Dual Cultivation Path

The Fire Element HQ's blistering heat lingered in Roderic Vane's mind as he stepped into the academy's sunlit grounds, the sultry image of Seraphina Blaze—her fiery red hair, full breasts, and swaying hips—still stoking the relentless simmer in his gut. His core pulsed with qi, fire and spirit now his chosen paths, but his hazel eyes glinted with a mix of anticipation and distraction as he walked alongside Barnaby Quill and Theobald Finch—Theo—toward lunch. Barnaby's sandy blond hair bounced with his easy stride, pale blue eyes bright with post-class chatter, while Theo's jet-black hair swept back from his sharp gray eyes, his calm presence a steady counterpoint to Roderic's restless energy.

Classes had ended for the morning, and hunger gnawed at Roderic, though it warred with the lustful ache he couldn't shake. "Lunch next," Barnaby said, his lopsided smile wide as he patted his stomach, red robe swishing. "Heard it's got elixirs—boosts your qi. Everyone's gotta eat it, even the seniors."

"Elixirs?" Roderic asked, his grin returning, pushing Seraphina's curves to the back of his mind—barely. "Better than Tansy's root stew."

Theo smirked, his deep red robe marked with faint singe lines, a nod to his fire affinity's intensity. "Standard fare—keeps us growing. Novices get the basics, but it's still strong."

They'd been issued robes after the affinity tests—silk dyed to mark their ranks: deep red for novices like them, forest green for the adept class (those with a few years' training), and silver-blue for seniors. Roderic's red robe hung loose on his tall, lean frame, brushing his patched trousers, the fabric smooth against his sun-browned skin. Barnaby's matched, swaying with his gait, while Theo's bore a quiet confidence, his prodigy status evident even in silence.

The dining hall rose ahead, a broad structure of white stone capped with a jade dome, its arched windows spilling light onto manicured gardens. The trio joined a stream of students—novices in red, adepts in green, seniors in silver-blue—filing through double oak doors into a cavernous chamber. Walls of pale marble soared to a vaulted ceiling painted with swirling qi patterns, chandeliers of amber glass casting a warm glow over long wooden tables. The air buzzed with chatter and the clatter of trays, thick with scents of roasted meat, spiced grains, and a faint herbal tang—the qi-boosting elixirs woven into every dish.

Students lined up at a serving counter, manned by disciples in gray aprons, their hands deft as they ladled food from steaming vats onto wooden trays. Roderic grabbed his, the tray heavy with a slab of glazed pork, a mound of millet flecked with herbs, and a clay cup of dark coffee, its surface shimmering with infused qi. "Smells damn good," he said, nudging Barnaby as they wove through the crowd to a table near the windows, sunlight streaming over their red robes.

"Beats quarry scraps," Barnaby agreed, settling beside him, tray clinking as he tore into the pork with a grin. Theo slid in across, his movements precise, sipping his coffee first, gray eyes scanning the hall with quiet interest.

Roderic bit into the meat, the flavor rich and savory, a subtle warmth spreading as the elixir kicked in—his core pulsed, qi tingling sharper in his meridians, the boost grounding him despite the lust still simmering from Seraphina's class. "This stuff's real," he muttered, swallowing, glancing around—novices like them, adepts laughing louder, seniors holding court—when movement near the counter caught his eye.

Cressida Lorne stood there, her silver-blue robe pristine, her long black hair cascading past her waist in glossy waves, violet eyes sharp with a haughty glint. Her olive skin glowed under the chandelier light, her lush figure—full breasts, wide hips, curved ass—drawing subtle stares even as she moved with purpose. She wasn't eating here—too proud, Roderic guessed, to dine in the open with the rabble. Instead, she balanced a tray with a sealed clay pot and a cup of coffee, her posture stiff as she turned to leave, likely bound for the privacy of her room.

Then chaos struck. An adept-class student—a lanky boy in forest green, tray trembling in his hands—slipped on a slick patch of floor near the counter, his coffee cup tipping as he flailed to catch himself. The dark liquid arced through the air, splashing across Cressida's chest as she passed by, soaking her robe in an instant. The silver-blue silk clung wet and tight to her skin, the coffee dripping down her front, staining the fabric a muddy brown and accentuating her magnificent breasts—their full, heavy shape starkly outlined, nipples faintly visible through the drenched cloth.

The hall stilled, a collective gasp rippling through—then buzzed with snickers, a few low whistles from perverts among the novices and adepts, their eyes wide and leering. Cressida froze, tray clattering to the floor, violet eyes blazing with fury as she rounded on the boy, her qi flaring with a frosty snap that chilled the air around her. "You incompetent oaf!" she snarled, her voice a shard of ice slicing through the din, frost curling from her breath. "Do you have any idea what this robe is worth?!"

The adept shrank back, pale and stammering, hands raised. "I—I'm so sorry, Senior Lorne—it was an accident—I slipped—"

"Accident?!" she hissed, stepping closer, her wet robe glistening under the amber light, the coffee making her breasts and curves even more alluring, drawing shameless stares from nearby tables—clan boys, free admits, even a few novices nudging each other with grins. "You've ruined it—look at this disgrace!"

Roderic's jaw dropped, his own coffee forgotten mid-sip, the sight hitting him like a punch—her breasts clung to the fabric, lush and irresistible, reigniting the wild lust he'd felt in the Ice HQ and Seraphina's class. His cock twitched, hardening in his red robe, heat surging through him, but something else broke through—her anger, raw and exposed, the perverts' leers a violation she didn't deserve. He acted on instinct, shoving up from the bench, yanking off his novice robe in a swift motion, leaving him in his patched tunic.

"Hold on," he called, striding over, weaving past gawking students, the deep red silk bunched in his hands. Cressida turned, her fury snapping to him, violet eyes narrowing as she recognized the "quarry rat" who'd seen her half-naked. He didn't falter, draping his robe over her shoulders, the red fabric covering her soaked front, shielding her from the leering eyes. "Here—use this," he said, voice steady, hazel eyes meeting hers despite the lust pounding in his chest.

The hall hushed again—eyes widening, whispers erupting—novices muttering, adepts gaping, seniors tilting heads. Cressida stiffened, her hands clutching the robe's edges, her fury faltering into a reluctant pause. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her tone sharp but unsteady, frost still curling from her breath as she glared.

"Keeping the stares off you," Roderic said, grinning faintly, though his flush betrayed the heat still simmering beneath. "Coffee's a bad look on silver-blue—red's better."

She stared, violet eyes searching his, her olive skin flushing faintly—anger or gratitude, he couldn't tell. "I don't need your pity, pervert," she muttered, her voice low, but her grip tightened on the robe, pulling it closer, the red silk stark against her black hair. "This doesn't mean I owe you."

"Didn't think it would," he said, stepping back, hands raised, his grin softening. "Just didn't like them gawking."

She scoffed, turning away, her wet robe dripping beneath his, coffee pooling at her feet, but her posture eased—a flicker of thanks she wouldn't voice. The adept boy stammered another apology, scurrying off with his tray, and the hall's buzz resumed—whispers of "That's the beyond-white guy!" "He covered her up?"—some perverts scowling, others nodding approval.

Roderic returned to the table, Barnaby and Theo watching, trays half-eaten. Barnaby laughed, clapping his shoulder. "Smooth move—thought she'd ice you for sure."

"Almost did," Roderic said, sliding in, his tunic bare without the robe, the elixir's warmth tingling in his qi. "She's mad—but maybe not at me now."

Theo smirked, sipping his coffee, gray eyes glinting. "Quick thinking. She's a senior—could've frozen you solid. You've got guts."

"Yeah," Roderic muttered, glancing at Cressida as she retrieved a fresh tray and stormed out, his robe still draped over her, her figure less exposed but no less alluring. His lust pulsed, a need he couldn't shake, but her reluctant acceptance stirred something else—a spark of connection amid the heat.