Chapter 114: Chapter 114: Exchange successful.
"Body exchange." She voiced the words with utter acceptance, though even as she spoke them, her voice carried a tremor she could not suppress.
She felt it—first as a whisper beneath her skin, then as a quake. Her body vibrated, trembling not only in her flesh but in the air around her, as if the world itself had caught her rhythm. Vibrating to change. Vibrating to loosen. Vibrating to replace.
And replaced it did.
A sudden lightness, as though the cords that tethered her consciousness to bone and blood had been severed. The sensation was not pain but surrender, like a deep slumber wrapping its arms around her. Her lashes lowered. She closed her eyes—not in fear, not in resistance, but in a strange, perilous submission.
"Aiden..." she whispered his name, and the syllables were soft as a confession.
When she opened her eyes, the earth was beneath her. The cool grass pressed against her palms, blades brushing her skin as though testing her solidity. She was outside. The dungeon loomed above her, its shadow a black jaw biting into the horizon.
Her lips parted. "...body exchange meant replacement?..." The words came out cracked, broken on disbelief.
Her breath quickened. She had never seen such a thing, let alone experienced it. She’d heard of illusions, of curses, of enchantments whispered in taverns like drunken myths—but this was not myth. This was her. Her body was proof.
It was surreal. Utterly surreal. The kind of event that did not belong to her ordinary span of days. What had just happened? What kind of power bent the soul like clay and re-sculpted where it lived?
Her throat tightened as she whispered, almost to herself, "Aiden... what are you?"
Inside the dungeon, Arina’s blade sang faintly as she slowed, its steel whispering against the damp stone walls. She felt the weight of steel in her hands, solid, reassuring. Yet in the next heartbeat, her palm numbed. The warmth of another’s grasp slipped away like water, replaced by a biting chill.
She blinked. Her eyes opened wide.
Before her stood not the healer she’d been reaching for but—
"Hello there." Aiden’s smile cut the gloom like a torch, but the warmth of it was hollow, mocking.
Arina jolted back, the rasp of steel loud as she whipped her sword into guard. Her pulse hammered, her breath jagged. "Wh... what... why, why are you here?" Her voice cracked with confusion.
Aiden stepped forward, his presence filling the narrow stone corridor as though the dungeon itself bent to let him pass. "Next time, don’t touch my property without my permission." His smile withered, curdling into a frown. Anger gleamed sharp in his eyes, golden and merciless.
Arina’s grip tightened. She surged forward, blade kissing his throat. The steel trembled, though not from lack of strength—from the storm inside her. "Talk. What the fuck did you do? Where is that healer?"
The blade nicked skin. A crimson bead spilled, slow, deliberate.
Aiden did not flinch. He leaned closer, letting the edge carve him, and smiled as though savoring it. "That’s not important, love." His hand rose, fingers brushing the quivering sword. His touch was casual, as though he caressed a lover, not a weapon.
"What’s important is you..." His voice softened, nearly tender. His golden gaze pierced her, stripping pretense. "You can’t even hold a sword steady now, huh? It’s that bad..."
The words struck like a blade of their own, and her chest ached. She wanted to scream at him, to deny it—but the tremor in her hands betrayed her.
Her eyes locked onto his. Fearless. Predatory. Beautiful and terrible all at once.
Arina jerked her blade back, her breathing shallow. She glanced down the lean stone tunnel, shadows stretching long. The healer was gone. The dungeon’s silence pressed around her like a noose. "...what the fuck... you a mage or something?"
Aiden ignored the question, his footsteps echoing as he turned and strode ahead. He didn’t need to answer. His silence was louder than words.
"Do you want to die here, and ask useless questions?" he asked, his voice reverberating in the dungeon’s marrow, "or get healed, Arina?"
She exhaled a laugh, sharp as broken glass. "Haaa... staying mysterious, are we." Her lips curled. "Your confidence reeks..."
The way he moved—unhurried, unafraid, as though the dungeon itself deferred to him—was infuriating. She followed, blade still in her grip, each step heavy with mistrust.
"Walking ahead like you know the fucking way."
Aiden paused. The torchlight caught his face as he turned, golden eyes glinting with hunger. "You lead. I will follow. But..."
His hand moved before she could react, slipping to her waist with a predator’s grace. Fingers pressed firm into the curve of her hip, drawing her closer until the cold steel of her armor touched the hard lines of his chest.
He pulled her against him, breath grazing her ear, hot and steady. His whisper was not loud, yet it carved into her bones like a blade sinking into marrow.
"After you are cured... you. Are. Mine."
The words clung to the air, venom and promise intertwined. The dungeon itself seemed to hold its breath; even the dripping water fell silent, as though the stone walls strained to listen.
Arina’s breath hitched, then caught fire. She shoved him back with a burst of force, steel flashing between them once more, her blade slicing the air with lethal intent.
Her chest heaved, her lungs fighting against the weight pressing in. The edge of her sword hovered at his heart, trembling—not from lack of strength, but from the storm tearing through her veins.
Her eyes locked onto his golden stare, and she found no doubt there, no hesitation—only hunger. Not just the hunger of flesh, but of control, of certainty, of inevitability.
"Let’s see if your confidence really holds, Aiden," she spat, but her voice betrayed her with a crack, sharp as breaking glass. "If I am healed—which is very much hopeless—we will see."
Aiden’s lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. He leaned into her blade deliberately, letting its point dig into the leather of his armor, close enough to pierce flesh if she only pressed harder. "You tremble," he murmured, voice silk over steel. "Not with fear. Not with anger. Something else. Do you feel it, in the middle of your lungs?"
The dungeon’s air thickened, heavy, suffocating, as though the walls themselves had leaned closer to hear her answer.
Arina’s throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, to spit the word "no" into his face—but her body betrayed her, heart hammering against her ribs, her breath too fast, too shallow.
She lowered her blade only slightly, enough to draw blood if he dared advance further, but not enough to banish the truth of his words.
"no need for details, I just need to be healed, and finish....that’s it." She beckoned.
And his smile told her he knew it.
Aiden’s smile returned—thin, secretive, unshakable. "Oh, you will be healed. But not the way you thought."