The air in the forest was different this time. It wasn't just the damp earth and ancient moss; it was the rhythmic, golden thrum of six hearts beating in synchronization with Astraea’s own.
As they moved through the treeline, Astraea felt it—the Sovereign Trickle. Unlike the violent, intoxicating flood of the ritual, this was a steady stream of warmth flowing from her Apostles. Because they had been "branded" and had willingly offered their worship, their very existence now acted as a decentralized battery for her banished essence.
It isn't enough to storm the Heavens, Astraea mused, flexing her fingers and watching faint, golden sparks dance between her knuckles. But it’s enough to stop being a guest in this mortal shell.
She closed her eyes for a second, testing the "Slow Charge." For the first time since her fall, she could feel the Sovereign Sight—the ability to see the mana flow of the forest—without it immediately burning out her retinas.
Hana, the Alchemist, was nervously clutching a satchel of vials that glowed with an unstable, white-hot light. Beside her, the Summoner, Miri, trailed her fingers along the air, her faint connection to the spirit realm now reinforced with Astraea’s "Steel-Will" buff.
"Stay sharp," Astraea commanded, her voice vibrating with a subtle, divine resonance. "Lyra, take the canopy. Hana, Miri—stay in the center. Selene, you are the wall. We are looking for something that shouldn't be here."
"Astraea," Lyra called out from a high oak branch, her voice tight. "Three hundred yards northwest. The mana is... curdling. It feels like the Chimera, but heavier. More solid."
Astraea’s golden eyes narrowed. She could feel it too—a Greater Earth-Drake, a creature usually found in the deep mountain rifts, likely drawn to the surface by the sudden "leak" of divine energy her ritual had caused.
"A Tier-3 Apex," Selene whispered, her gauntlet beginning to glow. "The Academy instructors usually need a squad of ten Iron Wing seniors to bring one down."
"Then it is the perfect test," Astraea said, a predatory smirk tugging at her lips.
Astraea wasn't just here to kill a beast. She wanted to test the Conductive Link. If the girls focused their "Adoration" on her during combat, could she channel their mana back through her Sovereign Core and amplify it?
The Drake burst through the treeline—a mountain of scales and jagged granite, its breath a cloud of caustic sulfur.
"Hana! The 'Volatile' vials! Now!"
Hana threw three vials. Normally, they would have caused a localized pop. But as the glass broke, Astraea reached out with a thread of her Sovereign Mana, "tagging" the projectiles.
"Ignite!" Astraea commanded.
The explosion wasn't white—it was gold. The vials detonated with the force of a siege engine, the Sovereign-boosted alchemy shredding the Drake's front leg plates. The beast roared, a sound that shook the very ground.
"Miri! Your familiar! Don't summon a cat—summon the Will of the Forest!"
Miri closed her eyes, her devotion to Astraea flaring. Because she was "connected" to the Goddess, her summoning circle didn't just pull a minor spirit; it manifested a spectral, six-eyed wolf made of starlight and brawn. The beast lunged, its claws glowing with the same golden hue as Astraea’s mark.
The Drake lunged for Miri, but Selene was there. She didn't just block; she used the "Slow Charge" Astraea provided to manifest a Sovereign Aegis—a shield of solid light that not only stopped the Drake’s headbutt but sent a feedback loop of holy energy back into the beast's skull, dazing it.
Astraea felt the girls' awe and adrenaline spike. The "Trickle" of mana turned into a rushing stream.
"Enough play," Astraea whispered.
She tapped into the gathered "Sovereign Mana." For a fleeting sixty seconds, her mortal daggers transformed back into their true forms: the Twin Fangs of Justice. They weren't made of steel, but of compressed starlight.
She moved.
To the girls, she was a streak of lightning. She didn't just stab the Drake; she carved through its "invincible" scales as if they were wet silk. In a single, fluid motion, she vaulted over its back, dragging the Fangs through its spine.
The Drake didn't even have time to scream. It collapsed, its massive body dissolving into motes of mana as Astraea’s divine energy purified the "Earth" core.
Astraea landed softly, the Fangs flickering back into dull, wooden training knives as her "Slow Charge" hit zero. She was panting, her mortal heart racing to keep up with the divine output, but she was smiling.
The girls gathered around her, their faces flushed, their eyes filled with a terrifyingly pure fanaticism. They had just seen six "failures" and one "exile" eliminate an Apex Predator in under three minutes.
"The theory is confirmed," Astraea said, looking at the glowing mark on her thigh, which was now pulsing contentedly. "The more of you there are, the more I can act as your lens. You are the light; I am the focus."
She turned back toward the Academy, the distant spires of Aethelgard looking smaller than ever.
"We’re ready for the next phase. It’s time to start leaking our 'success' to the rest of the Support classes. I want every girl in that school wondering why Room 4-B smells like victory."
The walk back from the woods to the Aethelgard gates was no longer a stealth mission; it was a victory lap that the girls were struggling—and failing—to keep internal.
Normally, "Support" tracks returned from field exercises looking like they’d survived a car wreck: robes torn, mana cores depleted, and eyes fixed on the ground in exhaustion. But as Astraea led her six Apostles through the iron archways, the atmosphere changed.
They radiated a physical heat. Hana the Alchemist wasn't hunched over her satchel; she walked with her chin up, a faint golden shimmer dancing in her eyes that made her thick spectacles look like royal finery. Miri, the once-timid Summoner, had a phantom weight to her step, as if a great beast were still walking invisibly at her side.
As they moved toward the Grace Wing, they passed a group of Iron Wing boys—Boros’s roommates—who were lounging by the fountain. Usually, the girls would shrink away to avoid the inevitable "clumsy" shoulder checks or mocking comments.
This time, the boys stood up, sensing a change in the "predatory hierarchy."
"Look at them," one of the boys sneered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "The 4-B losers look like they found a gold mine in the dirt. Hey, Hana! Where’s my stamina potion? I told you I wanted it by—"
Hana didn't flinch. She stopped, turned, and looked the boy directly in the eye. A week ago, she would have stuttered an apology. Now, the "Sovereign Trickle" feeding from Astraea into her veins made the boy’s posturing look pathetic.
"Make it yourself, Kael," Hana said, her voice steady and chillingly calm. "I’m busy researching how to make things that actually matter."
The boy froze. It wasn't just her words; it was the Sovereign Aura. For a split second, he felt as if he were standing in front of a high-tier boss monster. By the time he found his tongue, the girls were already gone.
Once inside the sanctuary of Room 4-B, the "Slow-Burn" tension reached a boiling point. The girls were "high" on the residual divinity of the hunt, but as the distance from the woods increased, the "Trickle" began to feel like a tease.
Astraea leaned against the door, watching them. She could see the way Miri’s hands were trembling—not with fear, but with a craving. The bond Vesta had created wasn't just about power; it was a divine addiction. To taste the Sovereign’s light was to find the rest of the world dim and cold.
"You feel it, don't you?" Astraea murmured, her voice a low, honeyed vibration in the cramped room. "The emptiness returning."
"It’s like... the sun went behind a cloud," Miri whispered, her face flushed as she looked at Astraea’s thigh, where the mark was glowing a deep, satisfied amber through her tunic. "I can still feel you, Astraea... but I want to be closer."
Hana dropped her satchel, her breathing turning shallow. "I can't go back to the Alchemy lab tomorrow. Not like this. I’ll blow the whole floor up if I have to go back to making salves for those... those mortals."
Astraea realized that "The Infection" required more than just combat. It required tethering.
"Come here," Astraea commanded, sitting on the central table—the very one they had 'requisitioned' for their meetings. "If you are to be my Vanguard, you must be reinforced," Astraea said. "The world will try to drain you. I am the only one who can fill the void."
The four new girls didn't hesitate. They knelt on the floor of the dorm room, their robes rustling as they crowded around her. Lyra and Selene stood back, acting as the 'Senior Apostles,' watching with a mix of pride and a lingering, quiet jealousy as the new recruits were initiated into the Daily Worship.
As Hana reached out to touch the glowing skin of Astraea’s thigh, the "Slow Charge" intensified. Astraea gasped, her head falling back as the collective desire of the four girls began to feed her Core.
This is the infection, Astraea thought, her eyes half-closing as the heat began to rise in the room. It starts with a feeling. Then a need. And soon... the entire Academy will be breathing in my name.
The four new girls closed quaters around Astraea, the Divine Phallus tenting her tunic. As she pulled the throbbing manifestation free, there was a collective hitched breathe amongst her new followers. Their fingers traced up her inner thighs, tongues sliding up the body of the Divine. Astraea guided Hana's parted lips over the head and started working it up and down the length, streaking it with saliva. She summoned several other phalluses, deep within the girl's already dripping and eager wombs. They gasped, their hands suddenly clasping at Astraea’s thighs involuntarily. They started rhythmically thrusting, causing each girls hips to bob off the ground.
Outside in the hallway, other "Support" girls passed by Room 4-B. They stopped for a moment, confused. They couldn't hear the words, but they could feel the vibration—a hum of power and belonging that made their own dorm rooms feel like prison cells.
The whispers were starting. And the whispers were all about the Goddess in 4-B.