Chapter 21 – The Second Race
The sun hung lazily overhead, casting a mellow warmth through the apartment windows.
Riya sat on the worn couch beside Muramasa, who sipped tea with his usual quiet focus.
But the younger man's eyes were bloodshot, dark circles painting his face like war marks.
Muramasa didn't need to ask why.
Unwelcome noises — passionate and repetitive — had filled the night.
Thin walls and heightened senses weren't kind allies.
The silence between them stretched until Riya finally leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.
"Hey, Muramasa."
The swordsmith glanced at him.
"You think you could forge me a pair of shoes?"
"Fast ones."
"Like realy realy fast."
Muramasa arched an eyebrow.
"Planning to outrun death or something?"
Riya exhaled. "Worse… a woman."
Muramasa blinked, then shrugged. "Alright."
A few hours later, Riya stood admiring his new pair of shoes.
Sleek, dark, with subtle lines of silver and glowing runes etched into the soles — they thrummed with spirit energy.
Even with that, Riya knew it wouldn't be enough.
Not against her.
But he had more than magic on his side.
When night fell and his body sank into bed, the dream pulled him in like a tide, soft and familiar.
He emerged under a vast night sky, where silver stars flickered behind thin clouds.
The ancient tree loomed once more in the center of the clearing, and beneath it stood a figure that stirred his heartbeat the moment he saw her.
Atalanta.
Her emerald eyes glittered with challenge, arms crossed under her chest, ears twitching like twin radar dishes.
Her tail flicked behind her — slow, rhythmic, and vaguely threatening.
"You really showed up," she said, eyeing his feet.
"Nice shoes."
"But they won't help."
"We'll see." Riya grinned, bouncing on his heels.
"Tree to tree?"
She stepped closer, predatory amusement on her face.
"You're on."
The moment their feet left the ground, Riya channeled Jack the Ripper's agility, his body snapping forward like a whip.
The forest blurred.
But he didn't stop there.
He activated jack's Mist.
A thick, dense fog erupted around them, curling around trunks, swallowing the path.
Sulfur laced the air.
Not deadly — not to her — but enough to confuse, enough to break her perfect rhythm.
And it worked.
Her silhouette faltered, ears twitching uncertainly, tail lashing through the haze.
Riya dashed through the finish.
When she emerged from the fog, it was with narrowed eyes and a quirked brow.
Her breathing was steady, but her pride had been dented.
"…Clever," she admitted.
Then she smiled — not just the usual smirk, but something low and warm, and very… feline.
"You beat me," she said, closing the space between them in a single, fluid step.
"And I always pay my debts."
Her arms slipped around his neck, warm and strong.
Her tail curled slowly around his leg, silky and deliberate.
"Now," she purred, her lips brushing his ear, "let's have a different kind of race…"
Her lips hovered near his, breath hot and teasing.
Riya leaned in — and their mouths met for the first time.
It was tentative at first, exploring each other, heat building with every brush and pull.
As their kiss deepened, Riya's hand slid behind her, fingers trailing down her spine — and gently grasped her tail.
Atalanta yelped into the kiss, her body jolting with surprise, her balance faltering for just a second.
Riya took the advantage, pushing forward, tongue slipping past her lips and claiming her mouth.
Her tail twitched in his hand, ears flicking, her moan vibrating against his tongue as she melted into the kiss.
After that her mouth found his neck, trailing light, open-mouthed kisses along his skin as her nails dragged teasingly over his chest.
Her ears twitched with every gasp he made, like they were tuned to his pleasure.
Her body pressed close, firm muscle wrapped in lithe grace.
She undid his shirt slowly — not tearing it, but savoring every button like a step toward a reward.
"Strip," she whispered.
"And don't keep me waiting."
Her command was soft but final.
Riya obeyed.
She undressed herself in turn, her movements smooth, almost too fluid — predatory.
Her skin glowed under the moonlight.
Her toned stomach, the soft swell of her breasts, her taut thighs — everything about her was athletic perfection.
But it was the little things that undid him.
The way her ears twitched when he ran his fingers along her collarbone.
The soft gasp when his hand brushed her tail.
And when she straddled him, her hands on his chest, her tail curled around his wrist like a velvet restraint — he swore he'd never forget it.
Their bodies pressed close, hearts thundering.
Atalanta guided him down to the mossy ground, her legs wrapping around him.
Their eyes locked — feral green and stormy brown — before he slowly pushed forward, joining with her at last.
She gasped sharply, nails digging into his back, her tail curling around his wrist.
They became one beneath the moonlight — heat against heat, breath tangling, movements slow and reverent at first, then wild and hungry as the tension finally snapped.
Her claws dug gently into his shoulders as she rocked against him, her pace unhurried, steady — like a hunt that she had no intention of ending quickly.
"Harder," she hissed, and he complied, hands gripping her waist as he thrust up into her.
Their rhythm built into something desperate — a dance in the moonlight, a race of hearts and hips.
Every moan she let out was half-growl, half-music.
Her ears drooped slightly as she neared her climax, and her back arched like a bow, pressing her chest against his.
When it hit, she cried out — a long, throaty sound that echoed through the dream.
She collapsed onto him, breath hot against his neck, tail still twitching.
When she whispered, "You win," her voice was soft.
"But I want a rematch."
Riya smiled, his hands gently stroking her back. "Anytime."
He woke up in bed, breathless and flushed, staring at the ceiling with a grin stretching across his face.
Muramasa walked past the door.
"Let me guess," he muttered without looking,
"you won."
Riya chuckled.
Victory had never felt quite so sweet.
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RIYA RIOT STATS:
Atalanta:
Skills:
Independent Action:(A)
Beast Enhancement:(B)
Magic Resistance:(D)
Crossing Arcadia:(A)
Aesthetics of the Last Spurt:(C)
Calydonian Hunt:(A)
Self-Evolution:(EX)
Noble Phantasms:
Agrius Metamorphosis:(B+)
Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia:(A)
Phoebus Catastrophe:(B+)
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