Days passed in a comfortable blur of training, planning, and small domestic moments.
Ron kept up his training and dungeon diving, growing stronger and more confident with each passing day. He could now venture into low-level dungeons on his own, coming back with cores and loot that added to our growing resources. He still deferred to me, but the sharp, desperate edge of need had been blunted, replaced by a steady, quiet reverence. He'd come back, strip off his armor, and we'd eat dinner together. Simple. Mundane. A strange sort of peace.
I, on the other hand, used my new memories from The Surgeon to upgrade our security system again, adding layers of encryption, hidden sensors, and lethal countermeasures that made our home a digital and physical fortress. The world outside could burn; here, we were untouchable.
The best part of my days, however, were the sessions with Akira.
My 'treatments'.
Every afternoon, I would enter her room. The atmosphere was always the same: quiet, sterile, filled with the soft hum of medical equipment. I would lock the door, dim the lights, and sit by her bedside.
My method was unorthodox, to say the least.
Lips on lips. That was the core of it. A transfer of life force, of Nephalem energy, directly from me to her. At first, her body had rejected it violently. Seizures, fevers, her vitals spiking erratically on the monitors. Her small, frail form would arch off the bed, a silent scream trapped in her throat as the foreign, potent energy warred with the strange mana sickness that had held her captive for so long.
However, I found a point of balance, which was to inject my energy into her body right after I devoured the parasite in small, controlled amounts, not enough to overwhelm her, but enough to start knitting together the damage the sickness had wrought.
Slowly, painstakingly, she began to respond.
And after weeks of this grueling routine, the result was undeniable.
...
Knock! Knock!
"Come in," a soft, pleasant, and calm voice called from the bedroom.
I pushed the door open, to be greeted with a sight that made me smile.
Akira was sitting up in bed, a book in her lap. She was wearing a simple white nightgown, and her black hair was brushed and shining with health. Her cheeks had a rosy tint to them, and her eyes, though still a bit tired, were clear and bright. She looked… healthy. Vibrant.
She looked at me and smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes.
"Sister Azariel," she said. "You're just in time. I was just getting to the good part."
Her voice was a little weak from disuse, but it was clear. Musical.
"I see you're feeling better," I said, walking over to the table to place the soup I made for her. "I brought you something."
"Thank you," she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw the bowl of soup. "It smells delicious."
Akira woke up two days ago.
The first thing she saw was me, sitting by her bedside with my lips inches away from hers. She didn't scream. She didn't panic. She just looked at me with wide, curious eyes, and asked, "Are you an angel?"
The naivety of the girl was… refreshing.
"No," I had replied with a soft smile. "Worse, I'm your doctor."
"Oh," she had said, as if that explained everything. "Thank you, Doctor."
And just like that, she had accepted me. Trusted me. It was almost too easy.
Ron broke when he saw his sister awake and talking for the first time. He had stood in the doorway, frozen, tears streaming down his face. He had rushed to her side, gathering her in a careful, gentle hug, both of them sobbing with joy.
It was a touching scene. Almost made me feel something. Almost.
But for me, it was a victory. A testament to my skill, my power. I had plucked her from the jaws of death, not with science or medicine, but with the very essence of my being.
"It's a Wyvern meat soup," I said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Extra spicy. Just how you like it."
I found that I enjoyed this. The quiet domesticity of it. The simple act of caring for someone. It was a strange, new feeling. A human feeling. Or what I imagined a human feeling would be like.
As a former Hero, I spent my life fighting for humanity, to protect them from monsters. But I was always distant. An outsider looking in. I saved them, but I never knew them. I never understood the simple, everyday joys that I was fighting for.
'Well, thanks to that bitch Sol, my old world was at war 24/7... this kind of peace was impossible.'
"How do you know how I like my soup?" she asked, taking a spoonful and blowing on it gently.
"A good doctor knows her patient's preferences," I replied with a wink.
She giggled, a light, airy sound that was like music in the quiet room.
"Where's Ron?" she asked, looking around the room. "He's usually here by now."
"He's out," I said. "Training. He wants to get stronger."
"For me?" she asked, her expression softening.
"For himself," I corrected her gently. "But yes. A little bit for you too."
"I wish he didn't have to," she said, her voice quiet. "I don't want him to get hurt."
"He won't," I said, my tone firm. "I won't let him. I promise."
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. She saw the truth in my words. The absolute certainty.
"I believe you," she said, a small, trusting smile on her lips. "Sister Azariel... can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Can you... can you teach me?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "To fight, I mean. I don't want to be a burden anymore. I want to be strong. Like you. Like Ron."
I looked at her, truly looked at her. The girl was no longer a porcelain doll. There was a fire in her eyes, a determination that hadn't been there before. She was no longer just a patient. She was a potential. A seed.
And I was very good at making seeds grow.
"Are you sure about that?" I asked, my voice serious. "Training is not easy. It's painful. It's brutal. I will push you to your limits, and then I will push you past them. You will cry. You will bleed. You will want to quit. A thousand times."
"I know," she said, her voice unwavering. "But I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of being protected. I want to be the one doing the protecting for once."
I smiled, a slow, predatory smile. The same smile I gave Ron when he first asked me to train him.
"Alright," I said. "But after you fully recover."
"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.
"Don't thank me yet," I said, getting up from the bed. "You'll be cursing my name soon enough."
I stood up, attempting to leave the room and give her some space to eat her soup, but before I could leave, she gently grabbed my hand.
"Sister Azariel?"
"Yes?"
"I... don't feel well, could you...." she stopped, as if ashamed of her request. "...treat me? Please?"
"..."
That caught me off guard.
Akira wasn't in pain. Her vitals, which I could feel even without the monitors, were stable. Her color was good. She was, by all accounts, the healthiest she had been in years.
She only needed to rehab her muscles, and she would be fine.
So why? Why was she asking for another 'treatment'? Was she becoming addicted to my energy? Or was there something else going on?
Sniff.
'Oh... interesting.' A wide grin spread across my lips as I smelled a familiar scent from her. 'So that's why.'
I didn't say anything. I simply nodded my head in understanding, then leaned down, my face inches from hers. Her breath hitched, her pupils dilating. She knew what was coming. She craved it.
I closed the distance and pressed my lips to hers.
I did not pour my energy into her this time. I just kissed her. A soft, gentle kiss at first, but it quickly deepened, my tongue tracing her lips, asking for entry. She responded immediately, her mouth opening under mine with a soft sigh.
It was the kiss of a lover, not a doctor.
She was a quick study.
Her tongue shyly met mine, mimicking my movements. She tasted of the spicy soup and innocence, a heady combination. I deepened the kiss, my hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, my fingers tangling in her soft hair.
"Akira~..." I purred against her lips. "What a naughty girl you are."
She whimpered, a small, desperate sound that went straight to my core.
"I... I don't know what's happening to me," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "I feel... strange... When you're near me. When you touch me... I feel... hot."
"I know," I said, my voice a low murmur. "You're a little pervert, aren't you?"
"..."
"A cute one, though." I kissed her again, this one more demanding, more possessive. She responded with a passion that belied her frail appearance, her hands coming up to clutch at my shoulders.
My free hand moved down from her neck to her chest, my fingers tracing the curve of her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She shivered, her back arching slightly, pushing her breast into my hand.
"You like that, don't you?" I whispered, breaking the kiss to trail a line of kisses down her jaw and neck.
"Yes," she breathed, her head falling back to give me better access. "Please... don't stop."
I wasn't planning on it.
My fingers found her nipple, already hard and pebbled under my touch. I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger, pinching it gently. She gasped, her hips bucking slightly.
"You're so sensitive," I murmured, my lips finding that sensitive spot just below her ear. "So responsive."
"All for you, Sister Azariel," she moaned, her hands tightening on my shoulders. "It's all for you."
Those words sent a fresh wave of lust through me. This sweet, innocent girl, so recently on the brink of death, was now offering herself to me. Completely. Without reservation.
"Akira, if we don't stop now, I won't be able to control myself," I warned her, my own breathing growing ragged.
"Then don't," she said, her eyes burning with a newfound fire. "I want you. I've wanted you since the first day I saw you."