Free Web NovelLinhart wasn’t a fool. He was a horny idiot, but he wasn’t a fool.
He knew better than to all-out ‘Honey Jar’ this gorgeous red-headed senior when there was a serious conversation happening nearby. Blythe and Altheia were glaring at each from across the table, looking more like sisters having a family quarrel than a couple of Fighters locked in a battle of wills.
He couldn’t disturb whatever they were doing, so he only cast the spell… a little bit.
As he worked his fingers over Maeve’s muscles and shoulder blades, he allowed a light flow of mana to seep into her body. The amount he was using was so minute, it was more like tickling her than casting a spell on her. He didn't even feel the narrow trickle flowing out of him.
The only evidence that it was working was that the subtle movements of his hands were having a bigger effect than they otherwise should have. He was edging her towards an orgasm. It gave new meaning to the expression ‘magic fingers.’
Her long shapely legs were pointed straight to her sides, with every muscle stretched taut. Her left hand was shoved down her short and she was working her fingers across her secret area, while her belly tensed and flexed involuntarily. A whimper of pleasure escaped her throat, causing several other seniors to look in their direction with stern expressions.
Linhart licked his lips, enjoying the performance she was treating him to. This low-power version of the spell seemed to be more effective than pouring as much mana into the girl as he could. Perhaps when it came to love spells, a light touch was better? He continued experimenting with Maeve’s reactions as he listened in to the conversation.
“Tell me sister, why did I have to send for you?” Altheia spoke to Blythe with a scolding tone. “You knew damn well that you had three days to greet us seniors, and yet you chose not to?”
Altheia sounded to all the world like an older sister, and the cool, emotionless Blythe reacted to her lecturing tone like a true younger sibling would. She was pissed off, showing more anger than Linhart had ever seen her show before. She was practically shaking.
“I was busy with my Fighting squad,” she huffed, “We’ve had four challenges we had to complete in the past week. The Academy doesn’t revolve around you senior Fighters, y’know.”
“Oh your Fighter squad…” Altheia breathed, and then lashed out, saying, “And this squad of Freshmen take all of your focus? Then I’d love to meet these heroic Fighters. Why don’t you introduce me?”
“Why? So you can criticize my friends and the choices I’ve made in my first week here at the Academy?”
“Would you prefer I meet them in the Fighting Ring tomorrow?” Altheia said with a dangerous glint in her eye. The threat was clear. She was going to beat up her friends, unless her little sister cooperated.
Blythe sighed resignedly and turned to Linhart. “Linhart, this is Senior Altheia Laconis, Elite Fighter in the Senior Fighter class. Senior Altheia, this is my Squad Leader, Linhart Aetherion.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Linhart said politely. He released the spell he had been holding on Maeve and stepped forward, bowing deeply out of respect.
“You honor me, Freshman Linhart,” Altheia replied, her eyes traveled over him appreciatively. “You seem to be well-trained in etiquette, but aren’t you too pretty to be a Fighter? The first girl you go up against will ruin that innocent face of yours.”
“My face has dealt with a girl or two,” he responded without missing a beat. “Watch me in Wrestling 101 tomorrow and you won't be disappointed.”
“Hah!” Altheia laughed aloud and turned to Blythe. “You lucky bitch, I envy you finding a squad member filled with vinegar like this boy, while you’re still a milk-drinking freshman. Just understand that he won’t last into your senior year, so don’t get too attached.”
Blythe said nothing. The glare she directed at her sister could have cut rock.
Altheia waved dismissively at Linhart, and then turned to Drussus. The big boy was quivering in fear, trying his best to pull the seeds from a pomegranate and place them in the mouth of a wirey-haired senior who was reclining nearby.
“And what is this boy? Your second in command?”
Blythe let out an exasperated sigh. “This is Drussus Mignius. He’s Number 8 in our squad. Drussus, this is Senior Altheia, the elite Fighter of the Senior class.”
“P-p-pleasure to meet you…” stammered Drussus. He bowed jerkily, spilling pieces of fruit on the ground.
“You’ve got the nerves of a zero-scorer, boy,” Altheia said bluntly, looking him up and down. “You best learn some Fighting moves and grow some tits in the next week or you’ll be packing your bags for Healer’s Hall.”
“Y-y-yes, ma’am!”
Altheia stood now, and turned to the last freshman that was now making herself at home, eating food off the seniors’ table. Nyx looked tiny when compared to the hulking form of Altheia. But Linhart admired the way she didn’t look away and didn’t back down.
“And you… Aren’t you that washed-out Striker we heard about?” Altheia asked as she stepped around Nyx, examining her from all angles. “We heard you couldn’t hack it as a killer, so you became a Fighter this year. How’s that been for you? Enjoying the greater role of punching your enemy until they bleed?”
Nyx turned slowly, always keeping Altheia in her sights. She still cradled that long length of bamboo in the crook of her arm, and she gripped it tightly now. “I was tired of watching girls die… I didn’t want to die! Fighters have it easy. When you’re dying, a Healer comes in and makes it all better. Why shouldn’t I get Healing?”
The dead look in her eyes was enough to make even Altheia uncertain for a moment, but then they both chuckled and the tension in the air eased.
“I don’t blame you for jumping classes. I would never have survived three years as a Striker either,” Altheia said with respect in her voice, though she was still circling Nyx, inspecting her as if she were a spitting viper. “But, you should know that the Strikers want to kill you now, more than when you were one of them.”
Nyx nodded and answered simply, “I know.”
The discussion ran long, as the sisters discussed the decisions, good and bad, that Blythe had made in her first week. Linhart had been thoroughly massaging Maeve’s shoulders and was just about to move down to her chest when the distant sound of 8 bells echoed across Fighter’s Green.
End of Day Meal was ending, and as the sound of those bells tolling filled his ears, the urge to fulfill his oath once more rose up from his inner places.
Linhart’s vision suddenly became like a tunnel. His hearing blurred out all neighboring voices, until they were no more than random babbling. Garbled and meaningless. His thoughts blurred together, as though he’d drunk a gallon of wine. Just one thought bubbled to the surface, and became clear and all-consuming to him now.
He had to go… quickly, he had to visit Stratega Celes as he had promised.
He was vaguely aware of his body bowing again and his mouth apologizing for having to leave so suddenly. There was some sort of disturbance, and he could feel strong hands wrapping around his torso. He was quick though, and he leapt away and broke into a run before the hands could hold him back. freewёbnoνel.com
He exited the meeting like Cinderella, dodging through the dispersing crowd of students leaving Fighter’s Green, sprinting across the open field as the bell continued to sound eight times. The ground was not level and he stumbled several times, nearly falling down. A fighter girl caught him, but he fought free of her grasp and he continued onward, in the direction that he thought would lead him to his destination.
Mage’s Spire.
* * * * * * * * *
Twenty minutes later, he caught his first sight of Mage’s Spire. The immense building winding tall and curving into the sky, like an immense hair that shone like bronze in the starlight, thick and curly, sprouting from the floor of the valley.
He had run all the way there and he paused now to catch his breath. He had regained his senses along the way. Moving in the right direction to fulfill his oath had cleared his mind completely. His eyes took in the orchards of trees that hung heavy not with leaves, but with flower petals. When the wind blew, a rain of the delicate pink petals flowed over him. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
Occasionally he would spot a mage building, looking pointy or spindly, reaching up above the canopy of flowery trees. They conjured images in Linhart’s mind of giant spikes and hooks, perhaps growing from the body of some great monster that lay buried just beneath the surface.
He took in all the details of this strange and distant part of the valley, but he also took in the fact that he was being followed.
Peering back over his shoulder, the pale lone figure wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she was pursuing him. She walked with a dogged persistence, gradually catching up as he slowed his pace. Her shiny red hair was clearly visible even over the distance and beneath the dim light of the night sky.
Maeve was after him.
He broke into a jog once more, redoubling his efforts to escape her. But his endurance had run out, and she was apparently a stronger runner than he was over distance. He had just arrived at the base of the grand structure and was just about to climb a broad stairway to its front archway, when she finally caught up with him.
She didn’t tackle him, or wrestle him to the ground. Instead, her arms wrapped about his midsection, and he felt the breath squeezed out of him as his feet left the ground.
“Put me down, Maeve,” he exclaimed. His feet kicked out, but he was unable to break free.
“That’s Senior Maeve to you, Freshman,” she hissed in his ear. She was breathing hard from the run and her voice was verging on madness. “You ran off without asking for my leave.”
“I had urgent business, Mae- Senior Maeve. Forgive me and let me go!”
“NO!”
The word stung his ears. He stopped kicking and grasped for her body, which wasn’t easy to do, as his arms were pinned at his sides.
“You teased me with your massage for half the meal, but then you ran off and left me unsated. I was so close to a happy ending!”
She was pleading with him now. He could feel the desperation in the way she held onto him. It reminded him of the days before the time loop, when girls would flirt and tease him, only to laugh and leave him wanting more… Maeve was experiencing the same frustration that he had felt. He had never intended to lead her on, but he was also not in the position to pick up where they’d left off.
“Please, Senior! I have a meeting with the Stratega Mage, and it is urgent that I go there now. I am under a spell and cannot stray from this path.”
“Sounds dangerous,” she said breathily right next to him. Her tongue snaked out and played around the folds of his ear. Then she nipped him softly.
The sensation was warm and slimy in a place that he’d never been touched before. It made his body tingle. She dug around a bit longer, before she lifted his body once more and began walking away from the Spire, carrying him with her.
“No Freshman should go see that witch alone. I’ll bring you back to Fighter Hall, where that spell can’t get you.”
“Uugh, stop…” he groaned, “I’m going crazy again! I have to go to the Spire now!”
Linhart’s arm twisted far enough behind him that his fingers were able to make contact with her flesh. They landed on her thigh, which was swinging back and forth in a gait. She really was planning on carrying him the whole way back.
He released a blast of mana into her, flowing up through her thigh and directly to her pussy.
She stumbled and released him, as the spell hit her.
“HAAAHHNN!”
The wail that left her lips was evidence of her instant orgasm. Her body twisted and fit the ground, just short of a complete collapse. Linhart watched in amazement, as she knelt with her hands to the ground, while a jet of liquid gushed out from between her legs, soaking her shorts and the ground around her.
Linhart knelt in front of her, placing his hand on her head, and admired the cute ‘O’ shape that her mouth was making. He spoke fondly to her, saying, “I’m sorry I left early. I hope you count this as your happy ending.”
And with that, he left her there, still flooded with the joy of cumming, at the base of the Mage’s Spire. Linhart slowed his pace and became alert to his surroundings as he passed inside.
* * * * * * * * *
The spire was made of some hard material that only looked like metal from a distance. It was warm and quivering with magic, when he touched it. Something about the way it vibrated made it feel organic… as if the spire were a living thing.
The simple, unadorned archway stretched far above his head, and took a straight and unwavering path to the center of the spire. A mystical light seemed to emanate from the air itself, and the entire passageway was lit up like low lamplight.
When he reached the end of the passageway, he was curious to find that the circular room at the center of the spire appeared to be a dead end. There was only one way out, and that was the way he had come. The ceiling was non-existent, though, and the walls stretched upwards into the heights of the spire for as far as his eyes could see.
Doubt entered his mind for the first time since he’d received the invitation from Celes. It looked like he was stuck. Had she tricked him into an unfulfillable oath? Did he need some sort of flying spell to get upstairs? He stood there wondering, cautiously feeling the walls for ladders or secret passages, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
The slapping of confident, barefoot steps against the strange material of the floor announced her arrival before she came into view. Looking much more relaxed, with her legs and pants still dripping wet, and her tank top soaked in sweat, Maeve’s hands were on her hips and her mouth was set stubbornly.
“If you insist on meeting with the Witch of the Spire, then I’m coming with you! I can’t let you get hurt.”
Linhart watched her, trying to detect if this was a trick, or if she was sincere. “Senior Maeve, it’s going to be more dangerous for you in there than it is for me.”
"Like hell it is!" she shot back, angrily. "She's probably planning to imprison you or make you her slave. She won't give a damn about me."
He stepped forward and took her hands in his. “Are you sure you want to take that risk?”
Maeve nodded, her palms were clammy, and her eyes dilated as she seemed to lose herself in his gaze. “I’m not afraid of mages. I’ll do anything for you.”
Whoa! Her comment caught him off-guard. Is the Honey Jar spell still in effect? What a confession from this sexy girl! He leaned forward and whispered to her gently, teasingly, “Senior, are you in love with me?”
“No, of course not!” she replied quickly, pulling her hands away and breaking the magic of the moment. She cleared her throat then added, “There’s been other Fighter boys who have gone missing in recent months. If you disappear… I just don’t want that guilt on my conscience.”
Linhart could not keep the wide smile from his face. “You are so wonderful, Senior Maeve!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her feminine form. She had gone rigid with surprise, before returning his embrace. They stood there a moment, before he reluctantly pulled away from her.
“Thank you for protecting me... Now help me figure out how to get upstairs.”
