A crimson flash announces the arrival of Sasha and her familiar, Dorje, abruptly cutting short the private conversation between Clotilde and Daphne, which has been dragging on endlessly. The curiosity about their discussion is gnawing at , but prying would be pointless—if it were sothing I needed to know, they would have involved , considering I was there during Vespera’s ambush.
Sasha’s outfit is the most daring and provocative thing I’ve seen her wear yet. A dress so short it barely covers her, exposing the lower curve of her buttocks, with a thin red string peeking through—her panties, I assu—and a neckline so deep it might as well be just a bra. To top it all off, she wears a pair of towering stiletto heels. All in red, her unmistakable signature color. A stark contrast to Daphne’s refinent and elegance—they might as well belong to different worlds.
Dorje Valakys, standing next to her, remains completely indifferent to this erotic spectacle—unlike , who struggles to avoid staring at her like a lunatic. Having likely lived as a monk until his death, he must have honed exceptional self-control or, worse yet, completely lost any sexual attraction to that sadistic devil. Gerard’s words about the humiliations Sasha inflicts on Dorje—urinating on him and electrocuting him with brutal shocks after every defeat—still haunt . With all that in mind, it wouldn’t be surprising if the poor guy felt nothing but hatred for her. A hatred he can only show through indifference, lest he face even worse consequences.
«Sasha, you’re five minutes early!» Clotilde thunders, dissolving the barrier the mont her sister appears. «Don’t ever do it again, or this will be the last ti I waste my ti on your pathetic familiar!»
«Oh, you’re so picky!» Sasha retorts, spreading her arms in feigned disappointnt. «I’m not even the last to arrive,» she adds, glancing around and noticing Levreshka’s absence.
«She had better arrive on ti, or—»
Clotilde’s ominous words are abruptly interrupted by the creaking of the heavy tal door—the only exit in the arena—swinging open. As usual, Gerard, reduced to a bridled quadruped, enters alongside Levreshka, clad in her usual loli succubus cosplay. She’s perched on his back, whipping him to make him move faster, just like a jockey urging on a horse.
«Move it, you idiot! You’re making late!»
If she weren’t treating him like a horse, they probably would have arrived sooner. I want to say it out loud, but Ayra made it clear—I mustn’t ddle in vampire affairs, so I have to swallow my frustration. Besides, my mistress also told that Levreshka, due to her young age—or, as Ayra bluntly puts it, her sheer uselessness—still can’t use teleportation magic. Since the spell only transports one vampire at a ti, she has to rely on one of her two personal guards to fetch and return Gerard to the dormitory every day. Because of this, she has no choice but to walk from the royal castle to the arena. The alternative? Having her guard teleport Gerard directly to the arena—but that would an Levreshka arrives after her familiar, an humiliation she’d never tolerate.
«You barely made it!» Clotilde scolds, her tone even sharper than when she berated Sasha.
«It’s not my fault!» Levreshka snaps, visibly irritated. «It’s this filthy thing’s fault for being too slow!» She grabs Gerard by the hair and yanks his head up. «Did you hear , you sack of shit?! We’re late again!»
With a swift jump, Levreshka dismounts from Gerard’s back. «Blood Word: Telum!»
A long red whip, lined with small thorns, materializes in the young vampire’s hand. She lifts it high, poised to strike Gerard, who remains on all fours.
I avert my gaze, focusing on anything but them. My body tenses, fists clenched, teeth gritted, as if I’m the one about to be whipped. Why? Why does she have to treat him like this? It’s not fair! Gerard is a good man—he doesn’t deserve this! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I swear, one day, I’ll beco strong enough to make that brat pay for every ounce of pain she’s inflicted on him! That’s a promise!
Levreshka’s hand snaps down with blinding speed, the whip slicing through the air, about to strike my roommate’s back—when suddenly, a firm and commanding voice shatters the mont, stopping that unjust, senseless punishnt an instant before impact.
«Punishing your familiar before training with ?! What the hell are you thinking, you idiot?!» Clotilde roars, her fury unrestrained. Her harsh words and severe tone hit Levreshka like a punch, freezing her in place. «Rember, I’m doing you a favor by wasting my precious ti to compensate for your incompetence as a trainer! I’m only doing this to erase the disgrace of having one of my sisters dead last in the rankings! The least you can do is ensure your familiar is physically capable of learning as much as possible! You’ll punish him later!»
«Y-Yes, Clotilde. Forgive ...» Levreshka mumbles, bowing slightly in sha as the whip in her hands dissolves.
For a mont, when Clotilde stopped Levreshka just before she struck Gerard, I had the ridiculous thought that she did it out of compassion for the poor, unjustly punished familiar. But no—it was pure self-interest. She just didn’t want to waste ti training soone who couldn’t even stand properly. That ’You’llpunishhimlater!’ made my blood run cold. Levreshka’s rage at being scolded for her tardiness must have only worsened after that final reprimand. I don’t even want to imagine the state my roommate will be in tonight, while I relax as if I had just returned from a pleasant outing. How can I bla Luke? If I were in his place, I’d probably hate too.
And through all of this, Daphne hasn’t lifted a finger. Not even a flicker of pity in her eyes—just cold indifference, as if this were all perfectly normal... which, unfortunately, it is.
My body seethes with uncontrollable rage, my breathing grows heavy, as if I’m on the verge of exploding. An energy surges through , too powerful for my skin to contain, leaking out as a faint purple aura. It’s the sa reaction I get when my energy spikes due to erotic thoughts about Ayra, but this ti, it’s different—wilder, more intense, completely untad. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.
«What’s wrong, predestinedfamiliar?» Sasha asks, a sadistic smile curling on her lips. «Does it bother you how Levreshka treats her little pet? If so, why don’t you tell her yourself?» she adds, her grin widening with mockery.
That bitch knows perfectly well that if I did, I’d be violating one of the most sacred rules between vampires and familiars—and the consequences would be disastrous. Is she provoking on purpose? I’m sure she is—but why?
«Sasha, that’s enough!» Daphne finally intervenes, putting an end to a situation that could have turned fatal—at least for .
«Enough arguing, or I’ll silence you myself!» Clotilde thunders, stomping her foot against the ground. In an instant, an eerie silence blankets the entire arena.
«Line up in front of , now!» she commands, her sharp gaze locking onto us familiars. We snap to attention like trained soldiers, imdiately positioning ourselves as ordered. From left to right: Angelica, Dorje, , and Gerard.
Clotilde cracks her knuckles, her sharp gaze sweeping over us like a general evaluating fresh recruits. «Let the training begin!»
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