Yue's face, usually composed, now split into a wide, triumphant grin. "Oh, welcome! The party has started now!" he boomed, turning to us first-years, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It's Dolorian tradition," he explained, "we will get drunk all night before we send you off tomorrow to the Gauntlet. Every active Dolorian student must come, so here they are!"
He then began to introduce the formidable figures who had just blasted through our dorm door.
"First," Yue announced proudly, gesturing to the beautiful Iskiran lady, "this is our proudly Iskiran lady, fourth-year senior, Erika de la Bletilla." She was tall and slender, her figure elegantly sculpted, and her blue dress, though not as overtly tight as Professor Dianna's, still clung to her form, hinting at the captivating curves beneath. Her breasts, though not as large as Selyra's, were firm and perfectly shaped, and her hips had a subtle, graceful swell that promised a hidden sensuality. Her smile, serene and knowing, held a hint of subtle invitation, much like Professor Dianna's own alluring expression. Her white hair, pulled back in a sophisticated style, framed a face of serene beauty, and her pale blue eyes held a quiet, knowing glint. My mind instantly connected the dots. De la Bletilla... She has the same last name as Professor Dianna. That's why she looks so much like her, I thought, a fresh shiver running down my spine. And if she's anything like Dianna, especially with that look in her eyes, I'm in for even more trouble. I vividly recalled Professor Dianna's aggressive kisses, her wild demands, and the unsettling thought of being "kidnapped" for private lessons between classes if I ever walked alone. The memory, both terrifying and undeniably arousing, made my breath catch. Yue continued, "She's currently interning in the Iskiran Diplomat Bureau."
Next, he pointed to the towering Aetherian. "Then, this tall man is Antoine Galeshard." Antoine was truly immense, even for an Aetherian, his broad shoulders and powerful chest seeming to dwarf everyone around him. His large, iridescent wings, usually folded, now subtly shifted, catching the light as if impatient for flight. His face, though handsome, was etched with a quiet intensity, his amber eyes holding the distant, focused gaze of a seasoned warrior. He wore full battle armor, not the gleaming gold and silver of the royal guard, but a darker, more utilitarian set of obsidian and steel, adorned with a flowing, midnight-blue cape that seemed to ripple with unseen currents. There was an aura of silent, contained power about him, a dangerous stillness. "He's now interning with the Aetherian Special Force, the Stormbringers." Ah, that explains the different armor and the cape! I realized, remembering the legends of the Stormbringer troops who move as fast as lightning.
As I looked at Antoine, I felt Selyra shift beside me. When I glanced at her, her pale blue eyes were wide, fixed on Antoine, and a deep blush colored her cheeks, the same flush I'd seen when she was overwhelmed by passion. She looked... utterly captivated. Antoine, seemingly oblivious to the intensity of her gaze, simply offered a brief, almost absentminded smile. As he moved to take his place among the seniors, his large hand briefly, almost casually, rested on Selyra's head, a gentle pat, as if she were a younger sibling or a favored pet. Selyra's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the gesture, but she leaned into the touch, a soft, contented hum escaping her lips, her gaze still fixed on him. He doesn't even see her, I realized, a strange mix of amusement and something else—a subtle, unexpected pang of sympathy for Selyra, and perhaps a flicker of competitive interest—stirring within me. Or he just doesn't care. That's a new kind of challenge.
"Beside Aldo," Yue continued, gesturing to the human with the beard and sword, "he is our human fourth-year, Andre Von Guiller." Andre was a man of imposing silence, his presence almost as weighty as Thoden's, but with a different kind of stillness. He was tall, with a powerful, lean build, and short, slicked-back black hair that framed a face etched with a perpetual, almost grim determination. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to miss nothing, yet betrayed no emotion, fixed with an unwavering focus. He carried a gleaming greatsword sheathed at his hip, its hilt worn smooth from countless hours of practice, and he moved with a quiet, almost predatory grace. "He's interning with Aldo in King Arthur's Royal Guard." Andre merely gave a curt nod, his gaze sweeping over us first-years with a silent, assessing intensity, before returning to his stoic contemplation of the hall.
"And beside Temo," Yue pointed to the Kaynari man, "he is Genta Tarasect." Genta was indeed tall for a Kaynari, his frame thin and almost skeletal, yet his hands, long and nimble, moved with an astonishing speed as he gesticulated wildly, a half-eaten piece of bread clutched in one. His eyes, magnified by thick, smudged goggles pushed up onto his forehead, burned with a frantic, almost obsessive brilliance, reflecting a mind constantly racing with calculations and theories. His black hair was even wilder than Temo's, a true explosion of unkempt genius. "He's a Kaynari interning in the Unity Research Center," Yue explained, a wry grin on his face.
"But the variables, Temo! The variables of the bind accumulation efficiency! We must factor in the ambient Aetheric density, the subject's inherent resonance frequency, the crystalline structure of the conduit—it's not merely a linear progression!" Genta practically shrieked, his voice high-pitched and excitable, completely ignoring Yue's introduction as he pulled a crumpled blueprint from his robe and jabbed at it with his bread. Temo, for her part, merely nodded, her eyes fixed on the diagram, occasionally offering a flat, "Precisely," or "Inaccurate, Genta. Recalculate."
"As you can see," Yue chuckled, throwing an arm around Genta's bony shoulders, "their debate about 'bind accumulation efficiency' is a lifelong passion. Genta here is basically Temo's mentor, or perhaps her spiritual twin. They speak a language only they understand."
Finally, Yue's gaze fell on a new figure who had quietly entered, his expression softening with respect. "And last but not least," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "she was our prefect when we were first-years." I looked at Thoden, and for the first time, saw him tense, a subtle shift in his usually stoic posture. He looked almost... nervous.
"She is Monika Argudsoon," Yue finished, his voice filled with admiration. Monika was a truly formidable sight, her tall, sturdy body radiating raw power. Her long, raven-black hair, wild and untamed, fell across one shoulder, partially obscuring a sharp, intelligent eye, while the other, a burning crimson, fixed on the room with an almost predatory intensity. Her strong, straight horns, indicative of her non-royal lineage, framed a face that, despite its sternness, possessed a striking, almost fierce beauty. She was clad in a perfectly tailored, all-black Drakarian military uniform, the heavy fabric stretched taut across her broad, athletic body, emphasizing her powerful muscles and the undeniable curve of her large, firm breasts, which seemed barely contained. She'd be even more stunning in a tight dress like Erika's, I mused, a familiar wave of heat washing over me, my gaze lingering on her impressive figure. Every time I see a Drakarian woman with a big chest, it just... The vivid memory of my dream, where Aunt Allana's powerful, naked form and Aunt Valerie's quiet sensuality had given me such pleasure, flashed through my mind, a potent mix of terrifying and incredibly arousing, a direct connection to the raw power and allure of my own kin. Argudsoon family, I recalled. That's one of the Drakarian military bloodlines, known for being able to breathe fire. They go as our Drakarian Frontline.
The dining hall, now filled with not just first-years and their immediate prefects, but also these elite fourth-year Dolorian seniors, buzzed with an electric energy. The party, as Yue had called it, was indeed just beginning.