SMASH or PASS

Afterwards, she took a gold coin from a velvet pouch and handed it to me.

"Compensation for time."

"You don’t have to pay."

"I’ll pay for everything I deem worthwhile. That’s my principle." She straightened her hair. Not a single strand was out of place. "I’d like to book a repeat appointment. Next Tuesday. The same time. I’ll prepare an improved version of the infusion. I can still optimize the silver leaf distribution."

"Will you improve the drink by Tuesday?"

"Of course. There’s always room for optimization," she said, picking up her bag. "Thanks for the data."

"...Huh."

I hope that young-master fucker never hears about this.

Honestly I feel kind of bad for him.

◇◇◇

The evening twilight on the way home.

Three people in four days. Thalia’s +12, Estelle’s +5, and Clarisse’s +8.

Total +25. Adding the passive 8 brings it to +33.

33 SP in four days.

About half of three days at the farm, with the effort of simply going home.

The numbers are looking good.

I get into bed. Fenra is in her usual spot.

"Noel"

"Hm?"

"...I can’t smell the stones today."

The smell of stone. After that sparring session, the air in Thalia’s training room was filled with the smell of stone. Was that smell on the first day the "smell of workout" for Fenra?

She must’ve thought that I actually went to workout...

Today’s scent is probably filled with Clarisse’s alchemical potions and Estelle’s wine. The scents that aren’t related to work.

"...There’s a sparring match tomorrow. You might smell stones."

Fenra’s ears twitched.

"...yeah"

The three-inch gap between us remained unchanged.

But the "yeah" was just a little bit softer than last night.

I sighed as I tried to sleep.

800 to 1200 SP.

I took the first 33 steps down that path.

767 steps remaining. At least.

I closed my eyes.

◇◇◇

Fifth day.

I had another two encounters on the same evening.

The first was Brennan. A combat class student who’d been eyeing me across the practice hall for a week.

She found me after the last lecture and said: "Wanna have a sparring match? I heard about you from Thalia... you can meet me after school.... in the Practice hall. I’ve reserved it."

Just like Thalia, her body was a weapon clad in a cruel joke of armor. The tiny metal bikini top barely contained her massive, heavy breasts, her dark nipples hard against the cool cups. The loin guard was a mere suggestion between her powerful thighs, framing the fat, juicy lips of her pussy and the dark curls above. It didn’t hide a thing, just showcased every fuckable, muscular curve, a blatant challenge and an open invitation.

"You reserved the practice hall for a sparring match?"

"I reserved the practice hall for whatever happens after the sparring match." She was muscular. Broad-shouldered. Her forearms had the muscle definition that came from years of physical training, not alchemical enhancement. "I saw your entrance exam results. Worst mana in the class. But your body mechanics are good. Wolfkin-trained, right?"

"How can you tell?"

"Thalia didn’t really stop talking about you." She smiled.

Was I already gaining a reputation?

Whatever, free SP is free SP.

◇◇◇

We sparred. She was stronger than me. Faster. Her technique was formal, academy-standard, drilled into muscle memory by years of structured training.

My technique was quite the opposite. Maybe because I learned it from Fenra. It was instinctive, forward-biased, based on explosive movement rather than sustained positioning.

The first clash was a blur of motion. Her speed was terrifying. Before I could even set my feet, her hand shot out, snagged my wrist, and twisted. A sharp, precise pain shot up my arm. My balance vanished. The next thing I knew, my back was slammed into the hard-packed dirt of the training ground, the wind knocked from my lungs. Her full weight landed atop me, one knee pinning my chest, her hand still locked on my wrist. It was over in under a minute.

"First lesson," she grunted, her face inches from mine, her breath hot. "Don’t think. React." She released me and stood up, offering me a hand.

I took it, my cock was already uncomfortably hard in my trousers from the sheer dominance of the takedown.

The second round lasted forty-five seconds. This time, I saw the leg sweep coming, but I couldn’t stop it. I went down hard. She followed me to the ground, her powerful thighs scissoring around my torso, immobilizing me completely. Her bikini-clad pelvis pressed against my hip. "Better," she breathed, the word a hot puff against my ear. "But not good enough."

By the third round, the energy had shifted. The strikes were slower, the grapples lingering. When she maneuvered behind me, locking me in a full-body hold with my back against her front, neither of us made a real effort to break it. I could feel the heat of her through her armor, the hard points of her nipples against my back.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to grind my rock-hard erection against the firm curve of her ass, the rough leather and cool metal of her loin guard providing maddening friction. She froze for a second.

Then, with a guttural growl, the spar was over. She released the hold, but only to spin me around and shove me back onto the dirt. In one fluid motion, she tore my trousers open, freeing my aching cock. She didn’t bother removing her armor; she simply yanked the loin guard aside, positioned herself above me, and sank down in one devastating, deep stroke.

"FUCK!" we both cried out in unison. She began to ride me with a savage, punishing rhythm, her armored body a glorious, clinking weight atop me. Each downward slam of her hips drove the breath from my lungs. Her breasts swayed wildly in their metal cups. She fucked me with the same relentless efficiency with which she’d fought me, chasing her own climax and ruthlessly milking my dick.

’Fuck...’

The feeling was overwhelming, all-consuming. Her pussy was an inferno of slick, velvety heat, clamped around me with a vice-like tightness that threatened to shatter my senses. Each brutal downward stroke sheathed me to the hilt, the soft, yielding depths of her welcoming my cock with a wet, sucking grasp before tightening impossibly as she rose, dragging along every sensitive inch.

’It’s too good...’

Her expression was utter feral ecstasy. Her head was thrown back, corded muscles standing out in her neck. Her teeth were bared in a snarl of pure pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. Sweat sheened her skin, dripping between her magnificent breasts. Low, guttural grunts punched from her throat with every drive of her hips. "Uhn! Uhn! Fuck! Yes!"

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on my chest, her pace becoming erratic, frantic. The metal of her bikini top was cool against my skin. "You feel... so... fucking... good... inside me..." she rasped, each word punctuated by a deep, grinding roll of her pelvis. I could feel her inner muscles beginning to flutter and spasm, a frantic, rhythmic clenching that milked my dick.

Then, with a raw, shattered cry, she slammed down one final time, driving me impossibly deep, burying me to the root as her body locked up. "NOW! GIVE IT TO ME! BREED ME!"

Her command broke me. My vision whited out as my own climax erupted, a scalding, seemingly endless flood of cum jetting deep into her clutching depths. I could feel each thick, hot pulse as it left me, filling her.

Her own orgasm crashed over her in waves, her pussy convulsing around my spurting cock in violent, rippling contractions, milking me for every last drop. She collapsed forward onto my chest, her massive body shuddering, her hot breaths panting against my neck, the both of us joined and utterly spent.

With a wet, sucking pop, she pulled my spent, sensitive cock from her spasming depths. A mixture of my cum and her slickness glistened on my shaft and dripped from her swollen lips.

Without a word, her eyes dark with insatiable hunger, she pivoted her powerful body. She shoved her ass back, the full, round cheeks smothering my face, the musky, sweaty scent of her recent climax overwhelming my senses. At the same time, she took my cock back into her mouth.

Her technique was filthy, expert, and utterly demanding. Her slutty, whorish tongue was a living thing. It flattened and swirled around my sensitive head, probing my slit with obscene curiosity before slithering down the length of my shaft in a broad, wet stroke. She sucked hard, her cheeks hollowing, creating a tight, wet vacuum that made my oversensitive nerves scream.

Just as I began to soften, that devilish tongue found a frenzied rhythm, flicking rapidly against the tender spot just beneath my head while her throat worked to take me deep again. The dual sensation of the heat and wetness of her mouth, and the smothering weight and scent of her ass on my face was too much.

With a choked groan, I came again, a second, surprising torrent shooting straight down her greedy throat. She gulped it down eagerly, her slutty tongue lapping and milking every last spurt from me, ensuring not a single drop was wasted. Only when I was utterly drained, twitching and oversensitive, did she release me with a final, satisfied lick, sitting back on my chest with a deep, contented sigh.

[+10 SP]