The Black Stone Tavern was a furnace of chaos, the post-Harvest Moon Festival crowd rowdier than a Gromble stampede. Mugs clinked, laughter roared, and the air smelled of ale and roasted skewers. My ribs still ached from Bera and Lila's bar-smashing stunt, and my backside throbbed from Bera's fiery arrow, but strutting through Opeka in smallclothes for three days had cemented my legend.
The Supreme Elf was untouchable, and tonight, I had a prank brewing hotter than Rubirion's flames.I slipped into the tavern kitchen, where Bera was stirring a pot of Gromble stew, her apron barely containing her glorious curves. That chest—by Aurelion, it could start a war. Her dress hugged her hips, the fabric swaying as she moved, and I grinned, my mind already spinning a plan.
"Bera, my fire goddess," I crooned, leaning against the counter, "you're making that stew look dull by comparison."She shot me a smirk, Fire Qi flickering in her eyes.
"Killyaen, your mouth's gonna get you singed one day." Her voice was a tease, but her glance lingered, and I knew I had her hooked. As she turned back to the pot, I crouched, quick as a Shadow Panther, and tied the hem of her dress to the stove handle with a strip of moozze tail cord—strong, subtle, and primed for chaos.
Lila was out front serving, oblivious, her sleek thighs flashing through the crowd, so no one caught my move.I crept up behind Bera, heart pounding with the thrill. Her curves were a masterpiece, that round backside begging for my touch. I raised my hand, gave her a sharp smack right on the rear, and bolted, cackling. "Catch me if you can, fire queen!" I yelled, dodging a flung ladle that clanged against the wall.
Bera's roar shook the kitchen. "You perverted little—!" She charged after me, eyes blazing, not noticing the cord. Rip! The dress tore clean off, leaving her in just her apron, the fabric barely covering her front and leaving her back gloriously bare. She didn't slow down, storming through the kitchen door into the tavern, a vision of fury and curves that stopped every mug mid-sip.
The crowd went wild. Men hooted, women gasped, and Lila, balancing a tray of ales, froze, her jaw dropping.
"Bera, you're—!" she started, but Bera, blind with rage, didn't hear, her apron flapping as she chased me around tables.
I weaved through the chaos, my ribs screaming, the curse's 30-kilogram weight dragging my steps, but the sight of Bera's bare curves fueled my sprint. Lila's shock turned to a wicked grin, and she shouted, "Get him, Bera! Show that pervert what's coming!" But her eyes flicked to Bera's exposed rear, and a flush crept up her cheeks, her Earth Qi tingling with what looked like envy—or something spicier.
I vaulted over a bench, dodging a thrown tankard, but Bera was relentless, her Fire Qi sparking as she lunged. The crowd chanted, "Supreme Elf! Fire Queen!" like it was a damn arena. Then Bera skidded to a halt, finally feeling the breeze. She glanced down, saw the apron-only situation, and her face went from fury to mortified crimson. A strangled yelp escaped her, and she clutched the apron, tears welling as the tavern's roars hit her like a Zenoite Krovar.
Guilt stabbed me harder than Goran's sword. I'd wanted chaos, not this. "Bera, I—" I started, but she bolted back to the kitchen, tears streaming.
The crowd's laughter died, and Lila shot me a glare sharp as a Teridian blade.
"You're a dead man, Killy," she hissed, shoving past to follow Bera. Janko, scratching his itchy-cat face, cackled from a corner, muttering,
"Serves you right, wretch."I slunk into the kitchen, head low. Bera was slumped against the counter, apron clutched, sniffling. Lila hovered, rubbing her back, but her glare at me could've cracked stone.
"Fix this, pervert," Lila snapped, her thighs tensing like she'd Earth-Qi-stomp me herself. I nodded, my usual grin gone.
"Bera, I'm sorry," I said, voice soft. "It was a stupid prank. I'll get you a new dress, swear on Aurelion."
Bera's tear-streaked eyes met mine, and for a second, I thought she'd blast me with Fire Qi. Then she lunged—not to punch, but to grab my shirt, pulling me into a kiss that burned hotter than her arrow.
Her lips were fierce, her curves pressing against me, and I melted, my hands finding her hips before my brain caught up. Lila gasped, her flush deepening, and she muttered,
"Unbelievable," storming out, her Earth Qi leaving a faint tremor.Bera pulled back, breathing hard.
"You're an idiot, Killy," she whispered, but her eyes held something new—lust, maybe, or something deeper.
"Don't make me cry again." I nodded, stunned, my mind replaying that kiss.
"Never," I promised, though my grin crept back, already plotting how to charm her into another.
The tavern buzzed with gossip as I rejoined the crowd, Lila serving with a scowl, her glances at Bera now tinged with rivalry. Janko muttered revenge, his itchy-cat face glowing faintly, but I barely noticed.
Goran's training that morning had me mastering Thunder's Edge, a non-Qi strike that split his practice sword clean in half. The curse's weight had slowed my swing, but my strength, honed by months of strain, made the blade sing.
"You're a beast, kid," Goran had grunted, his Fire Qi flaring.
"Keep that edge sharp."
A merchant at the bar, reeking of Crestmoore coin, rambled about "cursed ruins" near Solspire, and my amulet pulsed, nagging like Mima's gossip. Legends of the Middle Sea whispered of glowing relics and Azurion's waves, but I shoved it down. Ruins could wait—Bera's kiss, Lila's glare, and Janko's scheming were my stage. I'd pranked Bera into tears, kissed her into fire, and turned the tavern into my arena. The Supreme Elf was just getting started.