He surrendered to the gentle embrace of slumber, drifting into a realm of dreams.
As his consciousness waned, he experienced a profound sense of relaxation, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his weary shoulders. It was as though he had been transported to a tranquil haven, where worries and tensions dissolved into the ether.
In this ethereal state, he felt weightless, liberated from the burdens that had plagued him in the waking world. The knots of stress and anxiety unravelled, leaving behind a sense of ease and serenity.
'Am I dead?'
'Wait, I am dead.'
'But I don't feel like I am dead, though.'
Confusion lingered as he pondered his surroundings.
"Where am I exactly?" His searching gaze met an expanse of impenetrable white surroundings, stretching in all directions. It was like everything was engulfed by the white paint or something.
'I didn't know death felt like this.'
'So, death is not an eternal sleep.'
NO!
He heard a booming voice reverberate around him.
Then, in the next second, he found himself standing in a grand hall adorned with walls of whitish liquid, like it was flowing down the walls. The absence of a ceiling allowed his gaze to roam freely, revealing a multitude of towering pillars lining both sides of the expansive space. Yet, despite the grandeur of the surroundings, white surroundings stretched endlessly beyond, shrouding the hall in an enigmatic aura.
His bewildered gaze traversed the expanse of the hall, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the revelation before him. The sight that unfolded left his mouth agape, and his eyes widened to the point of disbelief as if they might burst forth from their sockets. The sheer incredulity of what he beheld left him dumbfounded.
Lost in a state of astonishment for a few timeless minutes, he was abruptly startled by the resonant baritone voice that reverberated through the hall, once again.
"Have you finished your ceaseless wonderment?" The voice boomed, its echoes filling every corner of the hall.
Startled, he took an involuntary step back, and there, before him, materialised two figures. Both men were resplendent in regal attire, exuding an air of majesty.
One was adorned in a flowing white robe, embellished with golden ornaments that cascaded in a chain of beads. A crescent-shaped chest plate rested proudly upon his chest, while his countenance boasted a handsome visage with chiselled features. He sat upon the throne, casually reclining to the right and resting his head upon his hand.
The other figure, dressed in garments of the deepest black, sported a thick, well-groomed beard. His attire was simpler, limited to a gold chest plate that arched gracefully across his torso as well as thick golden bangles adorning both wrists.
The white-clad man, elevated upon the throne, stroked his chin thoughtfully, fixing his gaze intently upon the young man standing before him.
"Ah... Where... Where am I?" he stammered, his voice tinged with bewilderment.
"You are in the realm of the heavens," came the response, resonating from the lips of the black-clad man.
Spreading his arms wide, he gestured towards the surroundings and proclaimed, "This is the land of the Goodsouls."
'I thought there was nothing beyond death, but what is this? Why am I here?'
He had accepted his fate before succumbing to slumber, knowing full well that death awaited him. The news of his demise did not shock him. However, the circumstances of his current situation and the nature of this place left him astounded. Regardless of which direction he turned, nothing appeared ordinary.
He wanted nothing but dying. An eternal sleep, just like he had imagined.
Confusion and annoyance were starting to creep in on him.
After a momentary scan of his surroundings, he managed to regain his composure and direct his attention back to the men before him.
"Do you wish to return?" The words were uttered by the man seated upon the throne, his tone authoritative and grave.
The young man stumbled backwards, his eyes fixed upon the figure on the throne.
"Why would I desire to go back?" He began to grasp the gravity of the situation. These figures before him were undoubtedly otherworldly entities, and he found himself in a realm of judgment or some similar purpose. Such was his intuition. The mention of a wish further solidified his understanding.
He posed a question that seemed obvious yet required confirmation. "Are you two... gods?"
"In a sense. However, such knowledge is of no consequence to you. Speak your desires swiftly. We have limited time for your affairs," came the response, tinged with a hint of irritation.
"Wait. I shall send you to another world, where you may live as you please," the man upon the throne proclaimed.
"Umm" before he could speak.
"I don't want to!!"
That man said, "Get going already."
The young man rolled his eyes, looking at him.
"Next," that man said, without speaking any further to him, it was like he had no interest in talking to him anymore.
"Wait," he managed to utter, his voice filled with urgency and desperation. But his plea fell on deaf ears, as the man on the throne remained impassive, unmoved by his distress.
"I dont want to live another lifeee---"
Without any further delay, the young man felt himself being propelled into another realm, torn away from his previous existence. The transition was disorienting, his senses were overwhelmed by a whirlwind of energy and motion. It was as if he were being pulled through a vortex, his very being twisting and contorting in the tumultuous currents.
After what seemed like an eternity, his senses slowly began to reassemble, and his eyes fluttered open to a captivating sight. He found himself cradled in the arms of a woman, her gentle smile casting a comforting glow upon him. Though he couldn't quite focus on his vision, the woman exuded an air of familiarity and compassion.
Struggling to regain his bearings, he attempted to survey his surroundings, but his vision remained blurred, the details eluding his grasp. All that mattered in that moment was the presence of the woman who held him, offering solace amidst the uncertainty.
He tried to check on the woman who was holding him and then moved his gaze to his surroundings. It was a bit blurry, as he couldn't make out anything other than the woman.
The encounter proved to be but a fleeting moment, slipping through his grasp as swiftly as a passing breath. His consciousness waned once more, a plaintive cry echoing inwardly, "Waitttt!!!"
Yet, as abruptly as their connection formed, it began to fade. His consciousness waned once more, slipping away like a fleeting dream. His desperate cry welled up from within, a plea for more time, for understanding, for answers. But it was futile. The void enveloped him once again, leaving him with a lingering sense of longing.
And suddenly he felt like he was being dragged into a space, like into something smaller than he was in previously.
Before he knew it, he was standing in a vast land filled with red flowers, and he was completely confused and was in a state of disarray.
"Did they just throw you away, dear mortal?"
The young man looked and then looked at the figure sitting before him, and she was huge.
What the…
"What the hell are you?" He asked, staring at the giant woman. Everything looked bigger, her giant breasts and massive thighs; she was like giants from the sky.
"I am Apsaerina, goddess of the Kamasata realm."
"What is that?" He was no longer shocked by what's happening to him. He just stood there, staring at the woman.
"You'll know soon enough but we don't have time now. You have to leave before they notice you were gone."
Then a red line of beam shot towards the young man and his entire form was enveloped in a crimson glow.
Then a female voice boomed in his head.
[The carnal forge system activated]
[Blade of Sovereign]
[Essence of the key]
[Blessing of Goddess Apsaerina]
[Lust Apostle]
Then she said, "For now, I have given something to make for the lack of magic, the system will guide you."
"Until we meet again."
Then the young man felt it again. The force was pulling him away and within seconds he was back into the black space and his entire view of the world was spinning and swirling and he lost his consciousness.
He felt like he was drowning in darkness as he closed his eyes, the void engulfing him completely. No trace of light or form existed, just an empty abyss that seemed to stretch infinitely. It was as if he had been cast adrift in an ocean of nothingness.
A while later, as the boundaries of reality blurred, he emerged from the depths of oblivion yet again. This time, his eyes beheld a startling sight—a figure, partially unclothed, standing before him. Disbelief etched across his features, he couldn't help but exclaim, "What the fuc- waaww!!"
The woman, oblivious to his presence, had just finished bathing and was in the midst of drying herself. He found himself unable to tear his gaze away, his attention captivated by the sight before him. He could see her naked back. As he watched her, the moment of state of shock stopped abruptly.
Once she had dressed, she turned towards him, her voice gentle and caring, "My li'l pumpkin, have you woken up?" Moving closer, she embraced him, her arms enveloping him in warmth and comfort.
She was really a beautiful woman who seemed to be in her thirties. Her clothing was similar to what they used to wear on Earth. He was staring at her, and his thoughts were still on halt, as he lost himself, staring at her.
As she held his face in her hands, he looked at her face and he regained himself back.
She was a truly stunning woman, appearing to be in her thirties, with captivating black eyes, elegantly arched eyebrows, and lips that formed a gentle smile. Strands of lustrous black hair cascaded down, adding to her allure. He found himself lost in her presence, his thoughts momentarily suspended as he took in her beauty.
Guiding him out of the room, she settled him on the kitchen table, her attention focused on preparing breakfast. Glancing at the mirror, he caught sight of his reflection, and realization struck. He appeared as a young boy, his previous self seemingly replaced by this unfamiliar form. Confusion clouded his mind as he grappled with the enigma of his circumstances. Had he truly been transported to another world, or was there more to this perplexing situation?
He looked like a little boy. Coming to his senses, he touched his face and checked his body. He looked at the woman who held him; she was busy preparing him breakfast.
He glanced around the room. It was similar to what he used to have on Earth. He didn't understand anything. 'That man on the throne said that I would be going to the other world, but why is everything similar? Did I reborn into the same world, probably a century back ?'
'Arrrh!' He caught his head, looking in the mirror. 'Who is this woman then? This is clearly not my face as my previous self.'
Lost in his thoughts, he observed the woman placing a plate of omelette and roasted bread in front of him.
"Li'l pumpkin, will you eat, or should I feed you like always?" she asked, sitting beside him.
Her endearing nickname for him, "Li'l pumpkin," stirred his emotions. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him such kindness and love. His family back on Earth had never displayed such concern, never bothered to ask if he had eaten, or expressed genuine care. Yet here was this woman, preparing a lovingly cooked breakfast and offering to feed him.
Overwhelmed by the gesture, tears welled up in his eyes, and a solitary drop trickled down his young cheek. Startled, the woman inquired, "What's wrong, sweetie? Didn't you like what I made for you?"
Struggling to compose himself, he wiped away the tears, his voice trembling as he responded, "N-Nothing."
"Yes, sweetie," she said, holding his hand.
With tenderness, she wiped his tears and caressed his cheek, concern etched on her face. "Tell me, what's wrong?"
He realised he had been shedding tears without even realising it, his heart unaccustomed to such genuine care. Swallowing his emotions, he managed to whisper, "Nothing, Mom."
The other time, when he opened his eyes, he saw a woman holding him. At that time, his vision was not clear, as it was a little blurry to him; looking at the woman in front of him now, he remembered that it was she who held him. So he thought that she was his mother. The familiarity in her presence and her nurturing nature affirmed his belief.
"Ah! W-what did you say just now?" She stuttered, her voice filled with surprise and anticipation.
He met her gaze, concern evident in his innocent, round eyes. Taking a moment to gather himself, he repeated, "I said, Mom."
However, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind, questioning whether she truly was his mother. He silently cursed himself, realising he had mistakenly assumed her identity. 'Wait, is she not my mom?' he thought, feeling a pang of disappointment. 'Fuck, I thought she was my mom.'
"Oh my goodness, you called me what!" she exclaimed, her eyes welling up with tears. Embracing him tightly, she pleaded, "Please, call me Mom once more."
He returned the embrace, feeling the warmth of her love enveloping him. Concerned by her emotional reaction, he asked, "Mom, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing, dear. Just stay here; let me savour this moment a little longer," she replied, her voice filled with a mix of joy and relief.
He couldn't help but feel perplexed. If she wasn't his mother, then why was she so moved by his words? Puzzled, he attempted to recall his early childhood, but a void greeted him instead. No memories from his past few years surfaced, leaving him disoriented and frustrated. 'Fuck! What the hell! What did that man in white do? Where the fuck did he send me?' he inwardly exclaimed, frustration seeping into his thoughts.
Still nestled in her comforting embrace, he realised that his questions would likely go unanswered. Instead, he resolved to explore this unfamiliar world and learn more about his new circumstances.
Nonetheless, he couldn't deny the solace he found in being cared for by such a loving mother. Reflecting on the countless isekai novels he had read, where protagonists often found themselves without a mother's love, he silently acknowledged his fortune. Tenderly, he wrapped his little arms around her waist, cherishing the connection they shared.
Taking in his surroundings, he observed the walls, doors, and kitchenware. Everything seemed reminiscent of an old 90s movie, with walls adorned with floral wallpaper, exuding a sense of nostalgia and charm. It reminded him of the old movies he used to watch back then.
Years passed, and he learned many things about the world he had reborn.
While he was growing up, he came to learn that magic and swords reigned as the power source in this world, and people used the mana and sword qi to get stronger.
But the place where he was living had no magic or swords. It was said to be a peaceful country.
The people who use magic and qi live elsewhere, and these people don't talk about them or hear about them. It was like a normal world to him, the place where he currently stayed. It was like living in the 90s.
There are two worlds: people who use magic, qi and people who can't use it, who are called mundanes. The mundanes are often looked down upon by those who can use magic and qi, and there is a clear divide between the two groups. Despite this, he found ways to learn about their existence.
The reason for his motivation was the truth about his birth.
The woman, Mannisa, apparently his aunt, told him that his father, who was half-brother to her, contacted him out of nowhere one day and gave him to her, telling her to raise him as her own child. He didn't tell her anything about who the child was or where he came from.
Just that the child needed protection.
Mannisa didn't know what to do. She couldn't leave the child elsewhere as she didn't even know who it was. But she decided to raise him and has taken care of him ever since, hoping that her brother would come back one day and take the boy.
The young man, now named Jaeron, was moved by the kindness of the woman and her brother.
He thought there was no kindness in the world but there were two people who gave their everything to raise him in this strange world.
Both of them did so much for him, and he wanted to find the man and find the answers about the ones who abandoned him.
For that, he needed to get stronger. So he dug into the sources of power.
He learned all this by digging around, visiting libraries, and rummaging through lots of books. There was a lot of information about the world of mages and swordsmen.
Some of these people were interested in knowing where they lived or what they were doing. And this helped him learn about the world of swordsmen. The fervour to understand and connect with this hidden world fueled his exploration, offering glimpses into the lives and lands of those who commanded magic and qi
He finished high school this year.
Within the confines of their cosy home, nestled amidst a neighbourhood adorned with a charming front yard and a serene backyard, their lives unfolded as a duet of unwavering love and profound gratitude.
Never allowing herself to be consumed by her own desires, she dedicated her life to raising him, pouring every ounce of her being into his upbringing. Their small family of two found solace within the walls of their cherished home, where love and care mingled harmoniously in the air.
This extraordinary bond was forged in the crucible of tragedy when she received the heart-wrenching news of her sister's demise. In a profound twist of fate, she was entrusted with the care of her newborn nephew, who would become the centre of her world. With an indomitable spirit, she embraced her newfound role as his surrogate mother, raising him as her own with tender affection.
"Jaeron, sweetie, how long are you going to sleep?" A sweet and melodious voice rang out in the house.
"Jaeeeronn!" she yelled out his name, waking him up.
He was still asleep in his room, half-naked and wearing only shorts. He heard his aunt's voice and slowly got up from the bed, yawning.
He walked to the bathroom, washed his face, and came down.
He saw his aunt preparing breakfast for him, with her back to him. He walked to her in slow steps and hugged her while slowly caressing her hips.
"Oh, you woke up," said Mannisa.
"Good morning, auntie," he said while kissing her neck.
"Hmm, sweetie, you seem to be aroused day and night." She sighed, saying, "You should control yourself, young man."
"How could I control myself, with a gorgeous beauty like you standing in front of me?" he said, leaning his head on her shoulder.
She kissed him on the forehead and said, "All right, go sit there and eat your breakfast like a good boy."
Instead of listening to her words, he slid his hand down her, groping her butt, and pressed it firmly, in turn, and she let out a moan. He continued squeezing her butt while he kissed her soft, smooth neck.
"Sweetie, I have to go out. We can continue this after I return." Jaegar moved back and went to sit at the table, losing the mood.
Jaegar's POV:
In my previous life, I was never close to my family, and I had forgotten what it meant to be close to one's family. I even forgot what the word family meant.
When I was reincarnated into this new life and found myself in this house, my early childhood memories were hazy, but the presence of my aunt stood out vividly. She had been more than just an aunt; she had been a mother figure I couldn't have even dreamed of.
The love and care she showed me when I regained consciousness after my reincarnation were etched deep in my mind.
I grew to love her deeply, feeling incredibly fortunate to have her by my side. Even when she explained that she wasn't my biological mother and that she didn't know my parents, it didn't impact me greatly.
I didn't have any real memories of my birth parents.
Here, with my aunt, I was truly content.
As I continued to grow under her care, our bond deepened further, and I began to see her as more than just an aunt—she became my mother in every sense of the word. She was a remarkably beautiful woman, which inevitably led to moments of attraction on my part. There were a few instances where I accidentally stumbled upon her in various states of undress, but we both brushed them off as mere accidents. Neither of us wanted to entertain such thoughts.
I still remember her naked body with water dripping on her white skin…uh… (clearing throat.) The image stayed in my mind, but I never really wanted to do anything further.
As the years passed, I started to grow into boyhood.
I used to stare at her most of the time, which begged the question.
Yeah, she started to notice me staring at her. And then she asked me why I was doing that.
I just told her that I liked watching her; it calms my mind. She gave me a strange look when I said this, but she just laughed it off, later saying You speak like an old man.
I used to compliment her whenever she was dressed nicely, and I liked the hugs she gave, smothering me between her ti-(clears throat) her soft bosom.
Sometimes, I asked her if I could sleep with her at night, she never refused and held me, dearly and used to sing a lullaby.
Jaeron was eighteen now and continued to strengthen his body all these years. He stood in his backyard, doing push-ups. He was in his shorts, half naked.
His muscles flexed every time he went down and came up; the sweat glistened on his muscles, adding a layer of glitter effect.
Unknown to him, there was someone watching him from the other backyard. It was his best friend's mother, Angela.
His friend Jared, who had been with him ever since he could remember. They studied together from a young age.
She had her eye on Jaeron and wanted to fuck him. His athletic body was such a turn-on for her.
She saw him leave the backyard, and she too quickly left the house. She knew where Jaeron was headed. It was time for his run in the park, and there she follows him daily, watching him.
Jaeron's pov:
"Stacy looked so hot today though!" My friend Jared Terrell said as we walked to his house, "You're just too hung up on Emily to notice."
I shook my head. "I told you Emily looked fine. I don't get why you just don't ask her out already." He rolled his eyes as we arrived at his house to play video games.
"Hello, boys." Angela, standing in the kitchen as we walked in, said, "I'm making some sandwiches if you boys would like some." She smiled at us with her kind face, her flowing brown hair stopping about midway down her back. Her 36H boobs rested snugly in her tight black top. My eyes traveled to her tan skirt, her smooth legs almost shining down to her black heels.
She was just around Aunt's age, 45, with an ass to match hers. As we played downstairs, I found it hard to take my mind off his mother. Jared always longed for the girls as his house when there was a perfectly stacked MILF in his own house.
- -
My urges for her began the previous summer. Jared had all the guys come over to swim. She mingled with the other mothers. As she rubbed her sunscreen on, I couldn't help but get hard under the water. She was divorced shortly before she moved to our neighborhood. Jared and his younger sister Allison frequented our house as much as I did theirs. But I had my obvious reasons.
As we returned upstairs, Angela sat drinking a glass of wine while reading a magazine. Her legs were crossed and that somehow made her even sexier. "Oh good you boys are finished," she said as she noticed us, "I'm cooking lasagna. Will you be joining us for dinner Jaeron?"
The aroma was as intoxicating as her body. "I'd love to Ms. Terrell."
"Perfect," she replied with a warm smile, "And I've told you, call me Angela."
- -
While the lasagna still cooked, I sat talking with Jared. However, our conversation was the furthest thing from my mind. Angela was in the pool, swimming laps. Her massive boobs seemed to break the water before she did. As she prepared to exit, the weight of the water seemed to try to hold her rack in. She then kept her feet in the water, her juicy ass on the pool edge.
My mouth salivated at the sight of her gorgeous ass. And yet Jared doesn't even notice. If my swim trunks hadn't been so baggy, I probably would've had a major embarrassment. I excused myself and jerked out a wad of cum in the bathroom, imagining blasting on Angela's face.
- -
After we ate, I called home and aunt gave me permission to sleep over. Angela seemed to be happy and she readied the guest room for me. "So everything you might need is in here." Angela said as she fluffed the pillows, "you're free to look in the kitchen if you get hungry. And if you need anything, feel free to get ask me."
She put the blankets onto the bed. She then arched her back and let out a long side, raising her breasts even higher. "At least if you do come in you won't bother anyone. Just me sleeping alone." Something seemed strange about her words she gave off nothing else.
As she she prepared to leave, she quietly walked over and sat in front of me. "I want to thank you Jaeron."
I looked back. "Thank me for what?"
"For being a friend to Jared," Angela replied. It was hard to focus with her nearly exposed breasts so close to me. "It hasn't been easy for him since the divorce. And I know he had trouble making friends since he moved here. Thank you for taking an interest in him."
I nodded. "You're welcome," I replied.
She nodded silently. Before I realized it, her lips met mine. They were soft and she smelled like strawberries. She moved her caring hand behind my head as her tongue slowly danced with mine.
"Mrs. Terrell..." I began but she kissed me again.
"Angela, call me Angela. Just my way of thanking you Jaeron." She pushed her mouth back to mine, nearly making me cum in my cotton pants.
I put my arm around her shoulder and our kiss deepened. She tightened her grip on my hair and sucked on my bottom lip. Our tongues danced together. It was stimulating. I was kissing my friend's hot mom while he slept in just the next room.
Her pajama top let her boobs hang freely, just inches from my grasp. My safest instinct was to grab her ass. To my surprise, she didn't recoil at my touch. Instead, she moaned softly into my mouth.
Angela giggled as she pulled back. Everything inside me wanted to prolong it but I couldn't build the nerve.
"Well," I said a long silence, "I think I'll go on to bed then."
She seemed to sigh a little and nodded. "Good night then Jaeron."
"Good night Angela."
- -
When I awoke the next morning, a delightful smell zipped up my nose. I walked downstairs where Angela was cooking breakfast and humming. She stood cooking in a blue fuzzy robe, her full ample bosom almost fully exposed. The edge stopped just under her ass, further hardening my morning wood.
"Wow..." I said without thinking.
She turned to see me and giggled. "Why thank you Jaeron," she said with her beautiful smile, "I'm glad you think I look I look good in the morning."
Uh... where's Jared?" I asked, trying to take my mind off the perfect body before me.
"Oh, he's still upstairs," Angela replied, "he rarely ever gets up before 10:00 on the weekends." I nearly fell over as she bent over to set the table, her ass fully exposed to me along with her pink pussy lips. She turned back and saw me, my pants almost ripping under the hardness.
"Well it looks like I have your attention," she said, licking her lips with a chuckle.
I looked down, seeing I had forgotten my specially made boxers. "I... I just... uh..."
"Mmmmhmmm..." she said in a pondering tone, looking at my bulge, "It's fine Jaeron. And perfectly natural. I must say it feels good to see a man get it up to me again."
"In fact..." Angela said as she walked over, "it's makes me hotter than you could possibly imagine." She kissed me fiercely, her tongue circling mine. She moaned softly as she proceeded to rub my bulge as I palmed her huge knockers. I then felt her warm ass cheeks.
She slowly undid her robe, dropping it. I almost came all over the perfectly waxed wooden floor as I saw the wondrous, smooth, soft breasts that always made there way into my dreams.
Her hard nipples were almost a pinkish-beige. Yet her breasts themselves had no sag, swaying gently as she moved. It seemed almost impossible for her to see her lower body, her two orbs jutting greatly from her thin frame.
She moaned as I felt them, marveling at their feel and heft. "Feel how hard they are Jaeron?" Angela asked as I lightly pinched her beautiful nipples, "our kiss last night had me so turned on, I fingered myself all night long hoping you'd come join me."
"Mom?" Jared called groggily from upstairs, "Jaeron?"
"Damn it!" Angela hissed, "Quick! Get dressed!" We immediately pulled our clothes back on as fast as we could. If it hadn't been for my boxers or Jared's lack of observation, he would've seen the signs. My rock hard erection. His mother's untied robe and wetness dripping down her leg.
"What's for breakfast?" Jared asked, sitting down with his back to us.
"Waffles baby," Angela replied calmly. However, it felt like my heart was going to tear through my chest. I sat down, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. My friend's mom, whom I had lusted after since I had met him had allowed to feel up her sexy body. The seemingly friendly kiss the night before was one thing. This morning was something else.
She set our plates in front of us, his first. As she set down mine, she made a show of letting her nipple slip out. She gave me a sexy grin but Jared, already eating, didn't notice. Later that day, while we played video games, Jared got a text.
"Dude!" he suddenly shouted, "major news. Stacy just asked me out!"
"Funny you sound proud of that," I replied, "considering it's usually the guy who asks out the girl."
"Well I'm glad," Angela said from the kitchen, "when is your date Jared?"
"In an hour," he replied, turning to me, "should I take a rain check bro? I mean I wouldn't want you to feel I just pushed you off."
I shook my head. "Nah man. You've wanted to date her for a long time. You deserve it man."
He rushed to get ready and I got up. Angela however placed her hand softly on my chest, not saying anything until she was sure Jared was in his room. Hearing his door close, she kissed me again. We kissed madly, my hands slapping and squeezing her delectable ass.
She tightly gripped my shirt, and our kissing intensified and I moved to kiss her neck and shoulders. She moaned as I moved down to suck her boobs but she held me back. "Hold on," She said, struggling to catch her breath, "he'll come down any moment. We can't let him find us fucking already."
"But he's so focused on Stacy he won't even notice." I replied, moving a finger into her pussy, making her whimper.
"I know," she replied, "but when he leaves, we can have the greatest fuck of our lives." I nodded and sat on the couch, hiding my massive erection with a pillow. Jared finally came downstairs and quickly said goodbye, promising to be home by dinner. We then watched him practically zoom to the bus stop.
As soon as it left, we began kissing again, quickly taking each other's clothes off. As my cock came into view, she gasped. My cock swung back and forth like a pendulum, my sack feeling as if it contained two boulders.
"Fuck!" Angela exclaimed, seeing my veiny shaft with it's purple head, "'this is fucking gigantic!" She traced it with finger, gasping again as she examined my balls, full and heavy. Without warning, she began to furiously jerk me off, her hand a blur as she went vigorously up and down my pole.
"Oh shit!" I cried out, laying my head back.
"Mmm..." she taunted, "daddy like?"
"Daddy loves..." I replied.
She went even faster, soon holding it firmly in one hand as her silky tongue licked around y knob before took me in her mouth. She stared at me the whole time as her blue lips slid down half of my cock as her hands did the rest of the job. It was so incredible, I grabbed her head and pulled head into my groin.
Her breathing intensified as she took me down, speeding ingesting my shaft. I braced on the arm of the couch as she continued to suck me down. Her warm mouth was like heaven, her slobber having all of my member shining brightly. She took me out and began to move her tongue over the loose skin above my balls, making me moan again as she licked from balls to base like a popsicle.
She winked as she gave a long kiss to my knob, licking across my slit. She quickly slid down to my base and I moaned as her lips touched my balls. She rose up to half my cock and slammed back down, my head hitting the back of her throat.
She then sucked my balls down her throat, deeply inhaling my scent. Fuck this is amazing, I thought, it's amazing I haven't cum.
Nevertheless, the demanding urge was there. To fill her mouth with my hot spunk. She saw the look in my eyes and pulled back. Precum draining like piss from my hole and she smiled. She then caught some on her tongue. "I almost let you blast in my mouth," Angela said as she stood, "but I've got more in store for you..."
She then stood and began to rub my cock again. "Meet me in the guest room in about half an hour." She then turned to go upstairs, my shaft throbbing to full length. "And we're not stopping until those nuts are completely spent."
When I returned to the guest room, I took off my shirt and lay on my back. A few minutes later, Angela walked in. She wore a yellow see through negligee, stopping just short of her ass. Topped her now yellow lipstick and 8 inch yellow heels, she was incredibly arousing.
She crawled in between my spread legs and pressed her lips tenderly to mine. Her lips were so soft and sweet, like cotton candy. She reached between us to jerk me off. The negligee was so tight, it practically thrusted her boobs toward me.
She followed my hungry gaze and chuckled. "Do you like it Jaeron?" I nodded eagerly as moved a hand to feel her up, making her moan softly. We then aggressively kissed, our tongues collided in unbridled passion. I moved into a seated position as she kissed me again and I began to squeeze and mold her juicy ass.
"Fuck that feels good baby..." she whispered. She moaned again as I explored her inner thigh and leaned back, pulling me on top of her. We both moaned and grunted softly as we grinded against one another.
"Go down on me Jaeron," Angela asked, "please."
I smiled at her and kissed her lips before kissing between her breasts and down her stomach before arriving to her pussy. As she spread her lips, I teased her by licking and sucking on them. She groaned at the action and I sped up a little, flicking my finger and tongue against her cunt.
I then wrapped my arms around her thighs and deeply inserted my face. Angela screamed and beat in the bed as I slyly entered three fingers into her. "Yes Jaeron!" she screamed as I probed deeper, "fuck yes!!" She reveled at the feel of my tongue on her slit as my hands never leaving her gorgeous gigantic breasts.
I finally leaned up and we kissed again before she gently pushed me back and again began her attention to my loaded balls. My throbbing prick lay against her forehead as she slurped on each testicle. I moaned as she spit them out, taking my pole back into her mouth.
"I never thought I'd be happy for Jared to have a date," she said as she sucked on my knob, "but today I am."
"So am I," I replied, "but there's just one problem."She gave me a questioning look. "Only one of us is naked." I said. She took the hint and dropped my shaft from her mouth. As she removed the negligee, her boobs flopped out, revealing all their glory. She teased me by covering her tits with her arm.
"You want to feel up your slut's big soft boobs daddy?" Angela asked in a hot tone.
"Absolutely," I replied, barely able to believe what was happening. But first, I had to taste them. I roughly wrapped my hand around one and she groaned as I began to suck deeply on the hard nipples, squeezing the squishy warm flesh.
As I continued my attack on her boobs, she reached to my cock, feeling my stiffness. "Ooooh," she moaned softly, "You do like them..." I twirled my tongue around her nipples, attempting to suck the globes down my through.
"Fuck, this is so wrong," Angela groaned while rubbing my head against her wet slit, "but it feels so right..." She pulled her enormous breast from my mouth and hovered her cunt over my cock.
"I must tell you Jaeron," Angela said with a hint of nervousness it seemed, "I have an extremely high sex drive. I don't cum easily. So if I last past your climax, I don't want you to feel bad." She then lowered her hand to stroke my pulsing battering ram.
Fuck that feels good...
I fought to maintain my composure. "I'll last." I managed to say as she kissed me passionately, continuing to move her hand up and down.
"Alright Jaeron," she said with a smile, "let's do it. What we've both longed to do for so long." She hovered above my cock and slowly slid down. I groaned as my head slipped inside. It wasn't as tight as I expected but it was a struggled to push through.
"Shit!" we both cried out at the same time. She began to slowly ride, her orbs overflowing my palms. I massaged her ass as she picked up speed, her udders slapping one another as she rode harder. Her boobs bounced madly as she began to drip her wetness on my cock.
We both moaned as I grabbed her hips and began fucking her at the same rate. "Fuck Yes Jaeron!" Angela screamed, "bury that hard dick deep in my pussy!" Her legs raised up as I went solo, pounding away at her hot snatch.
She screamed as I mauled at her boobs, rubbing her large clit and spanking her ass. "Yes baby!" Angela cried out, supporting herself on her arms, "Fuck it feels just as good as I imagined!" I reached up to grope her big soft boobs and she grinded me harder. I pulled her closer to me and began to grope her ass, making her moan louder.
Her ass repeatedly slammed into my balls. She groaned louder and I pushed her onto her back, making her squeal happily. Without pause, I thrusted into her pussy. "Fuck!" she screamed as our hips clashed.
"Fuck me Jaeron!" Angela screamed as we met with lustful fury, "Fuck the shit out of me!!" I began pounding into her harder and harder, her smooth inner thighs bouncing against my hips. She cried out under my fucking, her massive breasts shaking wildly.
"Oh fuck Jaeron!" she screamed as I pounded faster and faster, burying my balls inside of me. "Yes! Yeeeeeeees!!" She screamed as her orgasm took over her body, making her shake wildly. The warm juices sprayed onto my groin, dripping from my balls.
I slowed down, my prick buzzing as it rested in her cunt. She leaned up to kiss me, twirling her tongue with mine. My balls simmered as she caught her breath, her boobs rose and fell rapidly.
"Shit that was great!" she exclaimed, "I've never cum so early..." She followed my gaze to her big rack and smiled. "Let me back on top."
I lay on my back as she swung her leg over my lap and lowered her ass onto my prick. It felt incredible as my head sliced through the tight ass. I slapped the soft skin and she moaned. "Yeah baby," Angela said as she looked back at me, "enjoying that thick ass sliding down that hard fat cock?"
"Oh fuck yeah..." I groaned out as I reached to fondle her juicy boobs.
"Oh fuck, you're deep in there!" Angela groaned as I began thrusting upward. I massaged her soft ass cheeks and then hooked a finger up her ass. She screamed from the added penetration and began bouncing faster.
"Oh shit," she cried, "I'm cumming!"
As she shook, I picked her up and put her legs over my shoulders. She groaned as I pushed into her. We grunted each time our bodies met with brutality. She moaned in gibberish and began slamming into me.
"Have you never been fucked in the air Angela?" I asked watching her boobs bounce in my face.
"N-no. Never." she replied as he eyes rolled to the top of her head, "but fuck, it feels great!!" Her pussy seemed to tremble as I fucked her like a savage. She quickly came again, squirting everything. I dropped her back down, fucking her harder. She looked up at me. I was in total control. Angela pleaded for me to go harder.
My cock glistened with her juices as I fucked her like an animal as I held onto her hips. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Angela moaned each time I pushed in. The bed shook frighteningly as we hammered into one another.
"God, Jerry!" Angela cried out, tightening her grip on my scalp, "I feel that massive battering ram in my cervix!!" She cried out in an ear shattering pitch as she came again. Her juices coated the bed as she moved in an orgasmic spasm. After I pulled my cock from her dripping cunt, she lay her head back, breathing rapidly.
I was getting hard again seeing her breasts rise and fall. "I never cum so hard in my entire life," she said. She gestured me over and we kissed passionately as I groped her boobs.
"I'm glad I was able to do it," I said as I tweaked her nipples. As I sat against the headboard, she giggled her ass before me. She then sat on my stomach and wrapped her hands around my cock. She turned and smiled at me before rising up and sliding her cunt down my cock.
"Oh yeeeeeah..." she moaned as I filled her. She leaned down, letting me drown in the softness of her boobs. She pushed down further and began to roll her hips on my prick. "I want it Jaeron. All that hot creamy cum flooding my pussy. I want you to fuck me with all you have."
"Are you sure Angela?" I asked, despite it being my greatest wish.
"Absolutely Jaeron," Angela replied, "I want all your seed. And I need you to give the fucking of a lifetime."
The wooden sword cut through the morning mist like a blade of light.
HHAHH!!
He sighed, his breath clearing the mist in front of his face.
Jaeron's breath came in steady clouds, his bare feet planted firm on the dew-soaked grass behind his aunt's cottage.
Eighteen years of this same motion, this same relentless repetition that his body knew better than his own name.
[Blade Resonance – Advanced to Layer 2!]
[Ability Unlocked: Blade of Qi!]
[Blade of Qi – Peak Mortal Grade]
Swing - Step - Pivot - Breathe.
The system had given him instructions about the way he should practice sword.
His muscles burned with that familiar ache, the kind that felt like home now. The sword — really just a carved length of ashwood, worn smooth by his palms over countless dawns—moved through the forms he remembered from the animes or movies.
It sort of helped him gain the understanding that the training started with a sword.
He knew that he had no mana or any magic in him. He tried every thing he knew but he couldn't sense it. So instead he chose the sword and trained with it all these years. There were no techniques, he didn't know any. He just swung it and swung it.
From the books he read over the years, the qi is accumulated by training with the sword.
In the stories he read that people coated their blades in shimmering energy, to move faster than thought, to cut through stone as if it were silk.
His wooden practice sword just made a dull whooshing sound.
But he swung anyway. Because what else was there?
Jaeron was somewhere around five thousand now, by his count.
He watched in one anime that swinging the sword with the perfect stance was really difficult and once you ahcieved that, you can learn any sword technique. Though he wasn't sure that rules of his world would be applied here.
Nonetheless, he tried, hoping someday he would be rewarded for his labour.
The sky had shifted from deep purple to that particular shade of gray that meant dawn was truly breaking. Sweat traced lines down his bare chest despite the autumn chill. His dark hair, tied back with a fraying cord, clung to his neck.
At 18 years old, his body had filled out from the scrawny child who first picked up this sword. His shoulders were broad, his arms corded with lean muscle, his abdomen marked with the definition that came from brutal consistency.
Not that it mattered much. Without formal training, without access to the breathing techniques that unlocked qi cultivation, he was just a particularly fit commoner swinging a stick in his backyard.
Still. He swung.
Jaeron moved through the sequence with finesse — high diagonal cut, low sweep, thrust, spin, double slash, rising cut, and the final devastating overhead strike that would split a man from crown to groin.
Or would, if he had a real sword.
And qi and an opponent.
Instead, he had grass, mist, and his own stubborn refusal to accept that some dreams were meant to die.
"Foolish boy."
His aunt's voice cut through his concentration. The wooden sword wavered mid-strike.
Jaeron turned to find Aunt Mannisa standing on the back step of the cottage, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression somewhere between exasperation and concern.
She was a stunning woman in her forties, her hair still more brown, her face lined but strong.
She had never understood the sword.
"Good morning, Auntie," Jaeron said, lowering the practice weapon. His breath still came heavy.
"Morning," she replied, though her tone suggested it was anything but good.
"You've been out here since before the roosters. Again."
"The forms require practice."
"The forms," she repeated, and there was something sad in how she said it.
"Jaeron, come inside. We need to talk."
His stomach tightened.
Conversations that started with "we need to talk" never ended well.
But he nodded, wiping the sweat from his face with his discarded shirt before following her into the cottage's warm interior.
The kitchen smelled of porridge and honey, of the chamomile tea his aunt favored in the mornings. She gestured for him to sit at the worn wooden table while she poured them both cups of the steaming brew. Through the window, he could see the main road beginning to wake—shutters opening, smoke rising from chimneys, the baker's boy making his early rounds.
"You can't keep living like this," Aunt Mannisa said finally, settling across from him. Her hands wrapped around her cup as if drawing strength from its warmth.
"Like what?"
"You know what? This... obsession with becoming a swordsman. All that fantasy nonsense. You're 18 years old, Jaeron. Most young men your age are married by now, learning trades, building lives."
She paused, her eyes searching his face.
"When was the last time you thought about your future? Your real future?"
"This is my future," he said quietly.
"It's all I've ever wanted."
"Wanting doesn't make it possible." Her voice wasn't cruel, just weary.
"How long will you swing that wooden sword before you admit that some doors are closed?"
Jaeron stared into his tea, watching the steam spiral upward.
She was right, of course. She was always right about these practical things. But rightness and truth weren't always the same thing.
"Your father believed a lot of things. Though I am not sure he is. He did believe. Beautiful things. Impossible things." Her hand reached across the table, resting on his.
"I loved my brother deeply. But he left you with dreams instead of a plan, and dreams don't feed you. They don't keep you warm in winter."
Before Jaeron could respond, a knock sounded at the front door—three sharp raps that echoed through the cottage.
His aunt's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face.
"That'll be Martha," she said, rising from her chair. "She's coming by to borrow some flour."
But it wasn't Martha.
Through the doorway, Jaeron heard the low murmur of his aunt's greeting, and then a voice that made his pulse quicken despite himself—warm and knowing, carrying the particular cadence of someone who understood exactly the effect she had.
Angela Torrell.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment later, and Jaeron's mouth went dry.
She wore a simple dress of deep green that complemented her hair, currently pinned up in a style that suggested she'd been awake and preparing for the day for some time.
In her forties, she possessed the kind of beauty that didn't fade so much as deepen, laugh lines around her eyes, a fullness to her figure that drew the eye, and a confidence in how she moved through space that younger women rarely managed.
"Good morning, Jaeron," Angela said, and there was the slightest emphasis on his name, a subtle intimacy that his aunt would never notice but that sent heat through his veins.
"Still at your morning exercises, I see."
"Just finished," he managed.
"I could tell. You're still flushed." Her smile was perfectly innocent and utterly knowing.
"I was hoping to borrow your aunt's herb garden shears. Mine have gone dull."
"Of course," Aunt Mannisa said, already moving toward the pantry where they kept tools.
"Let me fetch them for you."
The moment his aunt disappeared into the next room, Angela stepped closer.
Not much, just enough that he could smell the lavender soap she favored, could see the way her green eyes held fragments of gold in the morning light.
"Tonight?" she whispered.
"The old barn?"
"Angela—"
"Midnight. Jared's staying with his father in town for the merchant's meeting." Her hand brushed his shoulder, the touch lasting a heartbeat too long.
"I need to see you."
He should have stopped it. Should have pulled away, should have remembered loyalty and friendship and all the things that made a man decent. Instead, he had kissed her back, and now they existed in this impossible space, secret meetings, stolen hours, the constant weight of betrayal mixed with a desire he couldn't seem to kill.
"I don't know if--" he started, but his aunt's footsteps were returning.
"Midnight," Angela repeated, her voice returning to normal volume.
"I do hope you're taking care of yourself with all that training, Jaeron. You work yourself so hard."
"Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Torell," he said formally, and the use of her married name felt like swallowing glass.
His aunt returned with the shears, and Angela thanked them both with perfect politeness before departing. Through the window, Jaeron watched her walk back toward her cottage next door, the home she shared with Jared when he wasn't away on business with his merchant father.
The home where tonight, at midnight, he would once again become someone he didn't recognize.
"That woman worries about you," Aunt Mannisa said, settling back at the table.
"As do I."
"I'm fine, Auntie."
"You're not fine. You're lost. And these morning practices with that stick, Jaeron, what are you really hoping to achieve? Do you think that one day you'll wake up and magically become famous?"
"I don't know what I think anymore," he admitted, and the honesty of it surprised him.
"I just know that if I stop, if I let go of this one thing, then what am I? What do I have?"
His aunt's face softened. "You have a life to build, dear boy. A real life. Not some heroic fantasy from the stories."
But that was exactly the problem.
The world beyond this small town was built on those heroic fantasies.
Sword cultivators who could level buildings with a single strike. Battle mages who commanded elements. Warriors who lived for centuries, their bodies sustained by refined qi. That was the real world or at least, the real world for those lucky enough to access it.
For everyone else, there was farming. Or merchant work. Or swinging a wooden sword in the backyard, pretending that dedication alone could bridge the gap between the possible and the impossible.
"I should go help with the morning chores," Jaeron said, standing.
"Wait." His aunt's voice stopped him. "
There's something else. I've been speaking with Master Carwin, the wheelwright. His business is doing well, and he's looking for an apprentice. I may have... mentioned your name."
"Aunt--"
"Just meet with him. Please. For me. See what he has to offer. Wheelwrighting is respectable work, and with your build and your dedication to practice, you'd be good at it. You could have a real future, Jaeron. Marriage. Children of your own someday. Isn't that worth considering?"
The walls felt suddenly close, the cottage too small.
Jaeron could feel his pulse in his temples, could feel the weight of expectations and practicality pressing down on him like stones on his chest.
"I'll think about it," he said, because what else could he say? That he'd rather die than spend his life fixing wagon wheels while the warriors of the world carved their legends in steel and starlight? That surrender felt like a kind of death?
His aunt nodded, satisfied with this small victory.
"Good. Good. Now go on, get dressed properly. And for heaven's sake, consider that maybe there's more to life than chasing impossible dreams."
But as Jaeron climbed the stairs to his small room, as he cleaned himself and pulled on fresh clothes, he found himself gripping the wooden sword one more time.
18 years of practice. 18 years of the same motions, the same forms, the same stubborn insistence that effort mattered.
Outside his window, the sun had finally broken above the horizon, painting the town in shades of gold and amber. It was a beautiful town, peaceful and safe.
A good place for ordinary people living ordinary lives.
Jaeron set the wooden sword down and tried to imagine being one of those ordinary people. Tried to picture himself as a wheelwright with calloused hands and a quiet contentment. Tried to see himself married to some local girl, raising children who would never understand why their father sometimes stared at the horizon with such longing.
The image wouldn't come into focus.
Instead, he saw Angela's eyes. Saw the old barn where they met in secret. Saw his aunt's disappointed face. Saw his wooden sword resting against the wall like an accusation.
August 5th, 1991
Jaeron had been continuing his morning practice secretly, without his aunt's knowledge and he had met up with that man, Carwin and talked to him about the work. He had already started working there.
So Mannisa wasn't curious about his morning interests.
Right now, they sat in the hall of their home.
The television flickered in the dim lamplight of the sitting room, some melodrama playing out on the screen that Jaeron wasn't really watching. His mind kept drifting to the barn, to midnight, to Angela waiting for him in the darkness. Beside him on the worn sofa, Aunt Mannisa was actually paying attention to the show, occasionally tutting at the characters' poor decisions.
The normalcy of it felt suffocating.
Then came the knock.
Not the casual rap of a neighbor or the quick rhythm of a friend.
This was three slow, deliberate strikes that seemed to echo through the cottage with unusual weight.
Aunt Mannisa looked up from the television, her brow furrowing.
"Who could that be at this hour?" she murmured, rising from the sofa.
"It's nearly ten."
Jaeron listened as his aunt's footsteps crossed to the door, heard the creak of hinges, then silence.
A long, strange silence that made him sit up straighter.
When his aunt finally spoke, her voice carried a note he'd never heard before, something between awe and uncertainty.
"Yes, of course. Please, come in."
The woman who entered the sitting room seemed to bring a change in the very air.
She was perhaps in her mid-forties, though age sat on her like an ornament rather than a burden. Her silver-streaked black hair was pulled back in an intricate braid, and she wore traveling clothes of deep midnight blue that looked both practical and expensive, the kind of quality that spoke of distant cities and important business. But it was her eyes that captured attention: storm-grey and piercing, the eyes of someone who had seen battlefields and council chambers, who had made decisions that shaped lives.
She moved with the grace of someone powerful, Jaeron noticed immediately. Every step was balanced and careful, like if she stepped wrongly, everything around would be decimated.
"Jaeron Blaze?" Her voice was smooth and commanding, accented in a way that marked her as coming from the capital regions.
"Yes," he said, standing. His heart had begun to hammer against his ribs.
The woman studied him for a long moment, and he had the uncomfortable sensation of being weighed and measured by someone who knew exactly what they were looking for.
A small smile touched her lips.
"You have his eyes," she said quietly.
"And his stubborn jaw. Yes, you'll do."
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Aunt Mannisa asked, hovering between hospitality and protectiveness. "What is this about?"
"My name is Leonara Stormwright, Second Master of the Imperial Academy of Twin Paths."
She reached into her coat and withdrew a cream-colored envelope, sealed with dark blue wax. "I've come a long way to deliver this personally."
Jaeron's breath caught.
The Imperial Academy? Every child in Caladryrean knew that name but not Jaeron. Not this part of the world.
It was one of the three great academies where cultivators and battle mages trained, where ordinary people were forged into legends. Where students learned to channel qi through their bodies and weapons, where magic was studied and mastered, where the warriors who served kings and protected cities were born.
"There must be some mistake," Aunt Mannisa said, even as Jaeron's hand reached for the letter with a will of its own.
"My nephew is not... he has no training, no background in cultivation. His father was just a soldier—"
"His father," Leonara interrupted gently, "was Daemon Blaze. The Unparalleled Lord of Qimeg. The man who stood at the peak of both sword cultivation and magic, who walked what we call the Twin Paths when all others said it was impossible. He was a legend before he was thirty and a myth by the time he was forty."
The world tilted.
Jaeron stared at the envelope in his hands, at the wax seal embossed with a symbol he'd seen in books, a sword and a staff crossed over an open eye.
Doubt, confusion, and every sort of emotion flickered in his mind.
His father? He thought Mannisa's brother wasn't his father. Then why was she saying that he was?
He looked at Mannisa, who had the same expression on her face.
"That's impossible," his aunt whispered.
"Daemon was... he never spoke of such things. He was just my brother. Just a man who came home from the war."
"And he never told me that this boy was his son…"
"I'm sure he had his reasons."
"He came home because he chose to," Leonara said, and her voice held respect bordering on reverence.
"There's a lot that happened, and I can't be the one to say those things. But im sure about one thing. He wanted Jaeron to have a choice, to live a normal life if that's what he desired."
"Then why now?" Jaeron's voice sounded strange to his own ears.
"Why come for me now? Where is he? Why didn't he come to meet us?"
Leonara's expression softened. "He told me to find you and bring you in; he made a promise to me."
Jaeron's fingers trembled as he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The paper was thick and expensive.
The writing was elegant:
To Jaeron Blaze,
You are hereby accepted to the Imperial Academy of Twin Paths for the year 1991, to begin your studies in the disciplines of Sword Cultivation and Arcane Arts. Your father's legacy has granted you this opportunity, but your own determination has earned it.
The term begins on the tenth day of autumn. Tuition and lodging are provided. You will need training clothes, personal effects, and one practice weapon of your choosing. All other materials will be supplied.
Your path awaits, should you choose to walk it.
Grand Magister Alanor Makkistar, the headmaster of the Imperial Academy.
The letter was signed by the Grandmaster himself and stamped with three official seals.
"This is real," Jaeron breathed.
"Very real," Leonara confirmed.
"I'll be honest with you, boy. The road ahead is brutal. The academy takes in two hundred students each year. Half wash out within the first six months. Of those who remain, only a handful ever reach true mastery. You'll be starting later than most—the children of nobles begin their training at fifteen. You'll have to work twice as hard to catch up."
"I've been training for eighteen years."
"You've been swinging a wooden sword," she corrected, not unkindly.
"That's different from cultivation. Different from channeling qi, from understanding the meridians in your body, from learning to weave magic with blade work. Everything you think you know is just the foundation. The real education begins now."
Aunt Mannisa had sunk back onto the sofa, her face pale.
"This is what you wanted," she said to Jaeron, and there was resignation in her voice.
"All those mornings. All those dreams. They were real after all."
He looked at his aunt, this woman who had raised him, who had worried over him, who had tried so hard to give him a practical future.
"Aunt Mannisa-"
"Don't," she said, holding up a hand.
She was crying, he realized.
But she was also smiling. "Don't apologize for becoming what you were meant to be. I just... I wish your father had told me. I wish I'd understood."
Leonara stepped forward. "The morning train leaves at dawn. Meet me at the station with whatever luggage you can carry. The journey to the capital takes two days by rail. Classes begin immediately upon arrival, so come prepared to work."
She moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at Jaeron with those piercing gray eyes.
"Your father was special, boy. Not just because of his power, though he had that in abundance. But because he understood something few cultivators ever do—that strength without purpose is just violence, and power without compassion is just tyranny. He walked both the sword path and the magic path, and he used them to protect people. To build, not just destroy."
She smiled slightly.
"Before he left us, he said his greatest work wouldn't be the battles he won or the techniques he mastered. It would be you. His son. His legacy."
"I never knew him," Jaeron said quietly.
"Not really. Not who he truly was."
"Then learn. Become stronger and find him yourself."
Leonara opened the door, letting in the cool night air.
"Dawn, Jaeron Blaze. Don't be late. The world doesn't wait for those who hesitate."
And then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness like smoke.
Jaeron stood in the doorway, the letter still clutched in his hand, his entire world restructuring itself around this single moment. The television continued playing its forgotten drama. The clock on the mantle ticked steadily forward. Through the window, he could see Angela's cottage next door, a single lamp burning in an upstairs window.
Midnight at the barn.
he'd promised.
But dawn at the station.
His real life was finally beginning.
"You need to pack," Aunt Mannisa said, wiping her eyes.
"I'll help you. We don't have much time."
"Aunt-"
"I was wrong," she said firmly.
"Wrong to doubt. It was wrong to try to make you into something you weren't. Your father clearly knew what he was doing, even if he never told me his plans."
She stood, squaring her shoulders with that practical strength he'd always known in her.
"Come on. You'll need sturdy clothes, your training sword, and whatever books you want to bring. I have some coins saved—not much, but enough for meals on the journey."
They climbed the stairs together, and Jaeron felt as though he was floating.
The Imperial Academy.
Real training.
A chance to become what he'd dreamed of for years. His father—his father!—had been a legend, had stood at heights Jaeron could barely imagine.
As he began pulling clothes from his chest, as his aunt bustled about gathering supplies, his eyes fell on the wooden practice sword leaning against the wall.
18 years of dawn training.
Eighteen years of forms repeated until his muscles knew them like breathing.
Through his window, he could see the path to the old barn where Angela would be waiting.
"I'm going to the Academy," he said aloud, testing the words.
They felt like truth.
Like destiny finally catching up to him.
"You're going to make your father proud," Aunt Mannisa said, pressing a worn leather satchel into his hands.
"Now pack. Dawn comes quickly, and you've got a life to begin."
Outside, the night deepened.
In the barn, Angela would wait alone.
In the morning, a train would carry him away from Millhaven, away from wooden swords and impossible affairs, away from the small life that had almost swallowed him.
Toward something bigger, something dangerous, something real.
Jaeron packed with steady hands, his heart hammering with equal parts terror and exhilaration.
His path, finally, was beginning.
Late at night, Jaeron slowly closed his back door as he was sneaking out of the house.
Manissa had just fallen asleep, and he was moving towards the barn where Angela would be waiting for him.
As he reached the barn, he looked around and then entered inside; there was nobody inside. Frowning, he looked again and turned towards the door.
Nothing; nobody was there.
He shook his head and was about to turn and leave; right then two hands hugged him from his back.
"I've been waiting, and you took your sweet time, darling."
Jaeron sighed, "Angela, I need to—"
She shushed him, and her hand quickly moved towards her hips. She dropped his pants as she moved to his front. Jaeron's protests were cut off as Angela's lips met his, her hands working quickly as she wrapped them around his hardening manhood.
Jaeron groaned, feeling her hands on his hot meat.
Then she turned around and bent before him. "Come on, baby, quickly put that hot stick in me. I have been waiting for it all day. Come on!! Quickly!!"
Jaeron's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he struggled to resist Angela's advances. But the intense desire building within him made it difficult to resist her tempting offer. With a deep breath, he gave in to his primal urges and moved towards her, ready to fulfill her desires.
He held his hard cock and pressed it against her vertical lips, eliciting a moan from her.
"AHH!!, just like that, I don't know what I would do without you, my darling boy," she cooed.
Jaeron, his lust reaching new bounds, held her hips with his strong hands and pushed himself inside of her with one stroke.
AHHHH! She screamed as he hit her spot right away.
She shuddered, biting her lip; her expression was of pure ecstasy.
Jaeron continued to move back and forth. He could feel her walls tightening around him, urging him on. With each thrust, their bodies moved in perfect harmony, lost in the moment of pure pleasure. The barn filled with the sounds of their passion, a symphony of moans and gasps that echoed through the night.
Jaeron increased the pace as he slammed his dick into her, flesh against flesh.
THAP! THAP! THAP!!
Within no time, she had climaxed two times. Jaeron's own release was imminent, the intensity building with each thrust. As they both reached the peak of their pleasure, he whispered words of adoration in her ear, sealing their connection in that moment of bliss.
Breathless and spent, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs, their bodies still humming with the aftershocks of their shared release. Jaeron pulled her close, hugging her tightly.
"Angela," he said through his pants.
"I need to tell you something."
"It can wait, darling."
"Let me glow in the after effect of the magnificent pounding you just gave me."
"I am leaving tomorrow."
"What?" She quickly turned to him and asked, "What? Where? Why?"
Then Jaeron explained everything that happened in the house and how he would be leaving tomorrow morning.
Angela's face fell as she stared at him.
She hugged him, saying that she didn't want to go.
But she couldn't say that to him. He saw how he was obsessed with the sword.
She sighed as she got up and said, "Well, your dream of becoming a swordsman is now within reach, I guess."
Jaeron nodded.
He hugged her, their naked bodies pressed against each other.
Angela could feel his member getting hard again, and a smile appeared on her face as her hands stroked it to fullness.
"Best of luck, darling."
In the morning, he was standing on the road with his luggage. His aunt stood before him, holding his hands.
"Come to me whenever you can. Don't forget to write letters."
"I will."
He wiped the tears off her face and hugged her.
Then he got into the carriage before looking towards his friend's home. They had not come to send him off and their door was locked too.
Angela hadn't said anything about it. But he didn't wait, he just left in the carriage.
The carriage took him to the station.
As soon as he entered the railway station, he was met with a crowd, going on about.
He remembered Leorna telling him to come meet her near platform 8.
Just like she said, she was standing right under the platform number 8.
He walked to her and greeted her, "Hello, Miss Leonara."
Leonara smiled and waved her hand to him.
"Ready to leave?"
He nodded.
"We will leave shortly after some people arrive."
Jaeron just stood there, waiting for the people she said.
He sat on his big suitcase, an old, battered trunk, staring at the glistening railway tracks. The autumn wind bit his cheeks, rustling his hair.
His mind reeling with all the years of thoughts. How he wished he would grow up to be like the characters he had read about. It was like a dream for him, all of this normalcy had been shattered in a single day.
"Whatcha staring at, boy?"
The voice came from behind him, feminine and familiar to him. The voice which he heard a number of times, through all sorts of emotions.
He turned to look at the woman to whom the voice belonged and upon seeing her, his eyes turned wide as saucers and his jaw dropped to the floor.
It was Angela Torrell and she was dressed in a completely different attire from the ones he used to see her in daily.
She walked towards him with the grace of a high class noble, her long white gown catching soft light as it flowed around like a whisper of moon light. The stitching ran diagonally from her left shoulder to the hem of her gown. Over the gown, she wore a high collared robe of deep grey, its sleeves long and fitted, the fabric shifting like smoke when she moved.
Her boots clicked softly against the stone floor, polished leather rising to her knees. Her hair, the color of dark honey, was braided neatly down her back, bound by a silver clasp in the shape of a crescent moon. She carried herself with the kind of effortless confidence that made people step aside without a word.
In one gloved hand, she held a slim pipe, it's bowl glowing faintly blue as curls of smoke coiled into the air.
Men were staring at her, blatantly, enchanted by her beauty.
Just like Jaeron was, he was so much in daze that he failed to see his friend walking beside her.
"Jared?!"
"Hello darling."
Jared furrowed his brows at the greeting she gave him but he was too preocupied with the new development.
He looked at Jaeron who was just as confused as he was.
"What is happening here?|"
Leonara shook her head, and said, "As you know who this is, but let me introduce her again."
"She is the Witch of the Mundraken, Angela Torrell."
A witch?!!
Both Jared and Jaeron looked dumbfounded.