The eastern wall of the bath chamber held a row of showerheads. By channeling magic power or casting the "Create Water" spell, one could summon an endless flow of hot water. In the southwestern corner stood a wooden sauna.
The northwestern corner featured an enormous bath large enough to accommodate ten people. Since Charles disliked saunas, he currently lounged alone in the spacious bath, letting hot water envelop his body while clearing his mind in quiet repose.
He was organizing the day’s rumors, attempting to extract useful information from them. At the same time, he waited - waited for the two witches Theresa had summoned to return and report what had transpired.
Until then, he needed to avoid pointless speculation that would only drain his energy needlessly.
The wait proved brief. Soon after, the sound of the door opening reached his ears. Charles tilted his head slightly to see Hattie and Ruth entering the bath chamber one after another.
Truthfully, he hardly needed to look - no one else would visit this room besides these two.
He withdrew his gaze, soaking in the water as he waited for the two witches. When Ruth closed the bath chamber door behind them, Hattie had already shed her nun’s habit, hanging it on the coat rack before letting her light green silken hair cascade down her bare shoulders. She approached the bath with unashamed grace, her nude form moving with natural confidence.
Her full breasts stood proudly, soft abdomen taut without trace of imperfection. That dramatic waist-to-hip ratio sculpted lush curves that swayed hypnotically as she walked - milky thighs brushing together with virginal tightness despite their voluptuous fullness. Between them lay that neatly trimmed triangle guarding paradise’s entrance, its glistening secrets promising exquisite exploration.
She settled into the bath beside Charles without pretense, pressing her curves against his arm. In contrast, Ruth fumbled with nervous hesitation, finally removing her undergarments after prolonged delay.
Ruth covered her modest chest and petite mound with crimson cheeks before finally slipping into the water, flanking Charles opposite Hattie.
Charles embraced both women, feeling their contrasting textures against his skin. "What did Theresa say when she returned?"
Hattie rotated slightly, letting her heavy breasts compress against his bicep as she answered. "She foresaw Sophia’s delayed return stems from turmoil in the slums." Her hand drifted downward through the water with purpose, slender fingers finding and encircling his thickening cock with practiced ease. "So she tasked us with retrieving her." Her grip began working his shaft with underwater precision, palm creating delicious friction against his swelling flesh.
"Just the two of you?" Charles arched an eyebrow, his breath hitching as Hattie’s rhythm became more insistent. "Was... was that part of her foresight?"
"Indeed," Ruth interjected from his other side, watching with mixed jealousy and fascination as Hattie claimed dominance. Determined not to be outdone, she rose from the water, droplets cascading down her slender form. Positioning herself on the bath’s edge, she guided Charles’s head onto her thighs, her delicate sex mere inches from his face - the scent of her arousal mixing with the steam.
Charles could see every detail if he turned: the glistening pink folds peeking through her blonde curls, already damp with more than bathwater. Instead, he looked upward, admiring Ruth’s flat stomach and small, pert breasts, their pink peaks hardened with desire.
Ruth’s blush deepened, but she held his head firmly, her thighs tensing beneath him. "We believe," she continued breathlessly, "the key to rescuing Sophia lies not with us, but with you, Master."
As she spoke, Hattie increased her pace beneath the water, her fingers dancing along Charles’s rigid length with expert motions. The bath’s heat made every sensation more intense - the slick glide of her hand, the way her thumb pressed just beneath the swollen head, the occasional brush of her nails that made his hips jerk forward.
Charles groaned, torn between the twin temptations - Ruth’s vulnerable display above him, her petite body offered so willingly, and Hattie’s relentless strokes below the water’s surface. Ruth’s breathing grew ragged as she watched her Master’s reactions, her own neglected heat throbbing with need.
"I see..." Charles managed, though coherent thought became difficult as Hattie’s grip tightened. He could feel his climax building, the tension coiling low in his abdomen. "Then perhaps we should—"
His words cut off with a sharp gasp as Hattie twisted her wrist just right, her other hand cupping his balls with gentle pressure. Ruth leaned forward, her small breasts brushing his face as the first pulses of his release began, his thick cock jerking in Hattie’s grasp as hot streaks painted the bathwater.
Hattie milked him through every shudder, her fingers coaxing out the last drops before finally stilling. Ruth, emboldened by the display, shifted until her delicate folds hovered just above his lips, her arousal now unmistakable. The bath chamber filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the water’s gentle lapping, and the unspoken promise of more to come.
Charles lay between them, spent but already feeling the embers of renewed desire as both witches attended to him - Hattie’s knowing smirk and Ruth’s shy but determined gaze speaking of pleasures yet to be explored.
Ruth’s face grew increasingly flushed, yet she compelled herself to complete the action, hoping to please her Master.
"I see... yes, that makes sense..." Charles murmured, searching his memories for any relevant clues but finding none.
"Then our next step is retrieving Sophia," he continued. "As for now..."
He turned slightly to gaze at Ruth’s exquisite face. "Ruth, once more please. I think I’m close to grasping it. With another attempt, I might finally master ’Eldritch Mind’."
Ruth nodded gently, then placed her middle fingers against his temples. Closing her own eyes, she channeled a steady flow of magic power into his mind.
Charles shut his eyes, perceiving that peculiar state where his soul felt simultaneously isolated by magic yet more keenly connected to his body than ever. He focused entirely on comprehending this sensation through his own understanding...
Knowing her Master was at a critical juncture, even Hattie ceased her ministrations, watching him with bated breath.
The bathwater continued steaming, countless vapors rising lazily to condense into cool droplets on the ceiling before falling once more.
After what felt like an eternity, Charles finally reopened his eyes. Deep within those blue orbs, a faint azure light flickered.
"Hattie," he called softly. "Try casting an illusion on me now!"
Without hesitation, Hattie cast the 1st-level spell "Sleep," attempting to lure him into a dream of absolute power.
Yet Charles merely blinked several times, effortlessly resisting the magical influence and remaining completely awake.
"Congratulations, Master!" Ruth whispered as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Mmm." Charles acknowledged, brimming with satisfaction. If Hattie’s spells no longer affected him, it meant most mages in Liberl Port—Sophia included—could no longer compromise his free will!
"This significantly improves our odds against Sophia..." He smiled, then summoned his system interface. Sure enough, "Eldritch Mind" now appeared under "Eldritch Invocations." Relieved, he hovered his fingertip over his class selection.
Should he advance to level three now?
Reaching 3rd level required six hundred Purification Points—a sum he’d long since accumulated. The upgrade was immediately available.
Achieving 3rd level would bring substantial power growth: not just expanded Spell Slots, but access to 2nd-level spells!
Yet after all his experiences, he knew better than to trust the system’s whims. Even at 3rd level, it would likely grant only some impractical combat spell. Truly valuable magic would still require personal study.
However, 2nd-level spellbooks weren’t commonplace items found in market stalls or magic university primers. Those appeared only in advanced textbooks used by upperclassmen.
None of the five primers in his possession contained 2nd-level spells.
Advanced textbooks were scarce, nearly impossible to purchase commercially. This wasn’t a matter of price—most people never progressed beyond basic magical theory, so demand for advanced materials was nonexistent.
At best, amateurs bought primers, dreaming "what if I could learn magic?" Without market demand, naturally no one supplied such texts.
This frustrated him immensely. How he missed the game interface where clicking a button and spending gold could effortlessly grant even 9th-level spells!
Ah well. For now, he’d continue studying his current primers.
Shaking his head slightly, Charles refocused. Beyond spell access, reaching 3rd level as a warlock presented another crucial decision.
"Hattie, Ruth," he said quietly. "Advise me—for my Pact Boon at third level, should I choose Pact of the Blade, Pact of the Chain, or Pact of the Tome?"
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