Chapter 141: The Cowardly Princess Drunkenly Strikes Back, Turning the Elf Princess into a Carnivore (2)
Sistine raised her sword, her graceful figure moving in harmony with its arc.
Man and blade became one, flowing seamlessly in a mesmerizing dance. The elegant movements of her body merged with the radiant swordplay, creating a spectacle that could only be described as otherworldly.
Such beauty was rare even in the heavens.
But Sistine was utterly oblivious to her surroundings. In her mind, she felt as though she had become the spirit of her blade—perhaps even the very wind itself.
Stretching out her hand, she brushed against the barriers that had long constrained her, sensing the boundless swordsmanship that lay beyond.
With a twist of her waist, her sword drew an arc of brilliant light in the air.
Her golden hair cascaded down, veiling her dazzling eyes, and in that moment, the bottleneck of her swordsmanship shattered. Sistine's understanding of the blade soared to new heights, reaching the "selfless state" her mentor had once described.
Immersed in this realm of sword intent, her soul danced in harmony with the blade. This was a joy Sistine had rarely, if ever, experienced before.
When the strange sensation subsided and the world returned to normal, Sistine furrowed her brows and opened her eyes.
But even as she reoriented herself, the memory of that euphoric state left her deeply captivated.
Recalling the wine she had just consumed, her eyes sparkled with newfound clarity. She understood the wine's unparalleled effect on her training.
If she could experience this again, breaking through her current limitations and fully mastering the selfless state would be within reach!
Without hesitation, Sistine grabbed Shia's hand, pressing it against her chest.
"That wine—do you have more?" she asked, her large, glistening eyes filled with unrestrained longing.
"I'll do anything to have it. No matter the price," she added earnestly.
Shia's gaze slid from her face to their interlocked hands. For someone who supposedly feared men, she sure was... bold.
Her slender, soft fingers wrapped around his, and Shia couldn't ignore the warm, supple sensation against the back of his hand. For a moment, his composure cracked, a flicker of emotion flashing across his face.
His eyes returned to Sistine's flushed face, which betrayed no awareness of the situation's absurdity. She was too focused on the prospect of obtaining more of that magical wine.
Her usual cool demeanor was gone, replaced by a flushed, slightly bashful expression. Her icy beauty was now tinged with a seductive allure, making her all the more captivating in this contradictory state.
The contrast was staggering.
Shia stared at her for a long moment, amazed by the transformation. The enchanted effects of the wine were far more intense than anything he'd seen in a game.
There was no denying it—this was practically the stuff of R18 potions.
Before he could respond, a small figure suddenly stepped between them.
Rong pushed Shia's hand out of Sistine's grasp, positioning herself as a barrier between the two. She stood firm, her small frame resolute, her round, doll-like face set in a serious expression.
"Please mind your manners, Senior," Rong said coldly.
Her eyes were filled with a fierce protectiveness, her normally shy and reserved demeanor nowhere to be found. The timid, socially anxious demon princess was now fearlessly standing in front of her master, shielding him from Sistine's overzealous advances.
After all, if she didn't step up now, her master might be stolen away!
Sistine blinked, the haze in her mind beginning to lift as she returned to reality. The intensity of her desire for the selfless state subsided, and she finally noticed the frosty hostility in Rong's gaze.
Then she felt a chill—not from Rong's glare but from the breeze brushing against her exposed skin.
Her eyes dropped, taking in the shredded remains of her clothes, barely clinging to her body. The tattered fabric swayed in the wind, teasingly outlining the curves of her chest, the edges barely holding on.
Her fair skin was almost entirely exposed.
Sistine's mind went blank.
Her... clothes... what happened to her clothes!?
The memory of rushing up to Shia, grabbing his hand, and pressing it to her chest replayed vividly in her mind. In her pursuit of the selfless state, she had been completely oblivious to everything else.
Now, with her rationality restored, she felt a deep, bone-crushing embarrassment.
Under Rong's icy, judgmental stare, Sistine wished she could dig a hole and bury herself.
How could she explain that the person just now wasn't her? Would anyone believe her?
Steam seemed to rise visibly from her flushed skin as her face turned an even deeper shade of red, the color spreading down to her neck and shoulders.
Then the most damning realization struck—she was still practically naked, standing here in front of them!
The cold gaze of the petite girl in front of her, the warmth of the young man she had just been holding onto—what had she done!?
"Ahhh!" Sistine shrieked, her voice breaking the tense silence.
Before anyone could react, the golden-haired sword saint vanished from Shia's sight, disappearing like the wind.
In her hasty retreat, she completely forgot her original purpose for coming here.
Convincing Shia to leave? That was long forgotten, tossed aside as she fled in utter mortification.
The door swayed lightly in the wake of Sistine's hurried departure before settling back into stillness. The faint aroma of the wine lingered in the air, a reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded.
Shia stared at the door, a complicated mix of emotions swirling in his chest. The farcical drama had ended abruptly, leaving him in contemplative silence.
When he finally shifted his gaze back to the room, he was met with Rong's suspicious glare.
"Why are you staring at the door like that?" she asked, her tone tinged with unease.
Shia shrugged, his face calm but unrepentant. "Why not?"
Rong's uneasiness deepened, her mind racing as she recalled the earlier scene. Was he 'interested' in Sistine?
"You've fallen for her, haven't you?" she pressed, her tone accusatory.
Shia nodded without hesitation, his admission startlingly direct. "Yeah."
Rong's expression immediately soured, as if she were looking at a hopeless womanizer.
"Liking older women is hardly a crime," Shia added defensively.
Rong's mind flashed back to Sistine's graceful sword dance, her elegant beauty, and the flawless figure that had been on full display. She couldn't deny it—the woman was stunning, a visual and emotional double assault.
But as Rong lowered her gaze to her own petite frame, frustration bubbled up. She had only been probing, but Shia's confident answer left her momentarily speechless.
She glanced down again at her flat chest, a pang of insecurity flaring. He liked 'bigger'.
Her thoughts turned inward, wondering if she should return to her homeland in search of a way to unlock a second growth spurt. After all, with her succubus heritage, she surely had potential to develop further!
Before she could delve deeper into her self-reflection, a soft, warm sensation pressed against her back, pulling her abruptly into reality.
A subtle heat, coupled with a gentle yet firm pressure, brushed her slender spine. The scent of wine mingled with a faint floral fragrance, enveloping her completely. Rong froze.
Caught off guard, her social anxiety surged back. Even though this wasn't the first time Nia had hugged her, she still couldn't suppress her discomfort.
"Uhh..." she mumbled, her body stiff as a board.