Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Thigh Wrestling Showdown
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The prison's front yard was buzzing with cheers and feverish excitement.
A martial bout on the sandy beach, perfect for early summer.
It was more than enough to pique the interest of even the prisoners who were indifferent to everything.
"……."
But that interest seemed a bit overheated.
To the point of shattering even the iron bars on the window, protected by powerful barrier magic.
Kwarrrruk......
"What the hell is that purple-head?"
Myoran, her black hair cascading down her back, muttered coldly.
The sudden appearance of that striking woman had immediately irked the massive cat-like woman.
"How dare a lowly knight grab the warden's thigh like that?"
Fine iron dust clung thickly to the Sword Sage's hand.
She shook it off indifferently, then clenched her well-trained fist tight.
Derek had always thought she was the only one wielding her healthy allure and youthful age as weapons.
But the woman visible in the distance had a body just as impressively toned.
"Hold on. She's calling that level a lowly knight?"
Her emerald-green eyes sparkled calmly and coolly.
True to her mastery as a seasoned Swordmaster, she instantly gauged her opponent's realm.
"No. She's clearly at the same level as me. Hiding her power."
But what truly irked her now wasn't some rival at her level.
It was that sensually healthy, voluptuous figure—enough to steal the gaze of another woman like her.
Hidden beneath plain foot soldier garb until she tied it at her waist, making it oddly even more alluring.
The type of beauty in a male-dominated knight order who doesn't realize how pretty she is.
A very dangerous target that easily ensnares men.
"No way she's about to roll around in the sand with her right now?"
No matter that she was only nineteen, she knew a timeless truth all too well.
Men and women who tumble together inevitably grow fond of each other.
"These lewd things keep multiplying. This western land really is disagreeable."
Myoran pulled out the key to the absolute box she always carried in her pocket.
Lately, whenever her thoughts deepened, she'd developed the habit of fiddling with it.
Imagining riding a carriage away from this place.
"Cherry blossoms scattering beautifully, clear waters flowing......"
The girl from the East gazed longingly toward her homeland.
While watching the sturdy man roll up his shirtsleeves and loosen up.
'Yeah. He'll chop wood, and I'll raid the bandits' wallets for our life together.'
To go from the Western Continent to the Eastern Continent required over two months by ship.
Through Samard it was much faster, but that meant crossing the desert.
So she was secretly building a ship.
A grand vessel, funded by pouring in massive sums of money.
They would watch the sunset together from its deck on the way home.
"……."
While Myoran dreamed her modest(?) dreams.
In the saintess's room far off, dissatisfied glares were in full swing.
"What the hell is that?"
Anje Renault, who treated people like tools.
She propped her chin, her face pouty as she stared straight at the sandy beach.
With a completely overbearing expression, unlike her other self, Eri.
"How is that gaze calling him a lowly knight? It's not even close."
At the pinnacle of mental magic, she could roughly read a person's heart just from their eyes.
And Conan, seen from afar, was absolutely not some delinquent.
Quite the opposite—a diligent, faithful soul.
A true knight who endured pain for his noble goals.
People like that don't brainwash easily.
Which only further ruffled Anje's feathers.
"That punishing glare screams imperial or high nobility background."
Had the princess already caught on and sent a watcher?
If so, she needed to make the first move, she thought.
She'd already roughly planned to leave this empire and found a new kingdom.
'Well, actually better this way. The more he guards against Derek, the more he'll hate the empire.'
Recently, during a brief outing for parole review, she'd met various followers.
People losing faith in the Holy See, seeking a new focal point.
Surprisingly, Anje hadn't brainwashed them—instead persuading them to build a kingdom together.
No longer dependent on the pope or god.
Before long, she was swiftly moving to seize what she truly wanted.
"Still, I hate seeing her press that scantily clad body against him."
The monsters scattered throughout the prison flinched at Anje's vicious mutter.
Like pets gauging their low-energy owner's mood.
"Oh right, she'll model for me soon? She made me wear that vulgar maid outfit, so now it's my turn."
She sank into happy deliberations on how to tame the warden into hers.
Blooming the fantasies she'd jotted down in novels.
Among them, that dragon-head circlet from before.
Placing it atop his wet shirtsleeves, his broad chest cradling her all day.
What even was divinity?
That warm embrace would be paradise itself.
Before she knew it, the saintess had awakened to the joys of worldly life more than anyone.
"……."
Finally, Clea.
She'd snuck out with a parasol, keeping her reserve familiar Jinjo glued to her side.
With a fox-like sullen expression, she kneaded Franka's plump cheeks.
"My reserve familiar, you look full of worries."
"……."
"I can hear your brain churning from here, nyaaah......"
"Shut up."
Clea yanked Jinjo's cheeks and scolded her.
Then, with a serious face, she analyzed the man and woman on the sand.
'That guy's no ordinary knight, for sure.'
A spot-on observation, true to the woman with the highest charm and intellect stats in the game.
'Even if he turned the mafia boss's power against him, that was Don Chichi, the mafia head. To subdue the leader of those burly Bakar so easily.'
This time, even Warden Derek would have a tough go, she predicted.
No matter how much stronger he'd gotten lately, he still wasn't a Swordmaster.
Sure, he'd beaten Steelman, but that was thanks to agility and sharp combat sense.
In a raw power contest like this, high mana and stamina training won out.
And the woman before her eyes now...
Had a physique tough enough to remind one of the empire's mighty Princess Camillia.
'Just how strong is the warden, really?'
Clea stared blankly at his exposed forearms as he rolled up his sleeves.
Even her kneading hands stilled in a daze.
"You got the knot tight?"
"Your thigh's so skinny the rope's loose, but it's grippable enough."
Conan whispered cynically, their groins locked.
Foreheads nearly touching, even soft words carried clearly.
"Is that so? If you think I'm that easy, how about a little wager?"
"Would a warden stoop to gambling like that?"
A stern reply, fitting a steadfast commander.
But I pressed on without backing down.
I planned to squeeze every drop out of this covert infiltrator into my turf.
She currently commanded all northern forces as supreme commander.
Meaning one word from her could shift everything in an instant.
I'd use that power to more solidly block the empire's downfall.
My lips twitched sinisterly at the thought of auto-hunting her already.
"Scared you'll lose? Just say it straight—don't be so vicious."
"That expression's chilling. As if I'd fall for such childish bait."
Conan smirked and gripped my thigh even more roughly.
She looked cute and petite, but years wielding a sword made her grip tough as nails.
But soon, her eyes shifted as if rethinking, probing again.
With a gleam that said this could be a golden opportunity.
"...Wait. So if I win, you'll obey my every word?"
"Of course. Whatever it is, I'll grant it—so fight without holding back."
"And if you break it, I can use Confession Magic? Swear it firmly?"
"Who'd think you even have authority for that?"
I played dumb, and Conan's lips curved faintly.
The northern commander had that authority in spades.
"Just answer."
"Fine, fine. I swear—"
Pretending reluctance, I agreed.
Only then did Conan accept the bet.
"Good. Loser obeys the winner unconditionally."
At last, the noble white horse drank from the stream carefree.
The silver serpent lurking beneath struck without mercy.
"Alright, let's begin."
Clea shouted, infusing her voice with mana.
The instant she did.
The warden and northern commander both poured power into their lower bodies.
Dead serious, as if hoisting each other's worlds.
Kugugugu―――.
Golden mana and blue mana tangled, locked in a battle of wills.
Conan seemed inwardly surprised to see I'd tapped imperial power too.
"No way Her Highness Camillia gave you imperial elixirs too?"
"She dotes on me that much."
Conan's face twisted like her best friend was stolen by a hyena.
Her ferocious golden eyes sent a chill down my spine.
'Damn... she's seriously pissed.'
Steelman was entry-level Swordmaster, easy to toy with.
But this woman, grips locked, was different.
A weapon forged from endless battles.
But.
Compared to the life I'd lived, still cute.
I too drew on every ounce of stamina and strength from my first run as knight commander.
I gripped her thigh with all my might.
And as I clenched my teeth to lift.
"Eh...?"
Conan's sturdy legs and mana—her soles flashed up off the ground.
Like a purple pony caught by its owner.
Her pale face flushed red in an instant.
The Bakar guards erupted in their signature boisterous cheers and laughter.
"As expected of Don Derek!! She can't budge against him!!"
Airborne Conan bit her lip hard.
She resisted fiercely, landing back down, then counterattacked me like a wild horse charging an Indian.
'Damn, what raw power—Don Chichi had it coming...!'
Slack even a moment here, and I'd crash backward in defeat.
I clenched my dantian and endured somehow.
Chwaaak!!
The clash of mighty forces sent sand flying wildly.
From Conan, head bowed and shoving with all her might, came ragged breaths.
A sweet, rich aroma.
The scent only those relentlessly pursuing goals possess.
I like that smell.
Those with it always strove for the empire.
So this time, I'd claim her for sure.
Make her an ally to protect the empire.
With focus honed over three regressions, my eyes flashed.
Then, twisting my whole body.
I yanked her sideways like hurling her aside.
"Hrraaah!!"
Like bridling a wild horse and wrenching its neck.
"Think I'll fall for the same trick twice?"
Conan unleashed the same move she'd used on Don Chichi.
Spotting my side slam instantly, she arched her waist back.
Her deep-cut adductors held firm, trying to topple me first.
But she'd forgotten one thing.
Like the thigh she'd dismissed—my agility and flexibility were top-tier.
"Not happening."
Veins bulged like bursting in my forearms.
I amplified knight commander brute force and broker-era agility simultaneously.
Hooked my foot behind the leg trying to slam me.
Finally, a 360-degree twist to make her back hit sand first.
Thus, in a brutal grapple, we tumbled to the ground together.
Chwaaaak―――!!
A massive sand wave surged like a tsunami.
When it settled, the crowd gasped in shock.
I'd pinned Conan back-down, match over.
My face buried in impossibly soft, ample flesh.
Nose deep in her sweat-dampened cleavage, I exhaled heavily.
So comfy I nearly zoned out.
"……."
Surprisingly, Conan showed no displeasure.
True soldier, stunned by her defeat.
"How is there such a technique...? I lost?"
But shadows darkened the watching women's faces.
As if the opponent had crossed the line first.
Yet the most grave expression wasn't from the on-site prisoners or vice warden.
"What the hell is this?"
With her crystal ball recently shattered, Princess Camillia had attached a watcher instead.
In the report sketch from her subordinate...
The scantily T-shirted warden and her childhood friend were embracing on the sand.
The warden even face-planted between those bountiful breasts...
Wearing the world's happiest, lecherous grin.
"Why is Conan doing this with Derek?"
Darkness fell over the face of the sovereign who ruled justly.
Soon, immense betrayal surged; she went coldly stern.
"And so intimately, too."
Betrayer Acquired
⚠️ Warning: Reach Grand Master realm ASAP.
Failure: 'Golden Cage' ending auto-proceeds.