Part 1 Epilogue: Mages and Demigods

Warm air filled the spacious room, complementing the quickly dimming atmosphere as the sun was already past the horizon. It felt stale, but the breeze coming from the freshly opened window helped alleviate that.

Ophelia's gaze was briefly locked on the shifting colors on the horizon before it went up toward the shimmering stars, her elbows on the windowsill. She sat in a large armchair, its back turned toward the entryway, hiding her underwear-clad form from the door.

Her eyes closed for a few moments as she drew in some air and then sighed. A bitter feeling swelled in her throat, **** out as Ophelia slowly dragged a finger on the windowsill's surface. The cold marble scarcely cared for her graceful hand, nor for her tired gaze.

She lifted a finger gently, pointing it outside through the open window. Mana within her flowed gently, concentrating where she wanted it, quickly forming a small sigil of magic. However, before she managed to release it, the small construct fizzled and shattered. Ophelia frowned. This was disappointing, but expected.

'Still ways to go before I'm back to normal. I should be well by Monday at most.'

Her hand lowered before she leaned forth slightly more, her chin resting on her knuckles. Immediately, she felt the heft of her breasts rest on her knees, the fabric of her bra barely enough to constrain their gigantic form. However, at least for the moment, Ophelia hardly cared, as her thoughts were aimed elsewhere.

'What a disastrous week. We were on the very edge of being branded accomplices of royal ****.' she sighed at the thought. That was the part of her mother's reasoning she could understand. Had Princess Seraphina died in conflict, the Inallel Council would've been furious. 'Not just that, but one of the Five Powers would've been mad at us. Seeing that Mother is one of the top contenders for the spot of Etnal's Freya Guilmoore, I can understand her being so upset. But... it doesn't feel fair. Had it not been for Lucas speaking with Princess Seraphina, I wouldn't have learned anything of her.'

Aveline had not been invaluable, which was typical of her, as Ophelia recalled.

'But then... Illan happened.'

Ophelia's brow furrowed. She knew her fiance - his sense of superiority against others was an annoying trait, but it wasn't wholly misplaced. He was indeed a strong Mage, nearly identical to her in terms of sheer combat intelligence and power. If the Breshnaw family had an Origin magic as Stormriders did, perhaps he'd be indeed her equal. The pride of his power was justified for that reason alone. That he boasted about it was a slightly different matter.

'Lucas is not an idiot. He must've known going against Illan was practically a **** sentence, even with a runestone. Which is why I don't understand why he'd do that regardless. There was nobody there but... Nimue...'

Ophelia's mouth tightened at the thought. Almost immediately after that, a faint sense of tightness appeared in her chest. Her Classless brother would do it for that elf... why was she feeling so strange about it?

She cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the thoughts.

'Come to think of it, Illan was supposedly up and about yesterday already, but he didn't come around... I wonder where he is.'

She knew he was a fickle person. Illan was certainly the type of man to let out his frustrations openly, so she couldn't help but wonder how he was doing, considering he didn't come back to nag.

Ophelia pushed herself away from the windowsill. As she did so, she immediately felt her boobs fall against her torso. Stealing a look at her girls, she reminded herself of Lucas again. The way he stole glances... the way his eyes lingered on them...

'Why...?'

She questioned herself, feeling her girls up. Lifting one, she watched the soft skin distend and swell in her eyes, the already huge boob seemingly even more enormous.

'They're just bags of fat. Why is everyone so... enthralled with them?'

She scoffed at the thought. Yet, as her fingers sank into her bra, she felt a pang of electricity run through her body. The mere thought that Lucas enjoyed seeing them was enough for her body to respond. She didn't understand this feeling. It was wrong, yet... for some reason, she didn't feel bothered at all.

'Yet... I want...'

She didn't finish the thought, instead squeezing. She imagined it being Lucas's rugged hand, as it had been previously. And immediately, a soft breath escaped her mouth.

Ophelia looked around. Confirming once more that she was alone, she reached to her back, finding the bra hooks. The moment she managed to undo them, she felt the material almost fly off to her knees, her bust winning the battle. Her hand immediately found its way to the side of one boob, caressing her skin gently. By the second, the silver-haired woman gently fondled both girls, feeling their heft against her fingers. As she did so, she felt her nipples slowly harden and tenderly flicked them with her fingers. The immediate feeling made her vocal cords vibrate with a soft moan.

Releasing the hold of her mammaries, she watched as the two giant orbs jiggled and wobbled before coming to rest against her torso. Her puffy areolas appeared even larger than before, and the thick nipples in their centers stood at attention, feeling almost like vibrating. They begged for more contact, promising untold pleasure should she listen.

'But... It's not the same.'

Ophelia made a somewhat displeased expression. Grasping a tit once again, she rubbed her skin, but the touch felt different from what she was after. It lacked something, a minute detail that made it all work.

'It's just... different with him.'

She couldn't explain it. She didn't understand it in the first place. Just how could Lucas of all people make this big a difference in how she felt about this act?

She stood up. Bra in hand, Ophelia marched through her room topless. She imagined Lucas sitting on her bed, watching her attentively, his amethyst eyes devouring her, tracing every curve, from the jiggle of her enormous breasts to the sway of her defined buttocks. And with every step, every beat of her heart, she felt a fire burn brighter within. It was a sinful flame, and she was aware. But for some reason, she didn't think wrongly of it. No, perhaps because of its nature, Ophelia felt her heart thump with strange excitement. She wouldn't admit it, not yet, not to herself, but she wanted more.

As she sat on her bed, the voluptuous woman threw her bra aside. Then, she scooted further onto her bed, turning to all fours briefly. Her breasts swung like pendulums, nipples rubbing tenuously against the material beneath her. The ticklish sensations made her nearly shiver, but Ophelia controlled herself just enough to reach her pillows. Lying down on them and throwing a duvet over herself, she finally breathed more heavily, as though releasing the last five minutes into the air.

A few seconds passed. Ophelia felt her heart thump like a blacksmith's hammer, pulses of pressure reverberating in her temples. Her vision was darker, both because of the encroaching night and her tiredness.

However, in spite of her state, her hands roamed her body. Tenderly tracing every curve, she felt the smooth stomach, then descended toward her legs. A finger or two marched over her nether entrance, feeling her now dampened panties and gently rubbing the material.

Slowly drifting into sleep, Ophelia let her mind wander briefly. She considered where Lucas could end up, and somewhere, silently, she hoped he wouldn't stray too far away. She was already looking forward to collecting what he owed her.

'I know exactly what to request of him.'

-Meanwhile, elsewhere in the mansion-

Ismeria's hand raised, lifting the glass of wine to her lips. Then, leaving the half-full container on a table in her room, she sighed. Her hand grasped a small piece of paper, lifting it into the nearby manalamp's light. The handwriting atop was made with finesse, but also a faint stagger, marring every letter with the tiniest of wobbly scribbles.

=We must meet. It's urgent.=

Ismeria's expression turned bitter. Egis was not the type to contact her like this. No, rather, he wasn't the type to maintain any contact in the first place. The device he'd given her was only to be used in case of emergencies on her side. Then why was he requesting her presence without giving a sound reason?

'...whichever the case, this will be a good opportunity to assess the situation. The setback we suffered is massive. Months of planning gone to waste, because of one ill-minded child...'

Her fists clenched.

'Lucas, you fool. Of all the times you could've thought to disobey, you had to do so in such a pivotal moment... casting you away is candidly too good a punishment.'

She turned on her heels, facing the door leading into the room. Next to the entryway, the familiar brown-haired maid stood, silent and nigh unmoving. Miri's gaze was aimed at the floor, seemingly sensing Ismeria's emotions, her hands in a firm lock in front of her thighs.

Ismeria's chest deflated. She furrowed her brows briefly before speaking, "That is all. You may leave for today, Miri."

The maid gently lowered her head and, without a word spoken, turned around. Within seconds, the head of the Stormrider family was left alone, her eyes once again escaping to the window and the boundless sky beyond. That, however, did not last long.

Ismeria's gaze focused on the corner of her room. The well-illuminated walls appeared to shift in place, just before the woman noticed that the distortion was placed a bit away from the surface.

Her heart beat faster. She was not expecting him to come. A bead of cold sweat rolled down her spine as she tensed up.

The distortion in space spread quickly, like a crack in glass. Within seconds, it marred a tall, vaguely humanoid silhouette. Then, as it formed, it moved, slowly coming into perfect view.

A heavy boot stepped onto the floor. The sheer weight with which it pressed made the wooden panels creak ominously, amplified as the other followed. The thick clothing on the man's legs looked both exquisite and warm, fit for the freezing reaches of northern Riverut rather than the lukewarm western Etnal. The silk that made a thick shirt on his wide torso gleamed against the manalamp's light, more so than any dress Ismeria possessed. On the man's strong, broad arms rested a thick white fur, its reaches extending behind him like a cloak, making his two-meter posture look even more imposing. The man's entire being exuded pressure without him even attempting to either direct or conceal it, one that made Ismeria think twice about her eyes lingering on the man's square head.

"Ismeria," his thick, bass voice vibrated the air with untold ****.

His one word was enough for the woman's knees to buckle. Her hair flowed, reaching the ground as she dropped to one knee. Her breathing hitched, replaced by quick, shallow intakes.

She knew this man very well. And she knew he did not take kindly to disrespect.

"Master Rizgol," she said, her voice barely stable.

The huge man squinted, the dark red of his eyes dimming to nigh black as he watched the voluptuous woman. Then, his plump lips curved in the tiniest of smirks.

"I believe you're aware of the reason for my visit."

Ismeria's heart skipped a beat. "I--"

"Spare the excuses," Rizgol cut her off. "Stand up."

Ismeria felt her muscles tremble under her pale skin. However, almost against her will, she rose. Hesitantly, her gaze lifted partly, looking at Rizgol's big hands, each outfitted with several golden rings. Similar-looking bracelets rang as the fair-skinned man lifted a hand and ran it through his thick, black hair. Petals of snow dropped from between the short strands, landing on the floor and melting immediately. The god stepped closer, his every move speaking of the power nearly radiating from his skin.

"At ease, Ismeria. I'm not here to punish you."

The blue-eyed woman shivered marginally, just barely following Rizgol with her gaze. The massive man walked by her unbothered and, without so much as a glance at her, got hold of the half-finished glass of wine. Stepping back a few steps, he gazed outside.

"I know you did all in your power to handle things. The complication that happened was outside of your ability. None of us expected that one of the Primordial dragons would make a move."

"P-Primordial dragons?"

Ismeria's mouth moved before her mind caught up to stop it. She could not believe what she was hearing.

'Primordial dragons are the first generation of dragons. They have not interfered in over a millennium. If one of them stepped in, our plan was as good as nonexistent. Even Master Rizgol, God of Magic as he is, would think twice before going against one of them head-on.' she thought, scanning the massive man. However, his expression did nothing to tell her what he thought, his lips parting as he took a sip of the wine.

"Indeed," he nodded solemnly. "Thines spoke of it with confidence. She was not certain of its identity, but she assured us it was a homunculus of an aged dragon. However, before she managed to confirm and kill it, it went into hiding again."

"...should I hunt that homunculus down?"

For the first time, an emotion crossed Rizgol's face. And the way he looked at Ismeria was a mix of surprise and chortling amusement. His heavy voice reverberated throughout Ismeria's chest with the crushing weight of a whole building.

"You grew stronger than other humans, and you think yourself equal to a one of them. Arrogance truly is a human thing," he mused aloud, eyeing the woman for but a second. "You will do no such thing, Ismeria. Your task is to find that homunculus and contact me immediately when you do."

Ismeria's head lowered in a silent affirmation. However, bitterness bit her throat at the thought. She was strong, almost unimaginably so, and she was aware of that.

'Just what kind of monsters are homunculi? Master only spoke scraps about them before... and knowledge like this is impossible to find out without rousing suspicion.'

Rizgol sighed, turning away.

"I understand you must feel like I'm looking down on you. That's not the case, Ismeria," he said, his voice just a tinge gentler. "You've been my Herald most of your life, and I know you are strong by human standards. However, that homunculus is an unknown variable. If it were one of the lower dragons, your victory would be almost certain. But if it really is made of a primordial dragon, it's a different matter entirely. Ulmach's would already be too powerful for you. And best not ponder if it were made of Hreldan's or Nefrelith's flesh. You've been a good Herald, I would rather you lived and continued doing what you were."

"...I understand, Master."

"Speaking of," Rizgol nodded, putting the empty glass down on the windowsill. "Thines spoke of her new Herald. She wished for you to take him under your care. She mentioned he's closely related to you."

Ismeria's expression turned to shock. Her brows furrowed as she scanned Rizgol's posture.

"...who?"

-???-

Rizgol stepped forth, every step heavy like a boulder crashing down a mountain. The long fur on his shoulders sagged, the thick strands nigh-still in the windless corridor. The massive, thick walls made of gray stone were lit up by many torches, casting an orange light that made the high ceiling look almost completely black. The dark carpet under his feet muffled his moves, but the pressure of every step was nonetheless palpable. Numerous armors, standing by each wall as though they had bodies within, rattled every time his boot met the ground.

A hand ruffled through his hair, removing any snow petals that littered it. The windowless hallway provided protection from the raging blizzard, but it did not give him any view of its frozen beauty. But that was why he moved stably forward.

At the end of the corridor, the massive man opened a correspondingly imposing door. The two wings of the construct swung open slowly, showing him a large room.

It was a meeting room, with a huge table in the middle of its fifteen-by-fifteen-meter space, no less than twenty chairs vacant by its sides. In the middle of the wall to his right, a huge fireplace was installed, wood's cracking serving as a hearable proof of it being used. From the high ceiling hung several chandeliers, each outfitted with thousands of glittering gems in all colors. Pillars supporting the space were adorned with thick banners, each with a different pattern carefully sewn on it, from the national symbols of mortal countries to more abstract, albeit no less exquisite designs.

Huge windows were installed opposite the door, showing the plethora of swirling snow petals that blocked the view further than a few meters. It was bound to be one of the fiercer snowstorms of the current decade, or so Rizgol thought.

However, his ponderings were cut short as he looked leftward, noticing the only other person in the room.

Thines sat leisurely, a hand on the table as she gently circled a small plum. The low cut of her dress allowed a plentiful view of the dark-skinned woman's deep cleavage, but just as captivating were her golden eyes, focused entirely on Rizgol.

"Quite early for you to be back," she commented, voice beguiling as always. The length of her black hair shimmered as her position shifted, the reflections from the distant fire sparkling as though entire galaxies lit up on every strand.

Rizgol scarcely reacted, instead stepping to a chair he called his and sitting down. The rattling of his bracelets sounded as he joined his hands on the table.

"I thought I would see Vitton here. Were you not out to gather your other Heralds?"

Thines rolled her eyes playfully. Lifting the plum, she pushed a nail against it, piercing the skin.

"My influence is still limited," she responded. "Have you found that homunculus?"

"My Herald will take care of that," he said, no real emotion behind his words. "And she will honor your request."

"That's good. Finding a good Herald is quite difficult these days," Thines spoke, her fingers dexterously skinning the fruit she held.

"Speaking of, you said something about a second one. But as I went around, I felt nothing. The Record of Causality is almost untouched."

Thines's brow raised. "Is that so? That's peculiar. I certainly felt an interference."

Her hand raised, quickly slipping the peeled fruit between her full lips. Munching it for a few seconds, she suddenly spat the seed out, the little projectile flying across the room and straight into the fireplace. Then, she grabbed another from a bowl nearby and began the procedure again.

"Has Erlas spoken much about the situation?"

Thines shrugged. "There were no major movements from dragons other than our incident. The other targets were eliminated almost perfectly, too. As things stand, Inallel's fall has begun. Liveren's **** would've hastened it considerably, but it won't last another two generations."

Rizgol sighed. Grabbing a nearby cup and a bottle of wine, he poured himself some scarlet fluid. Whilst sipping, he nodded.

"That's good. The fewer chimeras and homunculi we need to deal with, the better our chances are."

Thines hummed. "It is quite boring, though. Makes me believe they are preparing something."

"A homunculi army?"

"Perchance. Seeing that an ancient dragon's homunculus appeared, I cannot help but ponder that."

Rizgol shook his head. "Improbable. If they made an army, where were the others? There were no signs of another homunculi in any other place."

"Then, what else?"

"...I do not know. All I know is, it's too peculiar to be a new army. It's been too short a time yet."

Thines didn't answer for several long seconds. Her golden eyes scanned the huge man, meeting his red orbs before she sighed, seemingly agreeing.

"Speaking of peculiar, I had a question."

"?" Rizgol's brow raised.

"That seat," Thines pointed at one of the chairs. "Has it always been empty?"

The huge man frowned, not fully understanding the nature of the question. Eyeing the small furniture, he saw that it had no true marks of having been used, but that wasn't usual - this castle was attended mostly by himself alone, and he was not the kind to use multiple at once.

"What do you mean, Thines?"

The voluptuous woman made an uncertain expression. Something about how her eyes scanned the seat told Rizgol that it was in some way significant, but he could not decipher the apparent importance.

"I'm not certain. It just feels... odd."

Rizgol emptied his cup and placed it down.

"Mayhaps you are thinking too hard because of that homunculus. Rest a while, Thines, before you go away."

"...yes, I shall do so."

Rizgol scarcely registered the momentary hesitance in her voice. Instead, he left the room, leaving her alone with her plums and thoughts.

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[A/N: Thank you for reading so far!]

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