Chapter 187 Alaric Spying On Saintess Ceanna

Professor Maelis responded, “Well, we managed to escape the academy’s region while bringing along a few student groups due to Principal Bartolmew’s sacrifice.” Then, she took a small pause as though remembering the late Principal Bartolmew.

After a few seconds, Professor Maelis recovered her bearings and asked Alaric, “So, how have things been at your Steele Family in the last few weeks.”

“It’s been… well, eventful, Professor,” Alaric replied to Professor Maelis, a wry smile touching his lips. “Things at Steele Manor have been rather hectic, especially with the… sudden surge in demand for my artifacts.”

Professor Lilliana chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound for the usually stern mage. “Indeed. We heard rumors of your… prodigious output, Alaric. It seems your talents have become quite… sought after.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say, Professor,” Alaric replied with a shrug. “And with the demonic hordes at our doorstep, the necessity for… effective countermeasures has never been greater.”

Their conversation continued for a while, touching upon various topics – the fall of the Verdant Dawn Academy, the kingdom’s mobilization efforts, and the general mood amongst the mages and warriors in the encampment. Alaric learned that both professors were actively involved in preparing for the upcoming battles, Lilliana focusing on bolstering the magical defenses of the encampment and Maelis training the frontline soldiers in anti-demon combat techniques.

Eventually, Alaric politely excused himself, stating that he needed to attend to some personal matters. “It was truly a pleasure seeing you both again, Professors,” he said sincerely. “Stay safe.”

“You too, Alaric,” Professor Lilliana replied, her sharp eyes conveying genuine concern. “Your contributions to this war effort are invaluable. Take care.”

Professor Maelis nodded in agreement. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, Alaric. We’re all in this together.”

As Alaric walked away, he pondered the information he had gleaned from his professors. The main battle against the demonic forces was still a couple of days away. However, it seemed that the kingdom’s leadership was planning a large-scale test of their regular forces, bolstered by the initial batch of holy artifacts and alchemical preparations, in two days. The Archmages and Martial Kings, along with their elite units, would remain in reserve, ready to intervene if the situation turned dire or if the demons unveiled any unexpected tactics. It made sense, Alaric thought. A preliminary engagement to gauge the enemy’s strength and test their own preparations before committing their most powerful assets. He decided then and there that he would find a way to observe this initial battle. Information was key, and seeing the demons in action firsthand, even if from a distance, would be invaluable.

Returning to his tent, Alaric wasted no time. He pulled out his ‘Phone’ artifact, its smooth, obsidian surface cool against his palm. With a few swift taps and arcane commands, he activated the surveillance system he had discreetly integrated into the holy artifacts that had been delivered to King Thaleon earlier.

Instantly, dozens, then hundreds, of shimmering, illusionary screens popped into existence in front of him, filling the tent with a kaleidoscope of disjointed images. Each screen displayed the real-time view from one of the miniature ‘Whisperwind Eye’ crystals embedded within the artifacts. Alaric could see glimpses of various locations within the encampment – a bustling command tent, a row of armored knights, a group of priests chanting blessings. He even spotted one screen showing a rather opulent tent, undoubtedly belonging to a high-ranking noble, complete with plush carpets and ornate furniture.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Alaric began to filter through the screens, discarding those that held no interest for him. He wasn’t concerned with the movements of random nobles or frontline soldiers. His focus was singular: Saintess Ceanna Paxton. He knew that some of the holy artifacts would have undoubtedly reached her, given her prominent position within the kingdom.

After a few moments of searching, he spotted them – four screens that seemed to show the interior of a particularly luxurious tent, far more spacious and well-furnished than his own. This had to be Saintess Ceanna’s abode. The quality of the furnishings, the intricate tapestries adorning the walls, the sheer opulence of the setting, spoke volumes about the esteem in which she was held.

And there she was. In one of the screens, Alaric saw Saintess Ceanna herself, her striking silver hair cascading down her back, her golden eyes focused intently on a thick, leather-bound holy scripture resting in her lap. She sat on a large, comfortable bed, her posture serene, her presence radiating an aura of calm spirituality.

Alaric closed all the other screens, his attention now solely focused on the four windows into Saintess Ceanna’s private space. He watched as she continued to read, her lips moving silently as she absorbed the ancient words.

Suddenly, the flap of her tent was pushed open, and a figure entered, their voice clear and slightly urgent. “Saintess Ceanna, forgive the intrusion, but we require your assistance. The scouts we sent to observe the demon fortress have returned, but they are… afflicted. They appear to be suffering from some form of demonic energy.”

Alaric watched with keen interest as Saintess Ceanna’s head snapped up, her golden eyes widening slightly with concern. She placed the holy scripture on the bedside table and rose gracefully from the bed. Alaric’s gaze followed her as she moved, taking in the elegant lines of her robes, the subtle sway of her hips as she walked towards the tent entrance.

“Lead me to them at once,” Saintess Ceanna replied, her voice firm and decisive, the earlier serenity replaced by a sense of urgency. “We must cleanse them of this demonic taint before it takes hold.”

Alaric watched as her figure disappeared from the screens as she left the tent, a soft sigh escaping his lips. So far, he hadn’t gleaned any particularly insightful information. But he wasn’t deterred. He activated a unique, almost imperceptible, movement-sensing enchantment that he had woven into the holy artifacts. This enchantment would send a silent notification directly to his ‘Phone’ artifact whenever the device detected any significant movement within its vicinity. That way, he could keep a passive eye on Saintess Ceanna’s tent and instantly bring up the surveillance feeds whenever any activity occurred, without her ever suspecting his scrutiny.

A few hours passed in relative quiet. Alaric enjoyed a late afternoon meal in his tent, the simple fare tasting surprisingly good after the previous night’s exertions. As dusk began to settle over the encampment, casting long shadows across the tent walls, Alaric decided it was time for some… company. He sent a nearby royal guard to summon his mother and his aunt to his tent.

It wasn’t long before Lyra and Cassandra arrived, both clad in long, dark robes that concealed their figures. As soon as they stepped inside Alaric’s tent and the flap was closed behind them, the robes were discarded, revealing the sultry dresses they wore underneath. Lyra was in a deep crimson gown that clung to her curves, the low neckline hinting at the ample cleavage beneath. Cassandra wore a shimmering emerald dress that accentuated her slender waist and flowed elegantly to the floor, the fabric subtly revealing the outline of her long legs.

Alaric leaned back on his bed, a wide, appreciative smile spreading across his face. “Well, hello there, you two beautiful creatures,” he purred, his ruby eyes gleaming with amusement. “I was thinking… perhaps we could have a repeat performance of last night? I’m feeling rather… energetic.”

Lyra and Cassandra exchanged a knowing glance, and to Alaric’s surprise, they both shook their heads, their expressions decidedly less enthusiastic than he had anticipated.

“Oh, darling,” Lyra said, her voice laced with a hint of playful weariness. “As much as I enjoyed last night’s… activities, I’m not quite in the mood for another marathon session just yet. My body is still recovering.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “Indeed, nephew. You certainly… exerted us both rather thoroughly. I think a quiet evening might be more to my liking.”

Alaric rolled his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, come on, you two. Don’t give me that. If you weren’t in the mood, you wouldn’t be wearing those ridiculously alluring dresses. You’re practically begging me to tear them off and ravish you both.”

Lyra and Cassandra exchanged another glance, a hint of a smile playing on their lips. They had indeed chosen their attire with a specific purpose in mind. The thought of another night of passionate abandon with Alaric was certainly appealing, but they had their own little game they wanted to play.

“Perhaps we simply wanted to look nice for dinner, Alaric,” Cassandra said innocently, though the mischievous glint in her purple eyes betrayed her true intentions.

“Dinner?” Alaric scoffed playfully. “Please. Those dresses are designed for one thing and one thing only. And it involves a lot less eating and a lot more… moaning.” He sat up on the bed, his gaze sweeping over their alluring figures. “Well, you’re both going to be disappointed. Because tonight, there will be no sex. Not yet, anyway.”

Lyra’s blue eyes widened in mock horror. “No sex? But… why, darling?”

“Because,” Alaric said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper, “I feel like teasing you both. Driving you absolutely wild with desire, making you beg for my touch, and then… maybe, just maybe, I’ll grant your wishes. Or maybe I won’t.” He reached out and gently traced the curve of Lyra’s neck, his fingers lingering on the delicate skin. She shivered, her breath hitching in her throat. He then turned his attention to Cassandra, his fingers lightly brushing against her thigh, sending a visible tremor through her body.

Lyra let out a soft, seductive moan, her blue eyes half-closing in anticipation. Cassandra bit her lip, her purple eyes fixed on Alaric’s, her desire clearly evident. They both knew exactly what he was doing, and despite their initial protests, they were both thoroughly enjoying the torment. Lyra even subtly adjusted the neckline of her dress, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, while Cassandra’s fingers nervously played with the hem of her emerald gown, threatening to reveal more than intended.

Alaric watched their reactions with a smug satisfaction. They were practically begging for him, their bodies radiating a palpable heat, their moans growing more insistent. He could easily have succumbed to their allure, could have thrown them both onto the bed and fucked them senseless right then and there. But the thrill of the tease, the anticipation building in their eyes, was too delicious to resist.

Just as Lyra reached out to pull him closer, her blue eyes pleading, Alaric’s ‘Phone’ artifact, resting on the bedside table, suddenly beeped softly. His gaze flickered towards it, and he saw the familiar notification – movement detected in Saintess Ceanna’s tent.

Alaric sighed, a hint of annoyance flickering across his face. “Duty calls, ladies,” he said, his voice apologetic. He stood up from the bed. “Put your robes back on. Head back to your tents. I have something… important I need to attend to.”

Lyra and Cassandra both stared at him, their expressions a mixture of shock and disappointment. “But… Alaric…” Lyra began, her voice laced with protest.

“Later, Mother,” Alaric said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “This can’t wait.”

With reluctant nods, both women retrieved their dark robes and quickly donned them, their earlier seductive allure now replaced by a hint of frustrated anticipation. They knew better than to question Alaric when he spoke in that tone.

As soon as they had left, Alaric snatched up his ‘Phone’ artifact and reactivated the surveillance feeds on Saintess Ceanna’s tent. The four illusionary screens flickered back into existence, and Alaric’s ruby eyes scanned them intently.

He was slightly surprised to see Saintess Ceanna lying on her bed, her silver hair spread out on the pillow, her chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. She appeared to be asleep, or at least resting. He then noticed a faint sheen of sweat on her brow and a slight tremor in her hands. It seemed she had indeed returned from healing the scouts.

Suddenly, Saintess Ceanna stirred, her golden eyes fluttering open. She let out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling. “I didn’t expect,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “that a demonic curse from just one of their captains would be so… potent. Those poor messengers…”

Saintess Ceanna continued to speak softly to herself, her brow furrowed with concern. “Fortunately,” she murmured, her golden eyes filled with a gentle light, “my Divine Power was sufficient to mend their souls. That demonic curse… it was a vile thing. Those poor messengers must have suffered terribly.”

She rose from the bed, her movements graceful and fluid, and walked towards a large, oval mirror that stood against one of the tent walls. She sat on the ground before it, her gaze fixed on her reflection. For a long moment, she simply stared, her expression unreadable. Then, she began to mutter words, her voice low and melodic, but the language was foreign to Alaric, a series of soft consonants and flowing vowels that sounded ancient and powerful. ‘What in the world is she saying?’ Alaric wondered, his ruby eyes glued to the screens. He had a strange feeling that even if he somehow deciphered those words, they were not meant for his ears, and uttering them himself would feel… wrong, somehow.

As Saintess Ceanna continued her incantation, her reflection in the mirror began to shimmer and distort. Her own image faded away, replaced by a figure of pure, radiant light. It was the Radiant God, his form vaguely humanoid but composed entirely of golden energy, his presence in the mirror radiating an immense power that sent a shiver down Alaric’s spine, even through the illusionary screens. ‘Holy shit,’ Alaric thought, ‘that’s… intense.’

Saintess Ceanna bowed her head respectfully. “My Lord,” she said, her voice filled with reverence. “I have an update regarding the individuals with Growth Ability Systems in this region.”

The Radiant God’s image in the mirror seemed to nod slowly, the light within him pulsing gently.

“Aside from Alaric Steele,” Saintess Ceanna continued, “I have sensed two more individuals within this encampment who possess such abilities. However, unlike Alaric Steele, whose very essence radiates a heretical energy, these two… they emanate a divine aura. It is clear that their systems originate from the God of Reincarnation.”

The Radiant God remained silent for a moment, his radiant form seeming to contemplate her words. Then, he nodded again. “Indeed,” his voice echoed from the mirror, a sound that resonated with divine authority. “Those two you sense in that camp must be the transmigrated souls chosen by the God of Reincarnation to become heroes in this world. Their names are Kenneth and Noah.” The Radiant God paused, his light seeming to dim slightly. “Kenneth possesses the Eternal Emperor System, and Noah wields the Ultimate Alchemical System.”

A frown, or what appeared to be a frown in his form of pure light, flickered across the Radiant God’s visage. “As for this Alaric Steele,” he said, his voice taking on a sharper edge, “his heretical Growth Ability System remains… elusive. For reasons unknown to me, I cannot discern its true nature. You must make it your priority, Ceanna, to discover the specifics of his system. Once you have done so, you must eliminate him. Purify his corpse, and send that heretical system directly to me. It must not be allowed to fester in this world.”

Saintess Ceanna nodded her head, her golden eyes filled with unwavering obedience. “As you command, my Lord,” she replied. “Alaric Steele is a remarkably talented Artificer. His skills will be invaluable in the upcoming conflict against the demonic forces. I propose that we utilize his abilities to weaken the demons. Once the threat is neutralized, I will arrange for one of King Thaleon’s loyal subordinates to eliminate Alaric Steele. We will then perform the ritual of purification and return his heretical system to the Heavenly Realm.”

Alaric watched and listened to this entire exchange through the ‘Whispering Eyes’, his mind reeling from the revelations. ‘Heretical system?’ he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Gods giving out systems? Kenneth and Noah… they have systems too? What the actual fuck is going on?’ He had never considered the possibility that his Harem God System, something he had always viewed as a personal quirk, a fortunate blessing, could be considered ‘heretical’ by some higher power. The idea that gods were actively involved in granting these abilities to individuals was also completely new and rather unsettling.

However, a small sense of relief washed over him as he realized that even the Radiant God couldn’t identify his specific system. ‘Hah,’ he thought with a touch of dark amusement, ‘so much for your divine omniscience, buddy. Looks like my little secret is safe for now.’ This meant that Saintess Ceanna, too, was in the dark about the true nature of his abilities, which gave him a significant advantage.

‘Well, shit,’ Alaric thought, his mind racing. ‘Looks like I’ve got a target on my back. Saintess and her glowing friend are planning to off me after the demon war. Can’t exactly let that happen, can I?’ His thoughts turned to Saintess Ceanna. ‘She’s set on having the King’s men kill me. That means I have until the end of this war to deal with her… and maybe cause a little trouble for her precious Radiant Church while I’m at it.’ A mischievous glint entered his ruby eyes. ‘Seducing her is still on the table, even if I can’t use my system on her. It’d be a shame to waste such a… devoted follower.’ He smirked. ‘And if that doesn’t work, well, a quick and quiet end might be necessary. Can’t let her spill the beans to the King before I’m ready.’

As for the Radiant God, Alaric knew he was out of his league in terms of direct confrontation. ‘But,’ he mused, a cunning plan forming in his mind, ‘hurting the church, that has to sting, right? Messing with his followers… that’s gotta get his attention.’

He closed the surveillance screens as he saw Saintess Ceanna lie back down on the bed, her eyes closed, apparently preparing to sleep. ‘Time for a little… distraction,’ Alaric thought, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

He recalled Lyra and Cassandra to his tent. When they arrived, still adorned in their alluring dresses, their expressions a mix of curiosity and lingering desire, Alaric didn’t utter a single word about his recent discovery. Instead, a primal urge surged through him, a need to lose himself in the familiar comfort and pleasure of their bodies, to momentarily forget the unsettling revelations he had just witnessed.

With a guttural growl, he reached out and tore at Lyra’s crimson gown, the fabric ripping easily under his forceful grip. Cassandra gasped, her emerald dress suffering a similar fate as Alaric’s hands moved with a sudden, almost violent intensity. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer any explanation. He simply grabbed them, pulling them close, his mouth crashing down on Lyra’s lips while his hands roughly kneaded Cassandra’s breasts.

Lyra and Cassandra, though initially startled by his sudden aggression, soon responded with equal fervor. They understood, on some unspoken level, that something had shifted in Alaric, a new intensity driving his actions. They wrapped their arms around him, their bodies pressing against his, their moans and cries filling the tent as Alaric’s forceful lovemaking washed over them, a temporary escape from the looming threats and unsettling truths he now carried within him.