I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Each figure had the same basic outline. Each one looked identical, with no clear features to tell them apart, as if they had all been made from the same pattern.

And each of them spoke.

Their voices were the same, repeating the same words over and over again. The sounds overlapped, layering on top of each other, sometimes matching and sometimes clashing, but never fully stopping.

Why did you possess me.

Mother.

I want my sister.

Why.

Give me back.

Mother.

You took everything.

Sister.

Give it back.

Why.

Julian stood on the narrow rock and looked at the circle of silhouettes closing in slowly from every direction. With each passing second, the sound of their voices grew louder. It pressed against his mind from the inside, building steadily and filling every space of thought until there was almost nowhere left for him to think clearly.

The pressure kept increasing, becoming harder to endure with every moment.

He attempted to channel his mana. He reached for it, trying to draw it closer, but it responded slowly, as if weighed down or held back by something he could not see.

The silhouettes continued closing.

Mother.

Why did you take me.

I want to go back.

The pressure in his skull built beyond what he could endure.

Kraven’s residual patterns, Julian murmured, clutching his head tightly as he tried to hold himself together.

The silhouettes were very close now.

Julian felt his footing on the narrow rock begin to fail.

The boiling water was inches from his feet.

He opened his mouth to speak, yet, no sound escaped.

The silhouettes reached the rock’s edge.

He woke with a gasp.

His body shot upright in bed in one sharp movement. Both hands clutched the sheets as he pulled himself back into reality, his breath coming in fast, uneven bursts.

For a couple of seconds, he did nothing except breathe—forcing air in, then letting it out—just trying to steady himself before he could think of anything else.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed.

The room was dim. The afternoon had moved on while he slept, and the light through the window had shifted into the lower, amber tone of late afternoon, already leaning toward evening. The mana lamp on the wall gave off a steady, low glow. Everything was exactly as he had left it.

He pressed one hand flat against his chest and continued to breathe.

In. Out. In.

Slowly, the gasping eased. His pulse—Kraven’s pulse—began to settle.

He sat in silence for several tense minutes, staring at the floor between his feet.

So, he thought.

The dream was a dream in the technical sense—his mind processing what it had experienced while unguarded in sleep. But what it processed was real. Kraven’s residual imprint stayed inside the body’s structure, and it found the only opening it had and used it.

Julian expected the body’s patterns to show up during waking hours. He expected them to be something he could see coming, something he could respond to in real time.

However, he did not account for sleep.

In sleep, there was no control. His will was still there, but it had no direction, no focus behind it. It existed, but it did not act. And in that unguarded space, whatever remained of Kraven had gathered itself and overwhelmed Julian.

He sat with this for a long moment.

Then he stood, walked to the basin, and splashed cold water on his face.

He looked at the mirror.

Kraven looked back.

We are going to have to come to an arrangement, Julian thought, looking at the face in the mirror, his eyes steady and determined, like someone who had decided it was time to stop avoiding the problem.

The face in the mirror offered no response.

Just as Julian stood with the towel in his hand and his thoughts still sorting themselves from the dream, a knock came at the door.

knock knock

He wiped his face one more time and set the towel aside: “Come in.”

The door opened.

Sera entered, carrying a silver tray with the same confident grace she had shown that morning. Her blonde hair was pinned up, a few soft strands curling and making her look both innocent and dangerously inviting.

She crossed the room, set the tray down on the table, then turned and gave him a graceful little bow.

“Young lord,” she purred softly, her voice warmer and sweeter than before. “You are awake.”

“I just got up,” Julian said.

She nodded and began arranging the items on the tray with slow, sensual movements — movements clearly designed to show off her body. The uniform performed its usual work in the lamplight, offering Julian a view that he was openly enjoying.

“I came earlier,” she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “There was no response so I left.”

She turned to face him fully, taking a small step closer.

“You must have been deeply asleep.”

“I was,” Julian said.

She looked at him for a moment as if quietly studying him and noting it for later.

“You seem tired,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower. “Not just from sleep. From everything.”

She took another slow step toward him, closing the distance until he could smell the light floral scent on her skin.

“It has been a very full day for you.”

Julian looked at her.

“It has,” he agreed.

She rested one hand on the back of the small chair beside the table and leaned against it casually. The pose was innocent on the surface, but the uniform responded beautifully — the short skirt rode higher up her smooth thighs, the bodice tightened over her breasts until they strained and her nipples were faintly visible through the thin material. Her hips tilted slightly, accentuating the dramatic curve of her ass.

“The arrival of Lord Liam and his family… that tense breakfast,” she continued, tilting her head so a blonde curl brushed her collarbone. “I heard it was quite eventful.”

“Most breakfasts here seem to be,” Julian said dryly.

She almost smiled. “You carry a great weight, young lord. Anyone could see that.” She looked straight into his eyes, dark gaze warm and inviting. “It seems like you could use some… release.”