Chapter 843: Is She Dead? Almost! Is Kaltsit a Pimp?
"W? Is she dead? Should we start preparing for her funeral?"
Kroos poked her head around the doorframe, her long rabbit ears twitching with morbid curiosity. She stared at the Sarkaz mercenary sprawled across the nearby sofa, looking every bit like a discarded ragdoll.
"You're... you're dead... your whole damn family is dead..." W's lips barely moved, her voice a raspy, exhausted mumble. She clearly wanted to unleash a string of vicious curses, but her body had been thoroughly drained of every last ounce of strength. Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she let her eyelids flutter shut, utterly refusing to deal with the waking world for another second.
FrostNova, Gladiia, and the other women gathered around the ruined mercenary exchanged complicated glances. They honestly didn't know whether to envy W's fate or deeply pity her.
Over the past day, several of them had dropped by the room intermittently. Yet, without fail, every single visit revealed W being ruthlessly dismantled in entirely new, increasingly compromising positions and postures. How long had it been going on? Easily over twenty-four hours. It was only natural they seriously wondered if the explosive-loving Sarkaz had finally expired from sheer overexertion.
But seeing her now... well, as long as W still had enough energy left to swear at people, she would be fine. There was no need to worry about her kicking the bucket just yet.
"Ren," Theresa began, tilting her head with genuine curiosity. "Why exactly did you suddenly decide to torture W like this?"
Ren, currently enjoying the careful cleaning services of Warfarin, offered a lazy shrug. "You should probably ask Kaltsit about that. She's the one who specifically requested I teach W a thorough lesson on her behalf."
Instantly, every pair of eyes in the room shifted toward the stoic Feline. Amiya, the usually timid Cautus leader, blinked in mild shock. She managed to catch a fleeting, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of Kaltsit's lips—a rare, satisfied little smirk.
Standing quietly in the corner, Askalon's lips twitched. She offered a brief, silent moment of pity for W in her heart. The foolish mercenary must have severely provoked Kaltsit to warrant such a devastating, targeted payback.
While the rest of the room focused on Kaltsit, the Doctor had entirely different priorities. She practically glided toward Ren, her eyes shining with predatory hunger as they locked onto the sculpted, sweat-sheened perfection of his abdominal muscles.
A distinct, wet slurping sound echoed in the quiet room.
Ren let out a wry, helpless chuckle. "Doctor, could you please stop drooling? You're literally about to drip on my leg."
"Wuwuwu... Ren, why can't you just do me already?" she whined, practically vibrating with pent-up frustration.
A collective, heavy silence fell over the room. The surrounding Operators stared at their brilliant tactician, utterly speechless. The Doctor had completely lost her mind again. It was a known fact by now: the moment Ren was involved, the supposedly genius commander of Rhodes Island shed every last scrap of her rationality and dignity.
Gulp... Gulp...
Warfarin finally lifted her head from her 'cleaning' duties. A soft, incredibly satisfied little burp escaped her lips. The vampire's pale cheeks were flushed a deep, intoxicating shade of pink, radiating pure bliss.
"So delicious..." she murmured dreamily, licking her lips. "I'm so full..."
The ancient Sarkaz medic had completely lost her craving for normal blood. Why would she want that metallic swill when she had discovered something infinitely richer? It was a nectar countless times sweeter than the freshest blood, and best of all, the supply was endlessly abundant and wonderfully filling.
The Doctor stared at the vampire, her gaze dark and heavy with raw, unfiltered envy.
Ignoring the Doctor's desperate whining, Ren reached out and pulled Warfarin flush against his chest. The vampire melted into his embrace instantly. Just leaning against his warm body and breathing in his masculine scent was enough to leave her completely intoxicated. To her refined senses, he possessed the sweetest, most enchanting aroma she had ever encountered in her long life. He relaxed, casually allowing her to drag her soft tongue along his collarbone in slow, reverent laps.
Settling into the cushions, Ren shifted his attention back to the green-haired Feline. "So, is this your grand master plan? Turning me into Rhodes Island's personal Santa Claus?"
Specter tilted her head, her silver hair spilling over her shoulder. "What exactly is a Santa Claus?"
"A mythical figure who grants wishes and delivers presents to people," Ren supplied smoothly.
"Oh! Oh! Dr. Kaltsit did tell me to secretly spread the word about this!" a cat-eared girl chimed in, her tail trembling with sudden realization.
Gravel, standing nearby, felt her eyelids twitch violently. She shot the girl a deadpan glare. "Is that what you consider 'secretly spreading the word'? You practically broadcasted it through the entire landship with a megaphone."
"Ah... haha..." The cat-eared girl let out an awkward, nervous laugh, shrinking her head down into her collar to hide from the collective stares.
FrostNova's brow furrowed, a chill lingering in her icy blue eyes. "So, Kaltsit, what exactly are you trying to achieve here? Is this going to bring unnecessary trouble to Ren?" The Cautus leader's stance was rock solid, her loyalty firmly anchored to the man sitting on the sofa.
Kaltsit slowly shook her head. Her mouth opened, instinctively preparing to weave her usual labyrinth of cryptic metaphors and vague philosophical riddles. But she caught herself. She remembered, quite vividly, that Ren possessed zero patience for riddle-speakers.
Taking a brief second to organize her thoughts into actual, straightforward sentences, she explained, "Ren has certain things he desires from Rhodes Island. In turn, the Operators of Rhodes Island have certain needs that only he can fulfill."
"Things he desires from Rhodes Island?" Shining echoed, her elegant features laced with genuine confusion.
She truly didn't understand. What could a man like him—a being who walked among them like a literal god, capable of thoroughly conquering three terrifying Abyssal Hunters, not to mention taming both Kaltsit and the Sarkaz King Theresa—possibly want from their humble pharmaceutical company?
Kaltsit shifted her gaze to Ren, silently asking for his permission to lay all the cards on the table.
Ren gave a casual, dismissive nod. "Go ahead. Say whatever you want, don't worry about stepping on my toes. Even if you do manage to offend me, the worst I'll do is turn you into W's current state."
Kaltsit's right eye twitched. She cast a brief, deeply disturbed glance at the broken, twitching mercenary on the opposite sofa. She absolutely, unequivocally did not want to be turned into W.
Exhaling a slow, measured breath, she continued.
"To put it plainly," Kaltsit stated, her tone clinical but carrying an underlying weight. "Ren holds a very special interest in the female Operators of Rhodes Island. Concurrently, many of our female Operators are suffering from Oripathy, or harbor deep, unfulfilled desires in their hearts. Therefore, this arrangement is a mutually beneficial two-way street."
Female Operators.
The words hung in the air. Glances were exchanged across the room. In a matter of seconds, the true nature of the 'arrangement' clicked into place for everyone present.
Even the innocent little Amiya grasped the concept. Her long ears drooped slightly as she murmured, "So... it's about allowing everyone, like Miss Nightingale, to achieve their deepest wishes by... paying a specific price?"
"Exactly," Kaltsit confirmed with a sharp nod.
A heavy, collective silence blanketed the room once more.
This god-like man truly did harbor a very special affection for them. A very intense, incredibly fervent affection. And judging by the absolute state of the women who had already 'paid the price', his physical desires were extraordinarily vast—far beyond the limits of ordinary imagination.
With the explanation laid bare, Kaltsit's underlying intentions became crystal clear.
Kroos puffed out her cheeks, a teasing pout forming on her lips. "Wow, Kaltsit. So you're basically planning to become our resident pimp— Ah! Ah ah ah!"
The sniper didn't even get to finish her joke.
A massive, jagged blade of glowing green crystal materialized from thin air, pressing dangerously close against the delicate skin of her throat. It was Mon3tr, Kaltsit's terrifying spine-summon, looming over the rabbit with lethal intent.
Faced with such a naked, overwhelming threat, Kroos immediately threw her hands up in the air, offering a strained, bitter laugh. "Okay, okay! I was wrong! I take it back!"
The brief, chaotic interaction brought a wave of amusement to the room. Theresa watched the lively exchange with a warm, genuine smile. It had been far too long since she had seen her people this relaxed.
Suddenly, the Sarkaz King's gaze drifted toward the shadowy corner of the room, landing on the hooded figure leaning quietly against the wall.
"Oh, that's right," Theresa chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Askalon is also an Infected, isn't she?"
Askalon, who had been expertly using her elite assassin skills to completely conceal her presence, stiffened. She had still been discovered.
"Not a problem," Ren said casually.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A warm, brilliant ray of golden light materialized from the ceiling, cascading directly over the shadowy assassin.
The sudden, overwhelming surge of divine energy made Askalon freeze in place. A deep sensation washed through her veins. The heavy, aching lethargy that had plagued her for years vanished instantly, leaving her body feeling impossibly light and pure. She didn't even need a medical scan to know the truth. The jagged Originium crystals beneath her skin were gone. Her Oripathy had been completely, miraculously cured in the blink of an eye.
But she hadn't even asked for this. She hadn't offered anything in return yet.
Looking up, Askalon caught Theresa shooting her a playful, highly suggestive wink. The assassin immediately understood her King's underlying intention. A wry, helpless smile tugged at the corners of Askalon's lips.
Taking a brief moment to collect her swirling thoughts, she stepped out of the shadows. Her expression shifted into one of absolute, solemn devotion.
"Since Her Highness Theresa already belongs to you," Askalon began, her voice smooth and deadly serious, "and you have so effortlessly cured my Oripathy... from this moment forward, everything I am, and everything I have, belongs entirely to you."
With fluid grace, the elite assassin dropped to one knee, bowing her head as she swore her eternal allegiance to the man on the sofa.
Ren rested his chin on his knuckles, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Then, may I state my very first request?"
"Please speak, my Master," Askalon replied without hesitation.
"Take off your hood," Ren commanded softly. "I think it's a terrible waste to keep such a beautiful face hidden away in the shadows."
Deep in her chest, Askalon's heart involuntarily skipped a beat.
Reaching up with gloved hands, she slowly pulled back the heavy fabric of her hood. The dark material fell away, revealing a strikingly seductive face framed by a cascade of vibrant, crimson-red hair.
As she felt the heavy, appreciative weight of Ren's gaze slowly tracing her features, a faint, unfamiliar heat crept up the tips of her ears, flushing them a delicate pink. For the cold, calculating leader of S.W.E.E.P., shyness was an entirely alien emotion—one she was experiencing for the very first time.
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