Ruok felt her move—something subtle, almost nothing—but he froze. He kept his head turned slightly away from hers, afraid that if he looked directly, he'd make things worse.
Which, in his experience, was very possible.
Unfortunately, not looking didn't help.
His eyes drifted downward—to her neck, then to her collarbone.
They were close—way too close.
He caught her scent without meaning to.
Feminine. Soft. A strange sweetness… with a faint hint of something burnt, like embers after fire.
His brain tried to recover.
Focus. Just focus. This isn't the time to fantasize. Not a—
His breathing went shallow.
"…Damn it," he thought.
His body, very unhelpfully, had its own opinions.
Minerva moved then.
Just a little.
"I do not require an explanation, soldier," she said, voice calm, composed, almost detached. "I require your report."
Ruok swallowed, forcing his thoughts back into place.
"Lord Mephyst," he said quickly, still not daring to look straight at her. "He changed sides—to the Trods. Tomorrow—"
"That is sufficient."
Her interruption was smooth. Final.
Ruok frowned slightly. That's it?
Minerva exhaled softly.
"For a moment, I believed your insights were about the Opherius kingdom," she said, her tone turning colder, more distant.
A pause.
"I stand corrected."
Ruok's brows pulled together. What is she talking about?
"The alliance of six armies," she continued, "was forged through survival—tempered by blood and fire."
She tilted her head just slightly.
"And yet you present a claim that defies both logic and nature."
Her gaze sharpened.
"The Trods are mindless, outworldly creatures. They devour souls. They do not negotiate. They do not persuade."
Ruok listened, uneasy.
…Wait. Something's not right.
"Tell me, then," Minerva added, "why a demon—bound by the same hunger—would align itself with such entities."
Ruok hesitated.
Yeah… that part doesn't make sense either.
Before he could answer—
Her hand moved. It touched his face.
Ruok froze.
Eyes widened slightly—but he still didn't look at her.
Didn't dare.
"Men," Minerva said quietly, her tone shifting—smoother now, almost thoughtful, "excel at two things."
Ruok's brain, unhelpful as ever, supplied its own answer.
…Don't say it.
"Fighting," she continued.
Her hand slid down from his cheek to his chest, light, controlled.
"And deception."
Ruok frowned. "I'm not lying, Princess."
"Then explain," she replied, her voice soft but precise, "how you possess knowledge of tomorrow."
Her hand moved lower, slow, deliberate—not improper, but close enough to make Ruok painfully aware of every inch of space between them.
"Are you a prophet?" she asked.
A pause.
"Or merely a man attempting to gain my attention?"
Her voice dipped—just slightly.
"Do you find me appealing, soldier?"
Ruok nodded.
Immediate.
His brain gave up somewhere halfway through that question.
Minerva let out a quiet, humorless breath.
"I am not particularly fond," she said, "of reckless men who fabricate urgency to appear significant."
Her hand circled lightly at his waist.
"But I will acknowledge your… boldness."
Ruok felt heat rise to his face.
This is not going well. Or maybe it is. I don't know anymore.
"Tell me," she added, tone almost curious now, "is your courage natural… or are you simply incapable of recognizing danger?"
Ruok blinked then looked at her. "Huh?"
Minerva let out a faint humorless smile, "Is your ball made of steel."
Then—
Pain—sharp and fast—spread through his body like electric shock.
A solid impact landed straight into his groin with a dull, horrifying thud.
Time almost stopped.
Somewhere in his mind, he heard something crack.
Maybe not physically. But emotionally? Definitely.
Around them, a few nearby soldiers flinched in perfect sympathy.
Ruok folded instantly, both hands clutching himself.
"My—my—" he gasped, voice breaking. "My balls…"
Minerva stepped aside as if nothing happened.
Her expression returned to neutral.
"Next time," she said calmly, "remember where you stand, soldier."
Then she turned and walked away, her steps steady, composed—as if she hadn't just ended a man's future bloodline.
Mr. Shuward glanced at Ruok as he passed.
There was a brief pause.
"…Unfortunate," he muttered.
Then he followed after her.
Ruok stayed crouched there, staring at the ground, reconsidering every decision that led him to this moment.
"…Not worth it," he whispered weakly.