Chapter 102: Who Has A Better Ass?
It wasn’t a massive fifty-yard wave of deep-ocean destruction.
It was incredibly small and completely unrefined but it was real.
A pressurized wave of golden-tinted phantom water entirely erupted from his blade.
The strike completely bypassed Morwenna’s guard and violently slammed directly into her left shoulder.
The impact wasn’t lethal, but it possessed enough force to physically push the SSS-Rank mythic entity entirely a half-step backward in the mud.
"Ha!" Silas cheered loudly, thrilled that he had successfully pulled off the complex technique in live combat.
Morwenna completely caught her balance.
She looked at her bruised shoulder and then back up at Silas.
Her stormy gray eyes completely darkened.
"You completely landed a hit, Captain," Morwenna praised him. "I am incredibly proud of your progress."
She slowly raised her wooden sword.
"But playtime is unfortunately over..." Morwenna declared smoothly.
Silas didn’t even have a fraction of a second to brace his guard.
Morwenna moved faster than his visual tracking could comprehend.
She completely bypassed the concept of standard footwork as she fluidly closed the distance, completely appearing entirely inside his defense.
Morwenna didn’t use the Tide-Blade Arts and she didn’t use the pressure of phantom water either.
BAM!
She simply clenched her left fist and delivered a precise devastating blow completely directly into the dead center of Silas’s chest.
The impact was catastrophic.
Silas felt the air violently explode entirely from his lungs.
The force of the strike bypassed his heavy Gold Core durability and completely short-circuited his nervous system.
His vision violently flashed white, followed by a rapidly expanding wave of pure darkness.
’F-fuck...’
The heavy training sword completely slipped from his fingers.
Silas collapsed backward into the freezing ground, completely knocked out cold.
...
Silas woke up.
His transition from unconsciousness to reality was incredibly slow and groggy.
His chest ached with a dull, throbbing phantom pain from the flawless strike that had dropped him.
He slowly opened his golden-ringed eyes but he wasn’t lying entirely in the freezing wet ground of the backyard anymore.
He was comfortably lying on his back in the center of the massive expensive mattress in the main master bedroom of the Keep.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the silvery moonlight spilling through the heavy glass window.
Silas didn’t try to sit up... He really couldn’t.
He was currently pinned to the mattress.
There were two incredibly soft territorial weights entirely pressing heavily against both sides of his body.
He slowly turned his head to the left.
Eluned was completely curled up against his side.
She was wearing a thin silk nightgown with both of her delicate arms were aggressively wrapped entirely around his left bicep as her beautiful face pressed into his shoulder.
He slowly turned his head to the right.
Morwenna had completely claimed the other half of the bed.
She had won her prize.
Right now, she was wearing only a simple comfortable dark canvas tank top.
Her right leg was aggressively thrown completely over his thighs, and her face was buried into his right pectoral.
’They turned me into a body pillow?’
He let out an exhausted sigh that echoed in the quiet room.
The sound of his sigh completely woke the two sensitive mythic entities.
Eluned slowly fluttered her glowing green eyes entirely open. She looked up at him with a soft affectionate sleepy smile touching her lips.
"Good night, My Lord..." Eluned whispered softly.
She leaned entirely upward, pressing a soft tender kiss completely onto his cheek.
She rested her head back entirely onto his shoulder. "I feel incredibly tired so sleep well."
On the right side of the bed, Morwenna’s stormy gray eyes snapped open.
The Pirate Queen completely saw the Goddess deliver the kiss, and her competitive instincts entirely flared to life.
Morwenna didn’t say a single word.
She utilized the exact moment Eluned closed her eyes to aggressively snake her left arm across Silas’s broad chest.
She forcefully claimed an extra four inches of chest space, pulling her body entirely closer to his core.
Eluned instantly felt the shift in boundaries.
The Goddess opened her eyes, glaring across Silas’s chest at the smirking pirate.
"You filthy trench-rat," Eluned complained loudly, attempting to shove Morwenna’s arm away. "You are completely encroaching on my half of the Lord!"
"I won the spar, you overgrown weed!" Morwenna argued fiercely, holding her ground. "I completely earned this specific chest space throughsuperiority!"
"I will literally turn your pillows into cactus!" Eluned threatened.
Silas completely closed his eyes.
He didn’t intervene.
He didn’t try to resolve the boundary dispute either... He just let the soft bickering voices of his SSS-Rank divine beings completely lull him back into sleep.
...
The next morning, the ground floor of the Warlord Keep was chaotic.
The sun had barely risen over the Umbral Basin, casting a weak gray light across the courtyard as the crew of yesterday was actively preparing for the lucrative and important mining expedition.
Silas was currently standing completely near the heavy ironwood dining table.
He was actively forcing his Gold Core physique completely into the "Miner uniform" that the territory’s Tailor had crafted overnight based entirely on Thora’s specific blueprints.
"Thora," Silas complained loudly, tugging at the dark leather straps entirely digging into his shoulders. "This is incredibly tight."
He was wearing a completely form-fitting compressive dark canvas undershirt with reinforced leather suspenders completely crossing his broad chest.
The dark trousers were so tight they practically restricted the localized blood flow to his calves.
Thora, who was currently eating a massive leg of roasted Umbral Wolf meat at the table, shrugged her bare shoulders.
"It isn’t actually tight at all, Boss..." Thora blatantly gaslighted him, waving a heavily greasy finger. "It is optimized for mobility in caves! Maybe Clara the Tailor completely made a tiny mistake with your exact biometric measurements."
Before Silas could officially demand a refit, the sound of heavy boots echoed completely from the spiral staircase.
Morwenna walked entirely down to the ground floor.
Silas completely stopped pulling on his suspenders and he stared.
The Pirate Queen was wearing her designated Miner uniform. It was undeniably criminal.
She was wearing a cropped tight dark leather halter top that entirely exposed her toned pale midriff but the centerpiece of the outfit was the trousers.
The dark canvas mining pants were so ridiculously tight they looked entirely painted onto her lower half.
Morwenna completely noticed him staring.
A proud smirk stretched across her face.
She didn’t awkwardly try to cover herself.
She completely embraced the degeneracy as Morwenna casually performed a slow exaggerated spin completely in the middle of the room.
The incredibly tight compressive canvas perfectly showcased the thickness of her ass and thighs, sculpted completely by centuries of high-speed naval combat.
’Sigh... Divine beings really are perfect...’
Exactly five seconds later, Eluned completely floated down the stairs.
The Goddess of Nature was wearing an identically scandalous restrictive Miner outfit.
Her long flawless legs were completely encased entirely in the tight dark canvas with the leather straps perfectly accentuating her delicate but incredibly firm curves.
Eluned entirely saw the Pirate Queen showing off, and her competitive vanity engaged once more.
The Goddess completely puffed out her chest and performed an equally slow deliberate spin, showcasing the flawless firmness of her own divine assets.
Silas stood completely frozen near the table, trapped between two SSS-Rank entities modeling tight mining lingerie in the middle of the morning.
Thora completely abandoned her roasted meat.
The Dwarven blacksmith aggressively scrambled completely up onto the dining table.
She leaned over the edge, completely bringing her face entirely inches from Silas’s ear.
"In my very professional opinion, Boss," Thora whispered loudly, offering her completely degenerate review. "Lady Morwenna undeniably has an incredibly thick ass but Lady Eluned absolutely possesses a better and much firmer ass."
Silas clenched his fists.
His immediate instinct was to aggressively hit the perverted Dwarf completely off the table for disrespecting his highest-tier units.
He raised his calloused hand, completely preparing to deliver a backhand but he completely stopped mid-swing.
Silas slowly lowered his hand.
He looked back at the two incredibly attractive, heavily competitive women completely showing off in the center of his Keep.
’Wait a minute...’ Silas thought, shamelessly taking in the view. ’Thora might be a degenerate, but she’s actually right. I definitely owe that dwarf a raise...’
However Silas still let her finish the sentence.
He raised his hand and dropped his knuckles directly onto the top of Thora’s forehead with a hard solid thwack.
"Ow!" Thora yelped, rubbing the red spot on her brow and scowling up at him. "What was that for, Boss? I was just giving you an honest assessment of the troops!"
"Stop talking like an unhinged pervert for five seconds," Silas told her, dropping his hand to his side.
He looked at the skin-tight canvas trousers she was wearing, then at the absurdly cropped leather top. "Is this actually a real dwarven tradition, or did you just engineer an excuse to get the girls dressed up like tavern strippers?"
Thora didn’t look ashamed in the slightest.
She puffed out her chest and did a quick, deliberate spin on her heels, letting the thick canvas stretch over her thighs.
"100% authentic deep-mountain heritage, Boss..." she declared proudly, crossing her bare, muscular arms. "You try swinging a thirty-pound sledgehammer in a humid underground pit while wearing heavy wool or steel plate. You’d pass out from heatstroke in twenty minutes. Dwarves are practical people. We mine hard, we sweat heavy, and we don’t like cloth chafing our joints when we’re pulling rock out of the ceiling. This is professional."
Before Silas could argue the mechanics of dwarven workwear, three heavy knocks echoed through the Keep’s thick ironwood front door.
"Come on in!" Thora yelled toward the hall.
The heavy door creaked open, and the rest of the raid squad from yesterday stepped into the dining area.
Brida led the pack, followed closely by Tasmin, Fenna, Gunnhild, and the junior scout, Elara.
Every single one of them had visited Clara the tailor overnight, and every single one of them was crammed into the exact same compressive mining uniform.
Brida looked like a walking mountain of muscle.
The brawler stepped into the room, rolling her shoulders and flexing her massive biceps.
The dark canvas fabric was stretched so tight across her broad chest and thick quads that Silas half-expected the seams to pop right there on the rug.
Instead of looking embarrassed, Brida grinned, slapping her thigh with a calloused palm.
"I’ve got to admit, Lord Silas," Brida boomed, her voice echoing in the stone room. "When the tailor handed me these, I thought she was playing a prank. But they actually feel great. Good compression on the hamstrings. Plenty of breathing room for the arms."
She looked over at the dwarf. "Thora, where are the carts? You said we were hauling heavy loads today."
Thora grinned from ear to ear, hopping down from the dining table. "Right this way, ladies!"
She marched over to the Keep’s double doors and threw them wide open to the morning mist.
Sitting outside in the muddy courtyard were five heavy-duty reinforced ironwood mining carts.
They were built wide and low to the ground, fitted with thick mud-tread wheels and heavy iron axles designed to hold tons of raw ore.
Secured to the side of each cart were racks of pristine, custom-forged pickaxes, their deep-earth alloy heads gleaming even under the gray sky.
"I stayed up all night hammering these out," Thora bragged, walking out onto the porch and patting the side of the nearest cart.
"Reinforced joints, greased bearings, and pickaxes balanced specifically for each of your reach lengths. There’s no cheap merchant scrap here. We are going into that cave prepared to clean it out from top to bottom."
Silas walked out onto the steps behind them, taking in the sight of the carts.
He had to admit, whenever Thora wasn’t making lewd comments or trying to blow things up, her craftsmanship was top-tier.
Footsteps sounded lightly on the stone floor behind him.
Aeliana stepped out onto the porch, holding her wooden clipboard against her crisp spotless spider-silk robes.
Her silver-white hair was tied back cleanly, and her pointed ears twitched as she looked over the assembled mining crew.
Silas turned to her.
"Aeli."
The elven arcanist froze.
Her shoulders jumped slightly, and a soft pink hue immediately spread across her high cheekbones at the casual nickname.
She straightened her posture, holding the clipboard tighter. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
