The Great Escape and the Saintess’s Rage

Daphne’s chest was indeed not small, a fact made even more prominent by her petite frame, which barely reached 1.6 meters.

If she could, Daphne truly wished these things hadn’t grown on her.

They were purely for show, nothing but a burden and a hindrance!

The moment the Saintess’s hand touched her, Daphne’s legs immediately went weak.

Her body sagged downwards, only to be forcefully lifted by the Saintess’s grip, causing her to emit continuous, delicate moans of pain.

“Stand firm, or I’ll squeeze harder,” Gwynevere’s voice was icy.

Yet, in the next second, a cold sneer played on her lips as they curved slightly upward. “As expected of a little pervert. Can’t even handle a slight touch?”

“Ugh…♡” Daphne couldn’t retort, left to endure Gwynevere’s humiliating play.

Several times, she wanted to raise her hands to block, but fear of the Saintess’s magic held her back, ultimately making her withdraw them.

Initially, Gwynevere had only intended to exact revenge.

However, once her hands truly made contact, she discovered an unexpected amusement.

It wasn’t merely the sensation, though the touch was indeed soft, warm, and quite pleasant.

The true delight lay in observing the half-blood maiden’s reactions and expressions.

It was a novel experience.

Gwynevere had never felt anything quite like it before.

Since witnessing the tragedy twelve years ago, her eyes and heart had been veiled by a gray-black cloth, unable to perceive color or feel the pulse of life.

Emotions had faded, then vanished entirely; joy and sorrow had abandoned her.

Yet, the appearance of this half-blood maiden seemed to shatter something deemed unbreakable.

Shame, anger, hatred—all the long-lost, once-familiar colors gradually returned to her perception.

But now, within her rapidly beating heart, something unfamiliar stirred, something that had never been there before. Gwynevere desperately wanted to understand what it was.

Daphne’s cherry-pink, glistening lips now appeared like succulent grapes in the Saintess’s eyes, inexplicably alluring.

‘They must taste wonderful,’ Gwynevere mused inwardly.

‘I want a taste.’

All other concerns were momentarily cast aside.

Like one poisoned, Gwynevere’s mind was consumed by this single thought.

She tightened her grip on Daphne’s soft mound, pulling the half-blood maiden closer, then subtly leaned down.

Gwynevere stood about half a head taller than Daphne.

With her weakness exposed and the height disparity, a palpable, invisible pressure rendered Daphne immobile as Gwynevere drew nearer.

The Saintess bent slightly, tilted her head, and even gently closed her eyes.

Platinum-blonde strands cascaded freely.

A faint, ethereal orchid fragrance wafted from the Saintess’s snow-like skin.

Her lips were rosy, yet veiled by a delicate frost, like flames encased in ice—a contained intensity.

‘This, this, this… she’s definitely going to kiss me, isn’t she!?’

As Gwynevere’s cold, exquisite face drew closer inch by inch, Daphne’s heart threatened to stop.

While she might be shameless, kissing a girl she had practically raised herself was certainly pushing the boundaries of human morality.

‘I can kill, burn, swindle, and cheat, but I absolutely cannot kiss my adoptive daughter!’

‘Is there no other way?’

‘Must I truly sit here and let Her Highness the Saintess steal my first kiss?’

The thought that this might be her only first kiss across three lifetimes filled her with a pang of melancholy.

Yet, no matter how sad, she couldn’t allow Gwynevere to succeed.

‘Perhaps I’m not truly at a dead end after all?’

‘Since a defeat prompt can still appear after losing, it means at least the ‘Orb of Oseriel’s Core Penetration’ hasn’t been disabled…’

In her desperation, thoughts flashed through her mind at lightning speed.

The azure panel instantly unfolded in her vision, just as she expected.

Daphne resolutely chose to enter the ‘Alluring Garments’ interface of the R18 MOD, where the exclamation mark remained a vivid red.

[Module Section: Alluring Garments Lv1]

[Beautiful and elegant female attire imbued with mysterious power is scattered across every corner of the Continent of Nocatia. Collecting them may yield unexpected surprises. This section will be fully unlocked after acquiring the first alluring garment.]

[Teleport to target location?]

‘Feasible!’

Even though she had no idea where she would be teleported, and it might even be a trap—

Daphne absolutely could not accept Gwynevere stealing her first kiss.

Furthermore, falling into the hands of the Blazing Sun Church would likely mean no escape.

Given these circumstances, she preferred the uncertain unknown over a definite dead end.

‘It couldn’t get any worse anyway. I can’t let this treacherous, disrespectful girl get away with this so easily!’

Before choosing to teleport, Daphne decided to do something truly earth-shattering.

She raised her right hand and, with a forceful pinch and squeeze forward, felt something soft, almost fluid, yield into her palm.

Gwynevere herself had never done such a thing to herself.

The unprecedented, intense stimulation caused the usually stoic Saintess, who rarely showed emotion, to let out an uncontrollable delicate moan.

Instinctively, she released Daphne’s hand, her eyes wide as she looked down at Daphne’s hand gripping her.

The tables had turned.

Gwynevere had no time for anger; her first reaction was pure astonishment. “How dare you!?”

“Goodbye! No, never again!” True to her original intent, Daphne, in the final moment before teleportation, stuck out her tongue and made a face at Gwynevere once more.

Then, she gave a truly vicious squeeze.

“Ugh—♡!” The Saintess quickly covered her mouth, trying to stifle her cry of anguish.

Ink-blue specks of light instantly enveloped the half-blood maiden’s entire body.

By the time Gwynevere recovered from her daze, ready to sever that meddlesome, pinching hand with frost magic, the half-blood maiden’s figure had already become a translucent phantom.

“Don’t you dare run!” Ice blades condensed in mid-air as the Saintess roared.

The ink-blue light particles dispersed, and Daphne vanished completely with them.

The clear blue ice blade pierced the dark forged porcelain surface, her attack missing its mark.

The half-blood maiden had provoked and humiliated her, then simply vanished into thin air.

Gwynevere felt something heavy settle in her heart.

Her legs felt so weak they couldn’t support her weight, and she dropped into a ‘duck sit’ position, gripping her staff horizontally, her eyes staring blankly at the ground ahead.

“Teleportation magic? What in the world…”

Teleportation magic was the ultimate arcane art of cosmic magic, a feat only achievable by a select few Grand Archmages of exceptionally high magical attainment.

‘Was that half-blood maiden merely feigning weakness? Why was she in this ruin? And why…’

Too many questions threatened to overwhelm Gwynevere’s confused mind.

She took a deep breath, consciously clearing these troubling thoughts from her head.

Her hands, tightly gripping the staff, involuntarily tightened further, causing the veins and bones on the back of her gloveless right hand to subtly protrude.

“She dared to…”

Ice mist swirled around the Saintess, and crystalline hoarfrost scattered from the magical energy condensing in the air.

“She dared!”

Frost spread outwards from her, creeping like a living entity across the porcelain and mirrored surfaces, greedily claiming every untouched corner.

“SHE DAREEEED!!!”

Jagged ice spikes violently erupted, piercing through the black porcelain floor.

In an instant, more than half the corridor was ravaged and consumed by hard, sharp ice, with man-high, frigid spikes covering the ground.

Such fury.

The emotions in her heart had never been so vivid.

Gwynevere could distinctly feel her heart pounding.

Involuntarily, a smile crept onto her lips.

The Saintess, bewildered, dropped her staff and touched her face, a smile irrepressibly blossoming across her features.

After the anger, astonishingly, came anticipation.

“We’ll meet again. If I ever catch you again…”

Amidst the swirling ice mist and towering ice spikes, the platinum-haired maiden covered her face, letting out a wild, unrestrained burst of laughter.