The Iron Bloom was a sweaty, ale-soaked den of chaos, my kind of paradise. Crestmoore's heart pulsed here, with rough-hewn tables packed with mercenaries, traders, and barmaids whose curves could make a Dragon-God blush.
My eyes danced over the room, lingering on Vira's tight blue tunic—those Water Qi hips were practically begging for a prank. Or more. Kron's grizzled beard twitched as he shoved a carved wooden Zorath into my hands, his Peak Scholar Wood aura steady as ever. "For luck, ye chaotic bastard," he growled, eyes softer than I'd ever seen. I grinned, tucking the figurine into my spatial ring, its invisible weight a comfort since Goran handed it over back in Opeka.
Vira clung to my arm like a barnacle on a Middle Sea wreck, her Middle Master Water scent—crisp, like ocean spray—making my head spin. "Killy, don't go yet," she whispered, tears glistening in her blue eyes, tugging me toward the tavern's back rooms. "One last… memory, upstairs?" Her voice was all sultry promise, and I swear my groin guard—Marko's "Supreme Sword Sleeps Here" gift—tightened just thinking about it.
Before I could answer, Bera's Middle Master Fire aura flared, her corset straining as she stormed over, red hair blazing like a Lava Dragon's breath. "Oh, hell no, Vira!" she snapped, grabbing my other arm. Lila, Middle Master Earth, wasn't far behind, her earth-rune skirt hugging hips that could crush stone. She seized my wrist, eyes blazing with jealousy. "You don't get him all to yourself!" Lila hissed, yanking hard. Vira pulled back, her grip like a tidal wave, and suddenly I was the rope in a tug-of-war, my curse's 30 kg pressure making every jerk feel like a boulder rolling over me.
The tavern erupted in hoots and cheers. "Ladies, ladies!" I laughed, voice dripping with my signature Supreme Prankster charm. "You know there's enough of me for all of you. Hell, I could take all four of you upstairs—Vira, Bera, Lila, and Tira, too!" I shot a wink at Tira, her Beginner Grand Master Fire aura smoldering by the bar, phoenix tattoo glowing faintly on her neck. The room roared louder, mugs clinking.
Vira's eyes lit up, and she shouted, "I'm game!" Her boldness sent a ripple through the crowd. Bera and Lila froze, their faces crimson with fury, glaring daggers at Vira, then at me. Tira smirked, leaning against the bar, her curves outlined in a fiery red tunic that screamed trouble. "Keep dreaming, pervert," she drawled, her voice sharp enough to cut mithril. "You'd pass out before you got past one of us."
Zephyr, lounging with his Beginner Grand Master Darkness aura, caught Tira's eye and grinned, shadows curling around his fingers. "Tira, if this idiot's too much, you and I could… head upstairs for a private chat." His tone was pure mischief, and Tira's laugh was a spark that could ignite a forest. "Not a chance, shadow boy," she shot back, but her smirk said she wasn't entirely dismissing it.
Elder Sani, Peak Master Lightning, stood at the bar's edge, his weathered face stern but eyes twinkling. "Enough, ye hormone-addled fools," he rumbled, static crackling in his beard. "Killyaen, ye carry chaos and strength. Don't squander it in Adena." His hand clamped my shoulder, heavy with authority, and for once, I had no crude comeback—just a nod and a damn lump in my throat.
The tug-of-war fizzled as Bera and Lila shoved Vira off, their jealousy a palpable heat. Vira pouted but didn't push further, slipping back to her table with a sultry glance that promised trouble later. I rubbed my arms, the curse's weight making them ache, but the thought of Vira's offer kept my blood pumping. Kron raised his mug. "To Quad Storm and Fiery Fissure—don't die out there." The toast was heavy, the Ice Dungeon's losses—Jogen, Sylph, Aric, and the others—hanging like ghosts. I raised my ale, voice steady. "To them. And to chaos."
Hours later, the tavern was a blur of drunken laughter and spilled ale. I stumbled to my room, the curse dragging at my limbs like a cranky Void Leviathan. My Starforged Tunic hummed faintly, easing the 30 kg pressure, but after a night of dodging Bera's fireballs and Lila's earth spikes, I was beat. Varkoth, my Beginner Master Darkness Basilisk Emperor, coiled as a sleek armband, hissing, "Fleshling, your lust stirs even the shadows." I chuckled, collapsing onto the creaky bed. "Save the lecture, snake. I'm sleeping."
The door creaked open. Vira slipped in, her blue tunic half-unlaced, revealing curves that could drown a Krakenkin. Her Water Qi shimmered in the moonlight, and her eyes locked on mine, hungry. "No goodbyes yet, Killy," she purred, climbing onto the bed. My heart raced, the curse's weight forgotten as she straddled me, her thighs pressing against my hips. "Let's make Crestmoore remember us."
Her lips crashed into mine, tasting of sea salt and ale, her tongue teasing as she ground against me. I groaned, hands roaming her back, fingers digging into her soft skin. She moaned—loud, deliberate, like she wanted the whole damn tavern to hear. "Let Bera and Lila stew," she whispered, unlacing her tunic fully. It fell, revealing breasts that bounced with every move, nipples hard in the cool air. My groin guard hit the floor faster than a Zenoite Krovar's charge.
I flipped her onto her back, her gasps echoing as I kissed down her neck, her collarbone, then lower, teasing her peaks with my tongue. She arched, fingers clawing my braid, her moans growing louder—definitely for Bera and Lila's ears. "Killy, you bastard," she gasped, legs wrapping around me. I smirked, sliding my hands under her skirt, finding no resistance—just warm, eager skin. "You planned this, didn't you?" I growled, my voice thick with lust.
She laughed, wicked and wild, guiding my hand lower. "Shut up and take me." I didn't need more invitation. My trousers were gone in a heartbeat, and I entered her, slow at first, savoring her tight heat. Her moans turned to cries, each thrust drawing louder sounds, the bed creaking like it'd collapse. She flipped us, riding me with a rhythm that matched her Water Qi—fluid, relentless. "Harder," she demanded, nails raking my chest. I obliged, gripping her hips, the curse's weight making every move a battle I was happy to fight.
We shifted, her on all fours, my hands gripping her waist as I took her from behind, her cries filling the room. She pushed back, meeting every thrust, her voice a siren's call. "Give it all, Supreme Prankster," she teased, and I did, losing myself in her. We moved to the wall, her legs around me, then back to the bed, exploring every angle, every hole, her body yielding and demanding. Her final scream as she climaxed woke half the tavern, and I followed, collapsing in a sweaty, satisfied heap. The curse's passive healing kicked in as I lay there, soothing my aching muscles.
"Worth it," I panted, grinning as Vira curled against me, her breath ragged. "They definitely heard." She winked, unapologetic. I didn't care—Bera, Lila, and Tira could burn with jealousy. This was my goodbye to Crestmoore.
Morning came too soon, the sun stabbing through the window like a Crystal Wyrm's glare. Vira was gone, leaving only her scent and a note: "Catch me in Adena, prankster." I smirked, tucking it into my spatial ring. Downstairs, Bera and Lila glared daggers, their faces screaming they'd heard everything. Tira just raised an eyebrow, her phoenix tattoo glinting. "Productive night, pervert?" she quipped, voice dripping with sarcasm. I winked. "Jealous, firebird?" She snorted, but her smirk said maybe.
We headed to the Formation Guild, a stone hall pulsing with Qi, its walls etched with High Elven runes I could read but didn't bother—too busy eyeing Bera's corset. I handed over 40 Level 3 Spirit Stones, grumbling, "Robbery, plain and simple—could've bought a night with ten barmaids for that." The attendant, a wiry Middle Scholar Earth, smirked. "Safe travels, Supreme Prankster." The platform glowed, runes flaring like a Starborn Drake's breath. I grabbed Tira's hand, mostly to mess with her, and she yanked it back, muttering, "Hands off, idiot."
The world blurred, my guts twisting like I'd swallowed a Zenoite Krovar's claw. A flash, and we landed in a new chamber, air thick with forge smoke and Geodrite dust. Tira's eyes lit up—Adena was her goal long before she met us, and she was practically vibrating. "Forgehold's waiting," she said, voice fierce. Bera and Lila exchanged looks, less thrilled but loyal. I grinned. "Let's make Adena beg for mercy."
The border city, Ironspire, was a gritty sprawl of forges and markets, Teridian and Geodrite scents heavy in the air. We mounted our Zoraths, their hooves kicking up dust. Bera's hips swayed on her beast, her corset barely containing her fire. "Eyes up, Killy," she snapped, catching my stare. I laughed. "Can't help it—your curves are a damn artifact." Lila's earth-rune skirt hugged her thighs, and Tira's fiery stride made the Zorath look tame. My curse dragged at me, 30 kg slowing every step, but the view kept me moving.
At the checkpoint, a towering gate loomed, guarded by Adena's finest. The leader, a Middle Element Lord Lava (Level 12), his aura like a smoldering forge, demanded papers. "State your business, Solaria scum," he barked, his spear glowing with Teridian runes. I leaned forward, flashing my best grin. "Oi, handsome, how about a smile instead of a stamp? Got three beauties here—worth more than any pass." Bera groaned, Lila muttered, "Idiot," and Tira smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos.
The guard's second, a woman with a Water Qi shimmer, blushed but held firm. "Papers, now." I slid them over, slipping a Glowvine bulb into the stack. It popped, spraying neon green across the guard's armor. He cursed, but Tira's quick "We're mercenaries, headed to Forgehold" smoothed things over.
The gate creaked open, and we rode into Adena's rugged plains, mountains looming ahead. The curse's weight pressed harder as we climbed, but I didn't care—Adena was Goran's order, Tira's dream, and my next playground.
"Ready to burn this place down?" I asked Tira, my voice all mischief. She grinned, flames dancing in her eyes. "You're on, prankster." Bera and Lila sighed, but their steps matched ours. Varkoth hissed, "Fleshling, this land reeks of fire and steel. Your chaos fits." I smirked. Adena wouldn't know what hit it.