The massive shadow of the Red Fury loomed over the blood-soaked girl. Saliva dripped from the beast's maw, hissing as it hit the dirt and releasing toxic vapors. Krita's eyes filled with tears; she felt the cold breath of death pressing against her throat. But suddenly, a sharp, piercing whistle tore through the air.
BOOM!
Like a projectile fired from a massive cannon, a streak of violet-green lightning slammed into the Red Fury's face with devastating force. Filaments of purple electricity scattered in all directions, momentarily blinding the gloom. The twenty-ton behemoth was launched several meters by the impact, hitting the ground with a thunderous thud. However, even this ferocious strike hadn't managed to peel away the beast's bone-armor. The Red Fury quickly scrambled to its feet, shaking its head and glaring with newfound rage at the intruder who had dared to disturb its kill.
Ardam materialized above the girl in an instant. "He... help..." she wheezed, stretching out a trembling hand in a desperate plea for salvation. The blood flowing from her severed legs had soaked into the soil, and her face was masked in the pallor of the dying.
Ardam didn't wait for the beast to recover. He scooped the girl up as if she were a feather and, with a single leap, vanished into the forest's darkness. Behind them, the Red Fury let out a bone-chilling roar. The shockwave of Erta-saturated energy echoed with such intensity it felt as though Ardam's eardrums would burst.
The beast pursued them with terrifying speed. The Erta within its body condensed, firing off in sharp, needle-like projectiles that pierced through ancient trees like paper. The Red Fury itself swung its massive paws, shattering century-old trunks with every swipe. Ardam navigated this rain of death with cold precision, utilizing Swift Steps to move across the branches like a flickering shadow.
His goal was clear: the swamp. When he had first entered this region, he had noticed a massive, swirling vortex in the swamp's center. It wasn't just a whirlpool; it was a spatial and energetic anomaly. At its core, a chaotic, turbulent flow of Erta stood ready to swallow anything that drew too near.
As they reached the wetlands, the trees thinned out. Ardam dropped to the ground and carefully placed the girl at the very edge of the vortex. "Stay here," he said flatly, vanishing again in a split second.
Krita's eyes widened in terror. Despite the massive blood loss, the sheer horror of the situation kept her from slipping into unconsciousness. Her tears mingled with the filthy swamp water. Moments later, the earth-shaking footsteps of the Red Fury emerged from the forest. The beast's bloodshot eyes locked onto the girl—a seemingly easy prey lying helpless by the water. With a guttural roar, it closed the distance, opening its maw to swallow her in a single bite.
At that exact moment, Ardam had braced both feet against a colossal tree at the edge of the clearing. His hands were encased in Iron Hands, taking on their dark, metallic hue. He coiled every ounce of strength into his legs, his body tensioning like a spring compressed to its limit.
BOOM!
Ardam launched himself with such velocity that the massive tree he used for leverage shattered into splinters. He tore through the air and slammed into the Red Fury's face just as it was about to reach the girl. This wasn't just a hit; it was a collision of two unstoppable forces. The Red Fury lost its balance from the sudden momentum and, with a deafening splash, was plunged into the vortex. The beast's final, muffled roars echoed from within the anomaly before the swirling maw dragged it down into the depths.
Ardam didn't pause for a second. He scooped the girl back into his arms and sprinted toward the mountains on the forest's edge. He pushed Swift Steps to 100% capacity, his leg muscles feeling as if they would snap under the extreme load. Finally, he found a secluded cave on a mountain slope and ducked inside.
He laid her on the ground. Her breathing was shallow, on the verge of stopping. Ardam didn't hesitate; he knelt and pressed his lips to her pale ones. Krita flinched in fear, but she lacked the strength to resist.
"System, restore her body!"
[DING!][Analysis: Repairing severed limbs and stopping hemorrhaging — 370 OC.]
[Note: A full body reconstruction requires 2000 OC.]
"Use the 370 OC option! Spend all remaining OC to restore her lost blood!"
[DING! Commencing...]
[Warning: Intimacy contact insufficient. Energy exchange is stalling...]
Ardam gritted his teeth and pressed his lips harder against hers, deepening the kiss. He reached out, parting her shredded silk robes, and placed his palm over her racing heart, his hand resting on her soft chest.
[DING! Energy resonance restored. Commencing healing process...]
From Ardam's lips and palm, a warm, life-giving surge of energy began to pour into the girl's frame. The sensation brought her an unparalleled sense of relief, silencing her agonizing pain in an instant. Inside the cave, a miracle began to take shape: at the site of her severed legs, filaments of Erta intertwined, causing bone and flesh to regrow before his eyes. The wounds sealed, and the skin smoothed over. The process lasted only a few minutes.
Finally, Ardam broke the kiss and withdrew his hand. He inspected her from head to toe: not a single scar remained, and her once-severed legs were as healthy and whole as if the injury had never happened. Exhausted by the ordeal, the girl had slipped into a deep sleep.
[DING!]
[Process complete. Total expenditure: 400 OC.]
[Intimacy Detected!]
Target: Krita (Reincarnation of Elmiya)
Age: 29Rating: 8.4 points
Status: Dance of Death Sect, 1st-Rank Warrior.
Cultivation: 7 Erta Veins.
Erta Quantity: 680 URC.
Condition: Ancient bottlenecks detected within Erta veins.
[Rewards:]
Prolonged Kiss (6 minutes): +80 AC
Intimate Touch: +110 AC
Current Balance: 445 AC / 0 OC.
Ardam exhaled heavily, leaning against the cave wall. His body ached with a deep, bone-weary fatigue.
Within the damp, cold walls of the cave, a delicate scent began to waft—not just the smell of roasting meat, but a pleasant aroma born of a blend of medicinal herbs and wild roots. Krita slowly regained consciousness as the scent reached her. When she opened her eyes, she found herself wrapped in a strange warmth. She wasn't lying on the hard ground, but on a soft, thick pile of animal furs, covered by a heavy, coarse leather cloak.
Under the cloak, Krita realized she was completely naked, and a momentary shiver ran through her. But her memories returned instantly: the terrifying paw of the Red Fury, her severed legs, the cold breath of death, and... that young man. The master of purple lightning. Instinctively, Krita looked down at her legs. She expected horror, but what she saw staggered her mind. In place of the severed limbs, there was no scar, no wound—her skin was as smooth as a newborn's. This wasn't a miracle; it was the work of a god-like power.
A small campfire crackled in the center of the cave, its flames dancing against the stone walls. Above the fire, food simmered in a pot skillfully carved from stone, releasing that enticing aroma. At the cave's entrance, a pile of slaughtered Lemus carcasses lay stacked—proof of the grim determination with which Ardam had defended the cave while she was unconscious.
Outside, a violent rain lashed down. The roar of thunder echoed through the cave, making the atmosphere even heavier. Just then, Ardam stepped through the curtain of rain. His clothes shimmered with water, and the cold detachment on his face seemed even more formidable than the storm outside.
Krita flushed deep red, pulling the leather cloak tighter around her body. Driven by survival instinct, she reached out her hands to gather Erta. But her veins had not yet fully recovered from the energetic strain; a sharp pain shot through her entire being, forcing her to stop.
"So, you're finally awake?" Ardam said, approaching the fire.
As the firelight illuminated his face, Krita recognized him clearly. It was him—the mysterious warrior from the Shadow Sword Sect who had saved her from the Red Fury. She lowered her head and whispered in a trembling voice, "Thank you... for saving me."
Ardam paid her little mind. He reached into his pack, pulled out his spare clothes, and tossed them to her. "Get dressed. Walking naked in this forest won't get you very far."
Krita took the clothes and retreated into the darker corner of the cave. When she emerged a few minutes later, Ardam's clothes were far too large for her. Yet, even under the oversized fabric, her allure was impossible to hide. The robes emphasized her high chest, wide hips, and slender waist. Her golden hair fell in disarray over her shoulders, her silver lashes fluttered, and her blue eyes drew one in like a bottomless ocean.
Ardam sat on a stone by the fire, stirring the food with a wooden spoon. Krita slowly approached and sat on a stone opposite him. "My name is Krita... Krita Irno," she said softly. "How can I ever repay you? I am willing to pay any price for such healing and salvation."
"With your body," Ardam replied without delay. His voice was as calm and dry as if he were discussing the weather.
Krita was stunned by the remark. Blood rushed to her face. Faint memories from her state of semi-consciousness—drifting between life and death—flickered in her mind. Ardam's lips on hers, his warm palm on her chest... Remembering the energetic pleasure she had felt then, she instinctively felt a strange heat rise between her legs. Her breathing quickened slightly, but she composed herself.
"Eat first," Ardam said, handing her a stone bowl of food. "You've been unconscious for four days. We're losing time; we need to leave here at dawn."
Krita was shocked as she took the food. Four days! This meant the young man had not only healed her for four days but had also protected her from the forest's most terrifying predators.
Suddenly, Ardam's gaze sharpened. He set the spoon aside and looked toward the cave entrance. His Ancient Core had detected a vibration in the air—a hostile and malicious flow of Erta from several hundred meters away.
"We have guests," Ardam said coldly.
The rain curtain at the cave's mouth was pushed aside as eight warriors entered. Their black-and-violet robes and the seals on their chests marked them as members of the Dance of Death Sect.
"Oho, look who we have here!" shouted the man at the front, a youth with long black hair and a repulsive smirk. "It's the big-chested Krita! When they said you were dead, I was so disappointed I wouldn't get to use a body like yours."
He narrowed his eyes, looking at Ardam and then the furs where Krita had been lying. "It seems the heavens heard my plea. Come into my arms, sweetheart."
Krita hid behind Ardam in terror. She recognized these men—the lust and malice in their eyes made her shiver.
Ardam didn't stand up. He remained seated by the fire, fixing the newcomers with a gaze as sharp as a blade. The temperature inside the cave seemed to drop in an instant. A cold system message flickered in his mind:
[DING!]