Charles froze for a moment, then nodded. "Alright... But are you all in any condition to fight? I'm worried about you."
"We'll manage. We're fine!"
The weakness from Haste had finally faded. Nearby, Ruth struggled to her feet. "Though... I might not be able to join you in another battle right now, Master..."
She was honest, but it was clear she didn't approve of Charles rushing off to save someone at this moment.
On the other side, however, Sophia spoke up. "Master, that family is worth saving—especially the little girl. She shouldn't be carelessly used as a bargaining chip in Theresa's dealings with that Abyssal Lord."
"I still have a bit of mana left. I can cast a few spells for you, Master. You should go to her."
Ruth frowned at her but said nothing more. She didn't know the mother and daughter, nor did she possess Sophia's sharp insight into their hidden value.
"Fine, I'll go." With that, Charles steeled himself and nodded. The purification of Theresa had replenished his stamina—he now felt surging with strength, ready for another fight. "Stay hidden in the monastery. Andny, guide me! I'm heading there now!"
Without delay, he threw on his priestly robes, shoved his feet into his boots (not even bothering with undergarments), and let Sophia cast False Life and Armor of Agathys on him. Then he bolted out of the monastery.
...
Deep in the Slums – Malena's Home
Though the hour was late, Malena had not yet finished her work. Human wants were endless—even with the employment Theresa had provided, the coin was far from enough for a woman who had once known luxury.
She wanted her daughter to receive, at the very least, the basic education afforded to noble children. To achieve that, she needed to save every scrap of silver. Only then could she forge new papers for her daughter by her sixth birthday and enroll her in the Church of Justice's school.
For this purpose, Malena had not abandoned her work as a laundress. Even after returning from the tailor's shop, she would wash clothes late into the night.
"...And the prince suddenly cried out, pointing at the rose girl—'Yes, it's her! She is the princess I've been searching for!'"
Beside the doorway of Malena's home, a narrow gutter carried away soapy water. She sat on a low stool, a massive wooden washbasin before her, its ribbed board holding the last unwashed garment. A bucket of freshly cleaned linens sat nearby, proof that her work—and the fairy tale she narrated—was nearing its end.
"...The wicked stepmother shrieked, 'Impossible! It cannot be her! Noble prince, I beg you—look again! Look upon my other daughters instead!'"
At her side, her only child—five-year-old Lisa—perched on her own stool, clutching a hooded lantern to light her mother's labor.
This was their nightly ritual. While Malena worked, Lisa would recite the primers every noble child memorized. In return, her mother rewarded her with stories. The girl helped where she could, whether fetching water or, as now, holding the light.
"...And so, the prince and the rose princess lived happily ever after."
With the tale's end, Malena wrung out the final garment, dumped the basin's water into the gutter, and wiped her brow with a tired sigh. "There. Story's done. Lisa, heat the water. Once I hang these, we'll bathe and sleep."
She hefted the basin of damp clothes toward the drying lines in their cramped yard.
"Yes!" The girl hopped up, lugging a water bucket to fill the great wooden tub at the center of their home. Soon, steam curled into the night—a sign the bath was ready.
Malena removed her outer garments, revealing a slender yet voluptuous figure beneath. In her youth, she had trained in dance and enjoyed a life of luxury, never lacking proper nutrition or exercise during her formative years. As a result, her body had developed fully and beautifully.
Moreover, having borne a child, her figure was no longer that of a maiden. Even now, though thinner from hardship, her curves remained—her hips round and full, her ample bosom still firm and high, swaying gently with her movements.
Though her skin had taken on a sallow hue from malnutrition, it remained smooth and supple. After all, despite being the mother of a five-year-old, Malena herself was only twenty-one.
She tested the water in the large wooden tub with her hand, adding cool water with a ladle until the temperature was just right. Then she stepped in and lifted her daughter inside.
Lisa playfully kicked her feet, splashing water everywhere before suddenly pressing against Malena's chest, reaching for her full bosom. "Mama, I want this!"
The reason her breasts swayed so prominently wasn't just their size—it was the milk that still flowed within them.
Malena frowned slightly. "No, Lisa. You're five now. It's time to wean."
Instantly, the little girl's face twisted with hurt. "One last time, Mama? Please? Just one last time, and I'll never ask again after tomorrow."
Under normal circumstances, as the daughter of a noble house, Malena's family would have hired a wet nurse for Lisa rather than nursing her themselves. But from birth, Lisa had been weak—prone to vomiting milk, rejecting every wet nurse they tried. Only Malena's own milk could sustain her.
And after their family's fall from grace, there had been no other choice. Though Lisa had long since learned to eat solid food, whenever she fell ill—including the last time Theresa had healed her—she couldn't keep anything down. Only Malena's milk kept her alive.
Thus, despite countless attempts to wean her, Malena had always relented.
Ah, well. For her to have survived this long, and to be so well-behaved... it's a miracle. If this small indulgence makes her happy, then it's worth the trouble.
With that thought, seeing her daughter's pleading eyes, Malena once again agreed to Lisa's "one last time." "After the bath. When we're in bed."
Hearing this, Lisa's face lit up with joy. "Yay!"
Autumn had arrived, and the water cooled quickly. Mother and daughter didn't linger, soon stepping out, drying off, and walking naked into the bedroom to slip under the covers.
The moment they settled in, Lisa eagerly cupped Malena's still-large breasts, opening her small mouth to latch onto a nipple that had darkened to a deep red from years of nursing.
"Mmm..."
A soft gasp escaped Malena's throat, but she soon closed her eyes, breathing evenly as Lisa suckled contentedly.
In years past, this act had stirred desire in Malena, forcing her to pleasure herself while nursing. But now, after endless worry and exhaustion, every last ounce of her energy was spent by bedtime. She wanted only sleep—nothing else held any appeal.
But tonight, something unexpected would disrupt that.
Creak—
The sound of metal scraping against metal jolted Malena awake.
Someone was picking her door's lock.
Realization struck like ice water. Her heart pounded.
Damn it! Even a poor household like ours isn't safe from thieves?!
Wait—did they target me because of my new job? Do they think I've come into money?
No. I won't let them take anything!
She sat up abruptly. Lisa, still latched onto her breast, woke with a start, her wide eyes confused as she watched her mother rise.
"Thieves!" Malena whispered urgently. "Lisa, hide under the bed!"
Nodding, Lisa scrambled for her clothes, pulled on her shoes, and wriggled beneath the bed. Meanwhile, Malena crept out of the bedroom, moving silently through the dining hall—bare except for a single wooden table—and into the kitchen. She grabbed a kitchen knife before returning to the main room, eyes locked on the trembling door.
She'd read about situations like this. If she acted fiercely enough, she could scare them off!
Creak—
The door finally gave way. A furtive silhouette slipped inside.
"DIE!"
Malena lunged with a snarl, both hands gripping the knife as she slashed at the intruder.
"What the—?!"
The man recoiled in shock, barely dodging. Malena, with no combat experience, overcommitted—her swing missed, and she stumbled forward off-balance.
"They're still awake?!"
"Damn it! I knew this widow wouldn't sleep early—probably waiting for a lover!"
"Screw subtlety! We do this the hard way!"
Two more men rushed in, seizing Malena's arms and forcing her to the ground with ease. One wrested the knife from her grip while the other expertly bound her wrists with rope.
Though fury burned in her heart, Malena was just a woman—no match for hardened criminals in strength or skill.
"Bitch almost got me!" the first intruder wheezed, wiping his brow. Then he glanced around. "Where's the kid? Hmm... bedroom?"
"Dunno. Place is small—just look."
"Careful. Don't let the little brat bite you."
One man kept Malena pinned while the other two entered the bedroom. Seeing this, she thrashed violently—only for her captor to slap her hard across the face. "Stay down, whore!"
The sharp crack of the blow was followed by Lisa's terrified wail and a man's triumphant shout: "Under the bed! Knew she couldn't go far!"
A moment later, one of the men emerged, Lisa bound and writhing in his grip.
"Let her GO!" Malena screamed, rage boiling over at the sight of her daughter's tears. "You monsters! Rot in hell!"
She fought like a wild animal, hurling curses, but against these brutes, her struggles were pitiful.
"We got her, boss. Let's move?" the man holding Malena asked.
"Not yet." The leader smirked, eyeing Malena's furious face. "Don't you think this widow's kinda pretty?"
The other man's eyes gleamed. "Hell yeah! Noticed that earlier!"
"Night's young. How about we have some fun first?"
"Perfect. After nearly getting stabbed, I need to blow off steam!"
"Clear the table. Tonight, we'll give her the time of her life—right in front of her kid!"
"HAHAHAHA—!"
The three men roared with laughter, tossing Lisa aside. One swept everything off the dining table—cups and dishes shattering on the floor—before dragging it to the center of the room. The other two hauled Malena up, forcing her onto the table on her stomach.
"Damn, this one's got a body!" one leered, admiring her curves.
"Look at that ass! And the way she squirms—gonna feel real good."
"Lucky night. Boss, you go first—show us how it's done."
"Heh heh heh..."
Their laughter turned filthy as Malena's struggles only fueled their lust.
"No... stop..."
Watching in horror, Lisa's pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her voice trembled. "Don't hurt her—AH—!"
Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek tore from her throat—a sound that seemed to shake the very soul. The three men staggered, turning just in time to see golden light erupt from Lisa's small form. A radiant orb shot from her open mouth:
"GUIDING BOLT!"
BOOM—!
The men dove aside as the projectile streaked past, obliterating the thick wooden door in a blast of splinters.
The kidnappers' faces paled. "She's a WITCH!"
"Damn it, why'd we have to run into this kind of trouble?!"
"Scatter!"
Screaming in panic—unable to distinguish a witch from a warlock—they released Malena. One bolted outside while the other two dove for cover behind the kitchen and bedroom doors.
Malena rolled off the table, only to lose her balance and crash to the floor.
"Ugh—!"
Grimacing through the pain, she immediately twisted toward her daughter. "Lisa! Lisa, are you alright?!"
As a former noble forced to study esoteric knowledge since childhood, Malena recognized the signs instantly: her daughter had awakened the latent power in her bloodline. From this moment, Lisa was a true warlock.
But she also knew the first awakening was the most perilous. If Lisa couldn't control the surge, the bloodline might consume her—leaving her crippled... or dead.
Across the room, Lisa still shimmered with golden light. Her face and eyes were dazed, unresponsive to her mother's voice. Her small mouth parted slightly, as if trying to summon a second bolt.
"Cough—! Cough—!"
The radiance flickered out as abruptly as it came. Her tiny body was too weak to sustain the bloodline's magic, no matter how intense the emotional trigger.
Seeing her power fade, the traffickers crept back.
"Looks like the show's over?"
"Don't rush—could be a trick. Test her."
"Right."
One hurled a brick at the bound girl.
THUD.
It struck Lisa's calf. She cried out—but no golden light returned.
"She's spent!"
"Damn bitch scared the hell outta me!"
"Mack, get the knockout powder! Sedate her before she pulls more stunts!"
"On it!"
As one man produced a drugged cloth, Malena screamed curses. Bound and helpless, she could only watch in despair as he advanced toward her daughter...
Then—
A silver streak flashed through the doorway. It struck the trafficker outside square in the back.
KABOOM—!
The blast deafened the air. The man catapulted inside, chest caved inward, blood gushing from his mouth. He hit the floor—lifeless.
A one-hit kill.
Malena gaped. Lisa, barely conscious, forced her eyes open toward the doorway.
There stood a tall, lean figure—hairless, eyebrowless—gripping a square-headed warhammer. His priestly robes hung disheveled, exposing his calves, his feet shoved into slippers.
Yet to Lisa, he was the most magnificent sight in the world.
And so handsome...
The thought flickered unbidden as he stepped closer.
It was Charles. Guided by Andny's mosquitoes, he'd sprinted here, legs trembling from exhaustion. The urgent warnings had been dire: They're pinning Malena on the table—raping her—hurry!
Thank the gods he'd made it. One hammer strike had erased a threat. Two remained—easy prey.
He stowed the hammer, summoning a longsword and shield instead. Time to test these thugs' mettle.
Then—
"Don't move—!"
The two men seized Malena and Lisa by the throats, panic wild in their eyes. "Drop your weapon or we snap their necks!"
"Stay back! Don't fucking twitch!"
Charles froze.
Well, shit.
He'd expected a valiant charge—a chance to flex behind Mage Armor, False Life, and Armor of Agathys while parrying with swordplay. Instead, they'd skipped straight to hostage negotiations.
How am I supposed to show off now?
Annoyed, he exhaled. Fine. No more theatrics.
"Sleep."
The incantation rolled out, consuming a third-level spell slot. Magic thickened the air, draping over all four occupants—traffickers and victims alike—plunging them into unconsciousness.
Problem solved.
With a disappointed sigh, Charles dragged the two men outside and slit their throats. Returning, he shook the slumbering Malena—her thin nightgown doing little to conceal the ample curves beneath.
"Wake up, Madam Malena!"
Her breasts swayed tantalizingly with each nudge. The faint, milky fragrance wafting from her cleavage hooked his attention instantly. His gaze snagged on that deep valley, unable to pull away.
The scent intoxicated his very soul...
Was she... still lactating?
Heat pooled low in his belly. The night's exertions meant nothing—Theresa's returned energy had left him revitalized, restless...
Malena stirred. Noticing his stare, Charles jerked his face aside. "You're awake? How do you feel?"
Spotting her bound wrists, he summoned his longsword and severed the ropes.
"I'm fine."
Blushing at the young priest's earlier gaze, Malena adjusted her gown—but felt no disgust. Only urgency. "Sir... Priest? Please, my daughter—"
"She seems to have awakened the power of her bloodline and become a Warlock. I'm worried that her state may be unstable, so please, take a look at her..."
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