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Once, my name alone had drowned kingdoms in blood. Entire armies bent or shattered before me. Cities fell, not to siege engines or fire, but to the whisper of my presence. I was feared, revered, untouchable—a god among mortals. Power had flowed through my veins like molten night, bending life itself to my will.
And now… I woke to silence.
The first thing I noticed was the forest. Sunlight fractured through a canopy of leaves, spilling like molten gold onto the damp earth. The air smelled of moss and wet soil, sharp and alive. My limbs stretched freely, unbound by pain, every muscle coiling with strength—but the surge of divine power I had once commanded? Gone. Not weak, not crippled, just… empty, like a storm that had passed and left only windless skies.
I rose smoothly to my feet, testing my balance, my speed, my reflexes. My body was mine, perfect in its mortal health, but the essence of Aros—the terror I had been, the godlike might—was muted, distant, like a faint echo through a long tunnel.
A rustle drew my gaze. A small, striped creature sat on a log, tail flicking like it owned the place.
"Finally awake," it said, voice melodic but dry.
I froze. "You… talk?"
"Obviously. Wouldn't you be more worried if I didn't?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Sitting there like it's normal makes it slightly less weird, yes."
"Name?" it asked, circling.
"Aros. That's all I remember. And that I was terrifyingly powerful. Now… nada."
"Same," it said with a flick of its tail. "No name, no memory, alive… and talking. Mostly talking."
I chuckled. "Of course. Wake up in a forest, no memory, with a sarcastic talking cat. Perfect."
"Welcome to our brilliant situation," it said. "Name optional, memory optional, survival… questionable. But hey, at least it smells nice."
I studied it. "You're not following me, right?"
"It depends. Am I keeping you from doing something stupid, or just entertaining myself?"
"Both, probably," I muttered, smirking. "Fine. Lead the way."
"Don't expect thanks," it said. "I don't do thanks. Only sarcasm… and maybe survival."
I smiled faintly. Somehow, in this strange forest, I already knew one thing: neither of us was alone, and trouble wasn't far behind.
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I walked into the village, taking in the unfamiliar architecture and the cobblestone streets. Nothing looked familiar—nothing that could anchor me to memory. My mind was a haze of fragments, but my senses were sharp, alert.
And then—bam.
A massive man collided with me. I stumbled slightly and straightened, irritation flashing across my face. "Careful," I said, voice smooth and amused. "You don't want to end up on the wrong side of me."
The man turned, eyes narrowing. "Oh? And what's going to happen if I do?"
I smirked, raising a fist. The punch I threw carried the force of instinct—enough that it should have sent his head flying. But he didn't flinch. Not a twitch.
"My turn," he said, voice low, and before I could react, he lifted me effortlessly and drove me back with a brutal blow. I crashed into the cobblestones, gasping as pain lanced through my ribs.
He stepped closer, ready to finish the job.
I acted instinctively, hurling a small object at his face. His attention snapped away, and I took the moment to flee, every instinct screaming that this was one of those rare moments where even someone like me had to run.
My feet carried me to the nearest house, my hand slamming against the door as I stumbled inside. I collapsed against it, breathing hard. The room was dim, and in the corner, an old woman stood at the center of the room. Relief mixed with confusion as I sank to the floor, unsure where I was.
The next thing I knew, sunlight streamed through a window, and I was waking on a bed, bandages wrapped around my torso. I sat up slowly, testing my strength and observing the small room. That's when she appeared.
A young woman, stunning in a way that made the air itself seem charged, stepped forward. Her presence was overwhelming—voluptuous, graceful, and unashamedly aware of her effect. She moved toward me, ostensibly to tend to my injuries, but every motion lingered, every touch seemed deliberate.
Her hands brushed against my arms, my chest, slightly too close, her fingers light but teasing. Our eyes met, locking in a silent challenge, a mutual recognition of the tension coiling between us.
She leaned closer, murmuring as she worked. "You've been through a lot… let me help."
I arched an eyebrow, voice low and amused. "Help, hmm? This… help of yours feels dangerously intimate."
A small, playful smile curved her lips. "Maybe," she whispered, her breath brushing my ear. "But you need it, don't you?"
Despite myself, I let out a short laugh, pride bristling even under her gaze. "Perhaps I do. But don't think for a moment I'll make this easy for you."
Her hands lingered, exploring the bandages with an intimacy that was both professional and suggestive. Our eyes met again, and for a long moment, silence hung between us, loaded with unspoken desire. I could feel it in her deliberate movements, the soft brush of her body, the way she held my gaze.
When she finally leaned fully against me, her presence heavy and warm, I realized one thing: this was no ordinary care. This was a challenge. A seduction. And I… could not back down.
---
Before I could fully register what was happening, she moved with sudden, fluid decisiveness. One moment she was tending to my bandages; the next, she pressed her hands against my chest, leaning her weight into me, and I was suddenly being pushed backward. The bed rose to meet me, soft beneath my back, but her presence—hot, intoxicating, and deliberate—was pressing me down.
She straddled me, the curve of her body aligning over mine, and for a heartbeat, I was caught between pride and fascination. Her legs brushed against my sides, the heat radiating from her skin filling my senses, every motion calculated to provoke, to tease. Her hands settled on my shoulders, fingers pressing just enough to assert control without pain, and her gaze held mine, dark, daring, and unrelenting.
"I think you need… a different kind of treatment," she murmured, voice low and velvety, a teasing lilt hidden beneath the words.
My brow quirked, amusement and caution warring across my expression. "Different, huh? And what exactly does that entail?"
She leaned closer, letting her presence dominate the space, and guided my hands gently, but with unmistakable intention, along the curve of her back. Every brush of her skin, every subtle movement, sent a spark through me.
Her eyes held mine, dark and enigmatic, and she didn't answer. Not a word. Only the soft, intoxicating sound of her breath and a low hum of satisfaction.
I matched her rhythm instinctively, a predator and a puzzle all at once, curiosity and desire locked in a silent duel. "Who… are you?" I asked, trying to pierce the veil of mystery that cloaked her.
She only pressed closer, lips brushing mine as if the question had no merit, her body guiding the interaction, teasing, seducing, and leaving me grasping at control I hadn't intended to surrender.
And in that moment, all I could do was respond—alert, alive, and fully aware that she had me exactly where she wanted.
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