Huff… huff…
"Damn it— cough, cough…"
Sol dropped to one knee, completely exhausted and worn down.
Two days had passed. Two long, agonizing days since this brutal transformation began.
Nothing but pain. Endless, suffocating pain.
More than once, Sol wished he could simply pass out and only wake when everything was over—but he couldn't. Not with what was at stake.
During those long hours, his resolve sometimes faltered.
He questioned himself.
Why am I putting myself through this?
Why not just quit?
Do they really need me to protect them?
Every time that doubt crept in, he dragged himself back with one simple truth:
A man who couldn't protect the ones he loved was pathetic.
That was all there was to it.
It didn't matter how mighty they were.
It didn't matter how capable or influential they happened to be.
It didn't matter that each of them stood near the peak of power.
They were his women.
And he wanted to be someone who made them feel safe.
Some might call the idea outdated or sexist.
But that wasn't it—he respected them, their strength, their independence.
Yet deep down, he wanted to be their support, their anchor… not someone they had to carry.
So—
No matter how unbearable, how draining, how torturous this process became… he had to endure it.
For them, he would crawl.
For them, he would fight.
---
"Cough Edea… cough can you untie me already? Hehe… I really need a bath."
Sol forced a grin, flimsy as it was, hoping to ease Edea's worry.
She winced when she saw him.
His face was drenched in blood, his teeth stained red, his entire body a mess.
Worse yet—those teeth weren't even the ones he started with. His old ones lay scattered on the floor, mixed with dried blood and bits of torn flesh. It looked… horrific.
But Edea didn't react to the gore. Compared to what she'd seen centuries ago as a street urchin, this was nothing.
She stepped through the blood without flinching, reached him, and wrapped him in a tight hug.
"It must have been rough… right?"
Sol froze. He'd intended to pull back to avoid dirtying her even more, but—
She hugged me first.
She had never initiated contact before. Not because of a curse, but because of her own traumas and her discomfort with touch.
Clap, clap, clap.
"A touching scene—if somewhat gross. Now, maybe untie him? It looks like a BDSM scene gone wrong."
A voice he didn't recognize broke the moment. Sol blinked, turning toward the speaker—and instantly shut his eyes.
What the hell?! My eyes!
The stranger was overwhelmingly pink. Every shade of pink imaginable, all in one person.
Edea, flustered, stepped back and dispelled the mana chains binding him.
Now free, Sol forced himself upright despite every bone grinding in protest.
Crack… crack…
He finally stood fully—and immediately noticed something was off about his perspective.
I'm taller?
His hands were larger too. New proportions. New strength.
He clenched his fist, testing the power running through him. Mana surged as he punched the air.
Boom!
A small shockwave rippled out. Even he was startled.
I really am stronger.
His heartbeat quickened. And this strength would only grow.
He exhaled, reining in his excitement, and turned his attention to the painfully pink young woman.
Her outfit reminded him of magical-girl shows: a short skirt showing a teasing hint of pink fabric underneath, and a tight top hugging modest curves. Not flat, not busty—maybe a B-cup.
He tried to smile, thought better of it, remembering the bloody disaster that was his face.
"I apologize for meeting one of Edea's acquaintances looking like this. I'm Sol Luxuria. And you are…?"
Edea answered for her.
"This is my elder sister, Freya. In history books, she's called the Witch of Space."
Edea's clothes were already spotless—she'd rewound them with time magic, an impressive (and frankly wasteful) flex.
Sol barely paid attention. He was too busy trying not to squeal like a fanboy.
The Four Ouroboros. The Four Directions. Legendary witches.
West: Edea, Witch of Time.
North: Kali, Witch of Destruction.
South: Persephone, Witch of Creation.
East: Freya, Witch of Space.
They and their master were near-mythic figures. In Lustburg, they had built a faction equal in power to the Church—Walpurgisnacht.
Trying to pretend he wasn't starstruck, Sol looked at Edea.
"I really need a bath. I can't meet someone like this."
---
Freya watched the two walk toward the cottage, Sol leaning on Edea for support.
With her experience, Sol's emotions were an open book.
His excitement at meeting her was pure and genuine—rare, considering the witches' reputations. But Sol had grown up around Edea. He probably knew how exaggerated the rumors were.
Freya smiled faintly. She still intended to observe and judge him carefully, but… her first impression was positive.
---
"Ohhh—"
Sol groaned like an elderly man as hot water poured over him.
He'd never felt more alive. With the pain fading, he could finally feel the changes in his body.
Sharper senses. Greater strength. A complete physical overhaul.
I'll study all of this later. Let me enjoy this first.
He took in the bathroom—Edea's bathroom.
The pristine white tiles, the spacious Victorian-style bathtub big enough for two or more…
Huh.
A few inappropriate thoughts popped into his mind, and his body reacted instinctively.
…I really need to stop being a creep.
Getting turned on in his future lover's bathroom was questionable… though maybe less so if she was officially his someday.
No need to rush.
After washing away the blood, he approached the full-body mirror.
His reflection was different. Taller. Broader. Not bulky but definitely more defined.
He ignored the lacy black panties and small bra set on the counter and finally sank into the steaming bath.
"Oooh~ this is paradise…"
His birthday—and his first major public appearance—were only days away. Then the Astral Realm would open.
This might be his last moment of true rest.
With that comforting thought, he let sleep take him. There was no danger of drowning. For once, he allowed his mind to drift.