The Strongest Student of the Weakest Academy-Chapter 216: *Silverleaf Academy (LXIV)*

"Ugh...!"

Aestrea grunted softly as he pushed the thick head of his cock inside Yara’s soaked entrance.

Her walls clenched around him immediately, hot and dripping with need.

"A-Ahhh—♥!"

Yara’s back arched beautifully, her hands gripping the edges of the war table, nails digging into the dark wood as her mouth opened in a helpless moan.

Her eyes rolled back for a second as she felt every thick inch stretching her slowly.

"You’re... s-so big... haaah~♥" she gasped, legs twitching slightly around his waist.

He didn’t answer.

His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed, watching her face intently as he sank in inch by inch. The wet squelch of her body taking him echoed in the dimly lit chamber.

Schlk... schlk...

Finally, he was fully inside.

Her walls fluttered around him.

Yara let out a shaky breath, her entire body trembling.

"I missed this... inside me... so deep..." she whispered breathlessly, sweat already starting to form on her skin.

Aestrea pulled his hips back just a little... and pushed in again.

Squelch~!

"Mnnh—ahhh~!♥"

She moaned loudly, her back lifting slightly off the table. Her thighs shook, her legs hooking around his waist again as he started to move.

Thrust by thrust.

Rhythm building, pressure rising.

Smack... smack... smack...

The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, echoing off stone walls and dark magic.

His hips began to pound into her harder.

"Ahh! Ahh! Haaah—yes! F*ck! Deeper, Aestrea~! You’re hitting me... so good... right there—!♥"

Her words only spurred him on.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly to the edge of the table, bending over her, his body pressing into hers with every thrust.

The map beneath her flickered with each slam, magic reacting to the heat of their bodies.

But then, he stopped.

"Wha...? D-Darling?" Yara blinked, breathless.

Aestrea grabbed her thighs and lifted her off the table completely.

"E-Eh—!?"

He carried her, her legs spread wide around his waist, her dripping core still wrapped tightly around him, still inside, as he moved.

He walked them over to the wall and pressed her back against the cold stone, never once pulling out.

"Y-You... you brute...♥" she whispered, red cheeks flushed with lust and surprise.

He thrust into her hard.

Smack!

Her head hit the wall lightly, and her mouth dropped open again in a cry of pleasure.

"AHHH! Y-Yes! Fuckk! Like that! More—!"

He gripped her ass, slamming into her again and again, lifting her whole body with each powerful movement.

The new angle made her eyes roll back.

He was so deep.

So damn deep.

"Haaah! Fuckk!!! Aestrea—I can’t! I’m gonna cum again!♥ I’m gonna—!"

Her body shook as the second orgasm crashed through her, thighs trembling, pussy tightening even more as he groaned into her neck and kept thrusting.

But he didn’t stop.

Not yet.

He turned again, walking her—still inside her—toward the large black throne where Yara usually sat.

He dropped into it, pulling her down on top of him, his cock still buried deep in her wet heat.

Now, she was straddling him.

Yara blinked in surprise... and then smiled.

"Oooh~ Riding you, is it?" she giggled.

"You want me to work for it, huh?"

She licked her lips and began to move her hips, grinding in slow, circular motions first... then bouncing.

Slap!

"Fuckk~! Yes! Yes~! Haaaah! Aestrea—look at me! Look at how deep you are inside me!♥"

Her breasts bounced with every motion, her nails dragging down his chest as she rode him like a woman possessed.

He grabbed her ass with both hands and thrust up into her from below.

Their bodies crashed together again.

"Mnnh! Haaah! I’m gonna cum again—!"

Her whole body tensed as she clung to him tightly, her core spasming around his cock as she climaxed a third time.

But Aestrea still wasn’t done.

He stood again, and bent her over the arm of the throne, her ass in the air.

He grabbed her waist.

And began to pound her from behind.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Yara screamed in bliss.

"YES! YES! FUCK—Ruin me, Darling! I’m yours! Fuckk me until I break!♥"

Her ass jiggled with every hard thrust, juices dripping down her thighs.

He slapped her ass once—smack!

And she moaned harder.

"AHH! Again! Hit me again!♥"

Another slap.

Her walls clenched so tight he could barely move.

She was close again.

So was he.

"A-Aestrea~! Insideeeee! Cum inside meeeeee, please fill me up~♥!"

He grabbed her hips, slammed into her one last time—

Splurt!

And released deep inside her.

Hot ropes of seed spilling into her already twitching pussy as she moaned and trembled. Both of them stayed there for a while... panting... covered in sweat and heat and stickiness.

Yara’s legs barely held her up.

Her body leaned against the throne’s edge, trembling, her hair a mess, eyes dazed.

She smiled slowly.

"You’re so cruel... You ruined my legs before battle~♥"

Aestrea leaned over her from behind, still inside, and whispered—

"You’re the one who begged for it."

Yara’s body quivered as he said those words, her lips curling up into a twitched smile, as she felt their fluids running down her wet pussy.

Then, without a word, he slid his hands under her arms, lifting her gently.

Before she could blink, he turned them both, the cool stone of the throne pressing against his back.

Now, Yara was pressed flush against him, her chest to his, legs wrapping around his waist, tight as she gasped.

"Darling..." she whispered in a sultry tone.

"You’re not done with me yet, are you?"

"Not even close."

Schlllrp—!

The wet sound of her dripping pussy sliding off his cock echoed lewdly before he slammed her back down, spearing her in one strong thrust.

"Hyaaaahn—!♥" Yara’s scream shattered the air, her nails raking down his chest as her body convulsed around him.

The thick, swollen head of his cock rammed against her deepest spot, sending electric shocks of pleasure up her spine.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

His hips pistoned upward, each thrust making her plump ass ripple, her juices splattering against his thighs with every bounce.

"Ahn! Ah! F-Fuck! Y-You’re—! You’re splitting me!♥~" she sobbed, her voice breaking as her vision blurred.

The sheer force of his movements sent her breasts jiggling wildly, her nipples stiff and aching against his sweat-slicked chest.

Aestrea’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, leaving red marks as he controlled her movements, forcing her down onto him harder, faster.

Squelch!

Schlick!

Plap!

Her back arched violently as her pussy spasmed, gushing around him, her juices running down his shaft and balls in thick, sticky rivulets.

Then he flipped her onto her back again, her legs splayed wide as he pinned her wrists above her head.

"Nngh—! D-Darling—!♥"

Crack!

The armrest of the throne splintered under her grip as he plunged back inside, the force of his thrusts shaking the entire seat.

Smack!

Smack!!

Her swollen clit rubbed against his pelvis with every brutal stroke, sending jolts of unbearable pleasure through her oversensitive body.

"I-I can’t—! I can’t take anymore—!♥"

"You’ll take every last drop," Aestrea declared, biting down on her neck as his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Spluuuurt—!

Hot, thick cum flooded her womb, pulsing deep inside as her walls milked him desperately.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH~!"

Yara’s body locked up, her toes curling as her mind shattered, her scream of ecstasy ringing through the chamber.

"Haaah... haaah..."

"I... n-need to rest..." She closed her eyes, still breathing heavily.

But then...

"Agh~"

A moan slipped her lips as she felt Aestrea moving slightly.

"...D-darling? Can’t we rest for a little?"

"...There’s still an hour left."

Aestrea simply said those words, and Yara’s eyelids twitched.

"L-let me rest for a w-while... just a f-few minut—AHHHNNNN~!"

.

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.

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Phew~

The thick scent of incense wafted through the obsidian halls of the Imperial Throne Chamber.

Moonlight filtered through arched stained-glass windows, casting soft red and gold patterns across the polished floors.

At the far end of the hall, upon a towering dais, sat the Emperor of the Empire.

Clad in a high-collared black robe embroidered with shimmering golden vines, his pale fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his throne.

A golden circlet sat on his brow, and though his face was calm, there was an unmistakable tension hidden behind his steely blue eyes.

Before him, a man in black armor kneeled, his forehead to the floor, chest heaving.

"S-Sire... the underground forces... they’ve moved," the soldier stammered.

"Scouts have reported thousands of them advancing... straight toward the capital. The outer garrisons are falling back, awaiting orders."

For a second, the silence stretched too long.

And then...

"What?" The Emperor finally spoke.

The word wasn’t loud, but it echoed through the chamber like thunder.

His fingers halted mid-tap.

He didn’t rise.

But his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding slightly.

Behind him, perched calmly like a raven on the carved edge of his throne, sat the Empress—Isabella. Dressed in her usual velvet-blue gown that shimmered with silver threading, she looked every bit the image of a queen.

Her pink lips curled upward slightly, barely noticeable.

Her green eyes gleamed, not with worry.

But with amusement, and a hint of happiness.

"How many?" the Emperor asked, still not raising his voice.

"T-Twelve thousand at minimum. They emerged from the mountain trenches and sewer tunnels. We believe it’s a coordinated strike... led by someone from the underworld, perhaps the Queen herself."

He paused.

The silence after that was even heavier.

Francis finally rose from the throne, his long cloak dragging across the steps with a heavy hush. His back was rigid, and his aura flickered faintly with pressure.

The marble beneath his feet cracked slightly as his boot struck down.

Isabella didn’t move.

She simply watched her husband’s clenched fists and the cold glint returning to his eyes.

"...And yet they dare approach my palace," he muttered.

His eyes flicked to his right.

Standing silently with arms crossed, half-shadowed by the thick columns of the throne room, was a tall figure clad in deep silver armor.

His long black hair was tied behind him, and at his side, resting in its sheath, was a blade that had once split the sea itself.

The Sword Duke.

His expression was unreadable.

But his presence alone brought a small measure of ease to the Emperor’s chest.

Francis exhaled slowly.

He turned toward the kneeling soldier.

"Call every division leader. Lock down the capital. Prepare all sanctified barriers. The palace will not fall." His voice cut like iron. "I want ten legions on alert, and the inner sanctum cleared for command. Now go."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty!!"

The soldier scrambled to his feet, bowing before fleeing the hall.

Silence returned.

Only the soft hum of wind outside remained.

And then, from behind the throne, a low voice.

Deceptively sweet.

"Mm~ war at the gates again," Isabella murmured.

Her heels tapped softly as she descended from the back of the dais, walking up behind her husband. Her hand trailed along his shoulder, fingers feather-light.

"You’re tense, Francis," she purred with a sultry smile, her lips barely inches from his ear. "Afraid someone’s finally come to kill you?"

He didn’t answer her.

But she could feel the heat in his veins, the way his jaw twitched, and the subtle pulse of power rising.

That was enough.

Isabella stepped past him, her blue gown flowing like oil across the polished marble.

She stopped halfway down the chamber, gazing toward the sealed palace doors, where war surely waited beyond.

And then, her lips curled upward—

A very dangerous smile.

"It’s finally beginning," she whispered.

Her green eyes shimmered.

"Let’s see how long your Empire lasts... without your little gods."

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