Chapter 7: Countess Lagertha
The tournament grounds still echoed with the deafening roars of the crowd as Ethan slipped away into the alleyways of Aslaug City. The blood from Garrik's collapsed form still lingered on his borrowed robes, and adrenaline throbbed like thunder in his veins. The thrill of victory was tempered by the knowledge that every triumph brought new enemies. He was no longer just a nameless competitor. He was a rising threat.
By the time he returned to his new inn, a modest place nestled between a blacksmith and a tea house in the artisan quarter, dusk had begun its slow descent over the capital. He moved carefully, blending into the shadows, his eyes scanning for signs of pursuit. He half-expected another assassin or poisoner, but tonight, the path was quiet. Too quiet.
When he entered the inn, the innkeeper—an elderly woman with a sharp tongue and sharper eyes—merely nodded toward the staircase. "Someone left a message for you. Room's untouched."
Ethan raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Upstairs, he found a folded parchment resting on his pillow, its seal unmarked but the paper rich and scented with jasmine.
"An opportunity is coming. If you're wise, you won't ignore it. House of Pleasures Pavilion. Tonight."
No signature. No crest. Just a time and place.
---
Across the city, in a manor overlooking the central gardens, Countess Lagertha of House Ivera leaned back against the velvet cushions of her private solarium.She was a woman of immense beauty, although she regularly wore loose clothing it could not hide the shape of the huge rump underneath and thick thighs that have been honed over the years. A decanter of dark wine sat untouched beside her, the goblet in her hand merely decoration. Her sharp amber eyes flicked through the pages of a report delivered only moments ago.
"Ethan Valen," she murmured, her voice a smoky whisper, equal parts amusement and intrigue. "Or should I say... keal."
She exhaled slowly, the name tasting bitter on her tongue. She had read everything—what little could be uncovered, anyway. The adoption into House Valen. The disappearance from his noble house weeks ago. The rumors about him being a cripple. Then the sudden awakening. It was all too suspicious.
But what truly caught her attention was the raw, impossible power he had displayed. Not even the elite among the academy candidates could grow so fast. And her husband had taken notice—too quickly, too intensely.
She narrowed her eyes.
Lagertha had once been a warrior herself. Twenty-five years ago, she was known as the Flame-Hawk of Helgar Ridge, a cultivator at the middle of innate core realm, and a one star general of the kingdom. Her name alone struck fear into warbands. Until the "accident." A mission gone awry. Mana ripped from her core by a cursed technique—a trap, she still believed, orchestrated by her now husband Count Ivera. Her injury forced her to retire from the battlefield and after that enemies she had made started coming after her and her family, the royal army and friends she had made turned their back on her, some of them thought she had become useless now and others were simply glad they had less competition for advancement in the army. It got to the point that her only option was to be pushed into marriage with count Ivera; someone she had once considered a nuisance that was always chasing after her but was harmless, she thought he'd be easy to manipulate and that his noble status would give her protection. But few years after marriage she noticed him revealing his true colors and began to suspect he had a hand in what happened to her.
But her will had not faded.
Over two decades, she had forged a new kind of weapon: influence. Information. She had molded a clandestine network that stretched across provinces, rivaling the power of the Count himself. Her patronage had placed dozens in the Royal Academy over the years, each bound to her by loyalty or debt. She trained them, guided them, watched as they rose through the ranks. They were her seeds.
And now, a new candidate had appeared—unlike any before.
She stood, her robes trailing behind her like crimson smoke. "Summon Cassandra. Send the invitation. Tonight, I meet the boy myself."
---
The House of Pleasures Pavilion was a paradox. A place of song, wine, and forbidden indulgences—yet it also served as a haven for powerful whispers, clandestine negotiations, and veiled alliances. Beneath its golden lanterns and silk-draped archways, fates were forged and destroyed.
Ethan entered just after moonrise. He wore a dark tunic, simple but clean, his eyes wary but unflinching. Inside, soft music played, and the scent of cherry blossoms wafted through the air.
He was met not by dancers or drink, but by a servant in midnight-blue robes. The man bowed without a word and gestured for Ethan to follow.
Through winding halls and curtained alcoves, they reached a secluded chamber bathed in warm firelight. A woman stood at the balcony, framed by moonlight. Her figure was commanding, curves sculpted by war and time, her posture regal.
"You may leave," she said to the servant without turning.
When the door closed, she turned—and Ethan met the gaze of Countess Lagertha for the first time. The usual calm and composed Ethan had his mouth open with a shocked look on his face as all the blood rushed from his face down to his little brother. You see, right from ethans last life, even with his superior intellect, he always had one weakness, MILFS, not just any milfs but one's blessed with thick asses and huge melons, the moment he sees these kinds of women then he basically becomes a fool. Until now, because of his condition the only older women he encountered were his adopted mother and stepmother or women who looked way too old, even the middleaged women in his fathers land were not properly endowed. But this woman, the Countess, she was the kind of woman his real father Jacob had banned him from seeing, for fear that they would distract snd control him.
Her beauty was undeniable. Not the soft innocence of youth, but the striking magnetism of a woman who had fought, bled, and survived. Her long hair, the color of burnished copper, was braided like a warrior's. Her eyes—those same amber eyes from the tournament—held the weight of experience and the fire of ambition.
But most importantly her Ass and thighs that refused to stay hidden underneath her loose clothing.
"You're not what I expected," she said, crossing the room with deliberate grace, with a frown on her face. 'Hmmm, what a disappointment ' she thought as she saw the foolish expression on his face that he did little to hide.
"Uh...., i mean thank you" Ethan replied absent-minded .
"Aren't you wondering why you're here. Why I called you." She said with a cold look on her face
Ethan managed to regain some clarity and gave a small nod. "You're the Count's wife. That alone makes this dangerous."
She smiled. "I see, at least the rumors of your intelligence aren't completely exaggerated. Good. I prefer to deal with those who can see beyond masks."
She poured two glasses of wine, offering him one. "I won't poison you. If I wanted you dead, you'd never have reached this room."
He accepted, but did not drink, not because he feared it was poison but because he would not allow for even the little moment where the glass would block his view of her.
"I watched you today," she continued. "You defeated Garrik. Before that, Doran. Neither should have lost. Yet you made it look effortless. You understand now, don't you? This city doesn't reward strength. It rewards spectacle. Loyalty. Influence."
Ethan leaned back with a smile. "Oh beautiful Countess, what do you have to offer me."
She nodded. "I offer patronage. Support. Protection. A path into the Royal Academy—on one condition."
"What condition?"
"Loyalty." She didn't blink. "Not in the sense of obedience. I don't want another dog. I want a wolf that remembers who first fed it. You'll rise, Ethan. You will. But in the coming storms, I need people like you ready to choose the right side."
He studied her. "And what side is that?"
"Not my husband's." Her smile faded. "He's building something. Dangerous. He hides it well behind his charm and titles. But I've seen the signs. I've buried the bodies."
Ethan didn't respond for a moment. "If I refuse?". He asked, although he has no intention.
"Then I wish you luck." She set her glass down. "But you won't. You're too smart. And you know power when you see it."
They sat in silence, the fire crackling between them.
"I'll consider it, on one condition" Ethan said.
"What else do you want" She spoke.
"Can I touch your thighs".Ethan asked.
Countess Lagertha face froze then her face turned cold "Do you want to die".
"No, how about this, you can keep the wealth and support and I'll give you my loyalty in exchange for you letting me take some small advantages of you"
Once again Largetha was shocked. " I was beginning to think you were smart, but my initial impression was right, you are a fool!! Get out of here"
Ethan quickly stood up with a smirk" How about this I'll dominate all my opponents in less than 45 seconds and when I do you'll consider my proposal, but if any of them last even a second longer I'll take you up on your offer and I won't just be loyal, I'll sign a master servant contract with you".
Largetha could not believe what she was hearing . She knew he was strong but she also knew that there were youths much stronger in this tournament, with much more experience than him and higher cultivation, she was more interested in his potential and was prepared to use connections to force the evaluator to give him a recommendation letter. But this opportunity was too good to pass up."Win your next match. Survive. And meet me again."
Ethan smiled and turned and left. Even as he walked away he knew that what he had promised was mo easy task even for him but he didn't care he would do anything to get the chance to touch that body.
'Even if I fail, being a servant to a milf like that doesn't sound so bad. Who knows , I might get more chances as her servant' Ethan thought with a foolish smile on his face.
---
The next morning, the market was alive with chaos and color. Ethan moved through it like smoke—absorbing everything, trusting little.After a good night sleep he had come to his senses fully and realized the absurdity of the promise he had made.
' 45 seconds!!!!, what a fool I am, father this is all your fault, had you given me the opportunity to build up resistance against the glorious curves of milfs then I would have been better equipped to handle myself, CURSE YOU!!!'
All of a sudden Ethan stopped, at one stall, tucked between an herbalist and a weaponsmith, an old man sold oddities. Trinkets, baubles, cracked talismans, and failed beast cores.
Something in the air changed as Ethan passed.
He stopped. His eyes narrowed.
Among the clutter lay a beast core—blackened, cracked, dead to the world. It wasn't just any beast core but a deformed one.
Some Magic beasts have the ability to sometimes siphon their life force in order to gain more power during a life and death struggle. If you don't kill the magic beast as soon as possible once the process starts then their beast core enters this deformed state and are unable to be used for making pills to boost cultivation. They are basically useless except as decorations.
But ethan could still feel the mana within and he could tell that although the mana left is little, it once belonged to an extremely powerful beast. It seemed that his mysterious energy allowed him to sense and identify the mana even in deformed beast cores. Then a thought occurred to him 'maybe I can absorb this energy too'
His strange energy pulsed. Resonated. Something inside that core... answered.
"How much for this?" he asked.
The old man blinked. "That one? Useless, boy. Its a deformed beast core, i only use it as paperweight, i don't even recall where i got it. Nothing left to do with it. But if you want it, two silver."
Ethan pulled a single silver piece from his pouch. "One."
The man looked him over. Then grunted. "Fine. Waste your coin."
Ethan slipped the core into his satchel, already feeling its faint hum.
"What beast was it from?"
The old man frowned. "Didn't i just tell you, I don 't rightly know. I guess, some hunter sold it to me last month. Said the creature took down three wagons before they finished it. Massive thing. Not natural. Though that might have been a lie, i just bought it cause i was already ripping them off from other goods they sold me"
Ethan nodded. And walked away.
---
That night, back in his inn, he sat by candlelight, staring at the core.
It pulsed once.
Then again.
"What are you... really?" he whispered.
And from somewhere deep within, the core answered. Not in words, but in feeling.
Power.
---