Chapter 452: Break Period [Bonus - ]

Chapter 452: Break Period [Bonus Chapter]

The wide velvet-black clearing under the weeping willow was momentarily suspended in stunned breathless silence.

Every single recruit was still staring wide-eyed at the towering six-foot-four frame of Brida, who remained bent deeply at the waist with her fully exposed rear end aimed right at the edge of the Lord’s mat.

Tasmin was still burying her flushed face straight into Silas’s chest, her fists clutching his dark tunic as if she could pull the fabric over her head and vanish from the mortal plane entirely.

Silas looked at the provocative display, his blue eyes gleaming with an amused effortless spark.

"Sure."

A collective synchronized blink rippled across the entire encampment.

"Eh?" Helen let out a squeak.

"Wait, what—?" Sarah gasped, her jaw dropping open.

Before Brida could even register the words, Silas smoothly shifted Tasmin off his thighs onto the cushioned linen, planted his boots onto the soft black turf, and rose to his full height in a single fluid motion.

He didn’t draw back with mana or channel the divine aura of his Gold Core.

He simply stepped up directly behind the bent-over Titan, squared his shoulders, cocked his right arm, and swung his broad, calloused palm in a clean horizontal arc.

THWACK!

The concussive flesh-on-flesh impact cracked through the quiet clearing with the acoustic force of a dry thunderclap.

The heavy blow struck dead-center across the dense, muscular curve of Brida’s left cheek.

The force set off a visible hypnotic ripple across the golden-bronze skin of her rear, vibrating through muscle and tendon in a mesmerizing shockwave that left behind a bright fiery-red handprint perfectly contoured against her flesh.

"Aaaaaaahhn~!"

A loud moan tore from Brida’s throat, echoing across the shaded willow branches.

Her knees instantly buckled beneath her frame.

With a dramatic trembling shudder, the towering woman collapsed forward onto the grass, tumbling from her knees flat onto her stomach.

Her heavy iron-plated boots kicked up into the air in a fit of wild, giddy ecstasy, her heels drumming against the turf as she buried her flushed grinning face in the cool black blades of grass as her broad shoulders shook with breathless euphoric giggles.

"Hehehehe... ahaha... that’s the stuff..." Brida wheezed happily, her fingers clawing at the dirt. "That’s that true authority right there..."

Silas let out a dry exasperated sigh, shaking his head as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

With a casual flick of his wrist, a dimensional ripple opened in the air beside him.

Silas reached into his inventory, pulled out a thick folded woolen traveling mat, and tossed it down directly over Brida’s exposed lower half, draping the heavy fabric over her hips like a blanket.

"Stop causing trouble for the recruits and behaving like a wild beast in the middle of lunch," Silas scolded lightly, though his tone was layered with fond amusement.

Brida rolled onto her side beneath the mat, looking up at him with a remarkably obedient, dopey grin spreading across her face.

"Put some clothes on before you catch a cold," Silas added, crossing his arms.

"Sure, sure, my Lord!" Brida replied cheerfully, giving him a mock salute from the ground.

She didn’t argue.

With practiced ease, Brida reached into a concealed magnetic storage compartment built into the inner lining of her heavy chestplate.

She fished out a pair of snug dark-gray athletic boxers alongside a set of clean reinforced leather trousers.

Gathering the woolen mat tightly around her waist like a makeshift skirt, the woman scurried on her hands and knees toward a dense thicket of blackberry bushes at the edge of the clearing, humming a bawdy marching tune as she went to dress.

Silas watched her disappear into the foliage before turning back to the central mat.

Tasmin was still curled up in a tight, embarrassed ball on the linen, her face hidden behind her knees.

Silas knelt down beside her, slid his arms beneath her slender waist and thighs, and gently lifted the agile woman back onto his lap, pulling her securely against his chest once more.

"Come on now, Tas," Silas murmured softly, his voice low and warm against her ear. "The spectacle is over so eat a little more."

He reached for the wooden platter, picking up a tender skewer of mountain fowl dipped in a light honey-soy marinade, and held it to her lips.

Tasmin peeked out from between her bangs, her cheeks still dusted with a soft lingering crimson blush.

She looked up at Silas’s calm reassuring smile, her heart fluttering before she obediently parted her lips to take another bite.

She chewed slowly, leaning the back of her head against his broad shoulder, letting the steady thump of his heartbeat soothe the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard on the night patrols and training too," Silas said gently, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Once you finish this skewer, lay down and get some rest. You have the entire break period to sleep."

Tasmin blinked her amber eyes, looking down at his chest with a soft, fluttering warmth swelling inside her. "My Lord... but the perimeter—"

"The perimeter is secure. Aurelia, Lupina, and the recruits are watching the borders," Silas cut in with a firm comforting finality. "Rest."

Tasmin let out a tiny contented sigh.

She finished the meat, wiped her lips with the napkin Silas offered, and gently shifted off his lap onto the thick woven cushion beside him.

Curling her legs toward her chest, she rested her head upon a rolled cloak, and within less than two minutes, the exhausted commander had drifted into a deep tranquil sleep as her breathing began evening out into a soft steady rhythm.

Silas looked down at her peaceful face, a tender smile touching his lips.

’I knew you were exhausted,’ Silas thought, reaching down to pull the edge of a light linen blanket over her shoulders. ’Trying to train for your Shadow Heart constantly while scouting as well... you carried more than your share of the weight for a long time.’

"Lord Silas?"

A soft melodic voice broke through his thoughts from the opposite corner of the Lord’s mat.

Silas turned his head to see the Princess sitting primly on her knees.

Her lightweight sky-iron cuirass sat neatly propped against a wooden crate behind her, leaving her in a pristine white embroidered blouse that accentuated her delicate royal posture.

In her lap, she held an open compartmentalized wooden bento box lined with polished lacquer.

Resting inside the main ceramic bowl was a steaming, fragrant serving of rich, golden-brown bone broth, packed with hand-pulled wheat noodles, tender slices of braised mountain boar belly, a soft-boiled spirit-fowl egg halved to reveal a molten golden yolk, and a vibrant garnish of chopped scallions and crisp bamboo shoots.

The Princess was staring into the bowl with deep bewilderment, holding a pair of polished ebony chopsticks in her right hand as if they were complex magical artifacts.

"Lord Silas... how does one consume this dish?" the Princess asked, her azure eyes wide with genuine curiosity as she tilted the box toward him. "And what is the proper name of this culinary creation? In the Capital, our banquet chefs only serve roasted whole drakes, pureed vegetable creams, and silver-plated pastry crusts. I have never observed broth paired directly with long, elastic grain strands in this fashion."

A few paces away, sitting gracefully at the edge of the vanguard circle, Aurelia was holding an identical wooden lunchbox.

The former Saintess was eating in complete tranquil silence.

She held the chopsticks with effortless poise, lifting a neat bundle of noodles and broth to her lips with quiet grace.

As the rich savory broth... steeped with concentrated spirit herbs and roasted marrow washed over her palate, Aurelia’s golden-amber eyes subtly widened.

’The depth of this flavor...’ Aurelia mused internally, a blissful warmth spreading through her chest. ’The holy kitchens of the Meolion High Church served only bland purified mana-bread and cold ceremonial wine to ensure ascetic discipline but this dish possesses a complex, hearty soul that revitalizes both physical meridians and spiritual reserves. Once we conclude this basin campaign and return to the inner sanctum of Blessed Land, I must formally request an audience with the territory’s Chef to offer my sincere commendations.’

Silas chuckled softly at the Princess’s wide-eyed confusion, shifting his position to sit closer to her.

"This is Kaelia’s latest culinary experiment," Silas explained with an amused grin, pointing toward the steaming bowl. "It’s called Blessed Ramen... Back on Earth, it was one of the most beloved comfort foods in the world. Kaelia spent the last three days refining the broth using high-tier monster bones, roasted garlic, and soy-fermented mountain beans to get the umami balance just right."

"Ra... men?" the Princess repeated the unfamiliar word carefully, testing the syllables on her tongue. "And the long strands?"

"Hand-pulled wheat noodles," Silas said. "Here, let me show you."

Silas picked up his own pair of chopsticks, deftly demonstrating the motion.

He slid the wooden tips into the broth, pinched a neat portion of noodles, twirled his wrist in a smooth circular arc to secure the strands, and lifted them out of the steam. "You twirl them slightly to keep them from slipping, blow gently to cool the broth, and then take a bite..."

The Princess nodded with intense concentration, mimicking his grip.

She drove the ebony sticks into the bowl, attempted to squeeze the noodles, and tried to twist her wrist.

FLUMP!

The slippery broth-slicked noodles instantly slid free of the wood, splashing a tiny droplet of golden broth back into the bowl.

The Princess tried a second time, her brow furrowing in royal frustration.

She pinched harder, but the wooden sticks crossed awkwardly in her small fingers, sending another bundle of noodles tumbling back into the ceramic basin.

A soft frustrated pout formed on her lips with a light pink flush dusting her cheeks as she looked up at Silas with embarrassed pleading eyes.

"I... I do not possess the necessary manual dexterity to twirl these wooden rods, Lord Silas," she admitted in a tiny sheepish whisper, her pride slightly wounded. "Imperial etiquette tutors only instructed me in the use of seven distinct types of silver forks and jeweled bone-spoons."

Silas let out a warm laugh. "Don’t worry about it. It takes practice."

Without a second thought, Silas took the ebony chopsticks gently from her hand.

He deftly dipped them into her bowl, expertly gathering a perfect, bite-sized swirl of steaming noodles topped with a tender sliver of braised boar belly.

He lifted the portion smoothly, brought it close to his lips, blew two gentle breaths over the steam to cool the broth, and then extended the chopsticks directly toward the Princess’s lips.

"Say ah," Silas smiled playfully.

The Princess’s heart skipped a heavy beat.

Her azure eyes widened, staring at the food offered directly before her face.

She looked around nervously, noticing several recruits giggling behind their wooden cups, before looking back at Silas’s bright, encouraging expression.

Slowly, delicately, she parted her soft pink lips.

"Ah..."

Silas guided the noodles into her mouth.

The moment the rich savory broth and melting boar belly touched her tongue, the Princess’s eyes lit up with delight.

The chewy texture of the hand-pulled noodles combined with the deep layered warmth of the garlic-infused marrow broth was unlike anything she had ever tasted within the cold gilded halls of the Palace.

"Mmmph...!" she hummed, chewing eagerly with her hand cupped delicately under her chin to catch any stray drops.

Once she swallowed, she looked up at him with sparkling eyes, entirely dropping her guarded royal veneer.

"It is magnificent, Lord Silas! The flavors are rich, comforting, and remarkably invigorating! Please... another bite?"

"Coming right up," Silas chuckled, happily twirling another bundle of noodles and feeding the royal maiden until the bowl was completely empty.

Roughly twenty minutes later, the brass hands on the timers chimed softly, signaling the end of the midday rest period.

Across the clearing, the fifty-plus recruit maidens, scouts, and vanguard champions stood up, rolling their shoulders, securing their leather harnesses, and latching their weapon sheaths with sharp metallic clicks.

Silas gently adjusted the sleeping Tasmin, sliding her off his side and settling her comfortably onto the thick woolen mat beneath the shade, making sure she remained undisturbed.

He stood up, stretching his broad shoulders until his joints popped with a satisfying crack.

’It’s time...’

Silas stepped to the front of the Lord’s mat, looking across the assembled ranks of Squad One, Squad Two, and Squad Three.

His blue eyes swept across the clearing, his brow furrowing slightly in sharp appraisal.

’Wait a minute...’ Silas thought, his gaze tracking the missing colors among the formations. ’Where are the northern perimeter units? Eluned’s women aren’t here... and neither is Eluned herself. Weren’t they scheduled to rendezvous at the central clearing minutes ago?’

Before Silas could extend his mana perception into the northern tree line—

FWHOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

A blinding emerald-green blur tore out from the dense foliage on the right flank at supersonic speed.

The sudden displaced air shrieked like a falling mortar shell.

BOOM!

The green blur slammed dead-center into Silas’s chest with the concussive force of a runaway siege engine, completely knocking the breath from his lungs.

"OOF—!"

Silas grunted as the overwhelming momentum forced his boots to skid fifteen feet backward across the turf, carving two deep smoking trenches through the black grass before his Gold Core mana anchored him firmly into the earth.

Wrapped entirely around his torso like a living vine of divine jade was Eluned.