Chapter 282: Thighs sandwich

Eren snapped his left forearm up to guard. The impact of her kick landed like a cannonball, the sheer kinetic force skidding his bare feet six feet across the dirt, churning up green turf. But before she could recover her weapon, Eren surged forward again, low to the ground like a striking viper.

He flicked the black blade in three blinding, rhythmic thrusts, aiming at the throat, liver, and knee.

Emma ripped her sword from the dirt, weaving her steel into an impenetrable barrier.

Tink-tink-tink!

The deflections rang out like church bells. Eren moved around her guard, his footwork unorthodox, jagged, and unpredictable—switching from brutal street-brawling feints to fluid, elegant thrusts, never letting the Swordmaster settle into her imperial rhythm.

On the balcony, Seraphina leaned far over the marble, her breath caught in her throat.

"Look at the black blade," Aria murmured, her gaze glued to the clash. "Every time Emma’s aura touches it, the light dimples. It’s absorbing her kinetic residue."

Down below, Emma was grinning wild, feral, and utterly radiant. The flush on her tanned cheeks was pure battle euphoria.

"Is this all you’ve got with that fancy heirloom?!" she barked, suddenly dropping her stance.

Her aura exploded outward in a dazzling dome that flattened the surrounding grass. She lunged, initiating a relentless, five-strike flurry executed with blistering speed. High slash, low sweep, cross-cut, thrust, overhead crush. Each swing was heavy enough to shear through high-grade armor, moving so fast her steel turned into an ethereal cage of silver light.

Eren’s breath rasped through his teeth. He didn’t retreat an inch.

He met her flurry inside the pocket. The black sword moved like a shadow tied to his wrists, parrying each thunderous blow with microscopic precision. Sparks painted intricate geometries in the dust.

Clang-clang-shhhk-CLANG!

On the final overhead crush, Eren dropped to one knee, catching her heavy blade flat against his crossguard. The ground sank beneath his knee, the shockwave whipping his black hair wildly.

Emma loomed directly over him, pressing down with all the corded, breathtaking strength in her arms and back, sweat dripping from her sharp jawline. Their faces were inches apart, their panting breaths mingling in the heat of the clash.

"Yield, dear," Emma whispered, her eyes burning with fierce, competitive triumph. "You’re pinned."

Eren looked up through his sweat-dampened bangs, his blue eyes flashing with that incorrigible, wicked spark she loved.

"Who said I was playing by rules, Captain?"

Before Emma could register the trap, Eren didn’t push back against her sword. He released his right hand from the hilt entirely.

Allowing her heavy steel to slide down the black blade, he leaned his upper body backward beneath her guard, hooked his foot behind her ankle, and snapped his free arm around her taut, sweat-slicked waist.

Emma gasped as her balance evaporated. With a sudden, explosive roll of his hips, Eren reversed their momentum, hauling the empire’s greatest Swordmaster cleanly over his chest and slamming her down onto the soft grass, instantly pinning her beneath his weight.

Her sword flew from her hand, sticking upright in the turf five feet away.

Eren straddled her hips, breathing heavily, the black blade resting horizontally against the grass just beside her ear. His chest heaved against her grey crop top, skin slick with sweat, his eyes locked onto hers with breathless, teasing victory.

Emma lay pinned, her pink bangs splayed wildly across the green lawn, her toned chest rising and falling in frantic, shuddering gasps.

"Match point," Eren murmured, his voice delightfully ragged, his lips curving into a breathless, tender smirk. "Do you yield, Captain?"

Emma stared up at him, her grey eyes wide, stunned by the sheer, unhinged audacity of the takedown. Then, the realization of their position crashed down on her—his weight pressing firmly into her thighs, his bare skin radiating heat against her, his hand still resting firmly on her hip.

A fiery blush bloomed on her face.

"You... you cheating, shameless... bastard!" Emma sputtered, her voice cracking entirely as she squirmed beneath him, entirely unable to hide the frantic heartbeat.

"All’s fair when you decide to go easy on me," Eren teased, leaning down an inch further so his ragged breath brushed her burning cheek. "Tell me, Captain... is this truly the absolute peak of the empire’s youngest Swordmaster? Because right now, I’m beginning to feel genuinely embarrassed on behalf of my angel of death."

The shy, flustered pink on Emma’s cheeks vanished, swallowed whole by the sudden, terrifying flare of a warrior’s wounded pride.

Her jaw clenched. Then, slowly, a smile touched her lips.

It wasn’t the sweet, clumsy smile she reserved for him. It was the feral, bloodthirsty grin she wore when severing vanguard lines on the battlefield.

"Oh?" Emma whispered, her grey eyes narrowing with lethal malice. "Going easy, was I?"

Before Eren could brace himself, Emma’s hips bridged upward with explosive, inhuman leverage.

The violent buck caught him completely off balance, loosening his knee-grip on the turf for a fraction of a second. That was all the opening she needed. Moving with the fluidity of a coiled spring, Emma swung her long, athletic legs up around his torso, hooking her ankles behind his neck and snapping her core backward to drag him cleanly off his center of gravity.

In the span of a single second, the predator became the prey.

With a brutal twist of her hips, Emma rolled them across the grass, locking his head in an inescapable, vice-grip triangle choke right between her smooth, rock-hard thighs.

The air was knocked clean out of Eren’s lungs as his vision was violently replaced by taut muscle smelling of sweat and sweet bergamot soap.

"Now let’s hear that mouth run, recruit," Emma muttered fiercely, leaning back slightly to tighten the clamp, a smirk gleaming on her flushed face.

Eren began frantically slapping his palm against her sculpted outer thigh, feigning desperate agony.

"Mmph—ffs—t-that’s cheating! No grappling—illegal hold!"

Emma leaned down, resting her elbows on the grass. "Who said there were any rules out here, Eren? You set the precedent, idiot. Deal with the consequences."

However, Eren was entirely unbothered. With his face buried securely between the warmest, most exquisite pair of thighs on the continent, he was practically basking in the defeat. If this was the disciplinary punishment she had promised him back in the bathhouse, he was more than willing to serve a life sentence.

Meanwhile, over the canopy, a young manor maid stepped across the lawn holding a fresh glass of iced juice on a tray.

Norelia didn’t even lift her eyes from her romance novel as the shadow fell over her page. She casually reached out, grabbing the glass from the tray.

"Thank you," Norelia murmured, taking a long, blissful sip through her straw.

The maid stared toward the center of the training grounds where the empire’s greatest Swordmaster was casually choking Lord Volsver between her legs.

"Um... my lady..." the maid stammered, clutching the empty silver tray to her chest. "Should I... call the guards? Or perhaps fetch the healer?"

"No need," Norelia replied smoothly, flicking another page of her book with unbothered indifference. "Just ensure breakfast is prepared for five within the hour."