By The Blood

The guardsman thrust forward with his spear, the attack drawing close to the half-mist body of Aurelian. However, he quickly raised his mist sword, swinging at the spear. Unlike chain swords, his sword had a cleaner cut, thus it did not require as much strength as the latter.

His blade cut through the spear, but he wasn't done. He turned around, spinning, his blade following suit before trailing into the guard's head. The blade made a clean cut through the man's neck. There was no blood or scar, making it seem as though the sword had simply passed through the man.

In the next moment, the man's eyes turned red, blood coughed out from his mouth, and then his body fell—his head tumbling away, rolling like a ball.

Aurelian stood before a door, and with a single swipe of the blade, the wooden door was split from edge to edge. He kicked down the door, running steadfastly into the room.

Aurelian crossed the room in rapid strides, weaving around the shrouded furniture stored there. They were covered with black cloth and made of various expensive woods. He soon reached the far wall, and preparing himself for whatever he might find there, he raised his mist blade and slashed through the wooden black door. The door sliced easily; his mist sword was outrageously sharper than any normal weapon. In a way, it was like a creature, as a mist-blooded knight's sword was also a part of the knight.

He pushed the door, entering his destination: the archon's chambers. Tall stone pillars held up the roof in a pathway, and they were fronted by guardsmen, both women and men.

The spear-wielding guardsmen did not wait for him to draw close. They quickly darted around, moving in a certain V formation towards him. Aurelian raised his leg; the mist curled around it, taking the form of a silverish boot. Then, he slammed his leg on the wooden ground, pushing out waves of mist from his feet. The mist surged out, enshrouding the guardsmen as they began to break formation.

He moved, entering into the mist, swinging his blade so many times that it flashed with a reflected shine. Some did not even know how or when they died. The mist soon cleared, leaving behind a macabre scene of corpses—all missing parts of their bodies, but all without a doubt, dead.

Some vixens who were there for the party panicked. Some ran away, while others screamed for help. Soon, soldiers entered from the hallway, pouring into the chamber. Aurelian turned around, dashing toward them. He drew close to a guardsman. The man thrust his spear, but Aurelian sidestepped and then hacked down with his blade. He turned afterward like a dancer, moving close to another; a woman this time. The lady seemed scared of her approaching death, but he felt no remorse. He tightened his grip and bolted the blade into the woman's chest. Blood spewed out as he withdrew it.

He moved again, cutting through bodies as he reached closer to the broken door. Despite the many dead around him, his blade was devoid of any bloodstain. How could blood stain the mist? His eyes cold with murder, he clenched his fist and drilled a punch into a man's face. The man stumbled backward, falling onto some approaching guardsmen.

With that, Aurelian, using his other leg, mist curled, and slammed into the ground. Mist surged out, but thicker this time. It melded into the door, creating a wall of dense fog no man could pass. The guardsmen on the other side swung and thrust their spears, but their attacks simply bounced off the foamy mist.

Aurelian heaved a breath, turning around. He now stood amidst wide-eyed corpses—confusion etched on every one of their faces. But these men were soldiers; they all knew that death would surely come for them one day. Too bad they did not meet a more honorable end. At least in his eyes, he couldn't help but see them as less than honorable; they were, after all, protecting the archon, Putray.

Aurelian continued on his way when suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway blew open. He froze as a small group of guardsmen rushed out, but these were different; each one of them held chain swords—weapons made to look as if a thousand fangs were embedded in them. They ushered a group of men in.

The men wore whitish-black glistening armor made of interlocking plates. Unlike normal armor, this one did not have any mail at the joints. Instead, it had a small, thick, deep-black material, fitted together with an almost beautiful elegance. The helm had a smooth surface with signs of rust and cracks, and the eye holes glowed faintly with a grayish light. They carried chain swords that had a grayish, glass-like surface with an imposing air, and on the center of their breastplates was an image of a vast desert of black sand with a white sun shining over it all.

Legion armor, also known as shard armor, was created from the body of a blooded knight, with the type of knight expressing the power held within the armor. The black sand—a regiment of the Chaos Hunter Legion—had three main types of shard armor: from a Mist-blooded knight like his to a Black-blooded knight, and a Witch-blooded knight. The question now was: which were these?

All the men, fortunately, had the same type of armor. This was good as if Aurelian were to fight a legion squad with different abilities, it would certainly lead to his end.

But still, Aurelian hesitated. He did not know this armor. Was it Witch-blooded or Black-blooded? He had never seen the former but had heard extensive rumors of the latter. And the armor did not fit the rumors for the latter. He had heard Black-blooded shard armor had spikes on the shoulders.

Nonetheless, he knew that the Archon would have already heard the noise of the battle and would have already planned countermeasures. Which meant he had to deal with this quickly. But could he? Even with his full armor, he was only now in the special class, and all these men were in that class. No way could he defeat three of them. Even if he could, the entire fortress would likely be destroyed as a result.

A special class had the power to destroy a small village, after all.

This could lead to his death—he knew that much. But his promise to his friends would not allow him to abandon his mission. If he were to die, he would welcome it. At least that way, he would be able to see his comrades again, and perhaps it would be his penance for even attempting this act.

____

A few moments before.

"How was it?" Jean asked with a flushed face, her gaze moving to the young, naked soldier lying on the bed, sweating and panting. He seemed overjoyed.

"That was amazing!" the young man said with an exhausted smile.

"Oh? Must be nice to stop being a virgin," Jean said, unfolding her hair. She had to; it was disturbing to get down to suck on things. As a member of the Pleasure Pavilion, sent here to boost the soldiers' morale, she couldn't very well bring a bad name to her faction. Although she had other duties besides sleeping with soldiers, the last one had been quite pleasant.

Smiling, she stood up and dressed in her white coat, buttoned on the sides. The coat had a self-inflicted cut around the bosom area, revealing a fair amount of skin on her chest. This was followed by a long, flowing skirt that covered her ankles. But despite the clothes, they did little to conceal her perfectly shaped curves. With long red hair that flowed down her back, she looked like the embodiment of the features known to be possessed by the ladies of the Pleasure Pavilion.

Turning around in a seductive yet stylish manner, she asked, "Did you experience pleasure?"

The young man looked at her in confusion. "I what? Isn't that obvious?"

"I know, but I want you to say it," Jean pressed on with a smile.

Seriously? Mom always said that the Pleasure Pavilion girls had weird quirks, but to see it... I should not try to meet them. Even though it was very amazing. He curled up a smile and said, "Yes, it was. I felt very good; it was the highest pleasure."

Jean smiled and leaned toward the soldier's bare, well-trained abs. She bent down and gave them a kiss, causing a jolt of excitement to spark within the soldier. "Th... Thank you!" he hurriedly said.

Jean smiled and casually left the stone-walled room, leaving the soldier panting in excitement. His mind disregarded his previous reservations and quickly delved into fantasies of another meeting.

But he had no knowledge that Jean never bedded the same man twice. True pleasure should only be experienced once!

Stepping out of the room, a guardsman suddenly whooshed past her, causing her skirt to flutter a bit. There came a flurry of distant shouts for arms. Voices speaking in Maw, Canese, and many other languages called out. Was something happening? she thought.

Suddenly, her head throbbed, feeling as if tiny snakes were slithering through her thoughts. It was painful—very painful—but she had to endure. Giving in to pain was the downfall of all Sanguines.

Bending with her hands over her head, Jean groaned and endured the screeching and violent screams that surged through her mind. She knelt, panting and sweating. She eventually sighed as the pain faded. "Who the hell would be attacking the Archon at this time? Without any plan even?" She flipped through the recent knowledge.

Standing up, she dusted off the faint red dust on her clothes. Should I take the opportunity? Even if he fails, I might get a chance to get the item and return it to Canen. This place does have several boys that need true pleasure, but getting the item is my main mission, she pondered. Killing Putray can be my plan, so in any case, I might as well have this newcomer work together or use him to get what I want. But I'm not ruthless; if I succeed, I can always pay with pleasure.

Jean raised her hands and ran, following the group of running guardsmen. As long as she acted terrified, no one would ask.

She passed by several burning torches when she suddenly felt a hand grab onto her shoulder. She stopped, taking a moment to glance at the person who held her.

"Hello, miss," a guardsman with a trimmed beard said. "What are you trying to do following the guardsmen? If you want to escape, follow the other side." He pointed at a corner down the hallway.

"How do you know I wasn't invited to spend the night with the Archon?" Jean leaned forward slightly as if trying to press her bosom against the guardsman.

Acting indifferent to her actions, the man said, "That would be okay if not for the fact that the Archon's chambers are being attacked, and he never accepts women in his bed."

"Well, that's because he likes those like you," Jean whispered in an inaudible tone.

"So, lady, again I ask, what are you doing here?" The man gripped his spear tightly, ready to pierce and stab the suspicious lady. Even if she was a prostitute from the Pavilion, judging from her red hair, he would not let his guard down. After all, there were rumors that the Pleasure Pavilion was a front for a secret faction that worshipped an evil god, and due to the commotion, he couldn't trust these vixens.

Jean sighed, endured the pain of mana usage, and instantly released her charm.

The man froze.

In his eyes, the lady had become the most attractive and gorgeous being he had ever laid eyes on. He wanted her, he needed her. He was willing to do anything for her. His whole body burned with a wanting heat, his mind diving into various fantasies of what would happen if she were to accept his love.

Jean smiled and said softly, "Hello, sir, can you help me with something?"