Chapter 136: The Elven Miss's Weakness
Latran didn't understand what he was talking about. The origin of the Demon King, Asmodeus, was a complete mystery. Did this man know something?
"Aren't you going to kill me?"
"Killing you would just dirty my blade. Get lost," he said, and sheathed Org. "And by the way, 'Seven Sages of Destruction' really does sound better. I suggest you take my advice."
Latran struggled to his feet and disappeared from view.
Serie walked over to him, her gaze on the spot where the demon had vanished, and huffed. "You're awfully generous, giving them new titles."
"Titles aren't important. What's important is that he takes my message to Eirik. And besides, he'll be dead soon enough anyway," he said with a shrug, and then looked down at her ankle, where the mark of the petrification had completely faded, leaving only a patch of fair skin. "Is your foot alright?"
"Yes."
"I can't just take your word for it. Let me see," he said, his face a mask of sincere concern for his companion's well-being.
She had a strange feeling about his gaze and instinctively refused. "There's no need."
"Oh, but there is," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "What if there's a latent corruption from the demon's magic? I know from experience."
Though she thought he had a point, before she could respond, he was already in front of her, and his large, seemingly-nefarious hand was reaching for her.
"Rhodes!"
She tried to back away, but he was too fast.
His hand closed around her slender ankle, the warmth of his palm a brand on her skin.
Now she was completely still. If she were to fall, it would be terribly embarrassing.
"Sit down," he said, looking up at her, his eyes full of a worry that seemed to be nothing more than a friend's concern.
His thumb gently caressed the spot that had been petrified, and he felt the delicate coolness of her skin. "How does this feel?" he asked, his finger tracing a circle on her skin, savoring the feeling of her skin, a skin as soft as the finest silk.
She was rooted to the spot by his sudden movement, and his concerned gaze. The feeling of his hand on her ankle was so clear, the warmth of it seeping into her, a strange, ticklish sensation that sent a shiver up her leg.
She looked down at him, at his golden hair falling over his face, at his profile, which was now so serious, a profile that hid the flustered expression on her own face. The strange, unfamiliar feeling made her tremble.
"It doesn't look like there's a problem," he murmured, his hand, with a practiced naturalness, sliding down her smooth calf.
"You don't need to check there, do you?" she said, trying to stop him, but it was too late.
He had already taken off her boot, revealing her small, delicate foot, which he now held in his hand. Her feet were beautiful, with a gentle arch and toes like round, smooth jade. The skin was so fair it was almost translucent, and so delicate to the touch.
His thumb, with a gentle, probing pressure, scraped across the tender, sensitive sole of her foot.
"Mmm...!"
A wave of an unexpected ticklishness shot up from the sole of her foot to her very heart.
Her body trembled, and her toes instinctively curled, like a startled animal.
To have a place that had never been touched, to be caressed like this... the strange and stimulating sensation made her scalp tingle.
"Don't be nervous," he said. He had expected as much. Anyone would react that way. But he held her foot even more firmly, preventing her from pulling away.
"I'm just checking your reflexes," he said with a serious expression, and then, as if to prove his point, his thumb began to knead the soft flesh of her sole with an even greater pressure. "It's a good sign that your reaction is so strong. It means there's no nerve damage."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Just... let go," she said, the tips of her pointed ears now a deep shade of pink. The ticklishness, the numbness, the feeling that made her heart race... it was overwhelming.
She struggled, but he held her fast. That bastard! He's just trying to humiliate me!
"Just a second," he said, his movements not slowing in the least. He even gently pinched her toes. "No stiffness at all. Looks like it's completely healed."
She was both ashamed and angry. A fire burned in her golden eyes, but in the depths of her heart, a strange, new feeling was beginning to grow, like a vine. This feeling of being completely under his control, the shame of it, and the indescribable pleasure of it... it was all too much. She couldn't take it anymore.
"Rhodes!" her voice was a mixture of shame, anger, and a tremor she could not conceal.
She did not hesitate. A wave of a powerful, cold energy erupted from her ankle. He felt a sudden, icy chill, as if he were holding a block of a thousand-year-old ice, and his grip instinctively loosened.
Now!
She pulled her foot free, and with all of her pent-up shame and anger, she swung it in a graceful arc and kicked him square in the chest.
Thump!
"Ah!"
He had not expected that at all. He stumbled back and landed on the ground with a thud.
It didn't hurt; she was not that strong. And it hadn't been a full-force kick. But he still pretended, clutching his chest and grimacing in pain. "Serie, are you trying to murder your... dearest friend!?"
She finally got her foot back. A blush had spread across her face, and she glared at the man who was now just playing the victim on the ground, her chest heaving.
(End of chapter)