CHAPTER 46: SOOTHING EMOTIONS

BOOM!

The sound of weapons colliding echoed like a caged thunder, reverberating through the ancient stone pillars and thick walls of the main hall, which seemed to swallow that sound in its heavy belly.

The impact was brutal, dry, intense — like two lightning bolts colliding right at the center of the room, a roar that made the air vibrate, distorting reality for an instant.

A sonic wave spread like an invisible explosion, distorting the air around, making everyone’s ears ring for a brief moment, as if time itself had stopped to witness.

The wind generated by the clash whipped the long, loose hair of the women watching from a distance, lifting strands like restless serpents.

The tips of their flowing dresses waved, creating a silent ballet amid the dust that lay quietly in the corners of the hall, now suspended in the air like silver mist.

The floor beneath Aziz’s and Selene’s feet cracked in fine lines, forming a gentle crater, as if the very world recognized the force of that collision — not merely physical, but spiritual.

They both remained there, motionless, weapon against weapon — eyes fixed on one another, as if they conveyed everything without uttering a single word.

And, surprisingly, in their eyes there was no anger, hatred, or rancor.

There was pleasure.

There was delight.

A spark of silent, profound understanding, shared only by those who recognize each other through the blade, like two lovers speaking the tongue of steel.

They did not use magic.

They did not resort to hidden abilities, nor tricks.

Yet what they had just experienced was not merely a combat.

It was something more intimate.

A dialogue without words.

A moment suspended in time, like a pause in the universe that would be engraved in both their memories with a special glow, like a secret whispered among the shadows.

With a slight smile on his lips and his heart still racing, Aziz was the first to step back.

He took a step back, lowering his sword with the natural ease of someone who knows this moment was only a prelude.

His eyes still sought Selene’s — not as a defeated opponent, but as an equal. A companion. A reflection.

Selene, chest slightly heaving, paused for one more second, as if she wanted to hold that instant for longer.

Then she also withdrew, keeping her lance raised, still reluctant to abandon that feral dance that enveloped them.

There was a mix of satisfaction and an almost untamed desire to continue — to prolong the electricity flowing between them.

"That test..." said Aziz, with a sincere smile and shining eyes, "that duel was incredible. Thank you for taking care of me, Selene."

She smiled back, the sweat on her brow catching the light like a rare gem, almost gleaming.

"Haha, no need to thank me. To tell the truth... it was fun. Very. Fighting with you... it was really fun, seriously."

But, inside her, a flame burned stronger than simple satisfaction over the victory.

She wanted more. She wanted more of that energy, of that strange, electrifying connection that had formed between them — not just from the exchange of strikes, but from what lay behind every movement.

It was a tension that spoke directly to the soul, something almost impossible to explain.

Aziz returned the warm gaze, a silent promise between them.

Then, slowly, he turned and walked toward the women waiting for him.

Each of them looked at him with a mixture of tightly held emotions — admiration, astonishment, apprehension.

The aura emanating from him at that moment was different — powerful yet gentle; intimidating but welcoming.

Among them, the guild master remained impassive — or so it seemed.

Inside, he was in shock.

What his eyes had witnessed was not only uncommon.

It was rare.

It was... impossible.

To someone without technical knowledge, Aziz’s style might appear simple.

Discreet.

Without flair or ostentation.

But to him, who had walked the arduous path of the sword for decades, it was like watching a symphony composed of a single note — yet perfect in its execution.

Each attack, each defense, each repositioning, was meticulously calculated.

There was no waste.

Each movement was definitive, precise, deliberate.

There was no excess.

There was no ostentation.

Most swordsmen lost themselves in flourishes, theatrical flashy blows — empty techniques, without roots, which could impress untrained eyes but led nowhere.

Aziz, on the other hand, wielded the sword as if it were a silent, true extension of his soul.

And that... that was rare.

’Who is this boy?’ thought the master, his eyes half‑closed and his mind restless.

---

Astrid saw him approaching and, silently, opened her arms.

A simple gesture, but imbued with tenderness, a maternal calm that filled the space.

Aziz looked at her and smiled, gently shaking his head — almost as if saying ’here she comes again’.

Yes, his mother had been getting more spoiled with the years.

And he... well, he couldn’t resist.

"You were amazing, dear," she whispered into his ear, while hugging him tightly, warmly, protectively.

"Haha, I guess that means I was well trained, right?"

She laughed, her eyes full of pride, shining like stars on a calm night.

They separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes, and there were no words — only silent, deep complicity and affection.

Isis approached right after.

The playful smile on her lips was already a prelude.

She cupped Aziz’s face with one hand and placed a moist kiss on his cheek.

"I taught you well, didn’t I, young master?"

Aziz smiled... but shivered inside.

That smile of hers... that sadistic smile...

He recalled — against his will — the rigorous training sessions.

Countless beatings, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

How he could never even scratch her in combat, and how he always came out defeated, sweaty, aching, and humiliated.

But today...

Today he had proven himself. A little.

A step, a gesture, a spark of hope ignited in the midst of shadow.

Soon he moved away from them and walked over to Sofia and Zia.

The two watched him silently, but their eyes — oh, their eyes — said everything.

Lost in thought, inner shadows danced across their expressions.

They carried doubts, subtle jealousy, insecurities that made them achingly human.

Aziz didn’t say a word.

He simply sheathed the sword at his waist and embraced them.

He wrapped his arms around both, pulling them toward him, holding their bodies with tender, protective affection.

He buried their faces against his chest and gently began to stroke their hair, each strand with reverence.

Then he lowered his face and kissed the tops of their heads, one at a time.

Sofia and Zia trembled.

The warmth of that embrace, his unmistakable scent, the tenderness in his touch...

It was like waking from a nightmare, a balm for their tormented souls.

They clung to him, their shoulders trembling slightly.

They felt a lump form in their throats and fought the sudden urge to cry.

But they held back. They inhaled deeply.

And when they lifted their eyes and saw Aziz’s calm smile, something inside them broke.

He looked at them with such understanding — as if he could read their darkest thoughts.

They blushed, embarrassed.

He hadn’t said a thing... but he seemed to know everything.

Aziz didn’t know exactly what was on their minds, but he had an inkling.

And a certainty: it was something negative.

Something he didn’t want them to dwell on.

He couldn’t bear to see his women — even if not yet official — swallowed by shadows.

You see, he might not show it often...

But Aziz was possessive.

Extremely.

He loved fiercely, instinctively.

Perhaps it ran in the family.

He looked at their flushed faces and... felt the urge to bite.

Seriously.

Their cheeks looked so... adorable.

And he did it.

He brought his face close to theirs, kissed each gently, and bit their cheeks lightly.

They flinched, unsure whether to laugh or pull away.

Then he bent his face between them and whispered — in a low, hoarse voice, laden with emotion:

"I don’t want MY women to have such dark thoughts... understand?"

He softly whispered into their ears, and the shiver was immediate.

They felt their legs go weak.

Their hearts pound.

After all... yesterday, they had confessed their feelings.

But, overwhelmed by shame, they had fled without hearing a response.

And now, Aziz spoke with such firmness...

As if the answer was being given in that moment.

The claim — simple, possessive, sincere — filled their hearts.

All their fear, all their insecurity... vanished.

Unaware, in that very moment, they had forgotten all doubts.

All that remained was him.

And what he said.

And how he touched them.

You understand how women are?

No matter if they are powerful, beautiful, fearless — when it comes to the man they love, their emotions become volatile.

Alive. Intense.

That is why, as a man, Aziz knew...

He needed to appease them.

He needed to take care of them.

To protect them — not only with sword or magic.

But with his presence.

His affection.

His touch.

And in that instant, in that embrace...

He was doing exactly that.

The women who stood there, watching everything unfold, remained motionless, almost like silent statues, trying to comprehend what was happening.

They saw everything. The touch. The intimate gesture. The whispered words between bodies that drew near as if made to be together. That moment... was not just physical. There was something denser there, something that vibrated in the air like contained electricity — and yet none of them dared to intervene.

They didn’t understand, at first, what had occurred to bring about such intimacy so suddenly. Without warning, without apparent logic. It just... happened.

But then they heard. They heard what Aziz had murmured to them — a whisper that carried the weight of a decision, the warmth of a promise, and the audacity of a primal instinct.

And, in that moment, their expressions shifted.

Not in anger. Not in petty jealousy, nor in modesty. What he said... that both of them were his... did not shock them for its boldness. On the contrary. In a way, they already knew that day would come. It was not a surprise. It was inevitable. It had simply... materialized before them earlier than they had imagined.

After all, they had seen. Seen in the eyes of those two young women now in his arms — desire, devotion, love. It was not fleeting. Nor a youthful illusion. It was something that had grown over time, like a root spreading silently beneath soil until it blossomed with strength. An emotion that matured along with their bodies, grew with every exchange of glances, every shared silence, every heartbeat racing in his presence.

And they... they had changed too.

From innocent girls who once called Aziz ’brother,’ or just a friend, they had become women who understood, over time, that what they felt was not just affection... not merely companionship. It was friendship that hurt the chest when he moved away. It was love. Real love. Savage. Overwhelming.

And now, seeing him there — between the two young women who dared to touch him as if they were his — they felt not shock, nor indignation. But something denser. More intimate. Jealousy.

Deep jealousy. Intense. Possessive.

Each one felt it. A warm knot in the chest. An unease growing within. A silent fire burning not at the others... but for him. For wanting to be touched, claimed, recognized as his too.

And among them all... the one who felt it the most... was his mother.

She stood almost still, her eyes fixed on Aziz’s back, as if she could pierce him with her gaze. Her eyes... had become two black holes. Not out of hatred. But something darker. Something older. Something uncontrollable.

She said nothing. But her eyes said everything.

They said she had seen him before anyone else. That she knew him more than anyone there. That she had raised, shaped, and nurtured him — and that, deep down, she had always known that one day... he would become hers too. Not only as a son. Not only as a man. But as something that transcended names and roles defined by a world that no longer applied to them.

It was the gaze of someone who refused to be forgotten. Who could not bear to be left aside.

It was the gaze of someone who waited... and who, when the right moment came, would act.