‘Norland’s orcs are more beautiful than foreign elves.’ Richard still remembered these words from Gaton. They were also the sole ironclad rule in planar war. If a passage was opened up between two planes, the only possibility was for one side to be wiped out.
However, Richard just couldn’t understand why things had to be this way. No matter how small the scale, a planar war would last decades and reap millions to tens of millions of lives. Still, he was not so rigid as to judge everything just based on his own feelings. As a powerful primary plane, Norland had built passages to thousands of other planes in history. The fires of war burnt without end here, while many planar battles lasted centuries. An invaded plane only had two options to regain peace: one was to be wiped out immediately, while the other was to submit and get assimilated. Since this was the case for so many planes, there had to be some reason for it. He couldn’t say planar war was wrong just because he didn’t know those reasons.
There had to be something that nobody wanted to point out. All nobles were educated on planar battles from their youth, learning to believe that conquering other planes was something as natural as breathing. It wasn’t just the nobles, every single powerhouse felt this way. Basically all of them had been tempered through planar battles, with every strong family possessing at least one plane of their own. That was the only way to establish a foothold in this land of perennial war.
Planar battle was an instinct of all the intelligent beings in Norland, not just humans. Elves, dwarves, orcs, barbarians… everyone wanted to conquer other planes. Looking at it from a broader perspective, this was true for all the other powerful primary planes as well.
Richard couldn’t help but laugh, swirling the wine in his cup and downing most of it in one go. Norland had many millennia of history, he mocked himself, numerous geniuses had popped up over all this while. If they hadn’t been unable to unravel the secrets of planar war and just immersed themselves in the fight, what was he doing letting his thoughts run wild? What right did he have to do this?
Without Faelor, his own strength would not have grown so rapidly. Without Faelor, he wouldn’t have accumulated so much wealth in such a short period of time. He had the power to control his own fate as well.
As he lifted the bottle and refilled his glass, a series of numbers streamed past his mind. Numbers for runes, gold and other forms of wealth, his army, the growing strength of his followers and himself…
But most importantly of all, there was the casualty count.
He was in a very strange state, many uninvited thoughts surging through his mind. He finished all the wine in his cup and reached for the bottle again, but then he found it to be too light. It had already been emptied.
He shook his head, feeling like he was still sober. The anxiety burning in his heart was even more obvious now, growing difficult to endure. He couldn’t understand what exactly his problem was.
He instantly took out a piece of blank paper, starting to doodle on it with the magic pen that never left his side. The dodole was a mixture of random curves, symbols, and numbers that covered a large portion of the paper, but even he himself didn’t know what he was drawing. Still, when the paper was filled up he felt like something pressing on his mind had been transferred to the piece of magic paper.
He opened a bottle of whisky and poured himself a full glass, standing in front of the window and sipping it slowly. He didn’t know when, but as glass after glass of alcohol was drained that bottle was emptied as well, thrown into the corner.
*Ting!* A new bottlecap landed on the ground, bouncing a few times as it rolled towards a pair of pale little feet at the door. It struck a delicate-looking toe and finally became still, after which a tender hand picked it up to examine.
This was a pair of sky-blue eyes, sparkling and translucent like the purest of sapphires. Even the pickiest of people could not find any flaws with their appearance. Rosie’s hair was let loose, resting on the shoulders of her long dress. Her feet didn’t make any sounds as she entered the study.
The young lady smelled like nature, and had practically no presence. In the midst of his personal uproar, Richard hadn’t noticed her arrival at all.
He couldn’t remember just how much he’d drunk. Raising the glass to his lips, he found it to be empty. He wanted to look for more, but he couldn’t even stand steadily anymore and had no choice but to place the cup on the ledge to stabilise himself. The bottle seemed to float over on its own, tilting and filling the cup.
He instinctively picked it up and drained it, only then wondering where exactly the liquor had come from. He turned and saw the battle, as well as the beautiful hands holding it. His gaze slowly travelled along the arms and shoulders, eventually resting on Rosie’s face.
He stared at her for a full half minute before frowning, “Rosie?”
The young lady nodded, standing there quietly.
He looked at the empty cup in his hand which had at some point stretched forward in front of her. Rosie immediately poured the alcohol into the glass, and he downed it all in one go before reaching it out again. She finally grew hesitant, speaking in a whisper, “You can’t drink anymore…”
Richard’s eyebrows furrowed, and the girl immediately gave up. This time, he didn’t finish the glass in one go. He returned to the window, reaching out to point at the boundless starry skies, “You know, that man must have been standing here all the ti—”
*Crash!* The glass in his hand suddenly fell, his own body starting to sway before it followed suit.
Rosie immediately tried to help him, but his body weight was completely out of her expectations. She was brought to the ground as well.
Feeling strange, Richard struggled his way up. However, this meant he ended up crawling over his only support, Rosie’s body. Their skin practically stuck together, and he could feel a euphoric combination of elasticity and toughness in her tall figure. His foot shifted unsteadily and he fell to the ground once more, subconsciously reaching out and grabbing onto Rosie’s skirt. Her long dress was practically ripped apart in one go!
A long, straight leg as fair as snow appeared in front of his eyes, exposed all the way up to the thigh. Every part of Rosie’s body was incredibly alluring, and his body stiffened as he forced himself up using the exposed leg. His grasp was very tight, causing the girl to tremble slightly.
Richard stood up straight, staring right into Rosie’s eyes as he breathed out a strong odour of alcohol. Rosie had no expression on her face, but her gaze matches his without covering. Her pouty lips opened slightly, making it look like the pure, arrogant girl wanted to curse.
The sense of wrongness caused Richard to burst. “You want to die?” he forced out through gritted teeth before grabbing her collar and tugging hard. In one go he ripped through the rest of her skirt and even her bra, revealing a naked upper body.
In reaction, Rosie suddenly lowered her head and bit into his shoulder with all the strength in her body. Richard trembled and screamed like an animal, but his body actually pressed further into her mouth.
He had gone insane, his rationality completely drowned out as he tried to find out if she could really cut through his flesh. The lady herself didn’t hold back either, biting as hard as she could. However, every muscle on Richard’s body was incredibly toned; now as hard as steel. Rosie’s gums began to bleed, but she could not bite through his flesh.
She suddenly loosened her bite and stood in front of him, meeting his gaze expressionlessly. Her chin raised slightly, showing an ingrained arrogance.
This was a challenge of the highest level. ‘I’m looking down on you,’ it seemed to say, ‘What can you do to me?’
Richard didn’t say a word as he pulled her close, pressing her to the ground. A few tugs turned the last of her clothing into rags that fell on the ground, and struggle as she might it was all to no avail. Her eyebrows suddenly locked together, her head falling back as she produced a hoarse cry of pain. Her hands gripped Richard’s body tightly, fingernails digging deep into the skin on his back.
A lonely boat weathered a storm that night, flung about the merciless waves that constantly rammed into her. She could no longer remain stoic, her brows locked together and her eyes tightly closed as guttural screams somewhere between crying and laughter rang from deep within her throat. The cries grew increasingly hoarse, her body twitching and trembling irregularly.
Rosie wanted to just break down and faint, but things did not go her way. Richard was like a surging mammoth atop her, fierce and cruel. It was hard to imagine such a powerful volcano in that seemingly frail body, but she felt like she had been pulverised.
It took some time for the storm to subside. Drained of all strength, Rosie lay on the ground ruined as she gasped for breath. Sweat started to pour out of her body once she relaxed, what seemed like a waterfall from her forehead completely drenching her long hair. Richard was just as exhausted, falling deep asleep atop her. He even started to snore lightly.
Finally recovering some strength, Rosie tried to push him off. However, the moment she tried to move her brows twisted together and she couldn’t help but loose a cry. Richard had ejaculated and filled her body, but his member was still as erect as ever; it was practically swollen to the limit within her body. The movement also affected all the sore parts of her lower body, making it feel like a million needles had poked her in a single instant.
She gasped, gritting her teeth and forcefully pushing him off. However, just that had turned her face pale.