[92] Look, But Don't Eat

Sorry for the delay, lately I've been focused on working on volume two, so it's been taking a lot of my focus and energy, and I must say that the end of volume two won't disappoint you, with many clues and mysteries being resolved.

So don't miss it.

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Sitting in the moonlight in the palace.

The purple-haired and lush-bodied witch was combing her hair in front of the mirror.

Staring at the reflection of the woman in the mirror, Medea blushed and caressed her face, which was gradually becoming more and more mature and feminine.

In just over three months, she had grown rapidly from a young young girl to a witch who gradually became fuller and voluptuous, under the continuous attention of Kratos, it was inevitable that she would grow well in parts.

Her palms caressed her own breasts, and then lightly pressed a touch on her nipples with her fingertips, and with that kind of gentle touch, even though it was her own body, made her feel a thrilling warmth.

Unable to resist, she grasped and squeezed her own breasts, and on the witch's delicate face, she couldn't help but levitate with a few blushing drunken touches.

Recalling the enjoyment made her think that His Highness' hands seemed to have some kind of magic...

She actually rubbed it to some extent.

The skirt and robe given to her by her teacher Hecate were draped over her body, and the folds of the thin fabric outlined the fullness and smoothness of Medea's posture. Her curves were full and graceful.

Her long, thin, purple-colored hair fell at the back of her head, and as she wore it, her hair was slightly visible as clear as the ocean, with a hint of blue.

Medea gently stroked her hair, revealing a slender and white neck, her sharp and well-defined collarbones, like undulating hills, and her gaze roamed further down the hill, which was a long and straight stretch of hills.

In the silence of her flushed face.

Those pair of hands she was intimately familiar with, which every night, tenderly and passionately, would gather and taste the offerings in her palm, gently reaching from behind to encircle the flowing locks of her.

"Aren't you doing a ponytail today?"

The clear voice of the young king floated into her ears.

Kratos leaned against Medea's ear, gazing at her alluring reflection in the mirror, her deep purple eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

"Tying it up in a high ponytail looks both elegant and cute..."

The young king's breath brushed softly against her earlobes, seeming to lightly tug at the strings of the witch's heart.

"...Your Highness."

The grown-up witch placed her rosy fingers on Kratos's hand, warming her palm with her own and pressing it against her cheek.

"Ive grown up. Tying a ponytail now would... make me seem too childish."

"Childish? I think it adds a youthful charm."

"Compared to... youthful charm, Your Highness seems to prefer maturity."

Blushing, Medea averted her gaze, uttering her words, eliciting a subtle smile from Kratos.

"Unlike Caenis and Atalanta, Your Highness, I don't have anything to offer..."

"It's alright..." Kratos caressed Medea's soft cheek, smiling, "My little witch is cute in her own way too."

"However you are, Medea, I like it."

As the words faded away.

In the depths of the chamber, shadows swayed slightly.

This ostentatious display of affection seemed to challenge a certain goddess's patience.

"Motherfucker! Did you bring me here just to watch you two being affectionate?!"

Kratos glanced over, maintaining a calm expression as she looked towards the corner of the chamber, smiling and gesturing silently with her lips, patiently waiting for the watching goddess.

"Alright, let's focus, teacher."

Hearing Kratos refer to herself as 'little.'

The grown-up witch, somewhat emboldened, grasped the young king's hand and pressed it against her chest forcefully.

"Now..."

Medea tilted her neck, her violet eyes rippling with waves, meeting Kratos's gaze.

"...Medea is not little anymore."

Indeed.

Feeling her softness, her willingness to accept his storms and tempests, this little witch had matured into a fully ripe witch.

He raised his hand.

Kratos cupped Medea's cheek, as if holding a ball of flame in the moonlight, cold yet radiant.

Medea ambiguously licked her lips, and Kratos delicately kissed her, causing the witch's pupils to melt in blissful surrender.

The delicious little witch had grown into a delectable enchantress.

One would want to devour her.

The moonlight shimmered in the air.

Beads of sweat glistened on Medea's neck, as she lifted her hand to start undoing her garments, but Kratos only held her restless hand.

"Let's do your hair first."

"Then..." Medea smirked, exhaling softly, "Medea wants Your Highness to help."

Kratos pressed his finger against her lips, "I'm not very skilled."

"If it's Your Highness doing it, I'll like it. Usually, when I help you with your hair, and you end up with a messy look, you still praise me, don't you?"

"Alright, then I'll... be impudent." Kratos smiled faintly, "Since you've done my hair so many times, I should do yours too. Have you thought about how you want it?"

"As Your Highness wishes."

If the king likes it, Medea will too.

"Then, let's braid it." Kratos thought for a moment and chuckled, "It'll give you a married woman vibe."

He emphasized those two words.

"Married woman..."

The term made Medea's gaze tremble with heat.

Correct.

The witch named Medea had already become a voluptuous and desirable married woman.

In front of the mirror, Kratos swept up her disheveled locks, and unlike his modest words, his hands were overly deft, effortlessly weaving strands together.

After finishing her hair, Kratos's nimble fingertips began to groom Medea's figure.

Gently smoothing, adjusting.

Like plucking the strings of a lute, Medea's body, under this caress, softened and began to tremble.

The cool moonlight streamed down, piercing through the dark and mysterious curtains and veils of the chamber, softening the harsh light, enveloping Medea's figure in a gentle glow, revealing a hint of allure, and casting her snow-white skin in a tantalizing light

Medea exhaled a sultry mist, as if she wanted to say something, but her lips were forcibly sealed shut, and she collapsed into the moonlit haze.

When the chamber of the goddess trembled incessantly.

The goddess herself trembled as well.

Medea was oblivious, not noticing her respected teacher, Hecate, standing not far away, gazing at her and the king's rendezvous.

Concealed within the shadowy depths, Hecate's cheeks burned as she watched the scene unfold between her two disciples, though she had glimpsed such scenes many times through surveillance, this was the first time witnessing it live.

She watched but didn't join in.

Partly because, as a goddess, Hecate couldn't bear the humiliation of indulging with her disciples on the same bed.

But more importantly...

Yes.

...Because of Kratos, she stood here, watching.

"Just watching."

"Yes, just watching, and you can't partake yet."

"First, accumulate, suppress, endure, and brew..."

"Don't let your desires shatter your will, teacher."

As she gazed at Kratos's smirking face, Hecate fell into a trance.

Would this really work? Could even the thirst for knowledge, the craving for human flesh, be suppressed and converted by other desires?

Hecate wanted to ask.

But before she could utter a word, Kratos walked away, leaving her in a quiver of agitation.

Was this deliberate? Was this annoying little guy experimenting with her?

Longing unfulfilled is the most powerful of emotions.

Despite already being ravenous.

Offered a feast, Hecate couldn't partake, only watching her disciple, Medea, revel in this supreme delicacy.

Saliva dripped from Hecate's mouth no more.

The bloodlust of a devil, gradually subdued, dissolved, and overwhelmed...

Desire is overtaken by other desires.

No longer appetite.

But... Lust

Saliva no longer dripped from her mouth.

Hecate vaguely realized... the other, more profound tides in her heart, were continuously draining, precipitating, and surging.

The goddess's skirt, as profound as the night, swayed, swirled, and trembled.

Books scattered on the ground, slowly soaked by dripping moisture.

Bare feet traced along the edge, leaving wet imprints on the palace floor.

Struggling to maintain her concealment of voluptuous figure.

Hecate couldn't help but approach her own bed.

As the goddess drew near.

The moonlight in the chamber seemed to dim slightly.

Distracted and anxious, Medea's cream puff lay forgotten, her mouth slightly agape, unaware of the subtle changes in her surroundings.

Shadows flowed silently and stealthily.

Standing at the bedside, Hecate, dry-mouthed and wide-eyed, gazed at the vivid drama unfolding before her.

The enthusiastic applause surged through the chamber as if celebrating, clamoring, reveling in the frenzy and cheers.

Wanting to claim his trophy.

Wanting to consume Kratos... completely.

The turbulent tide of emotions crushed the devil's appetite, and the goddess's composure teetered on the edge of the precipice.

Realizing Hecate's approach.

Kratos grasped Medea's arms and slowly turned her around, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"..."

Medea's pupils had already become hazy, reflecting a shimmering and fragmented moonlight within her deep purple eyes, rippling and shattering amidst turbulence.

Hecate, concealed in the shadows, gazed at the distraught face of her disciple before her.

This made the goddess's heart, as if echoing Medea's distress, also feel restless.

"Huu... Haa..."

Hecate couldn't help but breathe heavily.

A breath as cold as moonlight, yet seemingly as scorching as the sun, gently brushed against the disciple's face, causing Medea's beautiful eyes to blink in confusion, and also causing Hecate to blush as she covered her own lips shyly.

"It seems like... a warm breeze just blew through the palace, didn't it, Your Highness?"

"Is that so?" Kratos smiled, tilting her back slightly as he leaned in close, "I didn't feel it though..."

So, was it just her imagination?

In this flickering of sunrise and moonset, amidst the topsy-turvy confusion, the witch closed her eyes, intoxicated in her own pleasure.

Intentional or not.

Kratos's hands embraced Medea's voluptuous thighs, lifting her directly from behind, holding the witch in his arms as he stood before Hecate.

Moonlight danced on their skin.

The gaze of the goddess froze completely.

Since her divinity emerged from the dark night sky, Hecate had watched the revelry of people on earth, and understood the concept of love through the convergence of their thoughts.

However, her demeanor remained as cool as the shadow in twilight, never paying attention to such matters, nor finding any significance in them.

With her wisdom, she could easily perceive and understand human thoughts, yet she only saw the superficiality of human hearts. What interest could there be in such fleeting creatures?

At this moment, she finally understood her own shallowness.

Torrential waves surged, and a few drops splashed onto Hecate's cheeks, as the splendid and ethereal scenes unfolded before the goddess's eyes.

Like dazzling fireworks in the sky, surging waves by the shore, darting lightning amid the clouds, dying cries of the dying, wailing of the newborn, and absolute silence.

Hecate trembled, biting down on her heated lips as shadows converged and swirled around her in the billowing depths of her dark robes. Involuntarily, her wrist pressed onto the bedspread.

The goddess's pale hand slowly extended, reaching out to accept the blessings Kratos bestowed upon her.

Hecate felt herself on the verge of madness. Slowly lifting her gaze, she bit her lip and stared at the face of the black-haired youth.

But she could only obey the silent and relentless command of the youth.

"Hold on."

Kratos mouthed with a smile.

Hecate pursed her soft and lustrous lips, her face flushing with embarrassment and trembling. As Kratos issued the command, a mixture of indomitable humiliation and indescribable excitement surged from Hecate's heart.

Hold on.

After all, she was... a goddess.

She was the... teacher!

Why should she listen to the commands of her disciple?

The shadowy depths, as deep as the night, surged and swayed, attempting to sweep towards the bed. Despite being impolite, as a mentor, Hecate had to snatch the trophy from Kratos's hands to indulge in it.

"If you hold back, you'll be rewarded."

Rushing waves of cool moonlight returned.

As he uttered those words, Hecate trembled and knelt by the edge of the bed, the intense heat almost consuming her. Yet, the goddess still obediently and diligently restrained herself. In her amber eyes, there seemed to be surging waves of affection.

Not... she didn't expect his reward.

It's just... to cooperate with Kratos and suppress her own evil thoughts.

No mistake.

Every last bit of bloodthirsty desire had been suppressed.

Just wanted...

That surging emotion... just wanted him, just wanted Kratos's love.

Hecate gazed at her disciple, watching her continuously dehydrate and be replenished by the overwhelming magical energy within her.

No choice.

The more she looks at it, the more Hecate wished that she, not Medea, was on the front line.

Medea, oh... your skills are just too terrible!

Poor positioning, imprecise skill release, insufficient endurance in battle, and your development can't compare to mine at all. Why does Kratos like picking you so much? He obviously isn't putting in any effort!

Like this, how could you satisfy Kratos?!

Immersed.

Hecate fiercely immersed herself, watching her disciple's weak combat abilities. She couldn't wait to replace her on the spot!

But... Kratos made her endure.

Endure.

"Huu... Haa..."

The goddess gasped painfully.

Accumulate, suppress...

The intense emotions seemed to be on the verge of reaching a limit.

In Hecate's scorching gaze, her disciple, Medea, finally ascended to the peak of pleasure within the pure magical envelope, her eyes faintly shimmering as if in a fainting trance.

The sense of sleepiness quickly acted on Medea's spirit under Hecate's treatment, and she slumbered into sleep.

The dark-haired youth, unchanged in expression or heartbeat, gently spread the bedding over the witch's pastry, then slowly turned his gaze over, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that was neither a smile nor a smirk.

"Teacher... so eager?"

In the shadows beside the bed, the figure of the goddess slowly emerged.

Normally shrouded in shadow, she was like moonlight, ethereal and cold.

But now, Hecate's trembling steps left sticky footprints on the palace floor with each step.

Her slender waist, swaying gracefully beneath her thin robe, exuded an irresistible charm. With her black hair cascading down her back and the teardrop mole beneath her eye, the goddess's face was breathtakingly beautiful, her broad bosom seeming to immerse people in the vastness of the night.

"...You're too excessive, Kratos."

Biting her lip, tears glistened in Hecate's eyes.

Just watching and not eating, it feels like someone who is one step away from pleasure, but at the last second that step is lost. She had endured such torment for three hours!

"You... deliberately left me... alone in the shadow."

She emphasized the word 'alone' heavily and tactfully.

"Even the respected goddess Hecate... would fear loneliness, wouldn't she?"

In Hecate's mournful expression, Kratos slowly stood up, and Hecate's gaze blushed and froze.

"Good goddess. Remember, I'll give you... a reward." The black-haired youth smiled and said, "As much energy as you want, I will reward you as much as you want, but don't let the energy overflow."

Overflow...

Like Medea, did it overflow...

Imagining such a scene, Hecate's cheeks suddenly flushed, and she abruptly wanted to say something.

Kratos had already walked up to her, lifted Hecate's chin with the help of the bed, and kissed the goddess's soft lips directly.

No blood taste at all.

Only the coolness of moonlight and the burning of the heart.

She fluttered in the depths of the night like moonlight, sparkling on her robes. The shadows in the room gathered and converged behind Hecate, creating a lake of twilight.

The heat separated.

The goddess licked her lips with lingering delight, and the moonlight shone brightly in the air.

"With goddesses... you can be a bit rough, Kratos."

"Then, I will teach you forcefully."

Their deep kiss was as intense as the savage clash between beasts, with Hecate collapsing against the wall amidst flowing shadows, overwhelmed by the collision.

She looked up at the young man standing before her, a head shorter than herself, his long dark hair cascading behind him like the night sky spread out.

Rather than accepting defeat, the goddess kissed back with all her might, almost suffocating herself in the process.

Just as Kratos had mentioned...

...she was now, indeed, unable to overpower him.

Her flowing gown slowly slipped down, swaying in the pooled shadows like a lake of twilight, while Hecate bit her lip, the resentment in her eyes gradually transforming into heat, rippling out in waves as she was enveloped by the boy.

Kratos's arms stretched out, struggling a bit to hold her voluptuous, nearly two-meter-tall frame.

Thus, Hecate's form gradually shrank, from a voluptuous woman to a more slender figure, perfectly proportioned, not an ounce too much or too little, her skin now as pale as moonlight.

Their eyes met.

Kratos kissed her lips.

"Could you... change back now?" 

"..."

The goddess gave the young man a playful look, her form slowly regaining its fullness and maturity, the teardrop mole beneath her eyebrow adding to her allure, now bewitching in the moonlit night.

In this moment, Hecate finally understood Kratos's preferences... her judgment had been correct all along. She had diligently maintained her voluptuous form every day, yet he intentionally ignored her.

Like a pet trying to please its master, she bowed her head and gently nibbled on the boy's earlobe.

"...You naughty disciple."

"Unlike you, who peeks at me while I bathe every day."

"Guh! You...?!"

Hecate's cheeks flushed crimson, and she coughed awkwardly, trying to hide her embarrassment. How could her surveillance using her powers over the night be detected?!

But Kratos... he didn't need to detect it. He just tacitly acknowledged it as fact... he understood the witch too well.

"Now, you don't have to watch anymore."

He tilted his head up, smiling, though shorter than the goddess by a head, his words carried an authoritative tone that stirred the heart.

"Experience it for yourself."

Despite being a goddess...

Facing the young man's advances, Hecate wondered why she felt so utterly defeated.

She leaned down, kissing the boy who occupied her mind so completely, their lips intertwining, and the goddess recalled many scenes.

She remembered Zeus's instructions.

The sturdy silver-haired man, standing atop a mountain shrouded in clouds, his imposing figure seeming to support the Olympus, yet softening before the infant in his arms, his sternness replaced by compassion and love.

She remembered her first encounter in hell.

The blood-soaked young man, using his own flesh and blood to break everything before him. At the most desperate moment, he didn't want to survive but entrusted the vanguard of the wandering star to take care of his little witch.

She remembered their time together.

His charismatic charm didn't come from his youthful appearance but from his wisdom, his resilience, his unwavering will. Pain, anger, malice, hatred... all became his motivation to move forward, not his downfall. He was the savior's irresistible attraction, the resolve of a godslayer to crush everything.

Finally, Hecate's memories froze three hours ago.

She wanted to devour him.

But the boy took off her mask, accepted her, embraced her, wanting her to indulge in the embrace called Kratos.

"Sorry... forgive me, Zeus."

"No goddess... can resist Kratos."

Reciting this prayer of repentance silently, Hecate lay against his ear once again, softly saying,

"You can be a bit rough, Kratos."

"As you wish."

In the interweaving darkness and shimmering night.

The moon goddess, like a delicate gem, was crushed by the dark-haired youth in the moonlight, and a satisfied sigh escaped her lips.

From the library to the bathing pool.

From the bathing pool to the bed.

For the next two hours, Hecate knelt by Medea's side, listening to her adorable disciple murmuring in her sleep. Medea praised her teacher, describing her as so pure, cold, beautiful, and mysterious, giving her and Kratos gentle and intimate care.

"..."

The goddess covered her mouth, desperately trying not to let a sound escape her rosy lips. She grasped the wall with her fair wrist, trying to stand up and free herself from this embarrassing position, but any struggle was sternly prohibited by Kratos.

In the midst of the raging storm, the goddess felt a surge of humiliation rising in her heart, but instead of hatred, it overflowed with sweetness and joy.

At that moment, all the adjectives describing her as mysterious, cold, and unapproachable were shattered on Hecate's body. She seemed to have transformed from a goddess into a refined beauty, occupying the position of Aphrodite. The moonlight danced lightly on her, scattering like fireflies.

Feelings of guilt, joy.

A surge of emotion overwhelmed her, dominating her appetite and emotions.

Hecate felt as though she was no longer a goddess, but tamed and noble. The shadows surged violently, and the moon emitted a defeated hum. Soft and intense snowflakes fell from the dome, draped over her graceful ridges.

Kneeling before Kratos.

Pure energy sprinkled like snow, dragging Hecate from hell back to the mortal realm.

Hell's night.

It was the sleepless night of the moon goddess.

Kratos lowered his deep crimson eyes and whispered softly in Hecate's ear, his words causing the goddess to tremble with embarrassment.

"It seems... your efficiency isn't as good as Medea's."

Huh.

What's there to argue about? A disciple should have to surpass her master.

With a sense of satisfaction, Hecate glanced at Medea sleeping beside her. In terms of gameplay, she was undoubtedly winning!

After experiencing rapid skill teaching and Kratos's mental attacks, she was now impervious to his attacks, though her physical attack efficiency was indeed lower.

But...

"The goddess's endurance is not something Medea can match, Kratos."

Hecate closed her eyes, absorbing Kratos's pure energy without wasting a single bit.

She then languidly lay on the bedding, her fingertips lightly grazing the black fabric of the night, wrapping around her skin like a delicate veil, thin and smooth as silk.

"I know you... like the night."

The goddess laughed softly.

"I am the night, after all..."

Her cold and aloof appearance suddenly changed, her amber eyes rippling with affectionate charm, enveloping her slender figure in a black gauze, exuding a beauty that was both mesmerizing and breathtaking.

How could this beautiful goddess become even more beautiful?

Perhaps... it was time to crush her.

Catering to Hecate's broad embrace, Kratos approached, once again crushing her to pieces.

Snow on black gauze, tide in the courtyard, chrysanthemum fragrance, mountain and sea mud.

In the quiet night, the majestic darkness dissolved into the serene moonlight.