"Urgh…" Kallen woke up with a low groan.

As his eyes fluttered open, he found himself in a room that felt both familiar and unfamiliar, painted in a soft, soothing white that was easy on the eyes no matter how long you stared at it, rather than, the usual sharp, sterile tone.

The ceiling above him had intricate loops and twists, a mesmerizing design that seemed to pull the mind into a hypnotic lull.

His body felt unbearably heavy. The moment he tried to move, it was as if he were trying to push a planet against its orbit. He felt overfull, not in the way of an overstuffed stomach, but as if his entire body had been filled beyond capacity. Every muscle, every fiber in his body felt oversaturated.

He frowned slightly, taking another glance around the room.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he relaxed.

"Mom?" He called out softly, but the room remained silent.

Yes. This was Lyra's home in the Sacred Grove.

_'I need a release.'_ he thought to himself exhaling slowly.

Gritting his teeth, Kallen pushed himself up with all his strength. His body resisted, but he forced himself to roll off the bed and stand to his feet. It reminded him of his first time attempting push-ups back on Earth, that shaky, overwhelming burn that made even a single movement feel like an impossible task. The feeling was like he could fall and faint at any time.

Staggering, he dragged himself outside the cottage and into the Grove.

He took a deep breath and moment the scent of trees, flowers, and fresh herbs entered his lungs, he felt like his body had been set on cold fire. A strange contradiction of intense and soothing comfort, like sinking into warm marshmallows.

"Haaah…"

A soft, satisfied groan slipped from his lips before he could stop it. And his body seemed to ease just a little.

Encouraged by the sensation, Kallen steadied himself. If his body felt this overcharged, maybe he could tap into it.

He began lightly, careful not to overexert or injure himself. He started with slow movements, and measured breathing. Slowly, he increased his pace. As he went faster, the sensation increased in intensity, his body and mind roaring to life.

And before long, he was giving it his all.

It felt good.

Slowly, his movements became smoother. His ligaments loosened, his chest expanded, and his heart pounded with exhilarating force. Blood surged through his veins, warming every fiber of his body until his skin flushed.

He felt an instinctive urge to tilt his head back and roar to the skies. The sensation was just too intoxicating.

His hands moved with skillful grace, as if he had years of experience in this. His toes curled, his hips flexed, and then, without thought, he incorporated kicks into his movements, creating a fluid, lethal dance. A dance of murder.

Sweat trickled down his skin as his pores opened.

Pack!

"???"

His arm was caught mid-swing from behind, the abrupt stop was enough to wrench his shoulder out of place. But the grip was precise; able to control his movements, and redirecting his momentum to avoid harming him.

Kallen's pupils narrowed.

Then, a grin spread across his face.

"Mother."

Turning around, he was met with Lyra's sweet smile. It was just that something felt unsettling about it.

His smirk faltered.

Her expression… _'Ah! shit.'_

He quickly averted his eyes, turning to admire the trees as if they were the most fascinating sight in the world.

"Nice weather we're having, yeah?" Lyra asked, with a lovely tone of voice.

"Absolutely," he replied, feigning innocence.

Her lips curled into an evil grin, and her hands moved.,

_'Shit.'_

Kallen didn't even have time to react before his body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut; completely paralyzed. She had shut down his pressure points in an instant.

Smiling to herself, Lyra effortlessly hoisted his small frame over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him back toward the cottage.

Kallen felt utterly humiliated and wanted to dig a hole to the ground in embarrassment. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry... Not like he could do any even if he wanted to. It was impossible for his eyes to even twitch. How horrifying.

When they reached the cottage entrance, he became surprised.

A long, flat table covered with pristine white sheets, was already prepared.

_'What's this for?'_

If he could move, he might have raised a brow or shot her a questioning look. But his body remained stubbornly unresponsive. Even his thoughts seemed to lag, as if his intelligence itself was shutting down too.

Lyra gently placed him on the table and stripped him down to his underwear. Then, her hands began to shine with a warm, pink glow.

Kallen's pupils dilated.

The instant her palms pressed against his body, his mind exploded.

What happened in the next thirty minutes was something Kallen would never forget for the rest of his life.

By the time it was over, his entire body was drenched in sweat, and the once-pristine white sheets beneath him were completely soaked.

In two lifetimes, he had never experienced anything like this. Every pleasure he had ever known; whether from his past life or this one, put together, felt insignificant compared to the sheer ecstasy that he had endured, or enjoyed rather, for the past thirty minutes.

It was so good that it was terrifying.

His body felt light, his muscles completely loosen, and his very being hummed in satisfaction. Every pore on his skin had dilated to its absolute limit, as if his body itself had learned to breathe.

His blood coursed through his veins with a newfound ease, smoother than ever before. His dynisis roots now as clearly as the sky on a cloudless day. In short, he felt like a born again god, in his own body.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Lyra pressed her fingers against key points on his body, and just like that, the paralysis vanished.

But with freedom came an explosion of sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that he barely had time to register it before his vision snapped to black.

He fainted on the spot.

Lyra, watching his limp form, burst into laughter—deep, uncontrollable laughter that left her gasping for breath, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

"Weak little boy," she murmured, her voice rich with amusement and warmth.

Shaking her head, she gently picked him up this time, cradling him with a mother's care. With quiet steps, she carried him back to his room and tucked him into bed once more, a soft smile lingering on her lips.