Volume 4 Chapter 33 Joint Training on Snow Mountain ② ♡
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The game of tag at Snow Mountain was divided into three squads, with the roles of “oni” (chaser) and “rabbit” (runner) swapped at random.
Kian played tag twice with First Squad, six times with Second Squad, and five times with Third Squad. But since the white fox girl-swordswoman Rita belonged to First Squad, any match where Kian and Rita ended up on the same side ended in a single Leap—over in a flash. It wasn’t proper training at all, so First Squad was quickly excluded.
In the end, aside from those first two rounds with First Squad, Kian was always forced to play the oni alone, dodging the flurry of attacks from the young knight-girls and knocking them unconscious one by one—more like a free-for-all sparring session than simple tag.
When his final round with Second Squad ended, the girls of Third Squad were preparing for their own last game of tag for the morning. Meanwhile, Kian found himself surrounded by Second Squad. Since their squad wasn’t assigned to medical duty, they were free until lunch break ended.
Some of them still kept their distance, wary of him. But fifteen of the girls edged so close they could practically smell his sweat.
”Leap works like this—you wrap your legs in aura.”
In front of the Order of the Lightning Knights girls wiping their sweat with towels, Kian demonstrated by coiling spiral-shaped ki around his legs.
”You also coat your blade with Impact and cut. Dodge every attack. Never block with your sword. That’s the foundation of Azrael’s Dance Swordsmanship.”
”Like this?”
One of the girls tried wrapping magic power around her legs.
”Exactly. That’s right,” Kian said with a nod.
”Hmm. But isn’t it hard? I can mimic it now, but…”
”In real combat it’s tricky,” another added. “You’re deciding in tenths of a second. If you panic, you’ll channel too much and overload your legs, right?”
”That can happen if you haven’t trained.”
”Then your legs suddenly accelerate tenfold and the recoil tears the muscles apart… right?”
A refined-looking black-haired girl tilted her head cutely at Kian’s feet. He nodded.
”Or if you can’t maintain the spiral shape of the aura, Leap cuts out mid-motion and you smash face-first into the ground. Most recorded deaths from Leap are caused by breaking the spiral.”
”Wouldn’t plain Physical Ability Enhancement be safer?” asked a boyish brown-haired girl, brow furrowed. “What’s the difference between that and just bulking your muscles like a wild beast to move fast?”
”Leap gives more speed. In Azrael’s style, which assumes no defense, getting your blade to the enemy faster—even just a fraction—matters most.”
”But fighting without defense or retreat is insane. You’re either reading every strike or trading flesh for bone. Isn’t that terrifying?”
”Fair point,” Kian admitted with a nod. “If you half-learn it, you’ll just end up slower and more likely to kill yourself. Even so, compared to western warriors who need extreme physical ability plus Enhancement magic, it’s easier to systematically mass-produce a kind of downgraded warrior-monk army in a short time. That’s one strength of Azrael’s Dance Swordsmanship.”
He continued:
”Dance Swordsmanship can’t be complete without magic power. But even with little, you can make do with positioning and conserving energy. And you don’t need expensive gear—no armor at all, since you dodge everything. Even a stick with a rock tied to it can serve as a weapon. There’s no cheaper martial art.”
”But weapons are a warrior’s life.”
One of the knights glanced at her spear tipped with blue thunderstone.
”I don’t get why you’d skimp there. If the battlefield demands that, then it’s the commanders’ fault for failing to arm us.”
”I agree. If HQ told you to kill with bamboo spears, the battlefield is already lost. Better to figure out how to capture enemy weapons first.”
”Still… watching someone like you makes me think Azrael’s style really is the strongest. Stronger than anything we practice.”
”We couldn’t even scratch you. Kind of kills our confidence,” another sighed.
”Seriously, how high-ranked are you as a warrior monk? Top-tier?”
”Eh… who knows.” Kian tilted his head. “I’m just a failed monk, really. I only learned the basic forms of Impact and Leap.”
”But you took down Flora and captured Abbas. You even showed us a secret technique just now.”
”You’re obviously the strongest. We’re drenched in sweat, and you haven’t even broken one.”
”I thought men lacked magic power and were all cowards, but seeing you changed my mind.”
”Hey, you’re a wandering knight now, right?”
A short-haired, boyish girl leaned in so close their noses nearly touched. Her sweat carried a warm, heady scent.
”Well… yeah, that’s right.”
”They say you fought with the princess of Izerland, didn’t you? Then why not join us instead? You could call yourself an honorary Order of the Lightning Knights member!”
”I don’t even want to fight you, honestly. In real combat you’d have killed us ten times over,” Another said.
”Having you as an ally would be so reassuring,” Another one said.
”Mr. Kian, please join us,” the black-haired girl said, hugging his left arm.
The short-haired one threw her arm playfully around his neck.
”Join us, join us!”
”Whoa, wait, stop! You’re supposed to be proper ladies—show some restraint!”
”Hahaha! What country’s values are those? Are you blushing, Kian?”
”I—I am not!”
In truth, he was only pretending to be embarrassed. But perhaps because they believed he was a bashful man, the girls around him broke into bright, carefree laughter.
When the giggles finally subsided, they let go of his arm and neck. The short-haired knight smoothly picked up the thread of conversation.
”Still, fighting like this… it really shows how much we need General Asterios’s strength.”
”Yeah… true.”
”There may not be many Kian-class enemies out there, but even a few would be enough trouble.”
”Hero of Crete, huh… I wonder what kind of power he really has.”
”Bet it’s amazing. Like thunder crackling everywhere—Zzzt!”
”Didn’t Amo-Amo’s mother fight alongside him thirteen years ago? Right, Amo-Amo?”
”――――”
”Amo-Amo?”
”Eh!?”
From behind the great boulder Kian sat upon, a tigress-girl knight of the Steel Tiger clan jerked her head up.
Round tiger ears, hair the color of her stripes.
Only one long tuft of hair trailed down the back, while the rest was cut bluntly at her nape—what one might call a “jellyfish cut.”
She looked to be around the same age as the others, eighteen to twenty. True to the Steel Tiger bloodline, famed for their physique, her long legs stretched sleek and toned from beneath her miniskirt.
During their mock “tag” game with Kian, she had been the one sending commands to her squad with sparks of electricity. Just by appearance, she gave off the aura of a dependable big sister.
”Ah, um…”
The tigress cut her gaze away from Kian and feigned composure as she swept her eyes across the group.
”What is it?”
”It’s about Amo-Amo’s mother.”
”Ah, right. Sorry, I spaced out. Training’s left me half-dead.”
”You holding up? There’s still more drills after lunch, you know.”
”Not feeling sick, are you?”
The others turned worried glances on the tigress girl—Amora. She forced a bright reply without looking back at Kian.
”Y-yeah, I’m fine!
”Sorry, everyone, but I need to, uh, go pick some flowers.”
”Just say you’re taking a piss, man. You’re a guy, aren’t you, Kian?”
Teased by a short-haired knight-girl, Kian hurried off from the squad’s rest spot, slipping into the trees at the edge of the training slope.
* * *
The Steel Tiger clan, true to their name, were a tribe of beastmen with tiger blood.
Sturdy, broad-framed, muscles and bones supple yet powerful—their bodies boasted immense resistance to physical force.
On the other hand, they were vulnerable to magic and curses.
Especially charm-type curses that meddled with appetite or sex drive—those struck them with almost frightening effectiveness.
Amora, the jellyfish-haired tigress, had actually been present during Kian’s interrogation by Medea. Fearing the worst during that long ordeal, Kian had laced the room with vampire charm pheromones. Amora, unfortunately, had been one of those most affected.
Serious to a fault, she had remained at her post in the interrogation chamber, watching Kian without break except for brief trips to the latrine. By the end, her bloodshot eyes had looked ready to pounce on his half-bared torso.
Kian’s allure worked as both poison and curse, seeping into sensory nerves through the air. Normally, once a victim breathed fresh air and metabolized the pheromones, the effect would fade.
But for Amora—whether due to personal disposition or the cycles of her body—even after metabolizing it, her instincts still clamored for a male.
Thus, as Kian began to sweat during training, his natural male scent hit her far harder than it did the other knights.
Her mental guard had slipped once. Her keen sense of smell made it impossible to withstand a second wave.
As Kian searched deeper among the trees for a place to relieve himself, he sensed the tigress’s presence creeping after him.
(Medea slipped this morning. Her focus wavered, and she failed to notice one of her own subordinates falling badly under my charm.)
It was true: in an open space like the slope, the pheromones should have been harmless. Medea’s plan had been to let her knight mingle with Kian to draw out combat knowledge.
But allure wasn’t just chemical; it was the curse of attraction itself. Even outdoors, Medea’s tactic was a dangerous gamble.
”Phew…”
Unbuttoning his trousers, Kian loosed a long stream of urine. He idly wondered why humans always preferred to relieve themselves at tree roots rather than in open snow, watching the hot stream carve away white powder in plumes of steam.
Being not-quite-human, his urination was as prolonged as his emission.
As steam curled upward, a heavy crunch came from behind a tree—the sound of new snow being crushed. He had wandered deep enough that no other knight’s voice could reach here. The footsteps could belong to no one but his stalker.
”Who’s there?”
He didn’t stop urinating as he called out. At first the presence hid behind the trunk. Then, realizing the futility, it emerged with a sluggish step.
”…It’s me. Amora.”
Her voice trembled, more with excitement than nerves.
”Sorry, I’m, uh, in the middle of something. Please don’t stare.”
”Y-yes. Sorry.”
Yet even as she apologized, she circled forward, eyes catching sight of what he exposed. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips.
He could feel her breathing shift. The refined face of a young noble daughter—(the Order of Lightning Knights was, after all, composed mostly of scions from wealthy houses who could afford martial training)—had stiffened like someone under a drug’s haze.
And mingling with her clean soap fragrance and maidenly sweetness came the undeniable musk of a tigress in heat.
Her breathing quickened. Her long legs quivered, making the metal fittings on her skirt’s waistband clink and rattle without end.
”Um, Ms. Amora?”
”――――”
”Why did you follow me here? I said I was just picking flowers.”
”You walked so far into the forest. If a guest got lost and couldn’t find his way back, it would be terrible. So I followed.”
The words tumbled out as though rehearsed.
”I… see. That’s very kind of you.”
His tone carried unease. Again, Amora fell silent, an ominous air hanging over her. Had their genders been reversed, Kian might have been frozen in terror. But here, the hunter and prey had traded places.
”Really, please don’t look. Even men feel embarrassed, you know.”
”――――”
”…Tch.”
He flicked off the last drops and tucked himself away, fastening his buttons with his back turned to her.
Predators, they said, were stirred to instinctive attack by the sight of a prey’s unguarded back. For a tiger beastman, that proved true.
Without a sound, Amora lunged, knocking Kian flat. She straddled him without care for her skirt, her strength shockingly firm for such a slender frame.
”Wha—!? M-Ms. Amora!?”
”Hah… hah…”
The sound of her ragged breathing betrayed a hunger that clashed with the carefully cultivated image of a refined young knight. She wound her arms deftly around him, fumbling with the clasps of her armor, until the chestplate slid free. Suddenly, her full weight pressed against him, her figure molded against his chest through only the thin fabric of her uniform.
Kian tried to speak again, but her lips devoured his words. Her gaze was wild, her pupils shot through with crimson threads. By the time she pulled back for breath, the girl who usually carried herself with poise looked fevered and unrecognizable.
Without hesitation, Amora pinned him down. The movements were too precise to be random—it was a technique. Probably from the Order of the Lightning Knights’ arrest methods.
Her belt slid free, and before he could raise a proper resistance, she looped it around his wrists in a swift lock. Tiny sparks snapped across his skin, jolting his nerves. Though his body bore resistance to electricity thanks to the Asterios factor, Kian let himself tremble as though the shocks had subdued him.
Amora’s breath came rough; her restraint frayed by some hidden fever rattling her mind. Even so, her natural caution lingered—she shocked him again and again, refusing to relent until his struggles fully stilled.
”Haa… fhh… haa…”
She straddled him, her knees sinking into the cloak-draped snow. The innocent knight Kian had glimpsed during their resting hours would never match this sight: flushed cheeks, trembling body, whispering words that quivered with forbidden urgency.
”Stay still…”
Her voice carried a weight unlike the Amora he knew: commanding, unwavering, enough to chill even a hardened criminal. And yet, the face delivering those words remained that of a gentle girl, caught between duty and an intoxicating force she could no longer contain.
Kian’s heart pounded. The situation was reckless, dangerous—and yet he understood. The storm overtaking her was no act. It was real, and she was losing herself inside it.
Then, just as suddenly, clarity flickered in her eyes. She froze, horror dawning across her flushed features as though waking from a trance.
”Haah… fhh—…! I-I…! Forgive me! Please, I didn’t—!”
She stumbled back from him, hands trembling as her gaze fell upon the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Her breath hitched, words faltering, though her eyes refused to look away.
”C-could that… have been because of me…?”
Her white throat bobbed in a hard swallow. Desperation and shame warred with a dangerous kind of curiosity.
”…Master Kian.”
Her voice, softer now, carried both reverence and fear. It was clear the fever had left its mark on her, yet her hesitation carried no sign of rebellion.
Tentatively, almost against her will, her hand hovered just above his restrained form, trembling in uncertainty.
”…Would it be… permissible, if I…?”
The question trailed into silence.
Kian could see it then—the once-distant knight was at war with herself, trapped between her knightly discipline and a craving that threatened to consume them both.
With a smile playing on her lips, coated in a soft pink gloss, she began unbuttoning his trousers. Her fingertips trembled—perhaps from anticipation of his swollen arousal—and she fumbled the button once before succeeding on her second try, finally exposing the front.
Her pale, smooth hand slipped inside, groping at the waistband of his underwear and tugging it down. He’d expected her skin to feel cool, but Amora’s right hand burned with surprising heat.
She exhaled thick clouds of white breath from her mouth, like some massive beast.
The sight of this prim and proper young lady shrouded in such an unreal amount of steam was utterly surreal.
”Wah, it’s… so hard… ngh, there.”
It flopped out with a heavy thud.
Then bounced with a jiggle.
It strained and throbbed, veins bulging fiercely—crack, snap, pulse after relentless pulse!
”Fwa…? Ah, f-fufufufu. This is kind of fun.”
”Kuh, ah, Ms. Amora! Don’t breathe on it like that!”
”Oh my, so even Ramsey’s great hero has a weak spot here.”
A flash of her fangs peeked from her refined smile.
Her eyes, glazed with raw desire, fixed on his rigidly throbbing length. She let out a sigh of bliss.
Her features, deep-set like those of Beastmen from the north, melted into a hazy softness.
She brought her tall, pale nose close to the tip, where the intense masculine scent radiated from his aroused shaft, and sniffed delicately.
”———♡♡”
That alone sent shudders through her shoulders as she climaxed.
Her mystical yellow eyes went vacant, her elegant lips parted halfway, revealing a vulnerable, feminine expression she wouldn’t show to just anyone.
After trembling for a moment, her cheeks flushed as she said in a high-pitched voice, “Your… thing must be cold, right?” She unbuttoned the thick inner layer over her chest, freeing her pristine white mounds with a bounce. Her areolas were a lovely pale pink, like Serena’s. The tips were small and modest, but now they stood stiff and pointed.
”Excuse me♡”
Her fangs gleamed as she looked up at him with predatory eyes—and then her beautiful breasts enveloped his shaft. In an instant, the girl’s soft curves were slicked with the musky fluid seeping from him.
”Ugh, whoa!”
His throat arched back involuntarily.
Amora’s cleavage was warm, clinging with a plush firmness, the pressure intense.
It felt like his length was being squeezed by the softest cotton.
Of course, his was larger, so the dark, flushed head poked out from the top of her breasts.
Her red tongue flicked out from her lips, teasing and lapping at it playfully.
”Uh, fuh, oof.”
”You mustn’t squirm like that. —Mmm, fu.”
She cradled her breasts with her arms, and her upper body began rocking back and forth.
Her round tiger ears bobbed closer and then away, over and over.
She must have been deeply aroused beneath her miniskirt, because amid the floral scent of her perfume, a stronger, animalistic musk started to mingle.
”Hah, amazing…♡ I never knew a man’s arousal could be this thrilling…♡ Just the scent is making me dizzy.”
”Hau, ah, Ms. Amora, stop, it’s too much.”
”Hmm? What’s too much? You’re so strong, yet here you are, moaning like a girl while a little thing like me toys with you, oh great hero?”
”Kuh.”
”You wanted this too, didn’t you?”
She stroked him with her breasts, slide after slide, glancing up at him with those teasing eyes.
The mix of his fluids and her sweat acted as lubricant, sending just the right friction along his length.
Her saliva coated the tip from her tongue, and she rubbed it slickly with her palm.
Her movements were a bit awkward overall, but some wild instinct guided her straight to his most sensitive spots, attacking them relentlessly. Amora was surprisingly skilled at this.
”Ah, I never knew Ms. Amora could be so wicked!”
”It’s your fault, Master Kian. From the moment of the interrogation, you’ve been giving off that awful scent…! It nearly overwhelmed me. But I couldn’t leave the room on duty. In the end, just inhaling that stinky aroma drove me wild♡”
”Aaaah.”
”Hehe, does it feel good? It’s a secret technique my mother taught me. Seems pretty effective. Though I suppose any friction would do the trick. —Ahm.”
”Kuh.”
The stroking with her breasts paused, and she took the tip into her mouth.
She looked up at him cutely, stretching her refined lips lewdly as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it. The suction pulled at his hips, the sharp pleasure from her tongue intense. Above all, seeing Amora’s striking features contort in such an indecent way stirred something deep inside him.
After that, she lavished his length with silent, sticky attention.
Maybe she was drawing from how she touched herself, but the pressure was a tad light—still, the relentless way she coated him in saliva, combined with her fingers kneading his sack greedily, built his release in no time.
In the end, her tongue digging at the slit while she gazed up at him pushed him right over the edge.
”Uh, I’m!”
”Eh!? O-okay! Not on the face—I’ll take it in my mouth. Excuse me!”
She enveloped the tip with her lips.
In that instant, he erupted in a massive surge.
Spurt after thick spurt gushed out, flooding relentlessly.
Wave after wave pulsed, bursting forth in heavy bursts!
It sprayed and bubbled, coating everything in its path.
Spatter, spurt… another long stream!
Gush after gush, ending in sharp bursts!
More surges, rapid and forceful!
It poured and splashed, wave upon wave!
A final thick shot, then a dribble, followed by lingering spurts!
”Ngh!? Ngho!? W-wait…”
The sheer volume caught Amora off guard, and she pulled her lips away.
Still, he kept going shamelessly, splattering her face with the sticky, yellowish fluid without mercy.
”Aaah, s-sorry!”
”I-It’s fine. Whoa…, what an intense release! So men can… squirt like that too, huh?”
”Ah, yeah! I’m totally normal!”
”Wow~. It’s so sticky…”
She looked like she’d been drenched by a group assault as she sat back on her heels, peering curiously at her hands.
From behind her waist, her yellow-and-black striped tail swayed back and forth.
”Ms. Amora, I’m… still…”
”Ah… Then, um…”
Amora gripped his still-erupting shaft and gently stroked, coaxing out the last drops from the channel. She hadn’t been fully satisfied from the earlier attention alone, it seemed, as she fidgeted, rubbing her knees together under her miniskirt.
”So, should we… go all the way?”
Notes:
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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