Recap:
Marienne left Lynx's chamber shaken, torn between hate and hunger. Lynx survived, and the MILF System revealed a new target: Serenya Vaelith, the Moonblade Saint—a widow, warrior, and one of the heroines destined to kill him. At the training grounds, Lynx finally faced her gaze, sharp enough to cut steel. The system gave only one quest: Survive the first duel of words.
The training yard was silent. The dummy Serenya had just cleaved lay in halves at her feet, straw spilling like entrails. Soldiers who had moments ago been laughing and cheering now stood stiff as statues, afraid to breathe.
Because her eyes were on me.
Serenya Vaelith. Widow. Saint. Executioner in waiting.
She didn't move, didn't blink, didn't smile. She simply held my gaze the way a predator stares at prey. And gods, I could feel it—if she wanted, she could be across this yard in a heartbeat, her blade in my throat before I even drew breath.
My smirk wavered, but I forced it back into place. A villain's mask.
"Beautiful form, Lady Serenya," I called, letting my voice carry. "No wonder men say your sword sings like moonlight."
Her lips curved, faintly. Not warmth—mockery. "Lord Lynx. How kind of you to crawl out from your chambers. Tell me—do you flatter every widow you meet, or am I special?"
Laughter rippled through the yard, sharp and nervous.
The system buzzed in my vision.
[Milf Target: Serenya Vaelith]
Hostility: Extreme
Recommended Response: Shameless Flirtation
I ground my teeth. Of course. Of course it wanted me to flirt with a woman who wanted me dead.
Still, what choice did I have?
I dipped my head, smirk widening. "Every widow deserves respect. But only you deserve worship."
Gasps broke through the soldiers. A few men choked on their own spit. Even the sparrows on the wall seemed to pause.
Serenya's eyes narrowed to slits. She lowered her blade slowly, tip resting against the ground. Her voice was silk stretched over steel. "Worship? Is that what you call it, when a man covets another's wife? My husband bled for this land. He died in a war your coffers fed."
The soldiers shifted uncomfortably. The air was thick. Heavy.
The system chimed again.
[Warning: High hostility spike detected.]
[Countermeasure: Redirect to her body. Compliment strength and form. Engage Dirty Talk Lite.]
Dirty Talk Lite? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
I swallowed and leaned casually against the post behind me, though my back was slick with sweat. "A war creates widows, yes. But it also creates survivors. And you, Lady Serenya—you survived. Not as a broken widow, but as a blade sharpened to perfection. When I watch you move, I wonder…"
Her brows arched, ever so slightly. "You wonder?"
The system flared.
[Say it.]
"…I wonder if your sword is the only thing that can dance that beautifully."
The yard went dead silent. A pin dropping would've sounded like thunder.
For the first time, Serenya blinked.
The corner of her mouth twitched—anger, amusement, disbelief? I couldn't tell.
Then, in one fluid motion, she lifted her sword. The silver edge caught the sun and blinded me.
Shit. Too far.
But instead of cleaving me in two, she slashed downward, so fast the air cracked. The training dummy beside her split into quarters, the pieces tumbling like falling leaves.
The crowd gasped.
Serenya rested her blade against her shoulder, eyes never leaving mine. "Careful, Lord Lynx. A tongue that sharp is easily severed."
I forced a laugh, though my knees wanted to buckle. "Then I'll just have to trust that your hands are gentler than your sword."
The soldiers stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
The system purred.
[Milf Affection: +2]
[Corruption Progress: 3%]
Wait. Did that actually work?
Serenya's eyes lingered on me a moment longer, cool and unreadable. Then she turned away, sheathing her sword in a smooth, practiced motion.
"Train harder," she said to the soldiers, her voice like frost. "And keep your eyes on your blades, not on fools who don't value theirs."
The crowd dispersed quickly, whispering in hushed tones. Serenya walked toward the keep, her stride calm, unhurried. But just before she reached the archway, she glanced over her shoulder at me.
Only for a second.
And in that second, her eyes weren't just cold steel. They were fire buried under ice.
The system chimed in delight.
[New Quest: Make Serenya Draw Her Sword Against You—In Bed.]
I stared at the screen, slack-jawed. "You've got to be kidding me."
But beneath the fear, the absurdity, the danger…
I felt it again. That thrill. That pulse of excitement.
Because she looked at me. Not just with hate. But with something else.
And if I could fan that spark…
Maybe survival wasn't just possible. Maybe corruption was destiny.
End of Chapter Four.
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