Chapter 27: The Mill Ambush

The heavy wooden shutters of the abandoned mill shattered outward beneath my boot.

Splinters of rotten oak rained down into the freezing mud of the village square.

I dropped from the elevated window, my boots hitting the slush with a heavy thud.

Twenty feet away, the Voss sergeant froze.

He stood over a bleeding, elderly farmer, his spiked leather whip raised high in the air.

"Cassian Voss?" the sergeant sneered, his small, cruel eyes narrowing as he recognized my face. A nasty grin spread across his scarred jaw. "The disinherited dog crawled out of his hole! Lord Tristan put a five-hundred Crown bounty on your head."

The sergeant’s gaze flicked upward to the mill window, spotting Seraphina and Isolde stepping into the frame. "And you brought the two crippled sluts with you! Kill the bastard! Take the women alive! We’ll break them in before we drag them to the Duke!"

Nineteen heavily armored Voss guards drew their iron broadswords and spears, charging across the muddy square.

I didn’t waste breath on a reply. I channeled mana into my right arm and triggered my active skill.

Abyssal Flame Blade Coating.

Thick, pitch-black fire erupted along the length of my steel blade, radiating a choking, unnatural heat.

I rushed forward, my boots kicking up freezing mud.

The sergeant swung his spiked whip at my face.

I stepped inside the arc of the leather, entirely ignoring his strike.

My black blade sheared horizontally through his iron gorget as if the metal were wet parchment.

The sergeant’s head detached from his shoulders, tumbling into the mud. His headless body stood frozen for a second, dark blood spraying from his severed neck, before collapsing into the dirt.

Before the charging guards could even register their commander’s death, Seraphina vaulted out of the mill window.

She dropped fifteen feet, landing perfectly in a crouch.

Her legs, once paralyzed and useless, absorbed the impact flawlessly.

She didn’t hesitate.

Golden royal aura flared around her shortsword as she lunged into the Vanguard spearmen.

She ducked under a heavy thrust, pivoted on her right heel, and drove her blade straight upward through a guard’s exposed throat.

She ripped the steel free and immediately spun, severing the hamstrings of a second soldier before burying her dagger in his chest.

She fought with brutal, unhesitating Aldemoor military precision. She was no longer a victim. She was a weapon.

"Archers! On the wagons!" one of the surviving guards screamed, pointing at the mill.

Three Voss bowmen scrambled atop the heavy grain wagons, drawing their bowstrings back to aim at Seraphina.

"Don’t you dare look at her," Isolde’s voice echoed coldly from the shadows of the mill.

The blindfold was gone from Isolde’s face, her restored violet eyes glowing with predatory malice.

She thrust both hands forward.

Six solid needles of compressed shadow mana shot from her fingertips like crossbow bolts.

The dark spikes punched straight through the iron breastplates of the three archers, pinning their corpses violently against the wooden frames of the wagons.

"Monster!" a spearman screamed, thrusting his weapon at my ribs.

I caught the wooden shaft with my bare left hand. My Initiate-Tier Iron Body absorbed the kinetic shock. I yanked the spear forward, pulling the guard off balance, and drove my Abyssal blade through his stomach.

In less than two minutes, the skirmish was over. Twenty elite Voss guards lay slaughtered in the frozen mud. Dark blood mixed with the slush, steaming in the cold night air.

Silence fell over Oakhaven.

Dozens of starving villagers peeked out from behind shattered doors and ruined barricades. Their hollow eyes darted from the butchered Voss soldiers to me, terrified and uncertain.

I flicked the blood from my blade and walked toward the three massive supply wagons parked in the center of the square. I raised my sword and smashed the heavy iron padlocks holding the doors shut.

Hundreds of thick burlap sacks spilled out. Wheat, salted pork, and clean salt poured onto the wooden planks. Food that had been stolen directly from the mouths of these peasants.

"Take what you need," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet square. "House Voss will not collect taxes here tonight."

For a moment, no one moved. Then, the elderly farmer who had been whipped by the sergeant crawled forward through the mud. He clutched a sack of grain to his chest with trembling, bruised hands. Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face.

"Bless you," Elder Jacob wept, pressing his forehead into the freezing slush. "Bless you, Lord Cassian. Bless the Queens."

The dam broke. Starving commoners flooded the square, weeping and falling to their knees in gratitude as they gathered food to feed their dying children.

I sheathed my sword and turned to Seraphina.

She stood amidst the corpses, her chest heaving, her golden blonde hair plastered to her cheeks with sweat.

The adrenaline of her first true combat engagement since her paralysis was radiating from her body in waves of golden heat.

"Inside," I told her, pointing to the empty miller’s cottage adjacent to the square. "Now."

Seraphina didn’t argue.

She followed me into the dark, cramped back room of the cottage.

Isolde stepped into the doorway behind us, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms crossed, her shadow mana flaring to secure the perimeter.

She smirked, her violet eyes tracking our movements with deep, possessive approval.

I pushed the cottage door shut and turned to Seraphina.

"Sit down," I ordered, gesturing to a wooden stool. "I need to check your legs. That drop from the window was fifteen feet. If you tore the regenerating nerve clusters - "

I didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Seraphina grabbed the lapels of my coat and shoved me hard against the wooden wall of the cottage. Her golden eyes were blown wide, burning with a feral, sweet mix of combat adrenaline and raw lust.

"My legs didn’t fail," Seraphina breathed, pressing her body flush against mine. "I killed them, Cassian. I stood on my own feet and I killed them."

"You did," I agreed, my hands dropping to her waist.

Seraphina let out a needy, breathless whimper and smashed her lips against mine.

The kiss was desperate and bruised.

She tasted like copper, rain, and pure heat.

She hiked up her leather breeches and boldly straddled my right thigh, pressing her aching center directly against the thick muscle of my leg.

She ground down hard, letting out a sharp gasp into my mouth.

I didn’t hesitate.

I unlaced the front of her leather trousers and slipped my hand inside her linen undergarments.

She was completely drenched, her core slick and burning hot with liquid arousal.

The moment my rough, calloused fingers brushed against her swollen clit, her back arched violently.

"Cassian... please..." Seraphina begged, her nails digging deep into the fabric of my coat.

I worked two fingers inside her tight, wet depths, using my thumb to relentlessly rub her sensitive center.

The friction of my fingers and the solid pressure of my thigh beneath her drove her straight over the edge.

I circulated a warm pulse of Abyssal mana into her pelvis, melting away the last microscopic fragments of tension in her muscles.

Seraphina threw her head back, exposing her pale throat. A muffled, high-pitched cry tore from her lips as her inner walls clamped down crushingly around my fingers. Her body shuddered in a violent, prolonged climax, her golden aura flaring beautifully in the dim room.

She collapsed against my chest, her forehead resting heavily against my collarbone, panting to catch her breath.

"Mine," she whispered fiercely, her arms locked around my neck. "You are mine, Cassian."

"I know," I replied, gently smoothing her golden blonde hair down her back.

From the doorway, Isolde let out a soft, satisfied hum. "You both look a mess," she teased, though her voice was thick with shared heat.

A translucent blue window suddenly flared in my vision, illuminating the dark cottage room.

[Wife Investment System: Investment Logged]

Target: Seraphina Aldric & Isolde Draven

Action: Tactical Liberation, Combat Protection, and Post-Battle Intimate Stabilization.

Grade: A

Reward Granted: ’Warlord’s Intimidation Aura’ (Passive Skill) & 1,500 System Points.

Current Balance: 11,000 System Points

I dismissed the blue screen. The numbers were solid. We had the food, we had the village’s loyalty, and we had the resources to fund the next phase of our counter-attack.

"Cassian," Isolde said suddenly. The playful heat in her voice vanished, replaced instantly by cold, lethal focus. Her eyes snapped toward the shattered window of the cottage.

"What is it?" I asked, gently lifting Seraphina off my thigh and drawing my sword.

"Listen," Isolde commanded, pointing toward the northern ridge.

I strained my ears over the sound of the weeping villagers outside. Through the freezing wind, I heard the rapid, frantic pounding of heavy iron horseshoes against the frozen gravel. It was moving fast, climbing straight up the mountain pass away from the village.

One of the Voss scouts had survived the slaughter in the square. He had stolen a Vanguard warhorse during the chaos.

"He’s heading for the upper siege camp," Seraphina stated, her golden eyes narrowing as she quickly laced her trousers back up and drew her blade.

"He’s warning Lord Tristan," I said grimly, my grip tightening on the hilt of my sword. Our element of surprise was gone. Tristan Voss was about to know exactly what had happened to his supply depot.