I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

"Sareya."

Upon hearing this address, Vayvan slowly closed her eyes.

She disliked hearing sentences with the subject placed before the verb... it made the fire in her chest burn even brighter, making it even harder for her to think calmly.

“I am your partner,” Gerald said. “It’s not hers. I know what you’re worried about, but I assure you, I have no intention of doing what you think—”

Before he finished speaking, Saria's body had already reacted.

She took a sudden step forward, placed her hands on Gerald's shoulders, and shoved him back into the sofa with overwhelming force.

Pegasus's body was firmly pressed against the back of the sofa. Before he could even raise his hands, Saria restrained him completely in an almost forceful manner.

The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Gerald glanced down at her hand, then looked up at Vaiva's amber eyes, burning with emotion.

The longing for freedom that had been glimpsed in prison now blossomed and bore abundant fruit.

Perhaps this is simply her nature, after all, Vayvan is always like this.

For Vayvan, instinct-driven madness accompanied the race almost throughout its entire history. Violence, barbarity... so much so that it took countless hours to emerge from that chaotic darkness.

The collapse of logic is actually the collapse of rationality.

Saria's breathing quickened, her throat tightened slightly, as if trying to find a reasonable reason, but in the end, she simply pressed her hand harder on his shoulder and repeated in an unquestionable tone: "You, are, not, allowed, to, go."

Her tail was taut like a steel whip ready to strike, its previously erect spikes silently retracting and sliding back along the scales, returning to a supple form. But the next second, the tail, like a precise chain, suddenly wrapped around Gerald's thigh.

At least at this moment, Vayvan looked as if he were hunting a Pegasus that was far more powerful than himself.

Gerald found it somewhat amusing. After all, he wasn't the same person he was in prison anymore. This level of restraint could be easily removed by him... Hmm?

His attempt to gather wind was abruptly halted. A wave of weakness washed over him, causing him to choke several times, coughing up specks of blood onto his clothes. A nausea in his stomach caused a mouthful of blood to spill from his mouth, slowly trickling down his lips.

...Oh no, I forgot the consequences of my recent reckless act.

It's all Muirsay's fault.

Vayvan's reason had plummeted off the cliff. Her amber eyes were now vertical, and her breath brushed against Pegasus's face as she stared curiously at the blood spilling from his mouth. Her fingertips slowly traced Pegasus's jawline, and her long, strong hand gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to tilt his head back slightly.

Then, she opened her mouth.

Fangs peeked out from between his lips, the rows of snow-white teeth gleaming with a dangerous gleam, as if they could tear flesh apart with just a little force.

Then the tip of the tongue darted out, tracing the traces of flowing blood.

Vayvans enjoy starting with the blood; the more precious the prey, the more valuable it is. They relish the messy state of their prey after it's been torn apart, but before that, they'll take everything they want—every single piece.

Whether it's the blood slowly flowing down from the outside or the blood that hasn't been swallowed yet, it's all the same.

……

The eating process did not last long.

The sweet, metallic taste of blood lingered between my lips and teeth, and the warm liquid slid down my tongue and into my throat.

The next step is to tear through the flesh and go deeper into the layers, to completely fill the hunger that rises from the depths of the blood.

But in the end, she only left a faint tooth mark on Gerald's neck.

Because Gerald spoke up.

"Saria, your blood contains high concentrations of iron and protein. Excessive intake may lead to iron poisoning, increased burden on the kidneys, and the risk of pathogen transmission. This sentence is from page 78 of 'An Introduction to Human Physiology and Pathology'."

"Please stop drinking my blood."

It must be said that the effect was quite good.

Those few words were like a bucket of ice water poured over her head, instantly pulling Saria's instinct-driven consciousness back to reality. The restless undercurrents deep in her eyes suddenly froze, her impulse was forcibly extinguished, as if some invisible hand had violently dragged her out of the abyss she was about to fall into.

At this moment, the part of Saria's will that was that of a doctor and a guardian took over, tearing her instincts off her body and throwing them into the abyss behind her.

As consciousness returned from the darkness, her reason slowly crept back from the edge of the abyss. When she regained control of her body, all she could feel was the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth, and the sweet aroma deeply etched into her mind.

The taste of rust lingered on her tongue, causing Saria's breath to catch in her throat slightly. Her pupils slowly returned to their vertical shape, and the amber light returned to her eyes.

She stared blankly at Gerald, who was so close to her, her chaotic thoughts shattering like broken glass the moment she regained consciousness.

Saria abruptly sat up, the tail that had been wrapped around Gerald's leg quickly releasing itself and retracting as if electrocuted. Her fingertips trembled slightly, then she slowly covered her lips, as if trying to wipe away the pungent smell.

Then, subconsciously, she licked her lips.

It was as sweet as honey.

Chapter 72 What's it like to be locked out twice in one day?

"Good morning~~ Open the door for me, Saria~"

The morning sunlight streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains, and the air still carried the chill of the night. The doorbell rang out with a cheerful voice, breaking the silence in the room in a light and natural way.

Ding-dong-

Outside, Muirsey stood in the doorway, her usual smile on her face, her soft hair shimmering slightly in the morning light. Today she wore a casual light-colored coat, clearly dressed up, but her expression remained relaxed and carefree, exactly as she always was.

She went back yesterday and looked into what happened in Mansfield.

After Anthony was rescued, Ferdinand, though still restless, at least managed to send a message to keep them in line. Her ecology department naturally no longer needed to get involved in those messy power struggles. As for how he dealt with things privately, or how he plotted his counterattack, that was none of her concern; in the end, it would be Seria who cleaned up the mess.

Her task was simple—to ensure that Rhine Lab would not experience serious internal problems due to these struggles during this period.

Now, the elf's goal is simply to eat the breakfast that Saria made herself, and to see if anything happened between the two of them yesterday.

Hehe, she's really looking forward to seeing their reactions!

Saria herself probably hasn't figured out her own thoughts yet, but how could a super Pokémon who has seen all kinds of things not see it?

She's successfully brought together at least three or four couples in the ecology department, if not dozens. This combination—based on trust, tacit understanding, and ordinary friendship, plus a touch of unique novelty—is the perfect formula—enough to give the naive and inexperienced Vaiva a completely unexpected and impactful experience.

However, Muirsay waited for a long time, but the people inside didn't seem to have any intention of opening the door.

She tilted her head, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, and once again reached out her finger to gently press the doorbell—

ding dong~

There was no response.

She blinked, and the smile on her face faded slightly.

"yeah?"

This is not right.

Logically speaking, Saria's early rising habit shouldn't change. Even if she's busy late the night before, her biological clock shouldn't be so messed up that she can't even hear the doorbell. Besides, she promised to make herself breakfast today. As for Gerald, judging from the elf's miserable experience over the past day, that guy's wind manipulation ability is ridiculously exaggerated; there's no way such a sound wouldn't reach his ears.

So...neither of them wanted to open the door?

Muirsey took a small step back, crossed her arms, glanced thoughtfully at the closed door, and a subtle smile appeared on her face.

"Oh? Oh? Could it be... that my casual joke last night actually led to something between you two?"

Her muttering to herself was quickly interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening.

Just as Muirsey was about to drop the manifold from her body, and as her thoughts were fully formed, preparing to penetrate into the house to open a door for herself, the door was suddenly opened.

A familiar figure stood in the doorway, blocking the incandescent light streaming in from the corridor.

Saria stood there, her face pale and her expression utterly exhausted. Her eyes, which had lost their usual composure, now held a hint of the darkness of a sleepless night.

Her hands hung limply at her sides. Her skin, which had been fine just last night, was now wrapped in layers of bandages. The white cloth was stained with varying shades of reddish-brown, clearly indicating that she had recently experienced a violent collision and tearing. Some bloodstains that had not yet completely dried clung between her fingers, making her hands look particularly shocking.

"Come in."

Her voice was low and hoarse, with an indescribable dullness, as if the remnants of the night's oppressive emotions were choking her.

Muirsey blinked, instantly dropping all her joking attitude.

Her water clone quickly dissipated, and the next second, she was already standing in front of the door, stepping into the room without hesitation.

Everything in the living room was as usual. The furniture was tidy, there was no unusual smell in the air, no signs of a struggle, and no damaged items—on the surface, everything looked just like she knew it.

Muirsey's gaze fell on Saria's hand, then quickly swept over her face. Countless speculations had already surfaced in his mind, until one of the most likely answers emerged from his memory, turning into a confident tone: "...You went to the basement to box last night?"

Saria didn't deny it, simply giving a soft "hmm" before walking towards the sofa in the living room. Her fingers trembled slightly, as if her newly bandaged wound had been aggravated, but she said nothing and simply went into her room.

Miss Elf swallowed hard.

This joke has completely gone too far.

In order to enjoy the handmade food and catch a glimpse of her friend's gossip, she even specially switched to her original form... Now the question is whether she can leave here alive.

"Good morning."

The sound didn't come from Saria, but from another direction—

"Your breakfast, Muirsay."

Accompanied by a faint aroma of butter, Gerald emerged from the kitchen wearing a slightly oversized apron and carrying a plate of fried eggs and bacon soufflé.

Compared to Saria's haggard appearance, his condition wasn't much better. The shadows under his eyes and the unnatural weariness betrayed his true state. More importantly, the teeth marks on his neck and the bite marks on his lips seemed to be made no attempt to hide them, and were directly exposed to Muirse's eyes.

...No, Saria is so tired today because she went to boxing last night. What happened to you?

The little elf was silent for a moment, its gaze lingering on the teeth marks and bite marks, before trembling as it accepted the plate from Pegasus.

Let's eat our last meal first.

------

Meanwhile, let's go back to last night.

Before going to sleep, Gerald gently closed the door and selectively ignored the hammering sounds coming from underground.

The sound of fists colliding with the sandbag echoed again and again in the small space, carrying a kind of suppressed anger and unease. Each strike seemed to smash the surging emotions in his heart into the gloves, crushing the restless instincts deep in his blood.

While it's good that she didn't choose to use him as a tool for sexual gratification, unlike a certain banshee lord, Saria's current state doesn't seem like she can let go of the past in a short time.

On the other hand, he was also quite shocked.

If it were merely a matter of emotional shock, he would gladly seek out Ramalen to discuss his inner turmoil with the sorceress. But this time, he decided against it. He dared not imagine what kind of situation he would face if he were to reveal the truth under these circumstances.

What truly shocked him was that he had never imagined that he was completely powerless against his opponent.

It felt even more intense than when he was sparring with his hands in shackles—even though he couldn't use his full strength or Originium Arts back then, he was confident that he could subdue the Vyvan using his skills without the wind.

But just now, after Saria completely fell into that state, he couldn't even "find an opening" anymore.

Without using wind, he didn't even have a decent chance to fight back... Although he was actually too relaxed from beginning to end, if one were to insist on saying something like, "Next time, as long as I'm fully prepared, I can turn the tables," that statement wouldn't be entirely unreasonable.

But this still brought him a great sense of crisis.

So much so that he now desperately craves to play a match with someone to improve himself and release the pressure in his heart.

Gerald then took the piece of jewelry from his chest.

Ramalyn gave him the jewel at the beginning—which, according to her, was a "kiss".

The items given to him in his dreams all had very strange functions.

The cloth attached to his body allowed him to directly access the essence of Originium, no longer needing any medium to guide the release of Originium Arts. Over time, this method of casting spells also influenced his control over traditional arts.

When he returned to the spellcasting system that "requires a medium," he was surprised to find that even in the process of using the medium, his skills became more unrestrained, as if the medium itself was no longer a limitation, but a readily available tool, or even an almost transparent extension.

Needless to say, the Dream Essence allows him to directly connect with his father's soul, discuss past events, and there's still a large bottle left for him to use. Beyond that, its primary function seems to be enhancing his perception of Originium-type items—something he became more or less aware of during the natural disaster.

Originium, Originium.

Logically, this kiss should share similarities with the other two relics. But strangely, after so much time, the jewelry has given him no feedback, and the color on one-fifth of it has not expanded at all.

However, Muirsay's special abilities today did give him some inspiration for testing... Hopefully, his next move won't cause the house to explode like it did in prison.

Gerald slightly raised his finger, and a wisp of wind, invisible to the naked eye, gently brushed past his fingertip, carrying a tender and ethereal touch, softly encircling the jewelry in his palm.

Then, he imagined the feeling when Muirsey's water clones dissipated, that connection with the source of [water].

The clone is made of water. This ship, which carries Muirsey's memories and emotions, is an extension of her will and seems unable to survive independently of her main body... In other words, the fact that water is allowed to be her will represents Muirsey's essence as water.

So he can also be this breeze, and the breeze can also be him.

The two are the same, born from the same source, and have never been different.

So when the wind transformed into his will and enveloped the jewelry, he seemed to hear a faint murmur, like the whisper of the wind blowing through a valley.

Then--

cough.