stiffened by her handjob—back into her depths. A mere tease of discipline, and...

She was already soaking wet inside.

***

The rest of the weekend flew by in a frenzy.

The banquet on the Emperia. There, I'd scored precious exam crib sheets from the social club leaders.

These enabled hyper-efficient studying. With my diligent theory prep at Pantheon already...

Clearing Cardinal Grius's "top theory lecture seats or better" hurdle was now a breeze.

Plus, I needed top marks in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠both Orders' major exams. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those? Even easier.

Business as usual gets top seats in Combat and Alchemy.

Combat Order: Where I'd clocked the most hours. Alchemy: Heavy investment thanks to the ice crystal tribute. No issues.

And theory cribs? Fabian for Combat, Chloe for Alchemy—easy grabs.

Grius's scheme? Utterly crushed.

"All that's left is Roia's Ordeal."

Among Pantheon's generated quests, the Ordeal quests were the main storyline. Each Order had one, but...

Roia's—the starter and Combat Order's—was paramount for me.

Agnes was a Roia nun.

God of Combat, Roia. Her apostle-turned-saint, Agnes von Reinhardt.

The Great Saintess, Prophetess. Roia's Ordeal brimmed with growth elements she'd prepared.

Of course, the difficulty matched. The "Wall of Wailing" that broke countless Demon Slayer players. Many game overs there.

And I'd jacked it to max via top combat eval. No walk in the park.

Tier 1. No clue on the difficulty spike.

In Demon Slayer, my run topped at Tier 2. Never saw Tier 1 posts from others. Could be insane.

But max tier meant max rewards. Ordeal items started at Unique minimum.

Core gear for nest raids. And like the hidden Pantheon space with Lilia...

Clues to the academy's secrets would drop too.

I have to clear it.

Prep was solid. In Demon Slayer, I hadn't hit 4th Tier—let alone White Night—by now.

But this is real life, not a game.

No saves or loads. Since possession, I'd kept tension high.

Compared to my game run, this was near-perfect play. Still, no room for slop.

One slip, and it's not just me—the world ends.

I wasn't some world-saving hero like Wilhelm or Agnes. But apocalypse kills me too.

My resolve was ironclad.

Thus, morning found me at Cecilia's workshop for final prep.

Monday again. Tonight: Roia's Ordeal.

***

Days ago, Izeltier shattered my imperial sword in the arena.

Beyond repair. I'd sent word to Cecilia immediately, commissioning a new one.

"Um... Viscount Yulian... no, Oraboni. The sword's ready, as requested."

Cecilia bowed shyly. Awkward with "Oraboni," but she insisted on it.

"Shall I... show you this imperial sword?"

I took it, appraising via system.

She poured her soul into this.

Upgrade from last sword's difficulty.

No point if it couldn't withstand Izeltier's brute force going forward.

Viscount Mason supplied extra Harsen ice crystals beyond the emperor's tribute—for me.

Thus, + grade bumped up. And the rune shifted.

From 'Will' to 'Love.'

Her "will to rely on me" evolved to love.

As I studied the rune, Cecilia flushed.

"I... worked harder than on the last one."

From Friday night to now—under three days for Rare++? Massive time and heart poured in.

Plus Endia's divine power. Huge mana drain.

"You did great, Cecilia."

I stroked her platinum hair in praise.

"Hnn... No need... Oraboni..."

Words said otherwise—her squeezed-shut eyes begged more.

She wants a kiss.

Cecilia: My dragon-blood fated mate. Her courtship was bold.

I gave a light peck—not deep, just lips. She pouted in disappointment.

"Take off the necklace, Cecilia. Easier to share my essence that way."

Her cheeks blazed scarlet.