Chapter 7: Chapter 7 – Acting Hero for a Moment

Helena screamed his name, but he ignored her, leaning out with the bow.

The wolves were closing in—five, maybe six of them running alongside the carriage through the trees. Their eyes reflected the firelight, gleaming yellow and hungry.

Viktor nocked the flaming arrow, drew the string back as far as his strength allowed, and aimed not at the wolves but at the dry underbrush ahead of them on the left side of the path.

He released.

The arrow flew in a burning arc, trailing sparks and smoke before embedding itself into a thick patch of dead grass and fallen leaves between the trees.

The flames spread fast—too fast for natural fire. The oil-soaked cloth had done its job.

Within seconds, a wall of fire erupted across the left flank, cutting off half the pack’s approach.

The wolves yelped and scattered away from the sudden blaze, their pack formation breaking.

“Gareth! Hard right! Now!”

The driver yanked the reins, steering the panicked horses sharply to the right, away from the fire and onto a slightly clearer section of path.

But two wolves were still on the right side, keeping pace.

Viktor pulled another strip of cloth, soaked it quickly, and lit it directly from the lantern. He didn’t bother with the bow this time—he just hurled the burning cloth out the door like a fireball.

It landed right in front of the lead wolf.

The creature yelped and skidded to a halt, the others behind it crashing into its hindquarters.

They snarled and snapped at each other in confusion, the flames between them and the carriage creating a barrier they didn’t want to cross.

“One more!” Viktor grabbed the last arrow, wrapping it with more cloth he yanked away from her skirt, soaking it, lighting it.

His hands moved with practiced precision now, adrenaline sharpening his focus.

He leaned out again. The remaining wolf on the right was faster, smarter—it had looped around the flames and was coming up on the carriage’s rear.

Viktor aimed carefully, tracking its movement. He waited for it to commit to its angle of attack.

Then he released.

The flaming arrow hit the ground directly in front of the wolf’s path. The creature couldn’t stop in time—it tried to leap over, but the flames caught its fur.

It yelped in pain and tumbled away into the snow, rolling to extinguish itself.

The pack was broken. Scattered. The fire behind them created a glowing barrier they wouldn’t cross, and the horses were already pulling the carriage ahead at full speed.

Viktor pulled himself back inside the carriage, slamming the door shut.

“Haaa…. Haa… shit… this body…” His breathing was heavy, sweat mixing with snow on his face despite the cold.

Helena stared at him with wide eyes, her torn skirt forgotten. “Young master…”

Gareth’s voice came from the front, shaky but relieved. “We’re clear! They’re not following!”

Viktor collapsed back against the seat, letting the adrenaline drain away.

His hands were still trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the rush.

’Not bad,’ he thought, glancing at the bow still in his grip. ’Guess I need to burn calories soon.’

Helena’s hands flew to his face, her fingers trembling as they traced over his cheeks, his forehead, searching desperately for any sign of injury. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, wide and frantic.

“Young master! Are you hurt? Please, tell me you’re not hurt!”

Viktor’s chest heaved, catching his breath, but his gaze wasn’t on her face. It dropped lower—to where her skirt used to be.

The fabric he’d torn away to make the burning arrows had transformed her modest maid uniform into something else entirely.

The skirt now barely reached mid-thigh, exposing the creamy expanse of her thick, milky-white legs—the kind of thighs that would spill between fingers if gripped.

’Haah… Is this due to system?’

His eyes traced the soft curves, the way her flesh pressed together where her thighs met, creating a small gap that disappeared into shadow.

The subtle jiggle rippled through her legs as the carriage rocked, like waves across pale dough.

Her hair had come partially undone from its tight bun, brown strands falling around her flushed face as she leaned over him with maternal concern.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he felt how he was being a pervert now—maybe due to the system mechanism igniting something within him.

“Young master, please answer me—” Her voice cracked with worry.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled.

“Ah!”

Helena gasped as she tumbled forward, losing her balance completely. She fell onto his lap with a soft, heavy weight that made Viktor grunt.

Her massive ass pressed directly against his thighs, the softness swallowing his legs like cushions—he could feel the separation of each cheek even through fabric.

’Fuck, she’s heavy… but soft.’

“Y-Young master! What are you—” She tried to push herself up, her face burning crimson.

His hands locked around her waist, thick fingers digging into the curves where soft fat yielded beneath his grip.

She squirmed, which only made things worse—or better, depending on perspective. The friction of her ass grinding against his lap, the weight shifting and pressing.

His growing hardness pressed against the underside of her cheek.

“Young master, this is highly inappropriate—”

His other hand moved up, cupping her breast through the dress. The weight of it overflowed his palm, heavy and yielding like a water balloon. He squeezed, watching the flesh bulge between his fingers.

Helena winced, her breath hitching. “Please… I-I attended you as a child, this isn’t—”

Viktor leaned close to her ear, his voice low and rough. “You attended me as a child. How about you do the same… for the child we make?”

Her entire body went rigid. She trembled against him, her breathing shallow and quick.

“Unhn…” His fingers found her nipple through the fabric, pinching the hardening bud between thumb and forefinger. He twisted, just slightly—feeling it stiffen and elongate between his fingers like a small pebble.

“Ahh!” Helena’s back arched involuntarily, her head tilting back.

The nipple twisted in his grip, pulling her breast slightly to the side.

His other hand slid down from her waist, moving deliberately toward the gap between her thick thighs.

She noticed immediately—her legs clamped together like a vice, the soft inner flesh pressing tight, trapping his wrist before he could reach his destination.

“N-No… Young master, you mustn’t…”

But Viktor’s fingers on her breast pinched harder, twisting the sensitive bud through the dress with more pressure—rotating it like a dial.

Her breath came out in sharp gasps.

“Ngh… p-please…”

The pain—or pleasure, he couldn’t tell which she felt more—made her legs loosen just enough.

His hand slipped through, fingers pushing past the barrier of her clamped thighs, feeling the heat trapped between them, until they reached the fabric of her undergarment.

The material was smooth, pulled taut over her mound.

Completely dry.

His fingers pressed against the cloth, feeling the slight depression of her slit through the fabric.

Her body hadn’t betrayed any arousal despite everything happening.

“Tell me about your abilities, Helena.”

His fingers pressed deeper against the fabric, feeling the outline of her pussy—thick labia that created a pronounced bulge even through the undergarment.

The lips were plump, meaty, the kind that would part heavily when spread.

His hand moved down slowly, deliberately, and he felt it—several coarse strands of hair poking through the thin material. She wasn’t shaved. The wiry texture brushed against his palm as he cupped her mound fully.

His middle finger found the center line where her slit divided the swollen lips, pressing the fabric into the groove.

He rubbed—slow, circular motions that pushed the cloth against her clit.

“Ahh…” Helena’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling but no longer clamping shut.

“I asked you a question.” His voice was low, commanding, as his finger continued its work—rubbing the fabric back and forth along her slit, feeling the shape of her pussy through the barrier.

“Y-Young master, you already know, I possess Low tier Herb knowledge and could—Oonnggh~!”

Her tongue lolled out, head falling forward onto his shoulder as she felt his middle finger hook beneath the edge of her undergarment and push inside.

The fabric pulled to the side, and his finger slid directly knuckle-deep in a pussy that hadn’t yielded even a drop of moisture, walls squeezing him with virgin tightness—dry, tight, the walls gripping his digit like a fist.

The texture was rough, ribbed slightly along the inner walls. He could feel every fold, every ridge as he pushed deeper.

Her entrance was narrow, squeezing his finger as it invaded her—the thick outer hairy lips had given way to a tight, unprepared hole.

“Ngh… s-slow…” Her voice was weak, breathless.

His other hand twisted her nipple harder, pinching it through the dress and rotating it like he was trying to pluck it off. The bud stretched, pulling her breast to the side.

“Wait…” Viktor’s finger stilled inside her, feeling the tightness, the way her walls clenched reflexively around him. “Have you never had sex before?”

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