The Raven Helm and the Bitches' Schemes

Wearing his helmet and mask, Jinwoo laid a cunning yet sweetly alluring trap for his newest bitch in the bustling magic workshop. Meanwhile, at the Yamashita Temple, the four remaining bitches waged a fierce psychological war for survival amid the new power dynamics.

The dinner table that evening was icier than ever. The empty seat at the head weighed on them with an oppressive force greater than any other absence. As the meal ended, matriarch Aki broke the heavy silence.

"Everyone... to the living room."

The four women knelt in rank before the throne altar once more. Corax perched on Koharu's shoulder, feathers ruffled in unease. Aki turned to her.

"Koharu. Recite once more for all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to hear the message our Master sent to that English wench today."

She referred to the letter enclosed with the 'gift' Jinwoo had sent Emily—a message shared instantly with the temple upon Sea's arrival in America, per his command.

Koharu closed her eyes, reciting the strangely affectionate address to the 'junior' word for word, her pure voice echoing through the living room like a shamaness in trance.

"You've heard it."

Aki swept a cold gaze over the other three. "The Master's will is clear. A new bitch—perhaps with talents even more 'special' than ours—will soon join this temple. We cannot be culled."

Her eyes fixed first on Chiharu. "Chiharu. You've proven your worth in the hunt and battle. But... this Emily is an alchemist. She might forge weapons more potent than your magic bow to offer the Master. Beyond your physical strength... what else can you give?"

Next, Koharu. "Koharu. Your faith is unmatched among ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us. But... she's a mage too. She might commune with the Master's soul on a deeper level, grasping his magic better than you. Can your pure prayers alone sustain his favor?"

Finally, Sea. "And you, the youngest. Kim Sea." Her voice turned glacial. "You've just been granted the role of emissary. But if that wench brings greater wealth and alliances with her superior mind... your usefulness ends there. You'll revert to just another caged bitch."

Aki rose, queenly, gazing down upon them. Her face burned with crisis and fierce resolve to defend the harem. "We have no more time for jealousy and scheming against each other."

A cruel, seductive smile curved her lips. "From now on, we unite as one. So that when that new blonde big-titted mage arrives, the Master won't even dream of glancing her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way. We'll deploy our bodies, our skills—everything—to etch deep into his flesh once more that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this temple, this harem, is the world's sweetest, inescapable hell of pleasure."

She extended her hand to the three bitches. "We're no longer mere waiting bitches. We will be four lascivious poisons to addict him utterly."

The frenzy of the hunt subsided in the magic workshop. In his forge—the quiet heart of creation—Jinwoo prepared a new ritual. On the massive ebony workbench lay the prime spoils from that hellish hunt, exuding ominous auras: his weathered plague doctor mask and Chiharu's simple fox mask; pure gold and silver bars for magic items; and two mighty legacies from the divine apostle—a colossal double-headed axe that had claimed countless lives across millennia, and a massive eyeball housing ancient 'wisdom' that had observed, analyzed, and led to victory in all those battles.

He grasped the huge axe first. Channeling mana into the blade-handle joint elicited a metallic screech—creeeak...—as the pitch-black blade cleanly detached from the sturdy wooden haft.

The creation rite began. He placed his old plague doctor mask at the workbench's center, arranging the blade, eyeball, gold, and silver around it. Closing his eyes, he invoked the Grimoire's power, chanting the fusion spell to dismantle material laws.

By his will, solid gold and silver melted without flame, flowing as twin rivers across the bench. The massive eyeball dissolved into viscous blue ether brimming with eons of wisdom. Finally, the black blade ascended as pure 'essence of death'—heavy darkness incarnate.

"Now... become one."

At his decree, the four elements—gold and silver streams, blue wisdom ether, black death essence—whirled into a vortex, surging into the central mask. It vibrated like a scream. Worn leather and metal melted, deconstructing fully before rebuilding under new laws.

No longer a mere face-cover, it morphed into a perfect helmet enveloping the entire head: a sharp, elegant avian beak front; battle-scarred, rugged steel texture; and eye sockets where blue ether fused with black essence formed twin red lenses like hellfire.

When the lights faded, a flawless, ominous crow helmet lay on the bench. Jinwoo donned it.

Urgh...! As it fitted perfectly, a flood of new sensations surged into his mind. The world looked different. Wisdom's essence revealed enemies' next moves—and beyond—like branching futures. Death's essence marked every living thing's 'weak points,' vital spots glowing faint red lines.

Satisfied, he perched his mage hat lightly atop the perfect helm. Oddly, it fit. He removed it and began the next creation: Chiharu's fox mask.

He hefted the remaining axe haft, infused with 'return'—yearning to rejoin its master. Melting more gold and silver, he extracted the haft's 'concept of return' and blended it in. He poured the golden liquid over the white fox mask.

It didn't melt. Like a sponge, it absorbed all the mana. Red patterns on its surface gleamed gold briefly, flaunting latent power.

Now no mere symbol, the mask was a key to spatial dominion. Its wearer could instantly swap positions with any arrow they loosed, within line of sight—absolute mobility.

Jinwoo placed the two reborn 'faces' side by side, gazing contentedly. The next hunt would be a wholly new dimension of play.

Creation complete, Jinwoo set the new helmet and mask on the bench with a satisfied sigh, exiting the workshop. Mana drain left his body languid, but his mind sharper than ever.

He headed to the empty villa's kitchen. The fridge held Aki's latest offering: neatly packed pasta in a translucent glass container with creamy, milky sauce—her fresh morning breast milk, needless to say.

He microwaved the cold 'breast milk carbonara,' carrying it to his computer desk. He activated the surveillance spell on the monitor, spying Yamashita Temple's interior.

Onscreen, the four bitches faced the new storm each in their way. Aki, as matriarch, gathered the other three in the living room for strict 'training' to reorder the harem.

Jinwoo shoveled creamy pasta, chuckling as he imagined their minds.

Aki, that one... She's desperately thrashing to solidify her rank before the new English bitch arrives. Scolding the youngest Sea while flaunting authority over Chiharu and Koharu. Pitiful. She still hasn't realized true domination stems not from force, but information.

His fork speared a bacon chunk.

Chiharu. My arrogant huntress. Fury and fighting spirit blaze knowing her 'rival' now includes a mage after the flying crow. In the next hunt, she'll draw her bow till her body breaks to prove herself far more useful than that English wench. Such an easy beast to handle.

He swallowed, sipping cold breast milk from a wine bottle like fine vintage.

Koharu, my innocent shrine maiden. Pure joy at a new 'sister,' mingled with holy crisis testing her faith. She dreams of drawing that English bitch into her devotion for perfect harmony serving the Master. That innocence will be the deadliest poison for her.

Finally, Sea.

And my emissary, Kim Sea. At the intrigue's heart, she'll desperately scheme survival. She knows her sole weapon is her 'public' role. Before the English bitch arrives, she'll push maximum results to secure her position. Or she won't survive this hellish temple.

Jinwoo laughed aloud at the Grimoire's words. He devoured the last strand of pasta, setting down the empty bowl. His bitches moved perfectly as intended.