Breeding Uncle Gets Thrashed
"Beatrice, are you insane? Why the hell did you drag that thing all the way to the temple?!!"
"Doesn't seem like any of your business, Maria."
Having huffed and puffed to haul Choo Ye-jun into her tent, she fixed the little priestess in front of her with a cold glare.
Daily life was always an endless string of boredom for Beatrice. The waiting time before rewards came in. Boring hours that felt like standing alone facing a wall. And now it was even worse.
From the moment Choo Ye-jun—that lump of dopamine, her dopamine dispenser and imprinted owner—had fallen asleep, she'd felt the emptiness creeping back in.
She let the chirping from the small priestess beside her flow in one ear and out the other. Arguing back would just lead to pointless bickering. Knowing the priestess was technically right on principle, Beatrice mostly just nodded along and let it slide.
"Still, this time you really crossed the line!!! The temple side has rules against men entering restricted areas, you know! The scriptures forbid that kind of thing in temple lodging!!!!"
Maria jabbed her index finger toward the tent where Ye-jun was snoring away, her face flushed with anger.
"Especially letting something like that in here without even consulting—"
Slap!
Beatrice couldn't hold back anymore and backhanded Maria across the cheek.
"Shut your mouth."
Grabbing her by the collar, she yanked her close until their faces were inches apart.
"Do you even know who he is? Huh?"
Maria flinched in shock, starting to tremble with fear. Beatrice was usually so quiet, with hardly any complaints or chatter. Of course, the real reason was dopamine deprivation and boredom, but Maria saw her as devout and diligent—the way she perked up during missions. In Maria's mind, without Beatrice's input, she'd idealized her as someone to emulate, someone she secretly admired.
Her overwhelming combat power. Holy power that outstripped even a priestess like her. Genuine dedication to missions. A tall, upright body compared to Maria's small, frail frame. Flawless white skin without a single blemish or scar. Toned abs. Massive breasts. Cute, unbalanced pink nipples. The last one Maria had spied peeking in the baths, but still, it was all just too perfect.
So the shock hit even harder. She hit me? Weren't we close? Didn't she like me? She always listened so attentively, nodding along as long as I just preached temple doctrine...
While Maria spiraled into random thoughts after the slap, Beatrice was wrestling with her own dilemma.
How do I even introduce Master? I don't even know his name yet.
"He's... my benefactor."
"Your benefactor...?"
"He saved me."
Beatrice pulled out the remnants of her armor—twisted into scrap metal—and showed it to Maria.
"The hatchling... was strong. I missed my chance, and my benefactor helped me when I was struggling."
"Ah..."
"So. You've just insulted my comrade-in-arms, the one to whom I owe a debt. Even your precious scriptures say to repay kindness."
Maria's face burned red with shame as she stared at the ground.
Ah. It was my fault. As expected of Lady Beatrice—she's always got a plan.
"But repaying a debt and letting a man into the women's-only lodging—"
"Shut it!!!!"
"Eek, got it, sorry..."
"Then get lost. I want to rest."
Before turning to head back to her own tent, Maria glanced at Beatrice with slightly sparkling eyes.
"Um, if your tent's full and you don't have enough space... you could share with me if it's uncomfortable..."
"No need."
"Okay..."
For some reason, Beatrice shooed away the even more cowed Maria, then crawled in for some sleep herself.
It was cramped. The tent, designed for one person, was entirely occupied by her master except for a tiny corner spot.
He's so tall...♡
Even his ankles and feet sticking out the tent flap stirred strange affection in her.
Lying in the narrow space, she was practically half on top of him. Spread out comfortably, he had her sandwiched between him and the tent ceiling like a sandwich.
But it didn't bother her. He was fluffy. Warm. She'd always forced herself to sleep mechanically, numbly—but tonight, sleep came easily. Just being next to him filled some void.
And so, for the first time in ages, she got proper rest.
The next morning, I woke up with Beatrice, talked things over briefly, and got ready.
"Maria, pack up. We're heading back."
"Yes?! But what about the hatchling?"
"We lost it. Probably won't find it around here."
I jumped in with the answer.
"I wasn't asking you!!! Don't butt into our conversation—"
"Maria. Forgot our talk last night?"
Beatrice scolded her sternly. Even brainwashed, she could still pull off normal speech like that. If she started spouting weird stuff in front of everyone like when we were alone, it'd be trouble.
"We're heading back. The main goal was the ancient dragon anyway—no need to waste more time. We already stayed longer than the others last return."
"Whiiiine... okay... but couldn't we stay a few more days—"
"No. If you wanna search, do it yourself. You're not just some baggage guard."
Maria slunk off to her tent, mumbling dejectedly as she started packing.
"By the way, Beatrice. You said there's a place to learn swordsmanship?"
"Plenty in the city. I recommend starting with my old teacher."
"Old teacher? Sounds good. She any good?"
"She got excommunicated."
"?"
"So I can't really recommend her properly."
"Then what...?"
"But no one disputes she's one of the city's top instructors."
Beatrice grabbed my dagger and demonstrated, firing off sword aura. The blade glowed white like in her previous attacks.
"This is what I got after just three weeks."
"Whoa..."
"For reference, I'd trained in basics, footwork, fencing since childhood. Others get kicked out faster."
"How fast?"
"Most rejected and broken in ten seconds."
"What the hell, how strong do you have to be?"
Beatrice shook her head.
"Strength doesn't matter. Talent and growth potential do. That's how I got in too."
While I sat thinking, Beatrice bustled around, packing everything neatly. Then she went to help Maria, who was still struggling to fold her tent, heaving it up like a rice sack when Maria tripped.
"Ow!"
"Clumsy. How many times have I told you to watch your step?"
"Th-thanks..."
With packs loaded, we set off for the great city of Arcanos and arrived after a few hours.
"Maria, stable the cart and head back to the temple first. I'll wrap up some business and follow."
"Okay!"
Maria shot me one last displeased glance before trotting off toward the distant white temple with her gear.
Confirming she was gone, Beatrice whirled and threw herself into my arms.
"Master♡ Sorry I couldn't tend to you properly because of that bitch—we had to watch our step so things didn't get messy or start bad rumors about you♡"
I pushed her face out of my chest. Honestly, I had no clue how to handle her. Be nice, and she'd love it. Be rough, and her weird fetish might kick in. Brainwashed as she was, she'd probably accept anything. Hell, even if I beat her for revenge on her past, she'd enjoy it. Fuck.
For now, I shoved her back. Keep it professional.
"I wanted to speak all pretty, but maintaining my knight persona is important—"
"Got it, so back off. Where's this teacher of yours anyway."
Beatrice pouted at me.
"Right here?"
"You're kidding."
She pointed to a tavern. "[Gulp Gulp Dwarf Tavern]—how is that a swordsmanship guild?"
"Haha, no it's not. But my teacher's inside, Master."
She dragged me in. The place wasn't crowded—quiet, mostly empty. Patrons nursing drinks quietly in corners or passed out.
So when we entered, all eyes turned our way. One woman spun around, glaring at Beatrice like she'd seen something disgusting.
"Dragon bitch came back in one piece? Figured you'd get pummeled by some monster and end up a used-up fucktoy."
The woman before me screamed rough life. Eyepatch over one eye. Scars on face, neck, gloved hands. Empty left shoulder.
"Told you, I don't wanna see trash like you. Said I'd kill you if you came back."
She stood, grabbing Beatrice's collar.
"Can't stand watching talent like yours rot. No interest in teaching. Disgusting bitch."
Ping—crack!
"Look at that, still no reaction. If all my dropouts were dumb bitches like you~"
In a blink, she drew her side sword and jammed it into Beatrice's shoulder, twisting.
Beatrice didn't react. Hell, she didn't even sense the wind-up. Normally, drawing and stabbing takes steps—shift leg back, hand to hilt, draw, thrust. All skipped, fluid as water.
Even with Dragon Eye, I couldn't catch her thoughts pre-attack. Instinct. Pure wall. How much training for that level? Heart pounding. How do I get there?
"Teacher."
Still impaled, Beatrice continued calmly.
"I have no intention of resuming training as your disciple. You're excellent, but I have my pride. That's not why I'm here."
She stepped back, pulling the blade free, then bowed 90 degrees politely.
"Please accept the man beside me. Test him for entry if you must."
Only then did she look at me.
"...!"
Something poured out. Body scanned, suppressed, dominated. She stared like she wanted to kill me. Cold sweat. Intentional—intimidation. Test, since she mentioned one.
I fought the urge to scream or draw. Can't break to eyes alone. No.
I crushed instinct with reason. This is a test. If she meant to kill, brainwashed Beatrice wouldn't have brought me. Trust the brainwashing over her. Trust status, skills. Trust my job.
Shaking but enduring her gaze, the swordswoman's eyes softened into a grin.
"...Amusing. Beatrice, where'd you pick up this fucker you hate?"
"Lost a deathmatch. Plan to serve as my benefactor."
"Wha—pfft!"
Laughter boomed as she mocked Beatrice.
"Holy shit, you pathetic bitch. He can't sword, overweight, nothing going for him. What??? How the hell did you lose your holy power to that?"
Beatrice flushed, silent as she got roasted.
"Mockery eases the anger a bit. Anyway, fatty."
"Yes?"
"I'm curious. Spar once. Win the bet, you're in."
She chugged her whiskey—fresh bottle, nearly full. Steel liver?
"Beatrice, kid—you're lucky. Haven't taken disciples in four years. Too lazy for tests, just kicked 'em out! Eh? Lucky bastard."
Strong stuff—face reddening fast, sly drunk grin spreading.
"Haven't had a decent punching bag in ages. Let's go!"
Sensing trouble, I followed. Minutes later, she kicked open the Swordsmanship Guild doors.
"Wh-what...? Lady Valeria at the guild...? In daylight???"
"Whoa... first time seeing her here..."
What reaction is that? I eyed Beatrice.
"Who the hell is she, Beatrice? Explain."
"My teacher, Lady Valeria—former guild master. Downgraded to honorary for doing jack shit."
"How lazy—"
"Fatass, wanna work after losing an arm? Fuck, don't piss me off bringing that up."
"..."
Silent, we entered a vast hall.
"Sparring ground—ready to get wrecked?"
Valeria grabbed wooden swords, tossing me one, stretching.
"Win conditions?"
"Land one valid hit in an hour. I'll adjust to your level."
"Even then...?"
"No fancy techniques, footwork, skills, aura. Basics only. Fair?"
"Doubt it."
"Ooh, fatty~~~ Looks match the ugly mug?? Get out, you're killing my buzz."
"How about if you cripple my limbs so I can't fight, that's my loss."
"Huh???"
"If you smash bones right away, can't move—no point in the hour. No regen here."
"Fine, whatever. Won't do that. You'll just get beat."
I stretched too.
"Begin."
Instantly, dog-day beating started.
Whack!!! Thwack!!! Crack! Crunch!!!
Yeah, I'm getting wrecked. No match. Two years half-ass gym and hack sword vs. lifetime pro gear and perfect basics.
Whenever I recovered, jaw. Knee. Hip. Hands—targeting to disarm, then stomp, kick. Unbalance if standing. Ankles, knees, thighs hammered. Can't stand.
Close in? Effortless backstep dodge. Knows weight class, no openings.
Dragon Eye read worst: no forethought. Instinct. Manual responses. Sense thigh stab, drop guard—snake to wrist. Block chest—slash to gut. Exploit gap—twist like invertebrate, evade.
"O~ fatty, nice attack. Almost hit? Good eyes, somehow."
Thwack—crunch!!!!
Dozens minutes in, wood sword splintered.
"Reaction speed's trash though. Speed's severely lacking. You see it all—why no react?"
Breather, I caught breath. Losing 100%. No. Head spinning pain. Body throbbing. Left eyelid swelling.
"Beatrice~ Toss a wooden sword. This guy's tougher than expected!!! Fat protection? Broke the damn thing."
"You... beat him and—fuck—"
"Oi, watch language with a lady. Fix manners if you want disciple."
She grinned at Beatrice.
"How'd you lose? He ain't shit. Decent spirit, strength, eyes—nothing else."
"...You'll see."
"Rotten bitch, lose with that and no shame."
Beatrice tossed new sword.
Right. Half-agree. Used skill points from fucking Beatrice.
Can win. Path visible. Plans always ready. I'll win fair 100%.
Probably.
Whoosh—crack!!!
Just need her a bit more off-guard. A little more.