Isshin met his gaze without flinching. "I've had three women already, and I told her the truth. Now it's up to her to decide whether to leave or persist." He spoke earnestly, feeling he had nothing to hide. They were friends, or at least, that's what he believed.
Satoru was speechless, utterly floored by his new friend's brutal honesty. "Well... if that's true, then she.... Haaa." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Love and relationships were a minefield he'd never been good at navigating. Anything involving his sister was a serious matter, hence his firm stance. "Why do you have to make everything so complicated, you bastard?"
"Ha ha," Isshin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "That's just life, Satoru. That's just life." He had no will left for an argument. "I'll be leaving in an hour," he announced, glancing at his phone. A flood of invitations from the college demanded his attention.
"So you're a college student? But not here?" Satoru asked, watching Isshin devour the food, including the fresh serving the butler had just brought. "You eat a lot, dude. Like an endless well."
"I used everything I had to surpass my limits. I guess this is just a side effect," Isshin explained between bites. They chatted for the rest of breakfast, the tense atmosphere slowly dissolving into easy conversation.
///////////
Night, 9:00 PM
"Home sweet home." Isshin collapsed onto a bean bag the moment he walked through the door. "Man, I'm so full." He murmured to the ceiling, his mind drifting to his own growth. The refinement of his bloodline had hit a wall, stubbornly refusing to progress. "I've developed four slots by now, but the real question is how many I can maintain before my soul gives out."
A few years ago, while refining his bloodline, he'd accidentally applied the technique to his body and soul. The discovery was terrifying and exhilarating: his cursed technique was beyond sane. He could refine anything, but with a severe limitation—he could only truly refine himself. It was a drawback and a blessing all at once.
"I have a new power and many more to come, but after training with Satoru, it's clear I have no real limitations." A satisfied smirk spread across his face. "My proficiency, mastery, and cursed energy reserve have all improved threefold. RCT is an advanced course in itself." From increasing his soul's capacity to endure more stress to mastering Reverse Cursed Technique in a single day, he knew he still had a long way to go.
*TINNGGG*
"The guests are here," he said, feeling two distinct presences at his door.
"I thought you went home." Two beautiful women spoke in unison, their voices a familiar melody. They were the college's vice president and president, here for a little 'personal counseling.' Their outfits were anything but formal—bold, proactive, designed to seduce a young man with nothing but their charm and allure.
"Whatever or whoever told you this would work is... absolutely right." He confessed shamelessly. Neither woman seemed to care; they simply glided past him into his house.
"You're special," Makima said, her voice a low purr as she entered the hall and made her way to the dining room. "This place is quite cozy."
"Hmm," Erubetie hummed in agreement, following the principal's lead.
"You're too chill," Isshin began. "I thought you'd be more... rigid, old-fashioned, strict. All those cliches from books and factions."
"We're not," Makima interrupted, her eyes scanning the room. 'It's cleaner for a bachelor.'
"So, can we get to business?" Isshin asked, cutting through the pleasantries. He was done playing the good host.
"Hmm, straight to business. Good, good," the Slime Empress spoke calmly, pouring herself and the president some warm water from a jug on the table.
"Here's the paperwork. Your ID. You're promoted to Class A-1—the most dangerous one. Every faction in the supernatural world has sent their children here. For social pressure, learning, networking... all sorts of reasons."
"And your point?" Isshin narrowed his eyes, his gaze dropping to the papers she slid across the table.
"I wanted to meet my backer. In case you fucked up someone bigger than you could chew."
"Hmm. The Angel Faction. One of the four archangels, to be specific," he said, watching their expressions tighten. "That'll do."
"I'm joining tonight? That's quick." He hadn't expected such a sudden development.
"Well, I can be persuasive. But there was another thing we wanted to discuss."
"Huh? From me?" He wasn't sure what else they could possibly want.
"Leverage," Makima said, a strange, predatory smile spreading across her face that sent a chill down his spine.
"For what?" he asked, completely lost.
"Boy, you are a one-in-a-billion type of existence. Your potential is unknown, perhaps even to you. You might not know yourself as well as we do."
"And how would you know that?" he asked, a genuine confusion in his voice.
"Because she and I have lived for a hundred and a thousand years, respectively," Erubetie said, her voice laced with ancient authority. "And we've seen many like you."
"Protection and cover operations for me," Makima stated.
"Huh? That's too much..." he said, pausing to let the weight of it sink in.
"But you will be the strongest out there," she argued, her tone leaving no room for debate.
"Too much work," he finished, his decision made.
"Is that a no?" Makima asked, a flicker of uncertainty in her otherwise confident voice.
"You'll have to give me something of equal value, besides the college stuff."
"I knew it would come to this," Erubetie mused and Makima chuckled standing up. "It's good you came well prepared."
"So, it's a fight then." I asked, she undressed slowly. He was mentally ready for some action.
"Indeed," Makima confirmed, her smile widening. "A sex fight."
The words hung in the air, utterly absurd. Isshin's brain short-circuited. "A sex fight? I'll kill you—wait, what?!" His outrage died in his throat, replaced by sheer disbelief.
Makima's predatory smile didn't falter; it deepened. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, the soft click of her heel on the wooden floor echoing in the sudden silence. "You heard me. A battle of endurance. Of will. Of pleasure." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, a sound that seemed to coil around him.
"You want leverage? You want something of equal value? Then prove you can handle us. Prove your body is as refined as you claim."
Beside her, Erubetie moved with a liquid grace that defied her stature.
The air around her shimmered, and the simple dress she wore seemed to melt away, replaced by a flowing, translucent gown of what looked like solidified water, clinging to every generous curve.
Her skin had a faint, pearlescent glow, and her eyes, deep and fathomless, locked onto his. "We will test your limits, Isshin. Not with fists or cursed energy, but with sensation. We will push you to the brink and beyond. If you can endure, if you can satisfy us both until we are the ones who surrender... you will have leverage over you. You will have our absolute loyalty."
Isshin's mouth was dry. He could feel the atmosphere in the room thicken, growing heavy and humid. The scent of ozone from Makima and the clean, cool scent of rain from Erubetie filled his senses.
This was insane.
It was the most ridiculous proposition he had ever heard in his life. And yet, a primal part of him, the part that had refined his body to its peak and honed his senses to a razor's edge, was thrumming with a dangerous curiosity.
"You're insane," he managed to say, his voice rougher than he intended.
"Perhaps," Makima conceded, stepping even closer. She was close enough now that he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch electric.
"But we are also powerful. And we are bored. A man like you... you're a novelty. A challenge." Her thumb brushed his lower lip, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt straight through him. "So, do you accept? Or are you all talking?"
Erubetie glided to his other side, her cool presence a stark contrast to Makima's heat. Her hand, cool and smooth as polished stone, rested on his shoulder, her fingers gently kneading the tense muscle there. "Do not think of this as a simple transaction, boy," she murmured, her voice like the sound of a deep, hidden spring.
"Think of it as an initiation. A refinement of a different kind. We will break you down and remold you with pleasure. It will be the most excruciating, and most exquisite, training you have ever undergone." He was trapped. Not physically, but by the sheer audacity of it all.
"This is madness." They were offering him a deal, a test, a battle unlike any other. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to refuse, to throw them out and be done with this madness.