Warrior Training System-Chapter 458: Half the Arms, Half the Fun,

"That... took time," Cassian muttered as he pushed himself upright. His whole body felt stiff, like he’d been lying in one position for days. He stretched his remaining arm, wincing at how strangely light he felt on one side.

Meanwhile, his other arm was already regenerating—muscle fibers knitting, bone crawling back into shape—visible to the naked eye but sluggish thanks to the curse Brigid had slapped on him.

Honestly, she hadn’t cut it anything like he expected. Neatly? No. She’d taken the entire thing apart like she was prepping some exotic dish: peeling the veins aside, popping the joint cleanly, unraveling muscle with surgical enthusiasm. When he’d asked why she was doing it like that, she’d just told him to shut up.

He watched now as she gently placed his severed arm into a wooden box humming with mana. She closed the lid with unsettling care, then stored it away in her ring like it was a keepsake.

Cassian sighed. "Alright. Undo these curses and hand me a healing potion. At this rate it’ll take hours to grow a new one."

"Oh—right!" Brigid said brightly, like she’d forgotten the tiny detail of having magically crippled him. She pulled out two potions with a big smile and sprinkled him with a few curse-nullifying spells. "There you go."

"Just two...?" Cassian grumbled as he uncorked one and took a swig. "Don’t be a cheap ass."

That single line wiped the smile right off Brigid’s face. Her happy, proud expression sank into irritation in an instant.

"Healing with potions isn’t like your ability," she snapped. "Your regeneration knows exactly what your original body’s structuer is like. Potions don’t. They’ll just... improvise. You might grow a second arm, or a lump of meat, or a bone sticking out somewhere weird. Maybe even an extra one."

Cassian froze mid-sip, staring at the half-empty vial in his hand like it had just tried to bite him. He slowly lowered it and set it aside, deciding the single potion was enough. The moment Brigid’s curse-nullifying spells finished washing over him, his healing kicked into full speed again. The skin over his shoulder had already sealed; within an hour or two, he’d have a brand-new arm.

Ignoring the tingling itch of flesh stitching itself together, he glanced at the wooden box she’d stashed his severed arm in. "Right," he muttered. "Now. You gonna tell me what you’re planning to do with that?"

"Just gonna experiment a bit," Brigid said, completely casual—as if she were talking about cooking stew instead of poking at a severed limb. "I want to see if your arm tries to heal itself even off your body, or if it’s your domain doing the work. In most cases it’s the domain, but yours might be different."

She was already clearing space, pulling out a foldable table, stacks of tools, vials, enchanted clamps—an entire traveling laboratory exploding into existence inside the tent. Cassian watched in disbelief as she arranged everything with the cheerful efficiency of someone preparing a tea party.

Without looking up, she waved a dismissive hand at him.

"You can go now," she said, tone flat and distracted. "Go play with one of your slaves or something. Those warrior sisters seem fun."

She sounded exactly like a parent shooing a child away so she could concentrate on her hobby—except her hobby involved dissecting his arm. Cassian blinked, half amused, half horrified.

"Right," he muttered. "Have fun... with my limb."

Brigid didn’t even look up, already humming softly as she placed his arm on the table like prized research material.

Cassian had barely stepped out before he walked right back into the tent, making Brigid look up in confusion.

"I can’t go anywhere with just one arm," he announced, deadpan. He flopped back down onto the bed and stretched out. "You might not think so, but it’s weird."

Brigid snorted, already turning back to the small incision she was making on his severed arm, humming again as it began to heal. "Fine. Stay. Just don’t disturb me."

Cassian watched her get excited over the tiny regrowth, her eyes lighting up like she’d discovered treasure. He couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh, I won’t disturb you," he said, voice dripping with mischief. "As long as my face gets to be your seat."

The irritation snapped right back onto Brigid’s face, a tiny wrinkle forming between her brows. She was genuinely beginning to fear that if she stayed around Cassian much longer, those lines would become permanent. With a long, suffering sigh, she muttered, "Can’t you just... I don’t know... touch my boobs instead?"

Cassian shook his head slowly, smugly—he knew this was his opening to negotiate. "No, no. Naked ass and boobs."

Brigid didn’t even blink."Naked boobs. Touching only," she said flatly, lowering her scalpel again like she was negotiating terms over a corpse, not herself.

Her tone was bone-dry, her face dead serious—like haggling over which parts of her he could grope was just another checkbox on her experiment list.

"Sucking too..." Cassian bargained, dropping his number like he was closing a deal on horses.

Brigid let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Fine..." she muttered, as if agreeing to a minor inconvenience instead of letting him put his mouth on her chest.

She set her scalpel aside, hooked her fingers under her top, and peeled it off in one smooth motion. She reached for her bra next—until Cassian’s hand caught hers.

"Let me do it," he said.

Brigid’s eye twitched in annoyance, but she stopped, arms crossing impatiently under her half-exposed chest as she picked her scalpel back up like she might stab the next thing that irritated her.

"Then hurry up," she muttered.

Cassian slid in behind her almost too quickly, excitement written all over him. After days of Brigid avoiding him post-Analisa incident, getting this close to her bare skin again felt like some forbidden treat. Sure, Kirja had been more than enough to keep him entertained, but Cassian wasn’t the type to simply "move on" when a woman like Brigid was involved. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Her waist was slim, tapering just enough before flaring into that strong, generous chest—and then lower, into the kind of hips and ass that made every man in camp lose focus whenever she walked by. Sitting there in front of him now, the curve of her backside widened under her weight, and Cassian felt something hungry curl in his gut.

He reached out instinctively, grabbing a handful of her ass. The contact was warm, firm, addictive... but the moment he squeezed, dissatisfaction hit him like a slap.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, realizing the problem immediately—One arm.Only one hand to enjoy her with.

It felt like trying to drink fine wine with a cracked cup.