I lay awake in Catherine's arms. Pictures of what had happened before appeared in my mind. These pictures and the current situation in front of me showed that I was sleeping with my teacher! In other words, I had just raped my teacher. This conclusion shocked me, but it is an undeniable fact.
I moved my body and became a real man. My lower body slowly withdrew from Catherine's lower body. Some other red and white fluids also came out together. I was Catherine's first man.
In the presence of Catherine's ethereal countenance, an overwhelming desire welled within me, urging a gentle kiss. Yet, apprehension gripped me, for fear of disturbing her serene repose and the subsequent conundrum of explaining my impulsive act. As Catherine stirred from her slumber, her demeanor betrayed a calm demeanor, belying the significance of the night's events. However, her gaze held a contemplative edge, as though poised on the brink of a momentous decision. Engulfed in her gaze, my thoughts swirled, grappling with the abrupt juncture and the intricacies of our relationship.
Within the clarity of her eyes, a myriad of unspoken words lingered, confounding me. Should I weep, supplicating for absolution? Or feign nonchalance, trivializing the nocturnal incident? In a realm where romantic entanglements were commonplace, should I confront it candidly, exposing my feelings unabashedly? This, I realized, was no simple choice.
Perhaps, adopting a wait-and-see approach was an option. Yet, this passive stance seemed ill-advised, fraught with the potential to exacerbate the complexity of emotions. The silence before me metamorphosed into an agonizing crossroads.
Chaos ensued within my thoughts, as inner conflicts intensified. Perhaps, the path of honesty was the optimal course—laying bare my sentiments, transparent and unvarnished. However, doubts lingered, questioning whether such candor would be met with reciprocal understanding. Skepticism lingered like a phantom.
Amidst this crucible of decisions, my heartbeat quickened, a relentless cadence heralding an imminent verdict. Drawing a deep breath, I resolved to confront my true feelings, to embrace everything unreservedly. In the embrace of her beauty and the tumult within my heart, concealment seemed an affront to my burgeoning affection.
With resolve crystallizing, I prepared to shatter the pervasive silence and fulfill the role befitting a man.
"Sorry, just now..."
"Don't say anything," Catherine interjected, her finger poised on my lips, quelling the words poised for release.
"Nothing happened tonight," she asserted, extricating her hand, an effort that perturbed her wounded frame. I hastily lent support, enveloping her in a gentle embrace.
"No! Something did happen!" I exclaimed fervently, seizing Catherine's hand, clasping it against my chest. "I love you, Catherine!"
For the first time, these three words tumbled forth, directed at a woman. The enchanting figure in my arms quivered, pivoting to face me. Her eyes reflected surprise, entwined with a hint of bewilderment.
"Since the day I encountered you in that maple grove, I have been ensnared by you. Your smile, your words—I have not forgotten," I confessed, unraveling the submerged emotions that had long dwelled within.
"But I am your teacher," Catherine blushed, her countenance a blend of awkwardness and a subtle pleasure.
"But you were not when we first met!" I clarified.
"David, have you considered the implications? You are a Dragon Warrior, a symbol revered by the Empire," Catherine extended her delicate hand, cradling my face with a grave countenance. "Remember, should our relationship be uncovered, it might cast shadows on your reputation, your future..."
"I care not for the opinions of others," I declared, gripping Catherine's hand, locking eyes with unwavering determination. "My affection for you transcends external judgments. I love you, Catherine!" My voice resonated with conviction and sincerity. With these declarations, I instinctively pressed a fervent kiss upon the back of her soft hand, an expressive testament to the fervor within.
"Others may not share your sentiment. They may brand our connection as scandalous, clamoring for retribution," Catherine shook her head gently, a hint of helplessness in her eyes, as though intimately acquainted with the callousness and indifference of the world.
"Traditions are antiquated chains, forged by mundane rulers to deceive the masses. We are free entities. Should anyone dare point accusatory fingers, I shall sever them," I proclaimed, quoting a rebellious sentiment that echoed within me.
"Then you shall find yourself quite occupied, for many will voice such concerns," Catherine teased, a smile playing on her lips—a mockery that hinted at the price of resisting societal norms.
"One by one, or two by two, I shall sever them all," I affirmed resolutely, as if pledging a solemn oath. My eyes shimmered with determination, an unwavering commitment to shield the genuine and profound emotions that bound us together.
"You truly are like a child. Pursuing such a course might cast you into the realm of demons," Catherine gently caressed my face, shaking her head. Her tone conveyed both concern and a teasing undertone, as though forewarning me of the merciless nature of the real world.
"I care not for that. All I know is that my feelings for you are genuine. I am serious about you," I articulated the depths of my heart openly, impervious to external censure and objection. In that moment, my focus remained fixed on the authentic and profound connection we shared, a willingness to sacrifice everything for its preservation.
I clasped Catherine tightly, my voice a soft murmur in her ear, "Teacher, I love you. I'll bring happiness to your life."
Promises uttered with ease often face slim chances of fulfillment. Yet, in the face of awareness that a promise might elude realization, individuals still choose to make such pledges. For it is in these commitments that one finds the slender belief sustaining their existence.
This time, Catherine remained silent, enveloping me in her embrace. I sensed the tension in her muscles gradually dissipate as I gently laid her on the bed. A flush adorned Catherine's face, akin to the blush of dawn. She averted her gaze, tightly closing her eyes, a gesture of reluctance to meet my gaze.
The power of the Dragon Warrior, the membranous wings mirroring a dragon's form, retracted as I lowered my head. My lips met Catherine's, initiating a gentle, fragrant kiss. Initially resistant, Catherine's clenched teeth yielded to the soft intrusion of my tongue. Our legs entwined, bodies embraced, and my chest pressed against Catherine's, basking in the warmth and suppleness of her form.
In the midst of our fervent kiss, Catherine gradually opened her eyes, a glimmering radiance illuminating their tender depths. Her gaze bore a resemblance to my mother's affectionate looks and Erin's shy glances from our dating days.
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The dormant desire within me, reignited by Catherine's soft and sweet lips, surfaced once more.
An eighteen-year-old, naive and romantic, believed himself invincible against the world's adversities. The path of growth, however, was a thorny one. Wisdom and maturity often emerged from countless tribulations, yet the price paid was the irreparable regrets that haunted a lifetime.
I had thought that by concealing my identity as the Dragon Warrior, the revelation would be delayed. Yet, reality defied my expectations. Upon the awakening of my Dragon Core and transformation into the Dragon Warrior, discerning individuals sensed my existence.
In Windholm city, seven towering buildings held prominence—Dawn Tower, Sun Tower, Sunset Tower, and Starry Sky Tower representing the four major academies; the Dragon Warrior Memorial Tower, the Observatory Tower housing High Priest Miriam, and the Torch Tower used for ceremonies.
Within Agni Academy's Dawn Tower, my foster father Aaron stood, eyes fixed on the night sky. Regarded as the guardian of the starry sky, Aaron's profound insight into the cosmos set him apart in the academy. Tonight, his gaze focused on a specific star system linked to the legendary power of the Dark Dragon.
A peculiar light rippled through the star system. Though faint, the luminous ripples were discernible. Aaron keenly discerned the source—the star associated with the nascent power of the Dark Dragon. Bathed in a dark golden light, the star emitted a steady radiance, akin to a newborn's breath.
"It has finally come to be," Aaron whispered, a blend of nervousness and anticipation etched on his face. His voice exuded excitement, his eyes fixed on the newborn star. Irregular facial hair adorned his countenance, dancing with each utterance, a manifestation of inner exhilaration. The room, filled with a mysterious ambiance, pulsated with an indescribable energy—the awakening of the Dragon Warrior's power.
"David Williams, I knew you would inherit the Dragon Core of the Dark Dragon," Aaron declared, each word deliberate, his gaze resolute. In this moment, he believed a legend was set in motion, with me as David Williams destined to become its master.
"Someday, you will forge a myth—the myth of the Dragon Warrior, a new legend." His voice reverberated through the tower, a pledge to the future. In the hushed night, the legacy of the Dark Dragon found continuity in me, heralding the advent of a new myth.
Not far from Dawn Tower, on the Observatory Tower, High Priest Miriam, with an impassive expression, "observed" a sparkling crystal ball. Beside her stood a ten-year-old girl. Miriam, though blind, possessed unique talents. In her pursuit of becoming a starseer master, she willingly sacrificed her physical eyes, relying on her inner vision to perceive the world. Deprived of her physical sight, she glimpsed the movements of constellations and foresaw future changes.
Miriam, Aaron, and Master Elijah, the world traveler, held esteemed positions as the three great priests of the Empire. Each excelled in their respective domains, jointly safeguarding the Empire's peace and prosperity.
Miriam, despite lacking conventional beauty, emanates a delicate aura draped in the vestments of an aged nun. A few crow's feet, etched at the corners of her eyes, hint at the passage of nearly ninety years of celibacy. Yet, at this moment, the scenes unfolding within the crystal ball defy her vows, revealing the intimate liaison between Catherine, my teacher, and myself. For Miriam, who long severed ties with earthly desires, such fervent displays are akin to observing two flies mating. However, the young girl by her side, Elizabeth, reacts differently, her ears reddening with embarrassment.
Elizabeth, a mere fourteen, is the designated successor to the next High Priestess. Possessing delicate features, she wears an expression of confusion and intrigue at the unexpected revelation.
"Do you know, Elizabeth, for some reason, I have a feeling that this person will have a significant impact on the future of the empire!"
Perplexed, Elizabeth responds, "Teacher, he is the Dragon Warrior, the guardian of the empire. Of course, he will have an impact."
Miriam shakes her head, her gaze piercing the veil of time. "It's not like that, Elizabeth. He is different from others!"
"Different?" Elizabeth queries, her eyes reflecting doubt.
"You should be cautious about this person in the future. I have a feeling that he will have a detrimental influence on you. Be mindful of him, and try to avoid any entanglement with him in the future." Miriam's words carry both warning and concern, a desperate attempt to shield her student from an ominous fate foretold by the stars.
A master astrologer speaks with a weighty emphasis, one of the most distinguished in the empire. She can foresee the future but remains powerless to alter its course. Though aware of the impending influence of a Dragon Warrior on her student, she can only hope to sound a warning. The future awaits both, veiled in irreversible destinies, epitomizing the profound helplessness inherent in astrology.
Elizabeth, seemingly unmoved, fails to grasp the gravity of her teacher's words. In her scrutiny of the crystal ball's visions, questions arise. What is happening between them? Is he mistreating her? The man appears callous, while the woman exhibits a mix of joy and pain. The enigma deepens.
In another opulent chamber within the imperial palace, the symphony of a woman's impassioned moans resonates continually.
"Oh, Your Majesty... your courage is unparalleled... this servant is almost brought to her knees by your prowess... oh..."
The voice, alluring and captivating, carries a sweetness that raises the hairs on one's skin.
"Smack!"
A man, an embodiment of steel, emerges from the bed, expressionless, and directs his gaze towards the star-studded firmament outside the window. His eyes, profound and indifferent, seemingly unravel the mysteries of the cosmos.
His features, thin yet handsome, convey meticulous artistry. Though appearing in his twenties, his half-closed eyes radiate an aura of regality, bearing the countenance of the world's most powerful figure—the Dragon Warrior with three golden dragons, Emperor of the Wind Empire, Alexander Edward George.
Alexander, the supreme sovereign, contemplates the starry expanse, torn between the trappings of power and the loneliness inherent in mastery. Does power breed isolation, or has he willingly embraced solitude to lord over power? In him, one witnesses the majesty of a king intertwined with the solitude of an ordinary soul.
"Your Majesty, what ails you?" A jade arm drapes over his shoulder, revealing a face both remarkably beautiful and oddly disconcerting.
The term "extremely beautiful" serves to describe his exquisite handsomeness, rivaling the three great beauties of the capital. Yet, "extremely disconcerting" arises from the discrepancy between his voice, unmistakably male, and his outwardly feminine appearance. This contrast creates a surreal tableau, compelling onlookers to cast furtive glances.
His features exude delicacy, the arch of his eyebrows suggesting intricacy. Long eyelashes lend depth to his gaze, radiating a mystique. Fair, porcelain-like skin accentuates the slight upward curve of his lips.
His unconventional hairstyle, cascading over his shoulders, signifies a nonconformist spirit. Draped in resplendent robes, exuding an air of nobility, he presents a seamless blend of grace and refinement.
Yet, when he speaks, a deep, commanding voice shatters the illusion. This is Duke Cassandra, the emperor's first minister, a man who, more than resembling a woman, transcends the very essence of femininity.
The emperor turns, sighing, "I sense the awakening of the Dark Dragon's power within Kees's son!"
"What's there to worry about? Another Dragon Warrior would be advantageous for the empire, wouldn't it?" The beauty on the bed laughs, her figure enchanting as a blooming flower.
"While that's true, I always harbor an indescribable taste in my heart." Emperor Alexander, temples massaged, voices a disquiet, an inexplicable foreboding that leaves him unsettled.
"Feng, henceforth, monitor the Dark Dragon! Report any anomalies to me!" The emperor commands, determination etched in his eyes.
"Understood, Your Majesty!" A shadow flits outside the window, disappearing into the night sky. This is Feng, the emperor's trusted envoy tasked with scrutinizing the movements of the Dark Dragon.
"Come, my beauty!" The emperor turns back, embracing the beauty on the bed, sharing a lingering kiss. In this intimate moment, he seeks solace, momentarily casting aside the weight of empire for the tenderness and joy before him.
In the recesses of the palace, Princess Amelia rouses from her slumber, a bearer of the Dragon Core inherited from the world's most potent Golden Dragon. She stands as a premier young talent in Wind City, a paragon of beauty unmatched even within the palace.
As she emerges from the realm of dreams, her golden hair cascades like a luminous veil down her shoulders, stirred gently by the moonlit breeze. A sacred glow graces her skin as moonbeams filter through the curtains, bestowing her with an enchanting radiance. With a grace befitting royalty, she elevates from the bed, each movement casting undulating waves across her elegantly slender form.
Her demeanor marries Catherine's allure, Erin's purity, and the inherent nobility of the royal lineage. A bewitching princess, akin to a blossoming flower, commands the gaze of all within the palace, her beauty unparalleled even amidst regal surroundings.
Envious and admiring, the attending maids witness Princess Amelia's every move, captivated by both envy and admiration. The princess, akin to a pearl in the moonlit palace, radiates the brilliance of nobility and beauty, leaving an indelible imprint on those who behold her.
Princess Amelia unlatches the casement, inhaling the crisp night air.
"What's amiss, sister? Dawn is yet to break."
The voice belongs to her younger sister, Princess Hannah, a mere nine years old, who prefers to sleep in her sister's company.
"Return to your slumber. I have matters to attend to." Amelia soothes her sister, her gaze fixated on the sky beyond the window, a pensive expression upon her face. "David, the power of the Dark Dragon within you has finally awakened!"
In the expansive royal park, children engage in play, laughter echoing through the air. Eight-year-old Amelia sets her sights on a green gemstone held by Gideon, the heir to the Jade Dragon's power and half a year her junior. When he denies her demand, a skirmish ensues. Despite her gender, Princess Amelia proves stronger than boys several years her senior.
Victorious, she claims the stone, leaving Gideon in tears on the sidelines.
"I thought it was something valuable, but it's merely this trinket." Disdain etches Amelia's features as she tosses the stone into a nearby river.
In her youth, she was more mischievous, her approach to things more straightforward. Challenges and adventures fueled her curiosity for the novel, and the outcome of a game held more significance than any trinket. The mischievous princess reveled in her youth, her spirit unbridled.
"How can you be so domineering? Apologize to Gideon!" A voice, belonging to a boy with purple eyes, resounds from behind. Delicate in appearance, the boy stands at a similar height to Amelia.
"I am David Williams, son of the Dark Dragon Warrior Charles and the future Dark Dragon Warrior. Apologize to Gideon!" David asserts, each word measured and unwavering, his purple-eyed gaze exuding an unyielding aura.
Amelia, accustomed to wielding her princess authority, responds arrogantly. "David, who are you to speak to me like that? Beware, for I shall have Father sever your head!"
"David Williams, someday, when I grow up and become the queen, I'll kill you!"
"Someday, when I grow up, Amelia Victoria Augusta, I will marry you and make you face your most hated person every day! Haha..." The boy, one eye squinted from the grappling, laughs mischievously.
"I heard that when the Dark Dragon awakens from the darkness, it requires a virgin as a sacrifice. I wonder if this is true."
At this, Amelia's face flushes crimson.