SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Sea ancestral temple…

Waves crashed in rhythmic harmony outside, but inside Kent’s chamber, he was calmly cultivating like a sage.

“Bang”

Someone directly slammed the Kent’s chamber door with a loud noise. Kent woke up with a curious look.

The heavy doors creaked open. Kent didn’t look up. He already sensed the pressure in the hallway shift like a blade being slowly drawn.

Then came the voice. Calm. Clipped. Controlled.

“You seem to be resting well after three nights of playing healer.”

Kent finally saw the face.

Varun stood at the threshold, back straight like a carved pillar, hands clasped behind. His robes shimmered with azure scales—a symbol of his elite status in the Naga clan. But it wasn’t his posture or his power that made the moment stiff. It was his eyes. Deep, silent, and cold as the ocean trenches.

Beside him stood a woman.

Tall, silver-haired, with ocean-blue eyes that shined with hidden fire. Her sea-shell earrings sparkled with spirit essence. She leaned against Varun’s shoulder like a gentle tide against rock, smiling with affectionate sweetness. Her fingers traced small circles on his arm with studied laziness.

But the moment Kent’s gaze passed over her, her head tilted—barely an inch—and she winked.

A slow, mischievous wink.

Kent’s expression didn’t flicker. He walked back into chamber with a lazy look.

Varun walked forward with deliberate steps, his aura brushing the walls, like waves warning ships from coming too close.

“My sister is standing again. She is no longer frozen in pain. She ordered me to thank you.” he said in a low voice.

Kent raised an eyebrow.

“She ordered you to?” he asked, mildly amused.

Varun didn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenched slightly.

The woman beside him laughed softly, her voice like bells dancing on waves. “My, my… isn’t that how all noblemen behave? So noble, so stiff. Even gratitude sounds like an execution notice.”

Varun shot her a sideways look. “Sana.”

She pouted, still gently holding his shoulder, and whispered with a coy grin, “I’m just saying what’s on everyone’s mind, darling.”

Kent looked between them with casual disinterest. “I don’t need thanks, Lord Varun. Neela’s pain is gone. That was my task.”

Varun stepped closer. His aura spiked just slightly—like a tide pulling back before the surge.

“But if even the tiniest side effect manifests in her again…” Varun said, his voice flat and deadly calm, “I will not wait for discussion. I will crush your bones before your next breath finishes.”

Kent met his gaze fully now, not with arrogance, but with quiet steadiness.

“You care for her. I respect that. But threats don’t scare me.”

Sana looked between them with the excitement of a woman watching two sea beasts circle before a clash.

She giggled.

“This is fun,” she whispered, then turned to Kent again. Her eyes watched Kent seductively while hiding her intentions. “You’re quite the man, Kent. The way you healed her… the whole palace has been talking.”

Kent didn’t answer. She leaned closer.

“You ignored me earlier,” she said, voice hushed as if it were a confession. “I don’t like being ignored.”

Kent glanced at her hand on Varun’s shoulder. Then met her gaze coldly.

“Reaching my tree is not so easy.” Kent replied indirectly to her intention.

Sana blinked once. Her smile faltered for a split second—like a wave that didn’t break. But she recovered smoothly, offering a slow, teasing smile and stepping back beside Varun.

“Ah, so the dragon has a conscience. How rare.”

Varun frowned at her again but turned back to Kent.

“I don’t like you,” he said. “But… I will honor my sister’s words. For now.”

He gave a curt nod, turned, and started walking away. Sana lingered for one second longer.

With a last longing look and a quick glance that darted from Kent’s face to his chest to his eyes again, she whispered, “We’ll speak again.”

Then she followed Varun out, hips swaying like a dancer across ripples.

Kent stood still for a moment in the quiet that followed. Only the sea wind moved outside, tugging the curtains gently.

He closed the door and muttered to himself,

“Women are the same… whatever the race!”

–

Later that night…

The blue moon glowed brightly, casting long silver shadows across the carved coral spires and singing tides.

Kent sat on the stone balcony of his guest chamber, shirtless, golden scales faintly visible on his back as he watched the waves below. His eyes were closed, not meditating—but listening.

A soft wind stirred. The faint scent of lotus perfume rode the breeze before the softest rustle of silk whispered behind him.

“I was wondering when you would come,” Kent said with smirk.

From the shadows, a veiled figure stepped forward, her sea-blue robes shimmering like moonlit water. A thin mask of spirit cloth hid her identity, but Kent didn’t need to see her face.

“Sana,” he said, not turning.

The woman froze for a second, then let out a sigh. “You knew?”

Kent smiled faintly. “You smell of desperation. And lotus oil.”

She pulled her veil down, revealing her elegant face now bare of the usual coquettish smirk. Her eyes were heavy tonight, shadowed not by makeup but fatigue and shame.

“I need your help,” she said plainly.

Kent finally turned, meeting her gaze directly. His golden eyes glinted under the moonlight like molten metal. “And why would I help the woman who just threatened to seduce me while hanging on her lover’s shoulder?”

“I didn’t threaten,” Sana said with a twitch of her lips. “I offered.”

Kent leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head. “Even worse. A rotten cave offering disguised as a gift.”

Sana’s smile cracked. “What?! How did you know?” Sana cried out as she understood the meaning of rotten cave.

“I am a Pleasure Healer. I will know more about woman-hood than anything.” Kent replied.

“I…. I’ve tried ten healers from across the Sea Nations. None could identify the problem. I’ve lost control over my elemental core. My… womanhood is turning dark and hard like stone. I can’t even channel yin essence anymore. If this continues, I’ll lose my spirit root.”

Kent sipped from his cold tea, then stood up, approaching slowly until he was only a breath away from her. His gaze bored into hers like a dragon evaluating prey.

“You came to cure your failing womanhood,” he said softly, but his words were sharp. “Yet you dare to offer me the same rotting fruit you seek to heal. What a joke.”

–

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