Rhea Cobble shifted nervously on the balls of her feet. She was taller than Liana by almost a head, thin-limbed, with short-cropped black hair. Her wand—a simple oak stick with no ornamentation—trembled slightly in her grip. She looked like someone who had never expected to make it this far.

The magical barrier shimmered into place around them—translucent blue dome sealing the fighting circle.

Mira Hale’s calm voice echoed across the arena.

“Match 17: Liana Starweaver versus Rhea Cobble. Begin!”

Rhea moved first—instinct more than strategy.

She thrust her wand forward with both hands.

A thin, wavering beam of orange light shot out—low-level fire magic, barely more than a candle flame stretched into a line. It hissed toward Liana’s chest, slow and predictable.

Liana didn’t even step aside.

She flicked her own wand—slender silver with a sapphire tip—upward in a casual arc.

A wall of water rose instantly from the arena floor—perfectly flat, two meters high, three meters wide—like a sheet of glass. The fire beam struck it and simply fizzled out, steam curling upward in sad little wisps.

Rhea blinked—stunned.

Liana smiled—sweet, almost apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetie. That’s not gonna cut it.”

She twirled her wand once—playful, like a baton—and pointed.

A thick jet of water erupted from the tip—pressurized, fast, whip-like. It snapped across the distance and cracked against Rhea’s hastily raised shield—a wobbly orange disc that shattered on impact like cheap glass.

Rhea yelped—stumbling backward—arms windmilling.

The crowd murmured—commoners leaning forward, nobles indifferent.

Liana didn’t give her time to recover.

She skipped forward—light on her feet—wand spinning in her fingers.

Another flick.

A sphere of water formed above Rhea’s head—perfect orb, shimmering—then dropped.

It hit like a bucket of bricks.

Rhea screamed—drenched, staggering—hair plastered to her face. She tried to raise another shield, but her hands shook too badly; the orange light flickered and died.

Liana circled her now—wand loose at her side.

“Come on,” she called—voice almost kind. “Show me something.”

Rhea snarled—desperate—thrust her wand again.

A wider fire beam this time—still weak, still slow.

Liana sighed theatrically.

She raised her free hand—palm up.

The beam struck an invisible barrier—water vapor condensing instantly into a misty shield that swallowed the flame whole.

Then Liana snapped her fingers.

The mist exploded outward—transformed into hundreds of needle-thin water lances.

They rained down.

Not lethal.

Just precise.

Rhea screamed—raising both arms in a desperate cross-shield. The orange barrier flickered back into existence—just in time.

The water needles hammered it—ping-ping-ping—like hail on a tin roof. Cracks spiderwebbed across the shield in seconds.

Liana tilted her head.

“Still standing? Impressive.”

She flicked her wand upward.

The needles reversed direction—curving in mid-air—then slammed into Rhea from behind.

The shield shattered completely.

Rhea cried out—staggering forward—uniform soaked, shivering.

Liana stopped circling.

She planted her feet—wand raised high.

The crowd hushed.

Liana’s voice rang clear across the arena—bright, confident.

“This is for my Onii-chan!”

She brought the wand down in a sharp arc.

A massive torrent of water exploded from the tip—wide as a river, roaring like a waterfall. It surged forward in a perfect, controlled wave—blue-white and glittering—curling upward at the last second to avoid killing force.

Rhea had no time to react.

The wave slammed into her chest—lifting her clean off her feet.

She flew backward—arms flailing—body tumbling through the air—then crashed against the far wall of the arena gallery with a wet, resounding thud.

The barrier absorbed most of the impact, but Rhea still slid down it—landing in a heap at the base, soaked, gasping, wand clattering away from limp fingers.

Silence.

Then the commoners detonated.

“LIANA! LIANA! LIANA!”

Elowen cleared her throat—voice tight.

“Winner… Liana Starweaver.”

Liana stood in the center—wand still raised—chest heaving—hair dripping from the spray.

She looked up and closed her eyes.

Grinned—bright, fierce, triumphant.

*Did you see that, Onii-chan?*

Liana spun on her heel—wand twirling once more—then strode off the field like she owned it.

The crowd kept chanting her name long after she disappeared into the tunnel.

Lysandra smiled softly—golden hair catching the sunlight like liquid fire—then leaned forward just enough to rest her chin on Aiden’s shoulder.

“It will be our turn from the next match,” she said—voice calm, melodic, carrying that quiet confidence that always made the air around her feel heavier.

Aiden tilted his head—brushing his cheek against hers in silent acknowledgment.

Ela Voss nodded once, lavender hair shifting like silk.

“Then my turn,” she added—voice small but steady, amethyst eyes glinting with determination.

Aiden’s gaze slid sideways—landing on Venya.

The crimson-winged dragon girl was perched on the bench behind him.

“Yeah…” Aiden said—voice dropping into that low, lazy register that always made spines tingle. “It’s Venya’s turn to go.”

He turned fully—reaching back with one hand.

Venya’s tail flicked once—sharp, excited—before she beamed at him, fangs glinting.

“My Lord…” she purred—voice husky, reverent. “Venya will give Venya’s best… if My Lord gives Venya a good-luck kiss.”

The rest of the harem went still—watching.

Aiden chuckled—dark, indulgent—then grabbed her wrist and yanked.

Venya yelped—high and delighted—as she tumbled forward. Her wings flared instinctively for balance—crimson wings brushing Aiden’s shoulders—before she landed straddling his lap beside Luna, knees bracketing his hips, chest pressed flush to his.

The motion was effortless. Possessive.

Aiden’s hands settled on her waist—thumbs digging into the soft dip above her hips—holding her exactly where he wanted her.

Venya’s breath hitched—red eyes wide, pupils blown.

Aiden didn’t give her time to recover.

He leaned in—slow—giving her every second to anticipate—then claimed her mouth.

Deep.

Filthy.

His tongue slid past her lips without preamble—coiling around hers—tasting the faint copper tang of her fangs and the sweet heat underneath. One hand slid up her back—fingers threading into the base of her wings—stroking the sensitive membrane until she whimpered into his mouth. The other stayed clamped on her hip—grinding her down against the growing hardness beneath his trousers.

Venya melted—arms looping around his neck—claws pricking the back of his scalp—moaning shamelessly into the kiss.

The gallery around them went suspiciously quiet.

Nyxion’s tail froze mid-swish.

Luna’s ears perked straight up.

Nayla licked her lower lip—slow, hungry.

Ela blushed, looking away.

When Aiden finally pulled back—wet sound of parting lips obscenely loud in the hush—Venya was panting, cheeks flushed crimson to match her wings, eyes glassy.

He smirked—thumb brushing her swollen bottom lip.

“Will that be enough…” he teased—voice velvet and dark, “…or should we go all the way right here?”

Venya’s breath stuttered.

Her thighs clenched around his hips—reflexive, needy.

“My Lord is naughty…” she whispered—voice wrecked.

Aiden chuckled—low, dangerous—nipping her lower lip just hard enough to sting.

“Fair enough.”

He leaned in again—lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Now go show those nobles their place.”

Venya’s eyes flashed—crimson fire reigniting.

“Yes,” she breathed—voice suddenly steady, fierce. “Venya will show the nobles their place… for My Lord.”

Aiden grinned—dark, approving—then patted her cheek once—gentle but possessive.

“Good girl.”

Venya shivered—full-body—then slid off his lap with reluctant grace, before she straightened her uniform and turned toward the arena stairs.

The rest of the wives watched her go—smiles ranging from fond to outright predatory.

Nyxion leaned over, whispering to Aiden.

“She’s gonna destroy them.”

Aiden’s grin didn’t fade.

“That’s the plan.”

—

The infirmary door burst open with a bang.

Liana exploded through it, uniform slightly askew from her victory sprint, eyes sparkling with pure, manic joy.

“Onii-chan!!”

She launched herself across the room in one flying leap—landing squarely on the bed with enough force to make the frame groan. Ethan grunted as her full weight crashed onto him; Mee squeaked—still snuggled tight against his left side—and barely avoided being squished flat.

Liana didn’t care.

She wrapped both arms around Ethan’s neck—cheek mashed to his—then peppered his face with loud, wet kisses.

“Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!”

Ethan laughed—breathless—arms coming up instinctively to steady her.

“You saw my fight?!” she demanded—voice cracking with excitement—then kissed his cheek again, harder. “Tell me you saw! Tell me I was amazing!”

Ethan’s smile was soft—genuine—marked right hand resting carefully on her back.

“Yeah, squirt. Saw every second. You destroyed her.”

Liana beamed—radiant—then flopped sideways across both Ethan and Mee, sprawling like she owned the bed.

“Praise me,” she whined—voice turning babyish—rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “Pet me, brother~”

Ethan chuckled—low, fond—and lifted his unmarked left hand.

He ruffled her already-messy hair—then scratched gently behind her ear like she was a demanding cat.

“Good girl,” he teased. “My little sister just wiped the floor with that girl. Proud of you.”

Liana purred—actual purr—eyes half-closing in bliss.

“Mmm… more…”

Mee—still tucked against Ethan’s other side—watched with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

“You’re spoiled rotten,” she murmured—then reached over and patted Liana’s head too.

Liana leaned into both touches—practically melting.

“Best. Day. Ever.”

From the other bed came a hoarse, irritated groan.

“Shut up…” Flora mumbled—face half-buried in her pillow. “Some of us are trying to sleep off getting our insides rearranged by your psycho brother…”

Liana stuck her tongue out—even though Flora couldn’t see it.

“Cry more, flower bitch.”

Flora flipped her off without lifting her head.

Nurse Sera Veyne rose from her desk chair with a long-suffering sigh—white uniform hugging every exaggerated curve, auburn bun slightly loosened from hours of work. She crossed the room in three strides—heels clicking sharply.

“Okay, young lady,” she said—voice firm but not unkind. “Time’s up. My patients need rest.”

Liana whined—dramatic, pitiful—clinging tighter to Ethan. Her generous breasts pressed firmly against his side—soft, warm, insistent.

“Nooo~! I just came back from my fight! I’m cuddling!”

Sera arched one perfect brow.

Then—without warning—she bent down, hooked both arms under Liana’s shoulders, and hoisted her off the bed like she weighed nothing.

Liana squealed—kicking her legs comically.

“Onii-chan!! Save me!! Ahh—leave me—put me down—!”

Ethan and Mee exchanged nervous smiles—waving awkwardly as Sera marched toward the door with Liana dangling like a misbehaving kitten.

“Bye, Li-chan,” Mee called—trying not to laugh.

“Traitors!!” Liana wailed—arms still reaching back toward the bed.

Sera opened the door one-handed—and unceremoniously dumped Liana into the hallway.

Liana landed cross-legged on the floor with a dramatic thump—hair flying everywhere—then flopped backward onto her back like she’d been shot.

A single, glistening cartoon tear rolled down her cheek.

“Meany…”

The door clicked shut.

Inside—silence for half a second.

Then Ethan snorted—shoulders shaking.

Mee buried her face in his chest—giggling helplessly.

Sera dusted her hands—smirking.

“Kids these days.”

She walked back to her desk—sat down—and resumed watching the duel feed like nothing had happened.

Ethan looked down at Mee—still curled against him, cheeks pink, eyes shining with laughter.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face—gentle.

She snuggled closer—head on his chest—listening to his heartbeat.

—

END OF CHAPTER : 291 : LIANA’S SHOW!

—

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep