NTR SAGAS - Chapter 121: Want To Dance?

Olivia’s threat did nothing to change the calm expression of the man.

With a slight shrug of his broad shoulders, the man’s words were like a whisper in the foreboding silence, “I usually avoid crossing blades with a lady, but if you’re inviting me to dance, who am I to decline?” His black eyes shone with mirth and mischief.

Olivia couldn’t suppress a disdainful scoff, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. “Very well,” she replied, a cold glint in her blue eyes. “Draw your weapon.”

Amusement danced in the man’s eyes as he raised a slender finger, wagging it gently at her. “But my dear, why would I need a weapon when I’m going to claim yours?”

His audacious words hung heavily in the air, amplifying the tension that thrummed between them. Olivia’s face hardened into an icy mask, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “Your arrogance will be your undoing,” she retorted frostily, her voice echoing ominously through the vast hall.

With that, Olivia lunged forward, her nimble feet closing the distance between them in mere heartbeats. Her sword, gleaming with a deadly light, arced through the air with a swift, lethal grace, aimed straight at his exposed neck. The man, still disarmingly composed, watched her advance with a smile which made Olivia wonder why he was still standing like a fool.

Just as her sword was about to make contact, the man moved with startling speed and elegance.

He gracefully side-stepped her attack, catching her sword with his bare hand. In one smooth motion, he twisted the weapon out of her grasp, sending it spinning into the air, before it neatly landed in his own hand. Olivia stumbled backwards from the force, landing a good distance away. The sudden turn of events left her both shocked and disoriented.

Even more astonishing, though, was the sound of metal scraping against the stone floor. Olivia’s heart hammered in her chest as she saw the pieces of her armor scattered around her, sliced into neat segments, as though by an invisible blade. It was as if her armor was sliced through by a hot knife through butter. She looked down at herself, her eyes wide and disbelieving, her breath hitching in her throat. Only her white shirt and pants were on her. Not even a piece of her armour remained.

Olivia felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at the man. His effortless display of strength and speed had stunned her into silence. A Sword Sage, she thought to herself, her mind spinning. That’s the only explanation. The rumors of such individuals were rare, but their presence was legendary – known for their absolute control over the sword and the speed that was faster than thought itself.

Olivia felt only Sage Realm experts could move at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. Her mother was the best Sword Sage she knew and still she couldn’t tell if this man was faster than even her mother.

With a heavy thump, she pulled her gaze away from the fallen armor, turning to meet the stranger’s eyes. Her sword was now in his possession, glinting ominously under the dim lights of the hall. A triumphant smile played on his lips as he nonchalantly twirled the sword in his hand, his eyes still filled with the same confidence.

“I did mention that your sword would be mine, didn’t I?” he teased, a playful smirk etched on his face. His gaze was gentle, yet there was a firmness in his voice that commanded attention, “Perhaps it’s best if we end this little dance here, for your own sake,” he added, his tone taking on a more serious note, despite the smile still lingering on his lips.

Despite the fear creeping into her heart, Olivia’s pride as a warrior and the daughter of the Queen of this kingdom refused to let her back down so easily. With a defiant look in her eyes, she tapped her spatial ring and produced another sword, its edge gleaming in the dim light of the labyrinth.

“You do not get to dictate when I should stop,” she declared, her voice echoing through the stone hall. Her resolve was unmistakable, her posture poised for another attack.

As she once again charged towards him, he sighed lightly and shook his head at her defiance, a subtle hint of amusement playing on his features. “You certainly have a tenacious spirit…just like someone I remember,” he conceded, tightening his grip on the sword.

The man deftly parried Olivia’s attack, his movements fluid and effortless as he pushed her away once again. Olivia staggered back a few steps before quickly regaining her balance. She clenched her teeth, feeling the sting of frustration. However, relief also washed over her as she felt the weight of the sword still in her hand. He hadn’t managed to disarm her this time.

However, her momentary relief was abruptly replaced with sheer horror as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the hall. She looked down just in time to see her spatial ring breaking apart and falling to the ground, its shattered pieces scattering like tiny diamonds.

But that was not what bothered her the most. It was the fact that she saw her attire tearing apart as if sliced by invisible blades. Her white shirt and pants fell in tatters to the ground, leaving her clad in nothing but her white underwear. Her full, round bosom and slender waist, now covered only by a lacy bra, and her long, shapely legs, hugged by lace panties, were exposed to the man’s gaze.

Her face instantly flushed a deep red, the intense humiliation making her blood boil. She hastily crossed an arm over her chest, trying to shield herself from the man’s gaze, and her free hand tightly clutched her sword, its tip pointing towards him.

“Y…You pervert!” she spat out, her voice trembling with anger. “Have you no basic etiquette of sword fighting?”

Her indignation rang out clear and loud, her eyes flashing dangerously. She was a princess, before being a warrior and this was the first time she had been so badly humiliated like this.

The man merely tilted his head, his lips curling into an amused smile at her fiery reaction.

He looked at her without any shame, taking in her flushed face, heaving sweaty bosom, and the fierce determination in her eyes.

“Young lady, sword fighting is a ruthless business,” he replied, his tone mellow and slightly teasing. “It doesn’t discriminate between clothes and flesh. And besides,” he continued, his black eyes twinkling with amusement, “I thought it was the common etiquette in such situations to admit defeat, not blame the victor for the consequences of the battle.”

Olivia clenched her jaw hearing his words and only felt even more anger because whether she liked to admit or not, there was a hint of truth in his words. But she didn’t want to admit that to him.

Raising the sword he had claimed from her, he added, “You should have listened to my warning. So…you still want to continue the dance or are you going to admit defeat?”