Volume 4 Chapter 37 The Chair of Transformation ♡
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The orange glow of the magic stone lamps cast a soft light across the bathhouse at night.
Kian lay stretched out on the dark stone floor, gazing up at the sun-bronzed girl straddling him.
”Fufu, what’s this? You recover quickly, don’t you? Not bad at all, old man.”
Guria licked her rosy lips with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her playful tone both teasing and bold. She shifted her weight as though testing him, the posture itself brazen, unashamed, and yet oddly innocent.
From Kian’s vantage point, her form hovered over him. Her body swayed with youthful vitality, the curve of her figure revealed in the lamplight—at once girlish and alluring. She had tied her honey-brown hair with a white ribbon, which lent her a softer, almost maidenly air, though the loose strands clinging damp to her cheeks spoke of heat, sweat, and a knowing femininity.
She was still only eighteen—the princess of Crete. Normally so pure, laughing freely without restraint. Yet now, flushed with excitement, she leaned close as if drawn irresistibly to him, eyes gleaming with the spark of discovery. Her presence carried a wild energy, raw and untamed, that stirred Kian’s own pulse.
”Round two… let’s eat♡” she declared, her smile dazzling and unashamed.
She lowered herself slowly, her expression caught between delight and nervous anticipation. Her breath hitched, and a small sound escaped her lips.
Kian, pinned beneath her, felt the heat of her determination as much as the warmth of her body. Guria trembled slightly, her shoulders quivering, her lips parted as she bit down a gasp.
”…Ahh…”
She steadied herself, brushing damp strands of hair back behind her ear. The ribbon at her crown revealed the line of her neck, pale and graceful. With her free hand she pressed lightly against her lower belly, almost as if marveling at the closeness between them.
”Kian,” she whispered breathlessly, her dark eyes meeting his, “you’re incredible. It feels… amazing.”
He gritted his teeth, his voice ragged.
”Uuuh…”
”You feel it too, don’t you? Even lying still, you… you’re alive inside me.”
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, their breaths mingling in the charged stillness. Her toned abdomen tightened, then shifted as she moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her sculpted features—arched brows, sharp eyes, proud nose—seemed almost carved in stone, yet her flushed cheeks betrayed her growing surrender.
Kian slid a hand to the ribbon in her hair and pulled her close, their lips colliding.
”Mm—!”
Guria did not resist. Instead, she opened her mouth willingly, drawing him into a kiss both tender and consuming. Their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies entwined as if neither wished to let go.
When their lips finally parted for air, Guria pressed her brow to his once more. Her voice trembled, unsteady, as though the very world had begun to sway beneath her.
”…This is… this is really happening, isn’t it? Kian, we’re… together.”
The words lit a fire within him.
”I can’t hold back anymore!”
”Eh? W-wait, Kian!?”
With a sudden movement, he sat up, wrapping her tightly in his arms. Her warmth enveloped him, like the sun-soaked sands of Crete. Their faces were so close that each could see the flicker in the other’s eyes.
Kian pressed his lips against hers once more, and Guria met him eagerly.
The girl wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him with reckless affection. Kian, driven by rising fervor, pushed her gently down onto the stone floor beneath them.
”Ahh—!”
Pinned by his weight, Guria let out a breathless cry, her long legs trembling at his sides. Her bronzed thighs gleamed in the lamplight, powerful and beautiful, and yet she gazed up at him with eyes softened by trust and exhilaration.
”Kian…” she breathed, her voice wavering between passion and disbelief.
Their mouths found each other again, lips locking, words lost in the storm of closeness. Guria clutched her fists against his chest, her body arching as though caught between resisting and yielding.
”…Nn—ahh…♡”
Her brows knit together as her body shivered beneath him. A flush spread across her cheeks and forehead, her breath quick and uneven. Her honey-brown bangs clung damply to her skin, while her smile—bright and unrestrained—seemed both joyous and dangerously intoxicating.
At last, her strength melted away. She lay beneath him, chest rising and falling, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, yet full of a secret glow.
”…That was… amazing…”
Kian, trembling from restraint, brushed a hand against her cheek. Guria met him with a small kiss, tender and full of affection. The warmth of her touch, the way she looked at him—it was a sight only a lover would ever see.
The thought struck Kian like a blade: one day, perhaps, this intimacy could belong to another—Asterios. And if so, the fallen Guria might be even more radiant, more dangerously beautiful than now. The idea alone left him reeling.
”…Shall we wash up a little?” Guria asked softly, propping herself up.
As she shifted, the closeness between them finally broke. Yet even so, the lingering warmth and the vision of her flushed, smiling face remained etched in Kian’s mind.
Her bronzed thighs, the curve of her hips, even the way she carried herself—everything about Guria radiated a raw, dangerous femininity. Kian’s breath caught. For an instant he wanted nothing more than to seize her completely, to make her his alone, but he restrained the urge with iron will.
Sensing his control, Guria rose lightly to her feet, still smiling, and lifted a bucket. She beckoned him with a playful wave of her hand, almost childlike in its sweetness. Kian sighed, reining in his thoughts, and followed her.
* * *
Afterward, they washed one another’s bodies, then slipped into the hot spring together.
At first, they merely soaked in silence, letting the warmth seep into their bones. But it wasn’t long before Guria shifted closer, eyes lifted to meet his. She reached out as if to cleanse him with her own hands, her movements gentle, reverent, and lingering.
The lamplight fell across Kian’s back, casting them into a secluded shadow. Guria tilted her head upward, gazing into his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart lurch.
”Kian… even if I belong to Asterios in the end, I want you to know—I’ll remember you.”
Her voice trembled as she drew back slightly, furrowing her brows as though the thought pained her.
”Forget me,” she said at last. “When the fifth night comes, I’ll no longer be myself. Even if you love me, I won’t be able to return it.”
Kian shook his head firmly.
”No. That doesn’t matter. Even then, I’ll still care for you.”
”Why?” she asked in a whisper.
”Because I live for love,” he answered, his eyes unwavering. “And once I’ve shared this bond with you, I can’t help but love you.”
Her lips trembled. “But that will only hurt you…”
He set his hands gently on her sun-bronzed shoulders, looking straight into her eyes.
”If—by some miracle—you remain yourself after Asterios, if your spirit survives the price of Damnamene, then who else could comfort your wounded heart? Everyone else will see you as lost, no longer the Guria they once knew. If even I abandoned you then, you’d be left utterly alone. And that… I couldn’t bear.”
”…The price of Damnamene will consume me,” she said quietly. “Every past bearer proves it. By the fifth night, I will not be myself.”
”Then let me be the one who suffers. That’s nothing compared to the thought of you breaking apart in loneliness.”
Guria blinked rapidly, her expression softening. “…Kian. You’re nothing like I first thought. You’re serious. Noble. Kind. Strong. The hero of Ramsey, the first knight of the princess of the frontier… That strength isn’t just your arm. It’s your heart.”
Kian managed a crooked smile, thinking to himself, (I was only speaking in the moment, but if she wants to believe it, so be it.)
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her damp hair, a halo forming in the lamplight.
”I’ll protect you,” he said. “Even if Asterios takes you, I’ll take you back. Again and again, until you never feel alone.”
Guria lowered her gaze, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
”…Thank you. I won’t give in. Not to fate, not to Damnamene.”
Rubbing her eyes, she lifted her face again—red, wet, but smiling through the tears.
”Even if I become Asterios’s, I’ll fight to remember you. And… my feelings for you. I’ll hold on to them.”
”Your feelings… Does that mean it’s mutual?” Kian teased.
She let out an incredulous laugh. “What are you saying now! You’ve been my partner and my hero since we escaped Cyclops Island together. …If only you were Vahid’s heir, then we could have married and lived happily ever after!”
”That would be a world worth seeing,” he replied with a faint grin—though in the back of his mind, he mused dryly about other possibilities, other outcomes.
But Guria’s expression softened again, and at last she whispered, “Then… let’s share one last moment together.”
* * *
Before dawn, Guria departed the merchant house. At the gate, she kissed him farewell, whispering that they might never meet again.
Inside, Kian’s heart answered her silently: *You’ll never escape me now.*
To him, Guria was no ordinary girl. She was extraordinary in spirit as well as form—a woman of rare brilliance. And he would never let her go. One way or another, she would be his.
At the iron gate, alone at last, Kian let a dark smile curve across his lips.
A voice stirred in his mind.
’Kian, you did well to learn from Guria the time of Asterios’s summoning. But now we must think ahead—to tracing Asterios’s nature, and to dealing with Chronos’s unbreakable chains.’
(If Guria uses the Staff of Dominion, those chains could bind my heart as well. I need to prepare for that.)
He recalled entrusting the chains to Leprobus on the Minotaur Island. After finishing with Guria, he had meant to meet Leprobus anyway, to check on his progress and lend aid. The plan remained unchanged—he would fly out as soon as time allowed.
The voice continued:
’If the chains truly bind the soul, then only Asterios would be their target. Since you can take his form, you may not be bound at all. That is my belief.’
(Then there should be no problem, right?)
’On the contrary. If the ritual fails to bind you, we must hide the truth. The magic circle won’t activate around your armor, so you’ll need to fasten the chains yourself during the summoning.’
Kian exhaled slowly. (In that case… I’d better move quickly.)
But just as he turned to leave, Talia’s voice interjected: ‘Wait. Aliona is due back at first light. You must share this information with her before moving on.’
”Aliona left me a letter?” Kian glanced toward the postbox. “When I checked earlier it was empty. Did you spy it while I was… occupied?”
’Yes. Through one of the bird golems. Medea also sent a message.’
A small bird flew down from the house and dropped two letters. One bore Aliona’s seal.
’Medea invites you to train with the Order of the Lightning Knights tomorrow, the thirtieth. Likely impressed by your display at Snow Mountain yesterday. She’ll want to study your techniques while you’re still considered an ally. Whether you accept is your choice.’
”I’ll go,” Kian said decisively as he scanned Aliona’s script. “Azrael will surely strike soon. With generals like Mansoor, Ryoma, and Hanami at his side—and perhaps many more monks—the Order needs every edge. If they can’t defend against assassins, Crete’s magicians will be slaughtered. I must teach them what I can.”
’But you are Asterios,’ the voice reminded.
(Exactly. Which is why I must act the part—now more than ever.)
And if he gained a little admiration from the many young knights in the process, all the better.
Smirking faintly, he returned to the house, preparing to resume his role as Asterios until Aliona’s arrival.
* * *
When dawn came, Aliona returned by ferry. By then, Kian had finished his simulation of Asterios.
He met her at the gate, where she appeared in her familiar dark-green robe and white dress, pulling back her hood to reveal long ears that twitched with relief.
”You’ve built a postbox now, I see,” she said.
”I have. Forgive me for not staying put as you asked. Too many matters drew me out.”
”I expected nothing less. You’re Kian.”
He chuckled. “You saw through me, then.”
”I read the letters. Rou and Leprobus are both away, yes?”
He nodded.
”Then I also understand the plan. Since the Minotaur we slew was in fact General Asterios, Kian, you’ll take his place.”
She passed by him, stepping into the forest path as she spoke.
”I agree with Rou. To do business here, we must drive back Azrael and at least force a truce. With Asterios dead, Crete’s strength is weakened. For that reason too, I support you taking up his role.”
Kian smiled faintly. “I’m glad to hear it.”
”Isthbaran has agreed as well,” Aliona said. “That said, his attention is fixed entirely on the exploration of Fire Island. Even if we seize Minotaur Island through strategy, you won’t be calling off the Fire Island expedition, will you?”
”Of course not,” Kian replied. “It’s a good opportunity to prove our strength—and if more land can be made useful, all the better. If equipment is lacking, I’m prepared to provide additional funding.”
He opened the front gate and gestured for Aliona to enter.
”Still,” he added, “if subduing the salamanders proves too dangerous, or the cost outweighs the gain, I think it’s reasonable to begin operations with Minotaur Island alone.”
”The general never abandons a fight once begun,” Aliona said firmly. “And salamanders are formidable.”
She snapped her fingers, conjuring several sheets of paper.
”Reports from the general and Ms. Leanan Sidhe. Review them later. As expected, the salamanders are clad in burning heat, breathe fire, and though devolved, retain the ability to glide at high speed. They can’t cross the sea, which is Crete’s good fortune.”
”Is Isthbaran struggling?”
They halted in the entrance hall. Aliona nodded.
”Yes. He is an exceptional warrior, but you can’t simply outmatch that heat with speed or swordplay. Even Balmung’s blazing light has little effect. Not useless, but hardly decisive.”
”If Balmung can’t bite… then it’s grim indeed.”
”Precisely. Only magic or martial arts can prevail. I could conjure a tidal wave, or summon endless rain from seawater—but such methods would devastate the ecosystem. The Kingdom’s government would bury us in complaints. And I do know what that’s like.”
Kian wisely swallowed a remark. He recalled the time she had dried up Chatillon’s harbor and enraged the locals.
”Then we’ll let Isthbaran press on as he wills. I’ll see to it he has support.”
”If that’s your stance, I’ve nothing more to add,” she said. “Now, the next matter. I showed the general sketches of the wolf-woman you fought, and the so-called ‘prince.’”
”And?”
Aliona’s gaze hardened.
”He confirmed them. Tersea and Ozeas.”
Kian drew in a sharp breath.
”Ozeas was in his fifties when he died. Yet the ‘prince’ you saw was clearly a man in his twenties, wasn’t he?”
”Yes.”
Aliona began pacing, hands clasped behind her back.
”And Tersea’s remains were found as bones in Count Cain’s domain. That much is certain.”
Talia’s voice rose from Kian’s spirit. “I confirmed it myself.”
”In that case,” Aliona continued, “Lord Jibril may be practicing what Ms. Priscilla seeks—necromancy. Reviving the dead. If Ozeas’s body is younger, then perhaps the vessel itself can be made to any age.”
”Or even created outright,” Kian added.
”And recall Tersea’s companion—the woman she called ‘Meisa.’ That may have been Almeisa, whom you destroyed with the Windsong Blade. Yet if she too could be restored, then bodies need not even be recovered.”
Aliona stopped pacing and faced him.
”There is a forbidden art in alchemy—the creation of homunculi. Artificial flesh, soulless dolls. If Jibril has mastered it, he may be forging new vessels and binding lost souls into them.”
”Is that truly possible?”
”In theory, yes—if one can draw souls from the Spiritual Vein. But Kian, you must not breathe a word of this to Ms. Priscilla. If she learned, she might bargain with Jibril to resurrect Lord Renaud. Or worse, Jibril might seek her out himself. She may be your benefactor, but she must never be trusted.”
”…Understood.”
Benefactor, yes. Bedfellow, once. But Kian had never truly bared his heart to Priscilla. Even without betrayal or intrigue, he would never let his guard down with her outside the bedchamber.
”Good,” Aliona said, and moved briskly to the next matter. She had little time—once she removed the Thorn Demon’s remnants, she was bound for the eastern outskirts of Franz to deliver the Windsong Blade’s shards and Tersea’s hair tie.
This was no afternoon tea.
”One more thing,” she said. “Mrs. Camilla sent supplies to Ms. Leanan Sidhe on the island—but I thought it best to deliver them directly to you.”
Space warped, and the head of a massive sandworm emerged, opening its lamprey-like maw. From within, it disgorged an object resembling a chair—though its leather seat was studded with translucent domes and intricate tubes, more like an arcane contraption than any furniture.
To Kian’s eyes, it looked more a torture device than anything else.
Aliona set her hand lightly on one of the armrests, complete with restraining straps.
”You recall Mrs. Camilla’s request? To secure a new body after the one she relied on was ruined.”
”Yes. In fact, I’ve arranged with Sarah. Lady Eleonora’s body will serve as the vessel—once her execution is carried out, she’ll be delivered to us.”
Aliona nodded.
”This device is meant to prepare that vessel. In practice, it can administer elixirs to reshape flesh, reinforce it, and ensure… compatibility. These domes, for example, stimulate the body to accept transformation. Other fittings induce unconsciousness during the process. The lady insists the procedure must be perfected—especially where the body’s core resilience is concerned. Hence this design.”
”I see. But why send it here already? Surely she’s not asking for another body before Eleonora’s execution?”
”No. She fears ruining the irreplaceable vessel in a first attempt. So she asks that you test the device on a subject first—to confirm its operation.”
”…She thinks of people as test animals, then.”
”Perhaps,” Aliona said evenly. She withdrew several vials from the sandworm’s gullet.
”The true elixirs will come later. For now, she asks only that you verify the mechanism and its effects. If you cannot procure a subject quickly, leave it. Frankly, she’d be better off with a diet than a new body.”
Kian exhaled through his nose. “Understood. I’ll move the device into a spare chamber. Given past raids, the cellar is safer.”
”Sorry for the trouble.”
She lowered her brows apologetically, though Kian knew the fault was not hers.
Notes:
• Leprobus – Rou’s comrade who sacrificed his chance to escape during a pirate raid by pushing Rou off in a small boat. He returned to the deck, sword in hand, to protect the others. Distinguished by his giant blood and burning red hair, marking him as more than human. He is released by Kian on Cyclops Island jail.【v4c23】.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Tersea – A shaman who assisted Barghest and is connected to the summoning ritual.
• Ozeas – Son of Glen, involved in forbidden experiments.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Nue – A Shikigami summoned by Linca. It has the appearance of a monster with a tiger’s limbs and a monkey’s head. Nue is a powerful but dangerous creature that requires a skilled magician to control.
• Ryu – Linca’s little brother.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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