Randy looked at Richie with a troubled expression, her eyes darting nervously toward the girl standing at the doorway.
"Do you really want me to... with you... right in front of her?"
Seeing Richie nod relentlessly, Randy let out a heavy sigh and resignedly led the way toward her bedroom.
Her room now housed that specialized chair. At least here, they had a door they could lock, ensuring no one would suddenly barge in on them.
The bedroom wasn't large. Aside from a bed, there was only the chair and a row of shelves cluttered with an assortment of items. The shelves were mostly occupied by various bottles, but there were also water-filled leather skins and anal beads of various sizes.
All these "toys" had been brought in by Lina, that insatiable "Juicer." Initially, the other women were uncomfortable with them, but as time passed, they stopped complaining. Some had even grown fond of these decadent and stimulating games.
The moment they entered, Randy began to undress with practiced ease. Nowadays, she always stripped completely naked before they began.
As her Aura grew stronger, Randy's body had undergone a noticeable transformation. Her muscles were firmer and more elastic than before, and her skin possessed a healthy radiance. The layer of fat beneath her skin had thinned significantly; while she was still much softer to the touch than the other female Knights, she no longer felt "squishy."
Her silhouette had changed as well. Perhaps due to their frequent intimacy, she had become much more curvaceous. Her breasts had grown at least two cup sizes, and her hips were noticeably broader.
Richie used to think of Randy as having an intellectual beauty that was somewhat fragile, but now she radiated a powerful sexuality—though that deep-seated air of intelligence remained.
Margaret hesitated for a moment before following them into the room. For some reason, she felt an overwhelming sense of tension.
Richie pulled open the top drawer of a small bedside cabinet. Inside lay a single, slim manual.
He took it out and thrust it into Margaret's hands. "Take off your clothes, then read this cover to cover. Commit every word to memory."
Margaret's heart hammered against her ribs, a mix of nervousness, curiosity, and a strange, budding sense of anticipation. She slowly opened the first page.
Just one glance at the contents made her face flush a deep, burning crimson.
She finally understood exactly how Richie's strength had skyrocketed.
Despite her intense shame, Margaret forced herself to read through the entire manual.
By the time she finished, Richie and Randy were already joined together.
The two were well-acquainted with each other's bodies. Randy, like Lina, no longer needed to guide him with her hands. She simply sat down on him, letting Richie's thick member slide deep into her body.
As he reached her depth, Randy took a sharp, shallow breath, her abdomen rippling.
Richie immediately felt as if his member were being gripped by a small, internal hand.
"You've learned that move too? Did Lina teach you?" he asked, surprised.
Randy gave the bridge of his nose a playful flick. "And who do you think I learned it for?" she replied with a mock glare.
She sighed inwardly but felt no regret. Since she had chosen to be with him and had repeatedly broken her own boundaries of endurance, she had accepted this. They were already engaging in group trysts, and she had tried everything from oral to anal sex. What was left to be worried about?
"Stop talking," Randy said with a light chuckle, leaning in. "Don't you want to prove your worth to your little girlfriend?"
She pressed her fragrant lips against his.
As they began their rhythmic union, the foreign energy flowed continuously through their bodies.
Richie didn't notice at first, but after a while, he realized his Aura was circulating through four distinct pathways simultaneously.
That wasn't the only change.
Most of the foreign energy entering his body actually stayed there, instead of being exchanged back and forth between him and Randy.
During their Dual Training, Randy's role was to absorb energy from the environment, while his role was to contain and convert it. Before, he had been like a small cup, unable to hold much. Now, he felt like a massive water tank.
As the energy accumulated, Richie tried once again to dissolve the icy Aura he had absorbed from Margaret.
He guided the energy through dozens of cycles, but eventually grew frustrated. Even with the foreign energy's help, he couldn't fully break down and assimilate that cold Aura.
The only progress he made was that the icy energy was becoming increasingly refined.
At some point, their lips parted. Richie's body was now brimming with the foreign energy.
But he didn't let Randy go. He began tracing circles on her buttocks with his fingers—a prearranged signal between them.
Randy's face instantly turned a vivid shade of pink. The signal meant he wanted to proceed with a "real" union.
She knew this was for the benefit of the young girl watching.
Giving Richie a sharp, meaningful look, Randy began to move with wild abandon, letting his thick member plow through her floral passage.
To heighten the decadent atmosphere, Randy began to moan in a sultry, melodic tone. "Ah... ah... Richie... it's getting even bigger... ah... you're stretching me to the limit."
Her voice grew louder, more frantic. "Harder... yes... more... oh... it's so good... yet it hurts... I can't describe it... just... use more force... I can't take it anymore... I'm coming!"
"Sss... ah... you're my savior... your cock is incredible... I'm flying... faster... yes, faster... give me everything you've got... drive it right through me!"
Randy's moans became increasingly primal—a style clearly influenced by Lina. Since joining this "ship," she had been thoroughly corrupted by the more uninhibited woman.
The sounds of her cries and the wet, rhythmic slapping of their bodies echoed in the cramped room.
The room was remarkably well-insulated. When the chair was first brought in, the room had been specially treated to soundproof it. No matter how much noise they made inside, not a sound escaped to the outside.
The two were now lost in the throes of passion. Richie paid little mind to her cries—if anything, they only served to stimulate him further. But for Margaret, the experience was entirely different.
She had never witnessed anything like this. Never seen such a scene of "debauchery," let alone a sexual act so fierce and unbridled.
Randy's cries rang in her ears, filling her with a sense of dread. Part of her wanted to bolt for the door.
She was terrified that it would soon be her turn to join Richie, but she was even more afraid that she would end up just like the woman before her.
Recalling the bone-deep pleasure of her own climax, she knew that if she joined them, she would soon become just as insatiable.
Just as Margaret's resolve was wavering, both Randy and Richie cried out simultaneously. Randy's voice was sharp and frantic, while Richie's was a long, low growl.
The sound of their bodies changed from a sharp *slap* to a heavy, wet *squelch*.
There was nothing more sublime than reaching the peak together. After months of practicing with these women, Richie had finally mastered the timing.
His member throbbed violently inside Randy, sending wave after wave of seed deep into her. As they continued their frantic thrusting, the excess began to spill out from her.
The climax lasted for several minutes. Randy's constitution had truly reached that of a "wanton woman."
Even as the peak passed, the afterglow lingered far longer. For seven or eight minutes, the lingering pleasure remained at nearly half the intensity of the climax itself.
While the sensation was wonderful, the aftermath was anything but elegant.
A large amount of white froth seeped from Randy, coating her pale buttocks before trickling down her legs.
Richie and Randy remained lost in their shared moment, but Margaret could no longer bear to look. She squeezed her eyes shut, curling her body into a ball.
After a while, she heard the sounds gradually quiet down.
Suddenly, her hand was seized and pulled. Margaret let out a small cry of alarm.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself straddling Richie. She shifted, her buttocks meeting the cold, sticky moisture on his skin. The sensation was profoundly unpleasant; to her, it felt filthy.
Glancing to the side, Margaret saw that the "wanton woman" she despised was simply standing there, making no effort to clean herself.
Seeing the white foam clinging to the woman's thighs and the trails of fluid dripping down her legs, Margaret felt a wave of nausea.
But it was too late to retreat. She felt that massive member once again parting her entrance and driving deep into her core.
The slippery sensation was unbearable for someone as meticulous as her. It was "dirty." She couldn't stand the thought of another woman's "filth" entering her body.
Margaret's resistance and her obvious disdain for Randy irritated Richie. He asked sharply, "Do you remember everything in that manual?"
The harshness of his tone startled her. She nodded instinctively.
Seeing her cowed, Richie seized the opportunity. He hooked his hands under her knees, lifting her bodily before letting her drop back onto him.
Each time, he drove himself in to the absolute limit. It was a brutal, overwhelming display of force.
Watching from the side, Randy lightly covered her mouth. She thought Richie was being unnecessarily cruel.
She knew this was his "taming" technique. Aside from Lina, everyone here had been broken in this exact way. This was how he asserted his dominance.
Seeing Margaret struggling to endure, Randy felt a pang of pity. Remembering how Richie had won her over in a similar fashion, she reached out and gave the soft skin of his waist a sharp pinch.
"Ow... that hurts!" Richie nearly jumped, glaring at Randy.
"Be gentle with her," Randy whispered. "She's not like us. Neither I nor Lina can ever be your wife, but she can."
Richie hadn't given a moment's thought to marriage, but he took Randy's advice to heart.
He gently lowered Margaret and pressed a kiss to her lips.
Margaret was already half-delirious. She felt a warm, slick tongue enter her mouth, and at the same time, a familiar yet slightly different Aura began to flow into her body.
It felt like her own Aura, but far more refined.
The secret to *Frost Aura* was that the "edges" of the energy crystals needed to be as fine as possible. It was like a whetstone; the finer the grit, the sharper the blade it produced.
For Margaret to refine her Aura to this degree on her own would have taken twenty or thirty years of arduous training.
She suddenly recalled Richie's words from earlier.
Now, she finally believed him. He really could help her grow stronger at an incredible pace.
Even if the *quantity* of her Aura didn't increase, having it refined to this level was a monumental gain.
Her disgust vanished instantly. Though she still felt "dirty," she was willing to endure anything to save decades of hard labor.
With her goal clear, she did her best to accelerate the circulation, wanting to pour all her Aura into Richie at once.
But her body betrayed her. Having just lost her virginity, she was still in a highly sensitive state.
Before long, she was trembling and curling her body against his, her passage clenching as a flood of moisture erupted from her.
She had climaxed, and it was a total collapse.
"Do you want to come down?" Randy asked, gently supporting her.
Margaret shook her head stubbornly. She leaned against Richie, slowly regaining her strength.
The moment she could move, she resumed the Dual Training.
Richie found this quite to his liking. He gave Randy a shrug and a "what can I do?" look, as if to say it wasn't his fault she was so eager.
The second session lasted longer, but Margaret ended up climaxing just as intensely as before.
Over the course of a few hours, Margaret reached the peak over a dozen times, eventually passing out from exhaustion.
Seeing her unconscious, Randy gave Richie a sharp poke on the forehead. "You really are a bad one. Did the Heavens send you here just to torment us women?"
Richie grinned but didn't argue. He held Margaret in his arms, his member still buried deep inside her.
The Aura circulation continued—something that surprised him. Previously, Dual Training would cease the moment one partner lost consciousness.
Richie wasn't sure if this was a unique trait of his connection with Margaret or a new ability he had developed.
***
"It seems you'll have to stay the night here. But what about her?" Randy asked, nodding toward the sleeping Margaret.
"I have no intention of keeping you," she added with a mock-scowl. Suddenly, her expression grew serious. "Aren't you worried about your parents? You've been in the hospital for so long. Why don't you take this chance to go home and see them?"
Randy's suggestion reminded Richie that he hadn't been home in ages. And then there were the girls at the Rose Society! He had been intimate with all of them and felt a sense of duty toward them.
"There's one more thing I need to tell you," Randy said, hesitating as she searched for the right words. "I was worried about all this 'messing around' and that we might all end up pregnant. So, I took a sample of your seed and checked it."
She paused for a moment before continuing. "Your sperm count is incredibly low. It's almost impossible for you to father a child."
Randy's voice held a note of genuine disappointment. She secretly wanted a child of her own. She knew Merlin and the three sisters felt the same; none of them wanted to marry, but they hoped to continue this lifestyle until they were around forty, then have a child to pass on their legacy and give them a sense of purpose.
Richie listened, but he didn't seem particularly bothered. He had never been overly concerned with such matters.
He had initially sought Randy's help because the physical discomfort of not being able to release was his primary concern, not procreation.
Seeing his reaction, Randy let the subject drop.
***
By the time Richie slipped out of Randy's room, the sun was beginning to set.
He had woken Margaret and helped her dress before leaving.
He hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart, though. Not only did he not clean her, but he also made sure the "remnants" from his session with Randy were smeared onto her.
After several hours, the fluids had become thick and tacky—an absolute nightmare for someone with Margaret's slight obsession with cleanliness.
Randy, watching from the side, mentally cursed him for being a "pervert," but she couldn't say anything in front of Margaret. She simply leaned in and whispered, "You'll get used to it. The 'bad guy' sees these marks as proof of his conquest."
Margaret's face turned a brilliant red.
When they left the camp, Richie was carrying three large bags. Two were filled with food. Though he had left plenty of money for his mother and the girls, the siege had made food scarce even on the black market.
The kitchen Merlin managed was down to green beans, potatoes, and coarse barley bread.
The third bag contained a thick stack of books Randy had procured for him. They were manuals on *Psion* training and various other subjects.
Richie didn't walk Margaret home. He headed straight for the apartments where the Rose Society girls were staying.
Compared to a month ago, the area was much busier. It was now home to many survivors of the Battle of Morena—people of some status who weren't likely to spread "rumors" against the Republic. Those without such status were confined to other, more prison-like districts.
The building where the girls lived was still occupied only by them—a "privilege" Richie had specifically requested from the Military Management Committee. The committee was usually happy to accommodate a Knight's requests.
Richie had a spare key. He unlocked the door, and the girls nearly jumped with joy when they saw him.
Isabella's younger siblings were there too. The four kids crowded around Richie, chirping with excitement.
"I brought you some food," Richie said, setting the food bags down and tossing the third bag onto the bed.
Isabella's siblings immediately tore into the bags.
The girls were equally drawn to the food. While they received daily rations, it was barely enough to survive, let alone feel full.
"The big bag is for you all. The small one is for my family," Richie said.
Emily was the only one interested in the books. She picked one up and flipped through it.
It was a book on Magitech Armor, its contents far too advanced for her current level.
Despite not understanding most of it, Emily was captivated. She read through the parts she could grasp with intense focus. For some reason, she felt like this was what she was meant to do.
"That one's for you," Richie said, taking the books out of the bag. "And these others are for the rest of you."
"I suspect you, Ginny, and Sophie all have Psion bloodlines. I'm not sure about Melissa yet; I couldn't find a Psion type that matched her."
Ginny hurried over and leaned against him. "And what did you find out about us?"
"Emily's ability is the most powerful, and likely the most useful. It's called *Refining*. People with this talent usually become exceptional Magitech Armor designers. Ginny... you might be disappointed. Yours is called *Appraisal*—a very common ability. And Sophie's is *Botanical Support*. It's rare, but not particularly useful in combat."
Ginny pouted, but Sophie didn't seem to mind. She had always loved plants and thought her ability sounded lovely.
"If it's useless, why bother training it?" Ginny asked, tossing a book back into the bag and sitting on the bed with a huff.
Richie gave her a sharp smack on the buttocks. "I worked hard to get these. Even if you don't like it, don't throw them around. If you ruin them, I can't get another copy."
Ginny was a bit of a "bad seed" with masochistic tendencies. Instead of getting angry, she sprawled across the bed, presenting her backside to him with a sultry look. "That felt good... do it again... harder."
Richie felt a surge of excitement. he gave her another, firmer smack.
This one actually stung. Ginny yelped and rubbed her backside, but her eyes only grew more flirtatious.
Richie felt his desire rising. His hand began to fall in a rapid *slap-slap-slap* rhythm. Ginny's cries of pain slowly transitioned into a melodic moan that was incredibly seductive.
"Ah!" she cried out as Richie pulled down her trousers.
He gave her pale mound a light caress and found it already soaking wet. He was now certain she had a taste for pain.
Her buttocks were already red and slightly swollen, marked by his fingerprints. The sight only fueled Richie's excitement. He unbuckled his belt, and his trousers pooled around his ankles. With a firm thrust, his thick member slid into Ginny's narrow passage.
He showed her no mercy, thrusting with brutal force while continuing to slap her buttocks with every stroke.
"Ah... yes... more... I love it... hurt me... I'm your little whore... come and take me... fill me up... oh... oh!"
"Punish me... yes... use your big cock to destroy me!"
Ginny's moans were among the most intense of all the women he knew, rivaled only by Lina's. Both women were completely uninhibited.
The other girls watched, their faces flushed with embarrassment.
Isabella was the most flustered. Her siblings were right there; the younger ones didn't understand, but the ten and eight-year-olds knew exactly what was happening.
She covered their eyes, wishing she had more hands.
"Go, out of here. To the floor below," she commanded, ushering the children out. Usually, she would move them the moment Richie arrived, but the excitement over the food had made her forget.
Just as the door closed behind them, Ginny's high-pitched scream echoed from the room.
Richie hadn't visited in a long time, and the girls' bodies had begun to lose their familiarity with his touch, becoming sensitive once more. It only took a few thrusts for Ginny to reach a peak.
Of course, the physical pain had helped. The combination of masochistic stimulation and sexual pleasure had proven too much for her to handle.
Richie slowed his pace, shifting from brutal force to a more measured, rhythmic motion. He was learning that while intensity was important, a change in pace was equally vital. Women liked variety, and they appreciated a touch of tenderness.
He glanced at the time and sighed. He wanted to stay the night, but he couldn't.
He had to go home. He had been away too long, and his family would be worried sick.
As he continued his slow, deliberate thrusting, he pulled out the manual he'd brought for Ginny and tucked it under her.
"Make sure you train exactly as this says. You might discover some truly useful abilities. Real Psions usually have ten or so talents, though they're born with only one or two visible. The rest awaken as their mental power grows."
Ginny murmured something in response, giving him a flirtatious look. "And if I do well, will there be a reward?"
"Of course," Richie said with a mischievous grin. "I'll reward you with this. I'll make sure you can't walk for a week."
"You promised! Don't you dare back out," Ginny laughed. she reached down and traced the length of him. "Forget a week... I'd happily die right here under this thing."
"You little slut," Richie teased.
He picked out another book—this one for Sophie—and beckoned her over.
Sophie misunderstood his intent. Her eyes flickered with fear, but she eventually walked over, trembling as she began to undress.
Richie was more than happy to let the misunderstanding stand.
He had Sophie lie down beside Ginny. After withdrawing from Ginny, he moved behind Sophie. Her passage was coated in Ginny's fluids, providing more than enough lubrication. He slid in easily.
He was careful with Sophie. She was too tight, and any excess force could easily cause her injury.
He pushed in to her depth and began a slow, grinding motion with the head of his member. It was a technique he'd developed specifically for her—minimizing physical strain while maximizing stimulation.
While she was still conscious, he tucked her manual under her chest.
"Your *Botanical Support* might not seem useful now, but its rarity makes it worth developing," he said.
Sophie was much more compliant than Ginny. She clutched the book to her chest, her expression telling Richie she had taken his words to heart.
"Who says it's useless?" Ginny chimed in from the side. "I think it's very important. No one knows how this war will end. If we ever have to flee to the mountains, we'll need Sophie to make sure we don't starve."
Her words held some truth, but Richie found them irritating. Yet, he had to admit she had a point. For them, survival was the only thing that mattered.
Irritated, Richie decided to "punish" Ginny.
He raised his hand to smack her, but seeing her bruised and swollen buttocks, he hesitated. He suspected she'd only see it as a reward.
The thought frustrated him. A masochist was truly difficult to deal with. But then, he had another idea. Ginny was the only one truly obsessed with the act itself.
If he focused his attention on the other girls and ignored her, it would drive her crazy.
He accelerated his pace with Sophie.
Taking a deep breath, he focused all his energy on the tip of his member. After a few powerful thrusts, he felt her cervix part. Sophie couldn't handle the sensation; her body shook uncontrollably, her breath hitching in a series of sharp gasps.
He pushed a few more times, careful not to overdo it.
As expected, Sophie's passage clenched tight as a flood of cool liquid erupted from her.
Richie, his fingers still pressed against her perineum, pulled back slightly to prolong her climax as much as possible.
"Ugh... you're playing favorites. You've never been this gentle with me," Ginny complained.
Richie ignored her, savoring the intense suction from Sophie's core. While it wasn't as powerful as Lina's, it was still more than enough for him to feel.
When Sophie finally stilled, he beckoned Emily over.
Knowing it was inevitable, the "genius" girl walked over despite her inner resistance.
As he moved from Sophie to Emily, Richie felt a strange, distinct connection to the talented girl.
Just then, the door opened and Isabella walked in. She had settled her siblings and knew they'd be fine under the older two's supervision.
She didn't react to the scene in the room. She was used to it; a visit from Richie without this would have been the real surprise.
She walked straight to the bags on the floor, though her eyes strayed toward the cooking pot in the corner.
"Don't worry about food for me," Richie said. "I can't stay. I have to go home tonight."
Disappointment flickered in all their eyes—even Sophie and Emily, who usually found his attention overwhelming. They had a complicated relationship with this life, yet they always wanted him near.
"I can't stay tonight, but I promise I'll be back tomorrow. And as often as I can after that," Richie added, seeing their dejection.
By the time he had attended to all the girls, it was eight-thirty. He had been relatively restrained, only spending time with each of them once, though he gave Sophie and Caroline a bit more attention, making sure they both peaked three times. Melissa and Isabella peaked twice, while Emily was clearly his favorite of the night—no one could keep track of how many times she peaked, and Richie ended up finishing inside her. Only Ginny had been left out as punishment.
Watching the fluid seep from Emily, the girls were happy yet fearful. They were terrified of getting pregnant, afraid of the "Knight's Blood" they would have to carry.
***
As Richie left the apartment, he still felt a lingering sense of desire. But seeing the time, he headed toward his home.
The moment he walked through the door, he felt a strange atmosphere. His aunt and cousin were sitting by the fireplace, watching a pot bubbling on the flames.
"Why are you eating so late? Where's my mother?" he asked.
Neither woman had expected him. His cousin let out a cry of joy. "You're finally back!"
His aunt, however, remained focused on the immediate situation. "Your mother is at the hospital. Your father was injured."
Richie nearly jumped. "Is he okay? Which hospital? I'll go right now!"
His aunt quickly reassured him. "Don't worry, it was just a shrapnel graze. Nothing serious. He was lucky, really. He was in the hospital when the big attack on the third day happened. They say the bodies filled up Frost Moon Square that day."
Though Richie had just been discharged, he had heard about the recent fighting from Randy.
The day he was wounded had been the most intense. The Knights defending Glasslovar had lost nearly a sixth of their strength, though the enemy had suffered equally. Since then, both sides had been more cautious, sticking to small-scale skirmishes. Richie's squad went out every day, but they had only seen actual combat four times.
According to his aunt, his father had been wounded before he was. If he was already out and his father was still there, it likely wasn't as "minor" as she claimed.
But he agreed with her on one point: being in the hospital was a stroke of luck in these times.
"I still need to see him," Richie said. "Which hospital is it?"
"The one where you used to work."
"Don't rush off just yet," his aunt added. "Your mother is probably on her way back already. If you leave now, you'll miss each other. We're just finishing dinner. Wait until she gets back, have a bite to eat, and then you can go with her when she heads back to stay the night."
Richie realized she was right.
Mention of food reminded him of the bag he'd left by the door.
When he hauled it onto the table, both women rushed over with cries of joy. They tore into the bag as if it were filled with the finest delicacies rather than just beans and potatoes.
Richie walked over to the fireplace and lifted the lid of the pot. Inside was a thick, greenish sludge that smelled like grass. He grimaced.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Barley, husks, and some wild greens," his cousin explained.
The explanation only made him feel more nauseated. This wasn't food. He regretted not bringing more with him.
"It's okay, at least we have something," his aunt said, her tone heartbreakingly resigned.
Richie sat down, and the women began asking about his life. Richie, of course, lied through his teeth. He insisted he was just a gopher for a Knight squad—that he was always at the rear, moving supplies, and had never even seen an enemy Knight.
As they spoke, the door opened.
"Sister, look who's home!" his aunt cried out.
His mother looked thinner than he remembered.
When she saw Richie, her eyes welled with tears. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob and rushed over, checking him from head to toe.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm whole. No scratches, no broken bones," Richie said, stretching his arms and legs to reassure her.
"I told you he'd be fine," his aunt added.
"I heard Dad was hurt. I want to see him," Richie said.
His mother was the one to reassure him this time. "It's okay, really. He's already walking. I took him for a stroll around the square this morning."
It took a while for her to calm Richie down.
Now that her son was home, he was her priority. Her husband would have to spend the night alone in the hospital.
She absolutely refused to let Richie go back to the hospital that night. Richie's history with the place and his father's injury there had made her superstitious; she felt the place brought bad luck to the men in her family.
***
Life gradually fell back into a routine. The enemy encirclement continued, but the attacks remained sporadic.
Some thought the enemy was gathering strength for a final push, while others believed they were simply trying to starve the city into submission.
For Richie, life was simple.
Perhaps the brush with death had made him realize the value of his family. He made sure to go home every night, no matter how late it was.
He could afford to do this because his Dual Training had become much more efficient.
He didn't always need Randy now. A single session with her provided enough energy for him to train with two or three other women—except for Lina, of course.
Four days after Richie returned to the squad, a new member joined.
It was Margaret.
The arrival of the famous "genius" girl turned the unit into a true "Beauty Brigade." For Richie, it meant his inner circle had gained another member.
Initially, Margaret struggled to adjust. Seeing all those women crammed into such a small space at night had been a shock.
But she was quick to adapt. Within a few days, she had grown accustomed to the lifestyle.
Though she found it difficult to accept at first, the boost to her strength was undeniable.
Dual Training was most effective in the beginning, especially for those practicing difficult Arts. The three sisters had been proof of this, and Margaret was no exception.
Within ten days, her Aura had been completely refined. If her previous energy had been like jagged shards of glass, it was now like fine quartz sand—so smooth it didn't even sting to the touch.
Under normal circumstances, it would have taken her until her thirties to reach this level.
Not only had the *quality* improved, but the *quantity* had also increased significantly. Her Art, like the sisters', was physically demanding and limited her progress; Dual Training bypassed those limits entirely.
After just half a month, she reached the same bottleneck as Richie. She was just one step away from becoming a full Knight. With her natural talent, she shouldn't have hit this wall for another year or two.
But strength wasn't just about Aura.
To break through, both Richie and Margaret needed to refine their combat skills and Aura manipulation.
They began training together every day.
Initially, Richie could overpower her with his massive Aura and his *Mirror Reflection*. Every duel left the stubborn girl with a new set of bruises.
But as Margaret's Aura grew and she became familiar with his tricks, the tide began to turn. Her years of dedicated training gave her a foundation and an understanding of swordplay that far surpassed anyone her age.
Richie was a man of pride. losing to his mentor Dana was one thing, but losing to Margaret was something he couldn't stomach. He began training with a ferocity he hadn't shown since his time with the three sisters.
Seeing the two of them push each other, the rest of the squad felt the pressure. Even Rosa, who usually took nothing seriously, began to apply herself.
The squad's overall strength was growing at an unprecedented pace.