James pulled out slowly, the wet squelch of their bodies separating, echoing in the vast room. Lina's thighs trembled, slick trails of arousal and his release glistening down her inner legs. He didn't give her time to catch her breath. With one hand fisted in her dark hair, he yanked her upright, spun her around, and shoved her back against the obsidian desk so she sat on the edge, legs splayed wide. Her sports bra had been tugged down, full breasts heaving, nipples dark and swollen from his earlier pinches. The black shorts were bunched at one ankle now; she kicked them off completely.
He stepped between her thighs, gripping the undersides and spreading her wider. Her folds were flushed, swollen, still dripping his cum in slow, thick drops onto the polished surface beneath her. James aligned himself again—his cock slick, hard despite the earlier release—and thrust back in with one long, punishing stroke.
Smack.
Lina's head fell back, a broken Ahh… ahh… spilling from her parted lips. The desk creaked under the force. He set a brutal rhythm now—deep, relentless—hips snapping forward so hard her breasts bounced with each impact. Slap slap slap. The wet sounds filled the room, obscene and rhythmic. Her walls clenched around him, fluttering weakly, trying to milk what little pleasure she could pretend to feel. James didn't care about her performance anymore; this was release for him, power asserted in the most primal way.
He leaned down, mouth latching onto one hardened nipple—teeth grazing, then biting just hard enough to draw a sharp Nngh from her throat. His other hand slid between them, thumb circling her clit in rough, insistent strokes. Lina's hips jerked involuntarily; she hated how her body responded even when her mind screamed otherwise. Ohhh… fuck… she moaned louder, theatrical, nails digging into his shoulders. "Guild Master… yes… harder… please…"
James growled against her skin, thrusts growing erratic. The mana orbs floating above them pulsed brighter, reacting to the spike in his aura. Sweat slicked his back, silver-threaded hair falling into his eyes. He felt the coil tighten low in his gut again—faster this time. One hand left her breast to wrap around her throat—not choking, just holding, reminding her who controlled the air in this room.
"Cum for me," he ordered, voice gravel-rough. "Show me how much you want those raid slots."
Lina arched, thighs quivering, faking it perfectly—back bowing, lips parting in a loud AHH… AHH… I'm cumming… Guild Master… cum… cum… Her walls fluttered around him in practiced spasms. That was enough. James buried himself to the hilt—smack—hips grinding deep as he came again, hot pulses flooding her, overflowing, dripping down her ass onto the desk. He held there, breathing hard, cock twitching inside her until the last drop.
Just as he started to pull back—intending to flip her over once more, maybe take her from behind against the window this time—the double doors burst open.
"Guild Master!"
James's head snapped up. His loyal secretary, Marcus—a lean, sharp-featured man in his thirties who had served him for a decade—stood frozen in the doorway, face pale, sweat beading on his forehead and soaking the collar of his crisp shirt.
James flared instantly. Aether Warden aura erupted outward in a silver wave—barriers snapping into existence around the room, the air thickening with oppressive pressure. The floating orbs dimmed, and the temperature dropped ten degrees. Lina whimpered, sliding off the desk to her knees, legs too weak to stand.
Marcus dropped to one knee immediately, head bowed, back drenched, trembling. "Forgive the intrusion, sir."
James's jaw clenched. He retracted the aura with visible effort—the barriers dissolving, temperature normalizing, mana orbs brightening again. Confusion edged into his voice. "What is it?"
Marcus raised his head just enough to meet James's eyes. Fear and dread etched every line of his face. "The Sovereign… requests your presence."
The word landed like a hammer. James's entire body went rigid. The Sovereign. His father. The SS-rank Titanbreaker. Just the mention made his knees feel unsteady, stomach lurching with old childhood terror mixed with adult resentment.
Lina was forgotten. Cum still leaked from between her thighs as she stayed kneeling, silent, eyes down. James stepped away, cock softening, hastily pulling up his pants and buttoning his shirt with shaking fingers. Sweat cooled on his skin. He didn't bother tucking in the tails properly—didn't care. His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Without another word, he strode past Marcus, out of the suite, down the private lift that only responded to his mana signature. The guild halls blurred past—hunters stepping aside, sensing the panic rolling off him.
At the basement level, he approached the sealed archway: a swirling portal of compressed space, guarded by two elite A-rank sentinels who saluted without question. James placed his palm on the rune-etched stone. The dimension tore open—a tear in reality leading to a pocket realm his father had carved for himself decades ago.
He stepped through.
The air inside was thick with pure, unfiltered mana—dense enough to taste, electric on the tongue. Rolling hills of emerald grass stretched under a violet sky, ancient trees with silver leaves swaying without wind. In the center of a small clearing sat a single obsidian platform. On it, cross-legged, shirtless, meditating: the Titanbreaker.
Gray hair fell to his shoulders in thick waves, but the body beneath was peak perfection—broad shoulders, carved chest and abs glistening with faint mana sweat, arms corded with veins, every muscle defined like marble under skin. He looked forty at most, though he was well over seventy. Power radiated from him in waves, so dense that the grass around him bent slightly away.
James stopped ten feet behind him. His legs trembled. He had to lock his knees to stay upright.
"Father," he managed, voice cracking like a boy's. "I'm here."
The Titanbreaker didn't open his eyes immediately. A low, disappointed huff escaped him.
"How long are you going to keep indulging in mortal pleasures?"
James's breath stuck. He dropped to one knee instantly, head bowed, terror spiking—did he know? Could he sense the scent of sex still clinging to his skin? "Father, that—that—"
His father cut him off without mercy.
"That lowborn woman you were with before your wife. Do you remember her?"
Anger flashed through James—hot, sudden, mixed with old grief. His memory surged: soft laughter in hidden corners, nights when he felt truly wanted, not just tolerated. The woman he had loved—really loved—unlike the cold convenience of Evelyn. But his father had forbidden it. Status. Legacy. The match with Evelyn had been arranged for next week.
"Why bring her up now?" James asked through gritted teeth, a thread of disrespect slipping through the fear.
His father scoffed. "She was pregnant with your child when you left her."
The world stopped.
James's ears rang. His vision tunneled. Pregnant. The word echoed, impossible. He had walked away—chosen wealth, chosen duty, chosen the Vanderbilt name. She had never told him. He had never asked. Guilt he had buried for years clawed back up, tearing open old wounds.
"What?" The word tore out loud, raw.
"You heard right," the Titanbreaker continued, voice flat, emotionless. "She gave birth to a boy. The family kept watch from afar. She died yesterday. Even though he was a bastard… I cannot leave my blood alone in the world. Take him home. Prepare him for the awakening ceremony with Alex."
James didn't hear the rest clearly. The words blurred into noise. Tears—hot, unbidden—slid down his cheeks. His shoulders shook once, twice. The invincible Guild Master of Apex Vanguard, heir to an SS-rank legend, crumpled like paper.
He rose without permission, without farewell. Turned and stumbled back through the portal, legs numb, soul hollowed out.
The dimension sealed behind him.
He emerged in the guild basement alone, clothes disheveled, face wet, staring at nothing. The weight of nineteen lost years crashed down all at once.