Dark Lord in Chains 77

In the end, despite the difficult nature of the moment, it didn’t take long for me to finally came to a decision. 

Ultimately, for all her faults, Isolde was a true warrior, and not the useless kind Empire tended to produce through their process of raising knights. And, as a true warrior, she would never take anyone that she could best seriously. 

However, she had a rather excessive prejudice against magic, which impaired her decision-making. For example, even with the little focus I put on their internal party affairs while I was still on my throne, I knew that she didn’t have the calmest time in their little adventure party, not that it was surprising with the magic-heavy nature of it. Lancelot’s martial abilities were the only reason she stayed at that party — the same guy who had just betrayed her. 

I had plenty of reasons to dislike Lancelot, but it was hard to argue about his skill with the sword. I had never seen someone as good as him. In a fair martial duel, he would take me down easily. 

Of course, that only assumed a fair duel with nothing but swords. I was not in a habit of seeking such ‘fair’ duels, as they were nothing more than pointless entertainment for the nobles who were still under the misconception that battles were won with heroism rather than tactics. 

Yet, Isolde was an interesting one. She was certainly not one of those obsessed with honor and fair combat — her archery specialization despite its reputation more than enough to show — yet she dismissed mages. 

And, even now, behind her anger, I could see that dismissive glint, suggesting that she just saw me as another cheater mage. 

I might have been annoyed if it didn’t give me a chance to change her mind. 

“What would you do if you get free?” I asked. 

“I’ll kill you first, then that blond bastard, of course,” Isolde growled, her answer beautifully uncomplicated. 

I chuckled. “Do you think you can even succeed in the first part? Rather confident, considering you guys had to gather an army to take me down in the first place.” 

Isolde smiled, though it was the smile of a lioness about to pounce. “From this distance, definitely,” she answered, her smirk getting wider. “You don’t have any fancy wards to protect yourself, and no time to cast a spell. If it wasn’t for those bars…” 

“You’re confident. Too bad that you wouldn’t dare to bet on the fact,” I said as I smirked widely, goading her to make a decision. 

“Who said I wouldn’t dare!” she shouted without even hearing my words. 

“Okay, let’s bet then. I’ll free you, and if you win, I’ll let you tie me up and bring me back to the Queen, finally proving that you’re much better than the others.” She smiled at the suggestion, welcoming the opportunity to finally prove that she was better than the mages in their little group. 

“Open the cell, then,” she said. 

“And don’t you want to learn what’s the punishment when you lose?” I asked. 

“No need,” she answered. “You can ask me anything if you win, it’s not like you’re going to win.” 

I couldn’t help but shook my head in amusement even as I looked at her face. She had always been hotheaded, but before, she was never hotheaded enough to make such a wide promise — I promise that I knew she would follow because of her honor obsession. 

Being locked in prison certainly didn’t help her. 

“As you wish,” I said as I removed my sword and shield and put them on the corner, leaning against a wall — though as I put them, I carefully linked them to the wards of the prison using the Tether, to make sure no one could burst in even if they decided to make a visit. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Removing any chance of you complaining it’s not a fair fight,” I answered as I turned back to her, seemingly unarmed. I still had the Tether of the Underworld wrapped around my forearm to help me establish wards quickly if needed, but since Isolde lacked the magical understanding to notice it, I kept it in place. 

After all, I was trying to look fair, not actually be fair. 

Then, I unlocked her prison door. 

Isolde lashed forward immediately like an arrow launched from a longbow, fast, sharp, and merciless. Unfortunately for her, it also made her predictable. 

I waited until her fist was about to connect, then put my hand on her wrist, pushing slightly, just enough to unbalance her. And, as she took a step forward, I slapped her ass. It wasn’t just to anger her, but also to cast a subtle spell on her to drain her energy. It would drain her slowly, just enough for her to assume it was the after-effects of the prison. “Careful, sweetie,” I said. 

“I’ll kill you,” she growled angrily and charged again, her kick as sharp as a knife. This time, I took a step back, dodging it easily. She lashed in a chain of kicks, which stretched her pants to show the beautiful tightness of her legs. 

 To her credit, she didn’t suddenly start accusing me of being a coward just because I wasn’t stupid enough to take her kicks and had the temerity to dodge. It sounded stupid, but a great number of knights — and significantly more than a few dark warriors — had used that exact argument just because I didn’t stay still and take their preferred assault method. 

For all her faults, Isolde really had the soul of a deadly assassin, only held back by a lack of patience and an excess of morals. 

Maybe I could fix that once I managed to earn her cooperation. After all, for all the achievements, she had been suffering from a huge identity crisis as her skills left her unprepared for the next stage of her life filled with politics, and I doubted the betrayal of Lancelot, one that she trusted and hoped to be together, helped her to calm down any. 

She kicked again, this time, rather than dodging, I grabbed her pant leg and pulled, which had two great effects. One, it unbalanced her again, forcing her to take a few steps back hurriedly to avoid a counterattack. 

Second, it ripped her pants all the way through its seams on the side, creating an impromptu slit. Admittedly, I cheated a bit by using a simple spell to rip it that way, but…

A Dark Lord didn’t deserve his name if he didn’t cheat occasionally. 

Isolde didn’t react that much until half a minute later, when I stopped another attack of her by grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it off, this time hard enough to rip it off completely at the cost of receiving a painful punch to my ribs, hurting badly even with her magical exhaustion weakening her. 

“I’ll kill you,” she growled as she realized it wasn’t accidental, but I didn’t miss one very important detail. Her anger was too shallow, too forced, and the blush on her face showed she felt self-conscious about her nudity. This was understandable, as, under her shirt, she didn’t have a bra but tight bindings, suggesting that her breasts were rather more impressive than I had first guessed. 

Yet, despite her threat, when she attacked again, her attacks were much more slower and careful, trying not to get too close, her moves hesitant, reminding me of the hesitation she had displayed during our bargain when she had first shown my full erection from a close range, hidden only by the ruined boxers. 

Her absolute lack of sexual experience was showing… 

Yet, her sudden careful assault only made it easier for me to grab her pant legs when one of her kicks overextended, allowing me to rip it off, leaving the task of hiding her tight ass to her panties. Unfortunately, her panties were the ugly kind, which allowed her to hide more of her beautiful hips than I would have liked. 

Yet, it was clearly more than she would have liked, if her blush was any indicator. 

Her shame wasn’t enough to actually prevent her from attacking, though after repeated failures, she started to accept that her assumption about my martial abilities might have been mistaken. “You’re … strong,” she admitted when she pulled back to take a breath. “Why are you bothering with magic when you’re this skilled. If you focused on the path of the blade instead…” 

I didn’t answer, just smirked, amused by the way she started to accept her defeat even before I landed a punch on her body. Admittedly, that was the point, in melee combat, attacking was always easier than defending — at least the absolute kind that I was displaying — which proved that I was inarguably better than her. 

As an added benefit, it left her beautiful body pristine, without the slightest mark.

Then, she tensed, a determined expression invading her face before she charged forward. This time, it was a reckless assault, one that paid no attention to defense. Ironically, the reckless nature of her attack showed that she accepted my martial superiority. Such a reckless assault gave me many chances to counterattack and take her down. 

Yet, I chose the harder path, defending her without the slightest intent of counterattacking. Luckily, I had been cheating greatly, allowing me to dominate her martially in a way I couldn’t do in a fair fight.  

The reason, I could see growing wetness in her core. The more she proved inferior to me in martial abilities, the wetter her panties were getting. It turned out that I failed to understand the true depth of her martial obsession. 

No wonder she was obsessed with Lancelot. 

Unfortunately for him, he was just too passive to leverage that. I, on the other hand, had no problem pushing her seduction to the next stage. I let her fist connect slightly, with an angle that was more of a push than a punch, one that had disastrous consequences for my shirt. It opened, showing my muscles, a sight that earned Isolde’s appreciative gaze, enough to make her stagger for a moment. 

It was an opportunity I didn’t miss, finally deciding to attack. She gasped I tackled her, but it was more from panic than pain, as I didn’t really push myself to the limit. 

Yet, even holding back, I managed to leverage her momentary distraction to lock her against the wall, her wrists in my grip as I spread them, informing her about the result with great glee. 

“You lose.”