As the monstrous orc lunged forward, her fist rearing back for another devastating strike toward the downed Rikuya, the air suddenly cracked with gunfire.
A spinning figure danced between them—fluid, sharp, untouchable.
Her boots scraped against stone as twin pistols flashed in the morning light, each trigger pull timed with the rhythm of her steps. The bullets snapped through the air, slamming into the orc's limbs with punishing force. Sparks burst. Smoke curled. Shells clinked to the ground like raindrops in a storm.
She twirled once more, reloading mid-spin with a graceful flick—then unleashed another storm of lead. The orc staggered, grunting, forced to shield herself as her footing slipped in the chaos of smoke and flashes.
The air danced with fire and noise.
"Black Powder Waltz!" Seline's voice rang through the haze like a bell of judgment.
Rikuya blinked through the dust, the ringing in his ears fading just in time to see the orc momentarily pushed back—and Seline standing tall, guns smoking, lips curved in a wild grin.
"Rest later, dumbass," she said without looking back. "You focus on the pretty one—I'll keep the chumps off your back."
Rikuya coughed as he sat up, brushing dirt from his face, muscles aching. "Sorry… let me rest a little bit," he muttered, wincing.
Seline didn't even look back. "Lazy bastard," she grinned—then dashed forward in a blur.
She launched into the air, both boots smashing against the orc's chest. The impact made the massive creature flinch. Mid-spin, Seline twisted, slamming her pistols downward into the orc's face and firing point-blank. The sound boomed like thunder.
But the orc didn't even stumble—she roared and raised her fist.
Seline's eyes narrowed.
The massive hand smashed down like a falling boulder—Seline backflipped away just in time, her coat fluttering in the air as the ground behind her cracked.
The pirate landed low, knees bent, lips curved in a predator's smile. In one fluid motion, she sheathed her pistols and drew her curved blade—a beautiful, wicked thing that shimmered under the rising sun.
She dashed low, gliding past the orc's guard like wind through cracks. Her blade flashed once, twice, tracing a silver arc across the orc's exposed side—cutting deep through muscle and armor.
"Corsair's Kiss!" she whispered mid-spin, her breath hot in the chaos.
The orc flinched—blood spurted—and staggered for the first time.
Rikuya, eyes wide, smirked from the distance. "She's really something when she's pissed."
But the orc, growling through her teeth, suddenly snatched Seline's coat mid-spin.
"Wha—?!" Seline yelped, just before being hurled through the air like a cannonball.
Rikuya, barely upright, caught her—his arms instinctively wrapping around her. But as the dust settled…
…his hands were firmly planted on her chest.
There was a long pause.
Seline blinked, then slowly looked up at him. "Rikuya…" she said, voice flat but cheeks glowing red. "Please… save that for when we're alone."
Rikuya gave a sly, crooked grin. "Do you want it then?"
Seline's blush deepened to crimson, and she punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up and get serious!"
He laughed as he helped her stand, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, alright. Let's finish this first."
As the orc's enchanted strength faded, her breathing slowed, the earth's glow receding from her limbs.
Rikuya exhaled slowly, body sagging into stillness. He didn't notice the tendrils of mana curling along his arms, legs, spine—not yet.
He dropped into a stance foreign even to him—yet it felt like instinct. One leg forward, hands floating like petals caught in a breeze.
The air around him stilled. Even the orc hesitated.
Then—petal feint. His front fingers flicked outward—just enough for the orc's gaze to follow.
But her leg buckled an instant later—snap-kick to the inner thigh, precise and fluid.
Before she could scream, he was gone from her front. A ghost-bloom step—his body slipping sideways low, quiet. Then a brutal elbow slammed into her ribs from behind.
She growled, spun—too late.
A knee into her back—lifting her off the ground. As she gasped, he grabbed her neck mid-air.
A full-body twist—then spinal chain snap. The orc crashed down, the air shaken from her lungs, spine screaming.
But others were moving behind her—an instinct flared.
He spun—twin lotus fangs—two chops so fast they blurred. One crushed a throat, the other split a collarbone.
Crack.
Blood misted the air.
Then stillness again. One downed orc twitched. Rikuya's foot slammed down, heel-first, into the chest.
Crunch.
Silence.
He looked up, eyes shadowed by bangs.
"Wither beneath the bloom."
The wind rustled. The last petal fell.
Rikuya wiped the blood from his lip, exhaling as the tension finally left his body. He stepped closer to the orc, eyeing her with a mix of surprise and dry sarcasm.
"Didn't think you had that much IQ left after all that head trauma," he muttered, cracking his neck.
The orc snorted, glaring up at him as she sat cross-legged in the rubble, her massive body still radiating residual heat. With a simple, slow motion, she placed one hand over her chest, murmuring in low, melodic tones. A soft green glow pulsed beneath her palm—a low-tier healing spell. Her bruises began to fade, the blood drying up as if rewinding time.
"Don't compare me to the rest of those grunting idiots," she growled, her voice calmer now, almost regal. "I studied under the Old Mother of Stonefang Peak. I am Volgra, daughter of war and wisdom."
Rikuya raised an eyebrow. "Volgra, huh… Figures you hit like a mountain."
Tsuki barked twice, tail swishing, almost as if agreeing "But she still lost!"
Selina leaned on her blade nearby, smirking. "Can't believe the big girl can throw punches and quotes."
Volgra narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond. She simply continued healing, watching Rikuya with a gaze that now held respect.
"You're not like most humans," she said at last. "And whatever that last move was… it wasn't just muscle."
Rikuya glanced down at his hands again—the faint trails of mana still vanishing like mist.
He didn't answer her yet. Because he didn't know the answer either.
Volgra blinked slowly, brows furrowed as she stared at the wooden ceiling beams above her. The scent of warm broth and herbs drifted through the air. Her ears twitched. She wasn't outside anymore. She was…
"…in an inn?" she muttered.
She sat up quickly, wincing as her ribs still ached. The blankets over her slid away—she was still clothed, bruised, but not bound. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Rikuya, seated on a stool across from her, arms crossed, eyes calm but alert.
"You're awake," he said simply.
Volgra narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you finish me?"
"You surrendered," Rikuya replied. "And Tsuki likes you."
Tsuki barked once from the floor beside him, wagging his tail smugly. Volgra stared, baffled.
"…Strange dog."
"Strange day," Rikuya said. Then leaned forward slightly. "You said something before. About not being like the others. About learning."
Volgra sighed and shifted, sitting against the wall now, the glow of a healing spell still faint on her hand.
"I thought this city was sheltering the killer," she muttered. "That's why I led the attack."
Rikuya's eyes narrowed slightly. "What killer?"
Volgra's voice turned dark, quiet. "A human. Clad in black armor, wielding magic and steel like a demon. He came to our village deep in the Western Cleft. No warning. No demands. Just… slaughter. Old ones. Younglings. All of them. No mercy."
She clenched her fist. "I wasn't even there. I was away in training. When I came back… nothing remained but blood and ash."
Rikuya was silent.
"I thought it was your kind. This city. Some noble or mage trying to erase us," she continued, voice bitter. "So I struck. Wrong target. I see that now."
"And now?" Rikuya asked.
Volgra exhaled through her nose. "Now I don't know. I still want vengeance. But maybe... not here."
There was a long pause.
"…You've got no home," Rikuya said finally.
Volgra looked away. "Not anymore."
Rikuya stood. "Then you'd better decide if you're going to keep breaking things… or help fix what's left."
Volgra looked at him, puzzled.
Tsuki barked softly again, resting his chin on her leg.
Volgra rose slowly, the air still heavy with the pain of her past.
"…I'm going to bury them," she said, voice trembling but resolute. "My kin. I'll lay them to rest properly. That's the least I can do."
She tried to stand tall—but her legs buckled. The toll of her injuries, the magic backlash, and the emotional weight all hit her at once. She staggered—
And Rikuya stepped in without hesitation, catching her.
His arm wrapped around her back, holding her steady. Her body leaned against his, warmth and tension crackling in the space between them. Volgra looked up at him, breathing uneven. Her face was close—far closer than she was used to with any human.
"You're still too hurt to go," he said, calm but firm.
Volgra's amber eyes narrowed—not in anger, but something else. A strange curiosity. Conflicted pride. And maybe, just maybe… something stirring deeper.
"Tch… You're strong," she muttered.
"Not just muscle," he replied. "You're allowed to lean on someone when you need to."
She stared at him a second longer, then looked away, cheeks just faintly flushed—though she'd never admit it.
"…I'll walk on my own in a bit. Don't get used to holding me."
Rikuya smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Tsuki snorted.
A slow burn had just begun—between two warriors who understood pain, pride, and power.
Rikuya, without a second thought, lifted Volgra effortlessly. Her surprised gasp broke the stillness as his arms secured her, hands gently resting on her thighs, lifting her with ease. Volgra's body tensed, and her face flushed a deep crimson, the warmth of his hands against her skin sending an unexpected wave of heat through her.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, the shock evident in her voice.
"Carrying you. You can barely stand," Rikuya replied, his tone casual but with a hint of amusement. "This way, you'll heal faster and won't strain yourself."
She could feel his strong grip, his muscles beneath his shirt, and the way he handled her with the same ease he might carry a sack of grain. It was... strangely intimate.
But what was even stranger was the way her body reacted—her heart was racing now, and she couldn't quite look him in the eye. She was an orc. Strong. Proud. And yet, here she was, being cradled by a human like a delicate thing.
The girls—Mara, Myra, Lena, and Seline—watched the scene unfold from a distance, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. It wasn't like Rikuya to do something so... unguarded. And Volgra wasn't exactly the type to let someone handle her like this.
Lena's voice broke the silence, filled with teasing skepticism. "So, Rikuya, is this how you treat all your 'guests'?"
Mara crossed her arms, smirking. "Or is there something more... going on here?"
Seline was the most direct, arching an eyebrow at the pair. "Doesn't look like 'just carrying her' to me."
Rikuya looked at them, unfazed by their teasing, as Volgra huffed, avoiding their gazes. "It's not what you think. She's injured," he said, a little too quickly.
Volgra rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut, unable to deny that there was an undeniable sense of comfort in his arms.
"You all need to stop making assumptions," Rikuya muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "And stop staring, you're starting to make it awkward."
But Volgra's mind raced. She was strong, proud, and she didn't want to appear weak. And yet, here she was, blushing under his touch. A strange tension buzzed between them—unspoken, but definitely there.
As Rikuya made his way through the darkening path toward the Western Cleft, the forest's rustling leaves and the distant howl of creatures seemed far less important than the weight of the orc in his arms. Volgra's breathing had become deeper, more labored, and she was clutching him tighter, her body pressed close to his as if the strain of walking had taken its toll.
He could feel her warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and though his mind was on the journey ahead, there was a part of him that couldn't ignore the sensation of her body against his. Her chest was pressed against him with such force that, for a moment, he almost forgot to focus on the path.
"Are you okay?" Rikuya asked, his voice low, more out of concern than anything else.
Volgra, her breath heavy and erratic, shifted slightly, and in doing so, her body pressed against him even more. She was still caught in the aftershocks of the battle earlier, but her reaction—pulling herself closer, making it hard for Rikuya to ignore the closeness—left him caught off guard.
In his mind, Rikuya cursed inwardly. Oh no, not again.
He knew this feeling well—this awkward tension that came when someone, especially someone as powerful as Volgra, found themselves too close for comfort. He couldn't help but be aware of the way her body reacted, the heat, the proximity. It wasn't just his strength she'd been relying on; she was also relying on him in ways that were starting to feel… more intimate than necessary.
Volgra's voice was strained, a touch of embarrassment creeping into her tone. "It's nothing. Just... didn't expect this to take so long."
Rikuya blinked, pulling his thoughts back into the present. He had to focus. The way Volgra clung to him, however, was starting to throw him off balance. He couldn't help but notice her breathing in sync with his, the slight movement of her chest against his own as she tried to steady herself.
He sighed, trying to keep his focus sharp, even as his mind wandered to places he didn't want it to go. Just keep walking, he told himself. Stay focused.
But that was becoming harder by the second.
Volgra, still resting in his arms, seemed to relax a little, though the tension in her body hadn't entirely faded. She looked up at him through her long lashes, a soft smile tugging at her lips, but there was still a touch of awkwardness in her expression.
"Thanks for this, human," she murmured quietly. "I didn't expect you to be so... gentle."
Rikuya tried to ignore the lingering thoughts, focusing instead on the path ahead. "It's nothing. I'm just getting you back to safety."
Yet, as they continued walking, the weight of the situation seemed to grow heavier. It wasn't just about the journey. It wasn't just about strength or survival. There was something more in the air now—something neither of them could quite name.