Chapter 11: Smoke in the Morning, Shadows on the Road
Ethan stirred awake, but his mind lagged behind. His eyes fluttered open to a room drenched in golden morning light filtering through the ornate windows. His senses were sluggish, the aftermath of last night making everything feel like a dream—until he felt the warmth beside him.
Turning his head, Ethan froze.
There she was. The Countess.
Naked. Peaceful. Beautiful in a terrifying kind of way.
And then came the flood.
Memories of the previous night surged through his mind like a broken dam—each one clearer and more damning than the last. Her soft lips, the way she gripped him, the things she whispered… and the terrifying realization that, despite the danger, he had enjoyed it.
"Shit… I'm so fucked," he muttered under his breath.
He carefully slipped out of the massive silk-lined rogue, limbs aching from more than just the awkward position he'd slept in. Clothes scattered around the room were gathered in silence—his boots, shirt, bag, belt, and finally, his coat.
His eyes fell on a small ornate chest beside the nightstand. The same chest she had given him as a reward for winning the tournament. He opened the chest and confirmed the 3 items were still in it and kept it in his bag.
"She wont mind if I still take this,...right ?. After all, how much angrier can she get."
he murmured, more to convince himself than anything else. He stuffed it into his spatial pouch.
Moving like a shadow, he slipped out of the chamber. Down the winding corridor of the pleasure palace, guards changed shifts at the door. A fortunate stroke of timing. Ethan ducked under an ivy-covered wall and disappeared into the thinning morning mist.
He couldn't stay in Aslaug.
Not after this.
---
Ethan's first stop was a smoky tavern on the edge of town, frequented by mercenaries and drifters. He found his old friend, the mercenary he first met when he came to town.
"I need a way out of town. Now."
Garreth raised a brow as he cleaned his blade. "You in trouble kid?"
"I might have accidentally slept with a noblewoman."
"Ah, that's not a big deal, those noble women are frequently sleeping with strong and young men, their husbands usually have low virility, might be due to their lavish lifestyle." Garret put on amused smile as he said this.
" Just make sure their husband doesn't find out and no matter how much they drool all over you, keep it in the back of your head that their nobility and can have you killed if they think you are rude. "
Ethan fidgeted and stammered ' Ahh... wel.. well.. yo.. you see, I might... I might have been ruuuuude"
Garret blinked. "...What exactly did you do, it can't have been that bad—"
" Ah, trust me you don't want to know. I just need to get out of here as quickly as possible "
Garret looked at ethan strangely, then it clicked in his head and he murmmured " Ethaan you didn't do what I think... No, you know what, don't tell me."
Ethan groaned. "Can you help me or not?"
Garreth sighed, tossing him a pass stamped with the seal of a noble courier. "Carriage leaves in twenty minutes. Headed to the capital. Fastest route you'll get without riding all those high end transport systems."
"Thank you."
Garreth leaned back. "Don't die. I bet money on you getting to the capital and becoming someone important."
"Don't hold your breath."
---
The carriage was larger than most, practically a moving villa. Gilded edges, runic wheels, and enchantments that ensured a smooth ride. Ethan climbed in cautiously, clutching the courier pass like a lifeline.
He froze again.
Sitting at the back, arms crossed, was the last person he expected to see.
Nessa.
The same girl he had defeated in the final match of the tournament. The same girl who had nearly taken his head off with her spear.
She was as beautiful and unreadable as ever, wearing a simple traveling robe, her snowy hair braided neatly behind her. Her cold gray eyes locked onto Ethan's the moment he entered.
For a brief moment, silence reigned.
Then she looked away with a huff.
"…This trip just got longer," Ethan muttered, taking a seat across from her.
A couple sat near the window—nobles, judging from their silk clothes. Between them sat a boy, maybe seventeen, dressed far too lavishly for travel. Rings on each finger, hair waxed, and a smug smirk that screamed entitlement.
"Ralph of House Drayven," the boy said, offering a hand. "Heir to a merchant empire. And you are?"
Ethan took a moment before replying. "Nobody important."
Ralph laughed. "Oh, mysterious type. I like it."
He turned to Nessa. "Lady Nessa, I heard that your performance during the tournament was breathtaking."
She didn't respond. Her eyes remained fixed on Ethan, unreadable as ever.
---
The first day of travel passed in awkward silence. Ralph, undeterred by Nessa's cold shoulder, continued trying to charm her.
"Surely, someone like you isn't traveling alone for fun?"
Nessa said nothing.
Ralph's smile faltered slightly, then turned sharp as he turned back to Ethan. "Hey, I've noticed that lady Nessa here can't keep her eyes off you. So what are you? Her servant? Bodyguard? Lover?"
Ethan didn't answer.
The second day, Ralph grew more persistent—and more bitter.
"People like you really should know their place," he said aloud as they passed through a forest. "You're not even wearing a noble's ring or any expensive clothes. Probably got lucky and scraped together your last savings to get on this ride. Let me guess you've been dreaming to experience how your betters live"
Ethan ignored him.
That only made Ralph more irate.
"You think staying quiet makes you better than me?"
Still no response.
Later that night, at an inn during their stop in the town of Redstone, Ralph cornered a pair of mercenaries near the stables.
"How much to make someone disappear?"
---
Back in Aslaug…
Countess Lyra's eyes opened the moment sunlight hit her face. But she had been awake long before that.
She stared at the empty side of the bed, the scent of Ethan's sweat and mana still lingering in the air. Her fingers clenched the silk sheets.
Hatred.
Humiliation.
And something else, something she had buried within her for so long, a masochistic side she didn't know she had.
It scared her. It excited her.
"Why… did I let him—?"
No. She knew why. And that was the most terrifying part.
She stood up, moving to the mirror. Her body was… glowing?
She gasped as her skin pulsed faintly with residual energy. Mana. Dense, refined mana coursing through her bloodstream.
"I… I'm healing?" she whispered.
For years, her core had been fractured, a devastating injury that had halted her cultivation. But now—
She focused inward. Her breathing slowed. Her mana surged.
No resistance… no bottlenecks?
Her cultivation leapt from the mana condensation realm to the inner core realm. The broken core that had once crippled her was not only repaired—it was thriving.
In less than an hour, she was at her previous peak.
And then, something impossible happened.
Her core pulsed again—once, then twice—before shifting. It solidified, condensed tighter, became heavier.
Peak Inner Core Realm.
She collapsed to her knees, overwhelmed.
"That bastard…" she muttered. "Am I supposed to thank him now?"
---
Back in Redstone…
Ethan sat outside the inn, legs crossed, eyes closed in meditation.
Mana flowed through him like a calm stream. Since the 'fight' with the Countess, he had felt a shift—he no longer felt full, like the power that he absorbed from that damaged beast core was gone. He had a theory about what might have happened but he decided to not think about it.
The sun dipped below the horizon. The carriage was scheduled to continue at dawn.
Behind the stable, Ralph whispered to two cloaked men. They nodded and began circling the inn.
Inside the carriage, Nessa sat polishing her spear.
Her eyes narrowed.
She stood.
---
The attack came just after midnight.
Ethan was meditating in a quiet alley beside the inn when the first man lunged from the shadows, dagger in hand.
Clang!
The blade was blocked by something invisible—Ethan's mana shield had activated on reflex.
He stood quickly, fists up.
The second attacker came from the roof, but Ethan dodged, spinning into a low kick that swept the man off his feet.
"Two mercenaries? Really, Ralph?" Ethan muttered. It didn't take long for ethan to summize why these two men were attacking him.
A whistle cut through the air.
Nessa appeared, launching her spear like a bolt of lightning. It pinned the first man's arm to a wooden post.
"Next one goes through your throat," she said coldly.
The mercenaries froze.
Ralph stumbled out from the corner, panic written on his face. "This wasn't supposed to happen! I just wanted to scare him!"
Ethan walked toward him, the air around him humming with pressure. "You wanted to scare me? What happens if I decide to scare you back?"
Ralph paled.
"I-I'm sorry!"
Nessa stepped beside Ethan, spear still humming with energy. "If you try something like this again, I'll bury you myself."
Ralph collapsed in a heap, sobbing.
---
The next morning, Ralph was silent, his face pale. The couple avoided eye contact with everyone.
Ethan sat across from Nessa again.
She finally spoke.
"I replayed the final fight in my mind again. You held back towards the end."
"I didn't want to hurt you," Ethan replied.
"Don't ever do that again."
"…Why?"
"Because next time, I won't hold back either."
She turned away, but not before he caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
The carriage continued toward the capital, its passengers silent but changed.
In Aslaug, the Countess looked at her reflection, her hand on her chest where the core spun strong and true.
"This changes everything."