Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Ariete (11)
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The Empire's southern region wasn't all that cold even in winter. If they'd advanced into the north at the same time, their snot would have frozen solid—it was lucky they'd come here instead.
Richer stood among the six mages from the magic battalion, waiting for the signal.
Since the battle had only just begun, it would take quite a while for the signal from the main force to arrive.
The enemy, who had been keeping their distance and skirmishing cautiously, wouldn't clump together tightly enough to prevent escape until the heat of war overtook their senses.
Richer gazed ahead into the cold wind. His eyes weren't on the bloody chaos of the battlefield itself but on the plains and low hills stretching behind the enemy lines. How beautiful the world is.
And then his gaze drifted closer. He caught sight of an allied soldier collapsing after taking a sword blow to the shoulder. When will I be able to step out into that vast, beautiful world? When will a peaceful life come?
Lost in such idle thoughts, a stray arrow flew blindly toward him and bounced off his barrier. It was thanks to the double-layered shield that War Mages always kept active around themselves. Once a War Mage began casting, it would expand to six layers and shimmer visibly to the naked eye.
Ting—the sound of the arrow ricocheting rang out, and Richer turned his head to scan the battlefield. With his piercing eyes, he took in the allied soldiers filling the formation. To him, they looked like men marching to their deaths.
And then, suddenly, far in the distance, one figure caught his eye. Ariete. Today, too, she wore a warm cloak and form-fitting clothes. She stood out even from afar.
Lately, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her, no matter how hard he tried. It was especially bad on days after battle.
The face of a friend who had become a War Mage alongside him flashed in his mind.
That friend wasn't some superhuman who could shrug off stress without a care; he dealt with it in the usual way. Whenever they headed to the battlefield, he'd bring along five prostitutes just for himself.
When humans face threats to their lives or extreme stress, their sexual urges surge. A fair number of War Mages relieved their stress through sex. One woman wasn't enough to handle it, so they'd bring four or five to the front lines.
There were plenty of War Mages addicted to sexual stimulation. Richer could name more than five off the top of his head.
Lately, Richer had been wondering if he was turning into one of them. He could no longer look away from Ariete. Even the thought that he shouldn't look at her was fading.
He felt his condition worsening recently. Now, he could even sense her approach just from her faint scent, even without seeing her.
Being near Ariete filled the air with a dizzyingly thick fragrance. The scent of a mature yet fresh woman ready to bear children.
"Sir Richer, the signal's here."
Richer had missed the signal, so one of the magic battalion mages spoke up. It was a first. To miss the main force's signal...
Right, all distractions. Richer pulled a sour-tasting fruit from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. His mind sharpened instantly.
Let's go. What I need to do is right here.
Before the sourness faded from his mouth, Richer summoned lightning far more powerful than usual and brought it crashing down on the enemy ranks. It was like divine judgment.
But today, Richer didn't pass out. Was it because the sour taste lingered in his mouth? He steadied his trembling legs and stood firm.
He could hold onto his consciousness, but intense pain spread through his entire body. It started in his heart and felt like it was piercing through every inch of his skin. It was familiar now, but still hard to endure. And it would only get worse from here.
Richer pulled a white pill from his other pocket and swallowed it. Excellent stuff. A War Mage's best friend. Fewer side effects than others, and great pain relief. The only downside was that it took a bit longer to kick in.
"I'm heading back first."
Even though the battle was ongoing, Richer announced it confidently. It was a War Mage's privilege: the right to return to camp early, even mid-battle.
If he'd rationed his power, maybe he could go again. But after gathering it all for a full-power spell, there was no next time.
The magic battalion's lead mage nodded. If he'd fainted, more people would have been needed to carry him, but since he hadn't, it was less hassle. Good for everyone.
"Understood. I'll pass it along."
At that moment, flames erupted from the west, and Richer saw Ariete collapse. Two magic battalion mages loaded her onto a stretcher. During battle, those two maintained double-layered shields at all times, and once the War Mage finished casting, they handled evacuation too.
Richer walked over briskly to the fainted Ariete and the two mages.
"I'll go back with her."
"Yes, sir!"
Richer gazed at his collapsed disciple, eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell with each breath in a way that stirred his lust. He wasn't in his right mind, but he felt blood rushing below. Luckily, his loose robe hid it.
The two mages took Ariete to the wagon and returned to the front, while the wagon set off with Ariete and Richer aboard. He wasn't sure if it qualified as a proper wagon or just a cart.
Ariete was still out cold. Richer stared at her quietly. Her long eyelashes caught his eye.
She was stunning. Mila was the woman he loved most, but he'd never seen anyone as beautiful as this. They said the object of love grows more beautiful—and since Ariete's love was impossible, perhaps that made her even more poignantly lovely. Unrequited love leaves deeper scars than one that's fulfilled.
Ariete's breathing slowed a bit. Common for the fainted, but it worried Richer anyway. He feared the disciple he'd thrown into hell might stop breathing altogether.
Richer held the back of his hand to her nose. Her breaths were slow but steady, and he let out a sigh of relief.
But he didn't pull his hand away right away. Just a little lower, and he could touch those heaving breasts. Breasts he'd never touched even when they were together.
How soft would they be?
Richer swallowed hard. Then he snapped out of it with a jolt. What the hell am I thinking?
He fished another sour fruit from his pocket and popped it in. The tartness spread through his mouth, clearing his head. The female who'd inflamed his lust became his beloved disciple again, sleeping innocently.
The cart bumped along.
Back at camp, Ariete was taken to her tent. Richer returned to his own space and took a deep breath. The medicine dulled the pain further, but the heat in his body showed no sign of fading. No—it grew stronger, and fast.
Richer pulled out his brooch and gazed at Mila's portrait. She smiled back at him as always. He smiled faintly, but his body still felt off.
A conversation with his friend who'd relieved battlefield stress through sex came to mind.
'Richer, don't suffer alone. Just bring a couple women along. It's way better, trust me.'
'I'm fine.'
'Sigh, I'm worried about you. Look at your face. When you feel like you're going insane, just pump out a few loads until you're spent, hold someone, and sleep. It'll be much better. Mila would understand that much, right?'
'Mila would understand if I did. It's me who couldn't forgive myself.'
'Mila's lucky in love. Snagging a guy this devoted.'
Distractions. Richer recalled some advice he'd heard: to suppress lust, exercise helps.
He set the brooch on his desk and shed his robe. In just simple undergarments, he started doing push-ups. He hadn't exercised like this in ages. But it'd help now.
He kept going until his arms ached, but his lust didn't subside. If anything, as the mana cell pain faded, his desire surged higher. His head felt like it might burst.
He lay down and forced himself to sleep. A nap would make it better.
*
When he woke, his lust was so overwhelming it impaired his judgment. Ariete had appeared in his dreams again.
He felt like he was going mad. To calm his still-raging erection, he rummaged through his discarded robe for the sour fruit. He chewed three at once, but it barely helped. The tartness felt half as strong as before.
Maybe some cold air would help. He threw on thin clothes and stepped out of the tent.
It had grown dark outside. He breathed in the winter wind deeply, but the heat still churned inside him, like half-frozen morning mist.
Wandering the quiet night camp, he spotted a yellow cloth at a tent entrance. The War Mage marker. But it wasn't his tent. It was his beloved disciple's.
Richer approached as if drawn by some force.
Just lifting the thin flap at the entrance unleashed a dizzyingly thick female scent. One that drove his lust wild.
I'm losing it.
Richer peered inside with feverish eyes.
Ariete had fainted earlier in the day, so she was awake now. Without her robe, in just thin clothes that revealed her curves clearly. Richer swallowed hard.
As always lately, when Richer appeared, Ariete spoke in a haughty, pouty tone.
"Oh, Master. How can you just barge into a grown woman's space like this? Come back tomorrow!"
But Richer stood still. Ariete approached, turned him around, and gave his back a light push.
Her intensified scent filled his lungs.
As he didn't budge, Ariete patted his back playfully.
"Out you go, Master!"
In that instant, Richer spun around like lightning, pulled Ariete into an embrace, and buried his nose in her nape.
And inhaled deeply. Sniiff.
His mind went blank. That sweet, fleshy scent emptied his head completely. Like a beast, Richer lunged at Ariete and tore her top to shreds. It was a fine garment, but not sturdy or tough.
"Master, what are you doing?!"
Ariete stumbled back, shouting, but Richer didn't stop and charged again. Like a wild animal.
"Come here, Ariete."
Even as he said it, he gave her no chance to approach. He rushed like a rabid beast, buried his nose in her nape again, and inhaled once more. Sniiff.
Yes. This girl was a drug. A drug that drove people insane. How could anyone hold back?
"No, Master! It's not too late! Go back! Stop this!"
Richer tore off her skirt as if he couldn't contain himself. Seeing Ariete with only half-torn undergarments on her lower half, he lost all reason.
"Ariete, be good. Come here. Now."
"Please, Master!"
But despite her words, Ariete's resistance was feeble. Richer ripped away the last scrap of cloth, then looked down at her like a carnivore eyeing its prey.
Plump. Delectable.
He climbed atop her body. Ariete parted her legs slightly, making it easy for him to enter.
It should have been a frightening, sudden situation, but she was strangely wet. Richer, lost to reason, didn't notice.
Ariete cried out in tears. Her voice drilled endlessly into Richer's mind.
But her legs crossed behind his back, holding him tight.
"Master, please! You can't do this! Stop! It's irreversible!"
Richer gave no reply.
Their union looked less like two people and more like two beasts desperately mating.
*
For the first time in ages, loud moans echoed through the camp.
The difference from before was that both were joyfully crying out, with no tears of sorrow.
It was a perfectly developing master-disciple relationship, without a hint of shortfall.