The sun was already slanting westward, tinting Arvalen with orange and gold hues. The shadows of the buildings stretched across the street, and the city's hustle and bustle seemed quieter in that stretch. Irelia, Amelia, and Sylphie walked side by side, ignoring the wary glances some passersby gave them.

"Right…" Sylphie lifted her chin, looking around. "If I were a tall, troublemaking redhead with a penchant for causing trouble in taverns, where would I be?"

"Probably in a tavern, yes," Amelia said dryly, but with a slight smile on her lips. "The question is which one."

Irelia glanced at a fruit vendor arranging his baskets. Without much change in tone, she asked, "Where's the noisiest tavern in Arvalen?"

The man looked up slowly, as if certain that answering wrong would cost him dearly. "You guys... want the loudest one?"

"Yes." Irelia inclined her head slightly, and the man swallowed hard.

"Oh, Raven has a really crazy, loud tavern." He pointed east. "Follow this street to the square, then turn right. You can't go wrong... the sound and smell give it away."

Sylphie smiled wryly. "Perfect. Thank you."

The three of them followed the indicated path. At every turn, Arvalen revealed a new facet: wider cobblestone streets lined with small shops, and narrow alleys where the smell of dried fish mingled with that of freshly baked bread.

"It seems to be right across the street..." Amelia repeated, with a look of curiosity.

Sylphie chuckled softly. "I can hear it already."

The path began to get busier as they approached the central square. Vendors shouted their offerings, bards played instruments for coins, and children ran between the legs of adults. The smell of spices mingled with the smoke of roasting meat.

As they turned right, the sound came before the vision. A chorus of raised voices, laughter, and the distinctive sound of mugs clanging against each other. The strong aroma of beer and mead mingled with the air, along with something slightly burnt—probably hastily prepared food.

"I think we found it," Sylphie said, looking ahead.

The tavern occupied the entire corner, its dark wooden facade reinforced by thick beams. A few windows were open, revealing an interior lit by lamps and bustling like a market on a holiday.

"It looks like the place he'd be," Amelia commented, adjusting her cloak.

Irelia paused for a moment, considering. "Shall we go in normally, or do we prefer a dramatic entrance?"

Sylphie gave a mischievous smile. "Honestly? If he's in there, dramatic. I want to see his face."

Amelia let out an amused sigh. "It doesn't matter, as long as we don't trash the place before confirming."

They advanced to the door, and when Irelia pushed it open, a wave of heat, the smell of alcohol, and voices washed over them. The wooden floor was slightly sticky, and the air carried the typical weight of places where alcohol has been flowing for hours.

A few customers turned to stare at them, but quickly returned to their own business—especially since, in Arvalen, beautiful, armed women were not a rare sight. The bar was to the left, behind it a beautiful woman in a beer-stained apron.

The bartender looked up as the three approached, wiping her hands on a cloth already soaked with beer and foam. Her eyes—a deep, almost amber brown—moved from Sylphie to Amelia, then to Irelia, as if gauging not only their appearance but also their posture.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice low but firm. It wasn't the tone of someone intimidated by awe; it was that of someone accustomed to dealing with dangerous people.

Sylphie, close behind, didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze run over the woman, sensing something beyond her mere physical presence. There was a weight there, a pressure almost subtle, but one that wouldn't go unnoticed by anyone who knew how to recognize power. The energy was dense, polished… and strong. Very strong.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile curious. "You… aren't just a simple attendant, are you?"

The woman arched an eyebrow but didn't respond. Before anything could continue, the sound of quick footsteps echoed down the side staircase leading to the second floor.

A figure appeared: a fair-skinned elf with short hair, a witch's pointy red hat, and a short dress with embroidered details. She held the hem of her skirt to keep from tripping as she hurried down, and as soon as she reached the foot of the stairs, she raised her voice urgently:

"Miss Raven, Kael has been consumed by the succubus again!"

The noise from the tavern didn't stop, but it seemed the air around Irelia, Amelia, and Sylphie changed instantly.

The three of them turned to face the elf at the same time. The name echoed in their heads like a fuse. Kael.

Sylphie felt her blood rise, her breathing grow heavier.

Amelia closed her hand around the staff, the runes engraved on it pulsing as if responding to its owner's mood.

Irelia, in turn, tightened her grip on the sword resting on her hip, her golden eyes flashing like embers.

"He what?" Irelia's voice was icy, yet charged with menace.

The elf seemed to flinch slightly, not quite understanding the danger she had invoked. "The succubus... she... he's... in her room..."

The three spoke together, their voices overlapping in a tone that sounded more like a roar than a speech: "Where is he? I'm going to kill him!"

The intensity was so great that some of the nearby customers backed away, pushing chairs away, and even Raven—the bartender, who had until then maintained absolute calm—narrowed her eyes, as if considering whether she needed to intervene.

The elf's red hat trembled as she swallowed hard and pointed upward, toward the stairs. "S-second floor... last door on the left..."

Irelia had already taken a step forward, but Sylphie grabbed her arm. "Wait." Her gaze remained fixed on Raven. "Before we go up..." she smiled, almost teasingly. "If he's truly 'consumed' by that succubus... I hope you reinforced the structure upstairs."

Raven merely inclined her head, as if to say, "You'll find out."

Amelia exhaled slowly, as if preparing for something inevitable. "Then let's go."

The three of them advanced toward the stairs, and even amid the deafening noise of the tavern, it was impossible not to notice the tension they carried. The floor creaked beneath their footsteps, and the eyes of the nearby patrons followed them, aware that something very bad was about to happen.

As they set foot on the first step, Irelia growled softly, more to herself than to the others: "If he's having fun... I'll cut his dick off."

They climbed the stairs in tense silence, but it wasn't calm—it was the stillness before the storm.

Each step that creaked beneath their boots felt like a warning to whoever was above.

Sylphie led the way, her hands clenched, and Irelia followed closely behind, her jaw clenched. Amelia, though controlled, her eyes shone with that icy fury that usually preceded painful things.

When they reached the hallway, the air was warmer, with a faint, sweet scent that had nothing to do with mead.

They exchanged a quick glance. Last door on the left.

Irelia wasted no time—she stepped forward and turned the doorknob sharply. The door slammed against the wall, opening the room wide.

And then, the scene.

Kael lay on the floor, completely unconscious, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

Above him, kneeling and leaning forward, was a woman with pale skin, almost golden blonde hair, intense blue eyes, and a body… the kind of body succubi were proud to flaunt.

Perfect curves, glistening skin, small, membranous wings trembling slightly, and a tail that snaked through the air as if with a will of its own.

She was holding Kael's face in both hands, shaking it impatiently, and in a tone thick with lust and frustration, she said bluntly:

"You're not finished filling my ass with cum!"

Her voice rang out loud, clear, and completely unfiltered, as if there was no problem in announcing this to the entire world.

The worst part? She was so focused on trying to wake him that she didn't even notice the three women standing in the doorway, staring at the scene.

The reaction was immediate.

Sylphie froze for half a second, her eyes widening, and then her expression darkened dangerously.

Irelia didn't blink—she just tilted her head slightly, her jaw trembling with pent-up anger.

Amelia took a deep breath, but the sharp snap of her fingers on the staff betrayed that she was one step away from unleashing enough magic to reduce the room to ash.

The air seemed to grow heavier.

And the succubus? Still there, completely oblivious, rocking Kael and biting her lower lip, as if her only concern was getting him to "finish the job."

Irelia looked at him… looked at her… looked at her friends beside her… She held herself together, tried so hard to hold herself together, before screaming...

"KAEL YOU BASTARD, WAKE UP BEFORE I CUT YOUR DICK OFF!!"