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Chapter 174: Games (7)
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 05:44:16 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
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The night was nearing its end.
After Kyrian took off to find the others, I took stock of the party. People were getting dressed, yet another method of showing off their wealth. The castle ballroom was filled with ushers and manservants, each of them carrying their master’s outer garments. But coats weren’t the only way to display one’s wealth.
You could easily display it with the beauty of your slaves.
Rows upon rows upon rows of Slaves began appearing from the dark corners of the room, doors whose secrecy were built into the architecture of the castle itself. Designed not to be seen until they were meant to be seen, everyone’s attention was naturally drawn to them.
I blinked and for a second, I thought I was at a runway show.
Beastmen, Orcs and Dwarves made up the bulk of the line, though the rare Elf and Human dotted the lines here and there. But at this point in the game, I wasn’t surprised by the make-up of the individuals that made up the slave population, but the sheer beauty of every single one.
Every slave was more beautiful than the last and I never thought I’d use the word ‘beautiful’ to describe men. I mean, handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, sure. But beautiful? I reserved that for people who belonged on television and magazines –people whose profiles would have been preserved throughout the ages by sculptors and artists. And trust me when I say this, each of these Slaves was exactly that.
Swaying tails drew one’s eyes to their legs and hips, inevitably bringing everyone’s thoughts to things better reserved for the bedroom. Orcs walked with their chest and shoulders bare; not with the lean whipcord muscles of adventurers, but the kind that were built in the gym with careful amounts of training and nutrition. A Dwarf walked right by me, close enough to touch, and the MSS gods almost help me, I almost did. For she wore nothing but strips of cloth covering the bare minimum.
It was like being in the room was a full assault on the eyes, smell and hearing. The soft caress of bare feet touching upon the cold castle floor; the sharp contrast between sheer naked beauty compared to the fat jiggly bellies of rich merchant masters. One particular beastwoman slave walked by me and the smell immediately set my senses on edge; suddenly I wanted to get out there and rip my clothes off.
Or someone else’s.
Scream, yell, claw my chest or do something. Because just sitting here was driving me crazy.
I got up to walk away. Kyrian could find me later.
“Oh, excuse me.” The voice carried over me like spring drizzle.
The slave who bumped into me was an Elf and I was careful not to look down at her cleavage. Or the lack thereof. I guess you need clothes to make cleavage. I never really thought about that before.
“Did you want to dance, Sire?”
“Uh.” I said.
And her eyes kind of did something that I didn’t expect at all.
She smiled.
She wasn’t the voluptuous type like the other elves I’d seen. Rather, she was on the slender side. Her pointed ears stood out against her round amber eyes, smoldering with fire. Not the burning, screaming type of fire. But the type that makes you moan and want to touch and want to-
Before I had a chance to think, she stepped in close. Close enough to kiss.
She looked up at me.
Gods, she had these really nice lips. And I don’t even know how but she’d grabbed a hand and placed it around her lower back, stepping in so that it felt like I pulled her in. The elf swayed and my hand strayed dangerously low and I wanted to do nothing more than let it.
“Was that a yes, Sire?”
“No thank you.” I croaked out but my voice cracked near the end.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
Then she leaned in close, nuzzling my neck.
I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like this.
“I like men with scars.” She whispered and something wet flickered out, licking the soft spot behind my ears.
She was so soft beneath my fingers. I don’t know exactly when, but my fingers were firmly gripping onto her waist now, unwilling to let go.
I wanted to.
I really really really really wanted to.
I’d done enough, haven’t I? I’d been trapped in this world for over a year now. I’d been an adventurer for most of that time. My goal had never changed: survival. Growing strong enough so that I didn’t have to worry about being enslaved again, or being worked up into politics somewhat; or seeing the [End Game]. But somewhere along the way, my goals changed.
I enjoyed being an adventurer. I enjoyed the thrill, I enjoyed growing stronger. I enjoyed being isekai’d into this damned game that I spent the latter half of life on.
But more than that, I enjoyed being a denizen of this world. All those NPCs, who had designated lines. They were alive now. They became my friends, allies. Companions and Enemies. I didn’t… I didn’t really want to go back anymore.
I was a full on human, Lock Slaveborn, of MSS now.
And that meant being an adventurer. That meant fighting, hunting. Risking my life.
In the game, there was a stress meter for your party members. Reach the max… and eventually, they quit the party. It could be any number of ways. If you’re lucky, they quit the party and you might meet them again in a [Special Event]. They could be continuing their lives as civilians or as adventurers. Or, you find them locked in a room hanging by their neck. Or they just disappear, never to be seen again.
I had a lot of pent up stress.
Was it so wrong?
Her hand began stroking my thigh, edging dangerously close to… to me.
“AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
The elf woman stepped back, horrified.
I screamed again. “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
Then I went over to the nearest table and banged my head on the surface.
Multiple times.
When I stood up again, the table had been splintered into pieces. The broken pieces had copious amounts of blood dripping onto the expensive floor, creating a small pool. Blood was dripping off of my face too, down my nose and my chin onto my shirt, pants and the floor.
I realized the hall had gone deathly still, everyone staring at me.
The slaves hadn’t just been coming onto me, but everyone within the vicinity. The curvy dwarf had managed to snag herself two young looking elves, no older than teenagers really. The three had been locked in some kind of weird fetish-like embrace, sitting on the dwarf girl’s legs and each of them whispering into her ear. I saw another scene where a beastman had been leading a man into the inner halways, holding him by his bowtie. Still more, people stood frozen, locked in one act leading to carnal desires one way or another, and staring at me.
“S-Sire?” The elf said, looking scared.
And I screamed again. “AAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
I didn’t scream at her. That’d be rude. I screamed into the air like a foghorn and everyone looked at me like an autistic kid screaming at a funeral. It kind of ruined everything.
Trust me. Been there and people were not happy. People are a lot less understanding than you think, especially more so up the social class. Atleast the kid had an excuse.
I didn’t.
But it had the desired effect. My scream lifted the heavy, sensual mood which crowded my thoughts, sneaking in between the gears in my head like old rust. The best way to break out of a subtle Core-induced [Status] effect like this was a shock to the senses. But that didn’t meant the rest of my faculties had returned in full force.
“I, uh-” I stammered out to the beautiful elf like the dignified adventurer I was. “I have to go home.” Then I hurried away.
I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder but she had the good sense to not follow. I was sure she didn’t need to, she’d find some other sucker to sink her claws into.
“...What’s up with him?”
“Maybe he has some… disability?”
“Like what?”
“You know… adventurers… often they get hurt… down there.”
“Oh. Shame.”
“Or he could be a virgin.”
I flushed at some of the speculation circling around me. But my feet kept moving and eventually I found myself on the second floor balcony. There was another couple who were about to step in, but I beat them to it. [Cores] come in handy more than just in battle, and this was precisely a situation where I was grateful to the [Speed] stat on my Cores.
“Excuse me.” I basically pushed them aside and stepped out onto the balcony.
The chilling bite of night air finally washed off the heavy, thick gel-like that had been stuck on my brain.
I leaned against the railing, closing my eyes and taking a moment to calm my breathing. Not from exertion, but a different type of excitement. The elf had been sensual and she’d touched me.
“You did well to avoid it,” said a voice somewhere behind me.
“Shit!” I almost drew my weapon but remembered I was at a party.
Cecilia walked out from the shadows.
Usually, I’d comment on how tight her dress was for a Priestess. How all the priestesses seemed to wear outfits straight out of a Japanese Manga that was geared towards fan service. But after seeing just how openly erotic things could get in the ballroom, I reassessed Church fashion culture. She was relatively tame, in light of all things considered.
That’s not to say Cecilia wasn’t beautiful. Dark locks fell from her veil, shining with a deep purple luster when hitting the light just right. The woman had a sort of attractiveness that drew you in, the kind that makes you want to strike up a conversation at a coffee shop. Not the sort that leaves you dumbfounded and horny.
“That was quite a show you put on there. Jared must’ve found it interesting.” Cecilia took place next to me, leaning on the railing.
I peered at her.
“I’m a Priestess.” She spread her palms.
Kind of a general rule in MSS, you don’t hurt Clerics. Not if you can help it. A lot of them are helpless to defend themselves. They only have buffs, debuffs and healing abilities. Not much in the way of hurting someone. As a result, you don’t really suspect them of being able to hurt you. Hence, you don’t hurt them.
But that didn’t mean I had to lower my guard.
“Where’s Zenom?” I looked around. Cecila was hardly ever without him.
“Retired for the night.” She sighed, taking a step away from me. “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? The Flames know, you’ve earned it.”
“Not interested.”
“Do you like men?”
“What? No.”
“Then?”
“Then what?”
“Why aren’t you interested?” She put one hand on her chin, giving me the side eye
“Because I’m not interested in Slaves forced Cores against their will.”
“Are you always this contrary or only to Church members?”
I growled, “I’m not contrary. What are you talking about?”
She laughed, actually raising her head towards the moon. Not the sort of refined laughs ladies do.
The priestess guffawed. Like, holding her stomach and bending over a kind of guffaw. I didn’t get what was so funny, but waited till she settled down.
She wiped an honest to goodness tear from one eye. “You and he are alike.”
“Who?”
“Zenom.”
“Oh.” Not knowing what else to say, “How is he?”
“Busy.” She sighed, turning back to the moon, “He’s visiting the Docks almost every day. Plus, other suppliers. We have less than a week left to get the fleet together to set off for Claw’s Nest. He retired early precisely for that reason, he’s looking at more ships with Fluporuin.”
“Ah.” I said, happy to leave it at that.
“He’s sorry you know.”
I felt my eyes turn flat.
“He is.” Cecilia played with a strand of hair. Not all coy-like. Just fidgeting, a sign of being unsure whether it was OK to have this conversation or not. “He’s sorry about what happened on the boat.”
“He wasn’t sorry when they wanted to kill everyone.”
“Jared Akka Xalud put him in a difficult spot.” Cecilia said, “What would you have done? Risked everyone’s life for the other races?”
“I risked mine.” I shot back.
“And, as I said, Zenom would be risking everyone else’s. Not just me and the Priests, but all the adventurers on that boat.” She said calmly, “You lead a party, Lock Slaveborn. Zenom has been leading army attachments since he was twenty years old. Trust me when I say that he knows the price of his decisions better than anyone.”
I wanted to shoot back with something but stopped. Mostly because she was right.
And mostly because I kind of liked Zenom.
I didn’t hate him, which was surprising.
“He’s sorry to you, for putting you in that situation. Truthfully, he spoke about that possibility; that the former War Prince would try something. To put Zenom in a position where he’d have to do something that goes against the rules of the Church.” Cecilia peered at me, “He also said that you might do something about it.”
I grunted. “If he saw it coming, why didn’t he prepare ahead of time?”
She laughed. “Prepare how? We had a scant hour before being boarded by the War Prince and his contingent of knights. Not just any old Knight corp, but the Centipede Knights who’ve been fighting on the front lines of the Northern Wall for years –since the War Prince was old enough to wield a blade. Trust me when I say this: the only option Zenom had was to yield.”
“Then why’s he sorry?” I countered, “If Zenom had no other option, he shouldn’t be sorry at all.”
“Because of you, Slaveborn.” Cecilia replied, deflating somewhat. “You’ve confused him.”
When I didn’t reply, she continued, “Zenom is a Holy Knight. One used to laying his life down for his beliefs, one whose entire being centers around the belief that he does what is right.”
“How many men do you think he’s slain? Men whose beliefs wavered at the last second in the face of death. And how many times do you think Zenom faced that situation himself, not knowing if he would falter at the last second? That his belief in the Light, Flame and Shield would hold adamant in times of trial?”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”
“Because he’s not used to seeing men risk their lives for something,” Cecilia frowned at me. “How many adventurers do you know, that would risk their lives for others?”
Adventurers that stuck their neck out for others? “Not many. They’re probably all dead. Smart adventurers don’t do that.”
“Exactly. Yet… you do that.” Her eyes shone. “You do what he does. Dedicate yourself to a cause greater than yourself, risking everything to see it through.”
“Something that Zenom never saw before, outside of the Holy Knights.” She pursed her lips. “And some of the Turinan Zealots, dedicated to the Empire’s cause. But the point is that, you do for others what he would do for his beliefs. Yet, your cause runs directly contrary to his. The fact that an adventuerer can be so dedicated to a cause that runs directly against our beliefs… It confuses him. He wonders, he wonders if there’s merit in what you defend.”
I took in a sharp breath.
What she said was akin to heresy within the church of Light, Flame and Shield. “You shouldn’t say that out here.”
“No one’s listening.” She smiled, “Didn’t take you for the superstitious kind, Slaveborn.”
I bit my lip, thinking of what Cecilia told me.
If what she said was to be believed… Zenom was confused. He was confused because of… me.
But I didn’t really have beliefs. Each time, I just did what I thought was right. But I don’t really have words for what I believe in. It’s not the Bible, Quran or Buddhist Scriptures. It’s just what I feel is right at each moment. If anything, I’m just listening to my conscience. I mean, sure. I think I know right from wrong, but I try to stay away from that. I only saved the Dwarves because I needed them. The other people were just a bonus…
Weren’t they?
“You seem confused as well.”
I didn’t answer, choosing to look at the moon.
“What I meant to say, Slaveborn,” Cecilia turned, leaving the balcony. “Don’t be too harsh on him. He’s never been taught to see things from the other side. You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, a friend who’s not brainwashed by the church.”
“And you’re not?” I scoffed.
She stopped, looking over her shoulder.
“Believe it or not, Slaveborn.” Cecilia Lighridge said, “Not every member of the Church adheres so closely to the teachings of the Light, Flame and Shield. Before there was Light, before there was Flame, before there was a Shield, there was–”
“Lock, there you are.” Kyrian interrupted us. “I was looking for you. Oh, hello, Lady Lightridge.”
“Hello, Magus Triscilan.” She gave him a curt bow, then one towards me. “It was nice talking to you, Slaveborn.”
Then she left.
Kyrian waited till she left. “What was that about?”
I felt my eyes narrow. “A clue.”
“A clue to success.”
Comments
Nathan Tran
Reading this when I should be writing my paper before I fail my class 🥲
rickeyyy rick
That how I feel waiting for marriage lock smh ( I wanna sin soo bad but it’s my belief) looolz
