Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 60: ritual

Lor knelt on the creaking wooden floor of his room, the lantern’s flickering glow casting jagged shadows, the air thick with the lingering lavender scent of his bath.

Kiara sat opposite, propped against the headboard, her athletic frame taut, blouse clinging to her full breasts, nipples pressing through the thin fabric, skirt riding high to bare plush thighs that shimmered in the light. freeweɓnovel-cøm

Her dark bangs framed a face sharp with defiance, eyes blazing with a storm of determination and vulnerability after her demand for the Light’s guidance.

The coin hovered between them, trembling in the charged air, its glint a pulse in the heavy silence.

Lor let out a low, guttural hum, like an ancient beast stirring awake, the sound vibrating through the room.

The coin dropped with a sharp clink, spinning once before settling on the floor.

His eyes snapped open, hand pressing to his forehead, feigning a reel, but his mind was razor-sharp, the ritual’s demand already burning in his chest.

Kiara leaned close, her blouse dipping low, the soft swell of her cleavage teasing his focus, her breath hot and quick, thighs shifting to reveal a glimpse of black lace.

"What did you see?" she demanded, voice cutting like a blade, her dark bangs swaying, breasts heaving as she leaned closer.

Lor’s gaze locked onto hers, his voice deep, resonant, as if another spoke through him.

"The Guiding Light has spoken," he intoned, solemn and heavy. "To receive its wisdom... you’ll need to give me a handjob."

Kiara froze, her eyes flaring with shock, then erupting into fury.

"You what?!" she roared, leaping to her feet, blouse straining against her breasts, thighs flashing as her skirt hiked higher.

"You little shit—" Her fist whipped toward his face, a punch fueled by raw anger, strong enough to shatter bone.

Lor’s hand moved, calm and inevitable, catching her fist mid-air with an iron grip.

He pulled her clenched hand away, their eyes locking—his glowing faintly, serene, not the awkward loser she’d mocked but something vast, untamed.

Kiara’s breath hitched, her eyes wide, pupils dilating. "What the fuck—how...?"

"You shouldn’t test what you don’t understand," he murmured, voice low, a dangerous edge cutting through.

He unleashed his aura, a tidal wave of magical power surging through the room, heavy and oppressive, pressing against her skin like a storm’s weight.

The air crackled, the lantern flickering wildly, his hidden strength dwarfing her earlier pulse, a raw display of dominance that made her thighs tremble, black lace peeking further as she braced herself.

"Stand down, brat," he said, voice cold, eyes unyielding. "Or I’ll break your wrist."

"Try me," she snarled, breasts heaving, her defiance blazing despite the tremor in her voice, her body leaning into him, challenging his power.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t lie.

His grip twisted, a sickening snap splitting the air as her wrist bent at an unnatural angle.

"AAAaaa!" Kiara screamed, collapsing to her knees, dark bangs falling across her face, pain flashing through her sharp features, her blouse clinging tighter as she gasped, breasts rising with each ragged breath.

thud thud thud

Footsteps thundered down the hallway.

The door burst open, Mira, Lor’s mom, standing wide-eyed, her nightdress swaying in the draft.

"What happened here?! I heard shouting—Kiara, are you alright?" Her voice shook, eyes scanning the room in alarm.

But nothing seemed amiss. Kiara and Lor sat on the wooden floor, facing each other in tense silence.

Kiara turned slowly, composed as stone.

Not a tear marked her face.

Her voice was even, though laced with restrained pain.

"Yes, ma’am."

Her eyes flicked to Lor—a glare sharp enough to cut steel—as she cradled her twisted wrist with her uninjured hand.

Lor met her gaze, a knowing glint in his hazel eyes, then turned to his mother with a sly chuckle. "She was practicing vocal warmups. Got a bit off-key."

Mira blinked, brow furrowing. "Well..., keep it down. It’s late, and the neighbors—"

"Of course," Kiara said sweetly, her voice a polished mask. She shifted slightly, skirt inching higher over her thighs.

"Sorry, Mom. I should’ve warned her," Lor added, his grin all edge.

Mira cast one last glance around the room, searching for anything out of place. But aside from the single coin resting in front of Lor, nothing seemed amiss.

Then the door clicked shut.

The moment it closed, Kiara stood, rolling her shoulders, her good hand reaching for her mangled wrist.

With a sharp snap and a quick rotation, the bones shifted back with a soft pop

She shook her hand, and now it looked fully healed, as if Lor never broke her hand.

Magic pulsed through her, raw and fierce, her breasts heaving, "You bastard," she hissed, stepping closer, her sharp face inches from his, breath hot, eyes blazing with fury.

"You actually broke my wrist."

Lor didn’t flinch, his hazel eyes steady, her scent flooding his senses.

"You should know who you’re dealing with," he said, voice low, a dangerous edge cutting through the heat.

She leaned in, her breasts nearly brushing his chest, her lips parted, wet and inviting. "And who’s that, exactly?"

His voice deepened, resonant, the Guiding Light surging through him.

"I am the Guiding Light, once the greatest sage who pierced the veil of worlds, master of unseen truths, weaver of fates, holder of secrets that bend reality." His eyes glowed brighter, the air trembling, the lantern’s light dimming under his aura’s weight as Lor went with the flow.

"I am the spark that ignites the unworthy, the flame that forges strength from weakness, the voice that speaks when mortals falter. You dare challenge my vessel, yet seek my guidance? You insolent insect."

The room seemed to shudder, his power a living force, shaking Kiara’s resolve, her thighs trembling, her blouse straining as her breath quickened.

Kiara’s nostrils flared, her eyes blazing, but a flicker of awe crept in, her body leaning closer.

Lor’s voice softened, lips curling into a sharp grin. "This boy begged for your life. So I’m sparing you—from the ash your fate demands. But you... you raised the price."

Her brow arched, voice low, torn between fury and intrigue.

"To what?"

"A blowjob," he said, grin wicked, eyes glinting with challenge, the air thick with their tension.

"Take it... or walk away faithless."

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