That night, he didn't summon her for a ritual. He went to her space by the grinding stones, the heart of her power.
The air around the grinding stones was cool and carried the faint, metallic scent of flint. Moonlight washed over the scene, casting long shadows and painting Kira's focused features in silver. Leo approached, his cloak discarded, his presence now stripped of its shamanistic pretense. He was pure, focused intent.
He didn't speak until he was directly before her, his body crowding her space against the large, flat grinding stone. "There is one final test," he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble that vibrated in the space between them. "The blessing must be sealed. Not in a cave, but here, where the work is done. The union of the maker and the empowerer."
Kira's dark, flint-like eyes met his, not with submission, but with a sharp, analytical challenge. She was weighing him, measuring his strength against her own. "A union?" she echoed, her voice steady, but a faint, almost imperceptible quickening of her breath betrayed her. "Or a contest?"
"A contest, then," Leo agreed, a predatory smile touching his lips. He reached out, not to caress, but to grasp her strong, calloused hand, guiding it to the hard plane of his own chest. "Let's see which of us is harder. Your stone... or my will."
A spark ignited in Kira's gaze. This was a language she understood. With a grunt of effort, she pushed back, twisting in his grasp until he was the one pressed against the cold, unyielding surface of the grinding post. The rough texture scraped against his back. "You talk too much, Shaman," she breathed, her lips close to his.
"Then let's stop talking," he growled.
He captured her mouth in a fierce, consuming kiss. It was not gentle. It was a battle for dominance, a clash of teeth and tongue. Kira met his aggression with her own, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw a metallic tang of blood. Leo's response was a deep, guttural sound of approval. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the powerful muscles there, and lifted her, seating her on the narrow edge of the large stone. The cold seeped through her minimal clothing.
He tore at her simple garments, and she at his, not with passion, but with a frantic, competitive urgency. When they were both bared to the waist, he pressed against her, the heat of their bodies a stark contrast to the cold stone beneath her.
"Now," he commanded, his voice ragged. "We see who breaks."
He entered her in one swift, powerful thrust. A sharp, choked gasp was punched from Kira's lungs—"Hnnggh!" Her head fell back, her back arching. For a moment, her composure shattered, her eyes wide with the sheer, shocking intensity of his invasion.
Then, the fight returned. Her nails scored his back as she began to move against him, meeting each of his deep, punishing thrusts with a roll of her own hips. The rhythmic, wet sound of their joining mixed with the scrape of their skin against the stone.
"Aanh... nhh..Is this... ahhn!... your magic?" she panted, her voice strained, laced with both defiance and a pleasure she was fiercely resisting.
"No," Leo grunted, driving into her again, making her cry out—"Ahn!" "This is just me. And you." He leaned forward, his mouth finding her neck, sucking a dark mark onto the skin there. "Your strength... it's what I want. Give it to me."
His words, framed as a demand for her power rather than her soul, broke down another layer of her defense. A long, low moan escaped her—"Unnnh..nhaa..nmhh..."—as her body began to relent, her internal muscles fluttering around him. Her competitive struggle began to transform into a desperate, clawing need.
"Nhan..nghh...Leo...!" she cried out, his name a surrender she hadn't intended to give.
"Say it again," he demanded, his pace becoming relentless, brutal, and exquisite.
"Anhh! Nhh... Leo! Harder!" she begged, her pragmatism burned away by raw sensation. Her cries grew louder, less controlled, echoing in the quiet night. "Hannh..Yes! Anhh..There! Don't... don't stop! Nhaaa!"
He could feel her climax building, a coiling tension that promised to be as fierce as she was. He drove into her, again and again, his own control fraying.
"Come for me, Kira," he ordered, his voice thick with his own impending release. "Show me the edge of your pleasure."
That was the final command. With a raw, shattered scream—"Cumming! I'm... CUMMING!"—her body convulsed. Her inner walls clenched around him in a violent, rhythmic pulsing, her entire form shaking with the force of her release. It was the most honest, unrestrained sound he had ever drawn from a woman.
The feeling of her climax, so powerful and earned, tore his own orgasm from him. With a final, deep thrust and a guttural roar, he spilled his seed deep inside her, his body shuddering against hers.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, leaning against the grinding stone, panting heavily in the moonlight, their sweat-slicked bodies gleaming. The silence was broken only by their ragged breaths slowly returning to normal.
Finally, Kira shifted. She pushed him back gently and slid off the stone, her legs slightly unsteady. She didn't look at him with adoration or spiritual awe. She looked at him with a new, profound respect, her flinty eyes now holding a banked fire.
"That was... efficient," she said, her voice hoarse, as she reached for her clothes. The ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "A worthy... alliance."
Leo smiled, the euphoria of this hard-won conquest washing over him. He had not stolen her heart; he had matched her strength, and in doing so, had claimed all of her.
As they stood there, breathless in the moonlight, the notification appeared.
[Conquest Achieved!]
[You have successfully subjugated Kira, the Spear-Sharpener, by appealing to her core values of utility and strength.]
[Gacha Points Awarded: 75]
[Title Effect Noted: 'Heart-Stealer' was ineffective. Conquest achieved through alternative means: Pragmatic Alliances.]
Leo smiled, panting. He had to adapt, to think differently. This world was teaching him new ways to be a predator.
"One by one," he thought, watching Kira retrieve her tunic with the same practical efficiency she did everything. "Every single type. The fierce, the privileged, the matronly, the pragmatic... I'm building a collection."
He looked around his kingdom, now complete with its master craftswoman finally, fully under his thumb. The feeling was utterly intoxicating.