An Endless War

Their last night in Camp Bloodstone.

It seemed quiet and peaceful, but in the inn things were far from being so. A loud bang sounded as Flowsand’s lithe body was sent flying across Richard’s bedroom, landing on his bed.

Richard’s throw was calculated and meticulous. He’d used the bare minimum strength to send her the entire distance, not slamming her against the wall or otherwise hurting her. Nonetheless, the cleric was left crouching over the bed panting, apparently unable to get up. The robes covering her body were torn and tattered beyond recognition, exposing her snowy shoulders and almost half of her back in naked glory. The bottom half had been ripped to shreds, displaying her alluring thighs as her toes dug into the sheets.

Richard scoffed, seeing through her act. Of course he’d be gravely wrong to think she would let him have his way so easily. His previous experiences had taught him well, he wouldn’t be fooled by her tricks this time around.

He took off his clothes without much hurry, showing off a perfect body that was beyond his age and occupation. He then slowly ambled to the side of the bed, asking, “Did I hurt you?”

Flowsand kept her face buried in the sheets, moaning softly in reply.

Richard took the chance to grab onto her ankle, tugging her towards him before peeling off the remainder of her clothes and getting into position. Just as he was about to start his enjoyment, her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in, causing their bodies to collapse against each other. Her legs were unusually strong, pulling their bodies into an intimate distance.

A ten centimetre change from their previous position quickly turned the tables, as the sly girl attacked his groin. Flowsand controlled her strength perfectly, causing great amounts of pain to the boy opposite her but without leaving any trauma or lasting injury. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a good feeling for one’s privates to be attacked.

Richard groaned internally, his head spinning with rage. Flowsand was still bursting with energy, supporting herself against the bed to flip him over in a split second before landing gracefully. This was definitely not the weak physique of a cleric.

Flowsand ran for the door the moment her feet touched the ground, obviously wanting to escape. However, her fingers barely grazed the doorknob before her body was yanked backwards.

“Thinking of running, huh,” Richard said petulantly, dragging her back.

The pair entangled once again, becoming a mess that fell to the bed. Flowsand managed to wriggle out another time, but this time things weren’t in her favour. She’d landed in front of one of the room’s corners, and before she took the chance to run Richard had already cut her off.

Just as she’d said to him, she wouldn’t let him have it so easily. It had been a while since this battle for dominance started, and the cleric had proved her melee skills over and over again. She practised something similar to wrestling, her strength and direction unpredictable. Her great agility and flexibility only served to elevate her technique to another level.

Richard had only learned later that the priestesses of the Church of the Eternal Dragon were trained in self defense just in case they were ambushed from behind. However, that training proved to be his biggest obstacle.

And yet, the more familiar he grew with her techniques the stronger and more targeted his counters were. This pushed Flowsand into more of an unfavourable position every time. He’d almost gotten her in a few attempts, ripping her robes and garments apart to leave her with almost no defences.

The cleric was running out of stamina as the brawl continued. Richard was drenched in sweat himself, but that only hyped him up further. He was a man— the more fierce the resistance, the more excited he grew.

It was growing harder and harder for Flowsand to get herself out. Her struggles were finally put to an end as Richard held her down against the table. She twisted her body in an attempt to escape, but her strength was running out and she only managed to bounce up a little before being pushed back. He grabbed a hold of her hand and held it against her waist, before moving in.

Two screams rang out from the room at the same time. One was a man’s bestial growl, while the other a woman’s repeated pants of pain. Richard kept Flowsand stuck beneath him, only lifting the pressure once he thrusted into her. He barely waited for her to catch a breath before going in once more, his movements rough and hard.

It seemed like Flowsand had finally reached her limits, bending over the table to bear the unending attack. The only thing she could do was let out soft moans here and there, her sweat soaking the wood.

Richard himself almost reached climax in a short while, likely because of the intense battle that served as a precursor to this. He took a deep breath and halted his movements; this wasn’t an easy prize, he couldn’t end up finishing so quickly.

However, Flowsand who looked drained of energy suddenly took the chance to move her body, attempting to wriggle her way out of his grasp. An inexplicable feeling filled Richard as he roared, “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” But then, he lost control of himself and released.

He then leaned over Flowsand’s bare back, panting hard. The cleric lifted her head, caressing his face, “Nothing. I wanted to flee, but didn’t get the chance.”

Richard fumed at the thought. 

She was thinking of fleeing in this manner?

He stayed silent for a few more minutes before suddenly getting up, picking the priestess up and throwing her on the bed. He then got on top of her. It was now Flowsand’s turn to be shocked; she hadn’t expected him to recover so quickly. Their second battle was especially intense, lasting a long time.

According to Norland’s military traditions, a raging first battle would be followed by a prolonged war. As for the third…

Richard, sweating buckets at this point, lay next to Flowsand and let out a snort. He then asked in high spirits, “Finally honest with your feelings this time?”

Flowsand laughed lightly, only answering with a vitality spell.

The third battle would be a counterattack. The formerly oppressed party would mount a comeback, switching their positions completely.

The night was still young when the third battle reached its end. The war had not concluded, especially with one party relentlessly provoking the other. The fourth battle inevitably began. This time, Richard gave it his all…

By the time the sun finally rose, Richard was completely worn out and drowsy. On the other hand, Flowsand was energetic as ever, exuding a radiance that made her look irrevocably beautiful in the light of dawn. She clung onto Richard without letting him sleep, intending to start a fifth battle.

“What are you thinking about?” Flowsand propped her chin onto Richard’s chest and gazed at him expectantly. Her eyes were deep with meaning.

“I was just reminded of times when I was younger,” Richard replied weakly.

“When you were younger?” Flowsand was rather surprised at his answer, especially in a moment like this.

“Yeah, I was still in Rooseland back then with my mother. When I grew a little older, she let me help out with the herb farm. I watched the villagers farm as well.

“Rooseland was a mountain village. The farmers raised magical bulls to spare manpower. This just reminded me of those times.”

“What about it?” Flowsand grew even more curious, but she was sure that Richard was distracting her to avoid the fifth round.

Richard turned his head to look at Flowsand. He then flashed a vague smile, “I feel like I’m the bull and you’re the farm. From my experience, bulls died from exhaustion but the farms never spoiled.”

And once again, the only reply he was met with was a vitality spell. Of course, his departure from Camp Bloodstone was delayed yet again.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter