On a moonless night, the sky was veiled in mesmerizing noctilucent clouds that shimmered like spectral waves. The city of Delta stood cold and metallic, yet it thrummed with a strange vitality, as if the streets themselves pulsed with unseen energy.
People moved like clockwork—predictable, efficient, yet each possessed the power of free will, the spark to change their destiny.
Down a narrow alley, the icy sea breeze danced between dilapidated crates and forgotten parchments, brushing past a lone figure hunched against the wall.
Travis.
Only sixteen, yet his gaze was heavy with burden. He looked up at the sky, eyes catching the flicker of the clouds, and a bitter cry escaped him.
How had it come to this?
He was once the pride of the Momoa Clan, praised as a prodigy destined for greatness. But all of that shattered when he failed to awaken his Ascension Spirit—an event meant to mark the beginning of his journey as a cultivator.
Instead, it became the start of his descent.
Shame kept him from returning home. Disgrace weighed on his chest like a boulder. The academy he had dreamed of attending now felt like a fortress he could never enter.
Hungry, cold, and desperate for shelter, Travis wandered the city—just another lost soul swallowed by the night.
His appearance still radiated otherworldly charm. Long black hair flowed past his waist, and his silver eyes held a fragile innocence that hadn't yet been broken by the world.
As he huddled in thought, footsteps echoed down the alley.
A woman appeared—tall, graceful, with flowing auburn hair and an hourglass figure clad in an elegant silk robe. She seemed slightly tipsy, her brow furrowed with frustration from a long day.
Startled to find someone in the alley, she paused, then walked up to him.
"Hey there," she said, her voice rich and smooth. "How many mana stones do you charge for a night?"
Travis blinked in confusion. "Charge? I… I don't charge for anything."
She laughed—a soft, amused sound—and smiled with curiosity.
"Well then… how about spending the night at my place? It's warm, cozy, and I've got food."
Travis's stomach growled in response.
"I'm Travis. Thank you… for your kindness."
Her eyes briefly scanned him, lingering on his well-toned form. "Don't worry, sweet thing," she said with a chuckle. "Just follow me."
As they walked, she thought to herself, What a find… he's beautiful and built like a warrior. I wonder what else he's hiding under that innocence.
They arrived at a lavish mansion nestled in a quiet part of the city. Two maids greeted them with synchronized bows.
"Welcome back, Madam," they said.
The woman turned to the maids. "Prepare a hot bath and dinner for our guest. I'll be in my chambers."
One of the maids—Rose—stared in surprise at Travis. She hadn't expected someone so stunning to accompany her mistress home. Silver eyes, smooth skin, that quiet charm… her heart skipped a beat.
As instructed, Rose led Travis to the bathing chambers. Another maid, Lily, brought him fresh robes made of dark silk embroidered with blue threads.
Travis smiled warmly. "Thank you both. You're very kind."
They blushed slightly at his politeness.
Inside the grand bathhouse, hot water steamed up from a sunken marble pool. Travis stepped in, the warmth easing his aches.
"Will one of you assist me?" he asked without malice.
Rose met his gaze, a faint smile on her lips. "Of course. I'll be gentle."
She undressed slowly, her movements fluid, almost ceremonial. When she entered the pool, her figure was revealed in full—sensual curves, flawless skin, and an aura of quiet confidence.
Travis's breath hitched. He had never been this close to a woman before, let alone one like her.
As she approached, he tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes were drawn to her breasts, full and inviting, tipped with soft red buds.
She took a cloth and began to wash him—shoulders, arms, chest—her touch soft and professional, yet undeniably intimate.
When her hand dipped lower, he stiffened.
Literally.
His length rose with a life of its own, swelling into a nine-inch display of youthful vigor.
Rose blinked, her hand trembling slightly before she touched him.
She knelt between his legs, brushing her hair aside as she took him in her hand. No words were spoken.
Her fingers moved with delicate fascination, as if exploring something sacred. She leaned in, kissing the head gently, then slowly, confidently, took him into her mouth.
Travis gasped, overwhelmed. Her lips were soft and warm, her tongue precise in its motions. Every flick, every suck, sent shivers racing down his spine.
He moaned as she deepened the rhythm, her head bobbing gracefully, mouth tightening and releasing in perfect waves of pleasure.
Rose marveled at his stamina. How is he still holding on? she wondered.
She continued, her eyes never leaving his, her motions more intense now. This wasn't just physical—it was a test, a connection, and perhaps, the beginning of something deeper.