Floating Islands: SSS Gacha Lord

A large bonfire had been set up in the center of the camp, surrounded by several tents pitched on the rocky ground at the edge of the cliff that night.

The air was filled with the sounds of singing and laughter, breaking the stillness of the night and echoing far into the distance, carried away by the winds of the desert on the other side of the shore.

The troops shouted and danced around the blazing bonfire, their energy filling the space. Meanwhile, Atlas sat quietly, enjoying his dinner in the company of a few elite subordinates.

They were in conversation, reviewing the overall progress of his training and that of everyone else on this first day.

Some of the troops had been swept into the sea during the day's training but were promptly rescued by Kurogasa and Karian, who had been overseeing the training along the wild shoreline.

The sessions were undeniably life-threatening, yet it was clear that, by now, everyone had begun to embrace the brutal regimen. Whether out of resigned acceptance of their fate or sheer inspiration drawn from their Lord's madness, no one could say for sure.

Judging from the progress Atlas had made on this first day alone, he was on track to complete his quest within a week at best. That was still a tolerable time frame.

Looking at the other near the bonfire, it was clear that Karian was the wild one, dancing and laughing among the other combatants.

Nearby, Milo was busy performing one of his signature card tricks, and it was obvious the others were enjoying the little magic show he put on.

On the other side, Mira swayed joyfully to the rhythm as a few others played instruments.

Yawning, Atlas set down his plate and stood up.

"Have fun, everyone," he said before walking away from the group.

Now, where was his tent again?

His tent was in an area close to the ones assigned to his elite subordinates. It was the largest tent in the camp. He reached it, lifted the flap, and stepped inside.

But then…

He paused, turned around, and stepped back out to check the name written on the tent. Yes, it was definitely his.

But why…?

Why was Morganna asleep inside?

Did she enter the wrong tent?

He glanced back toward the central area where everyone was gathered. Only now did he realize Morganna hadn't been there the entire time.

Shrugging off his curiosity for now, Atlas re-entered the tent. Though the interior was dimly lit, he was accustomed to seeing in low light or even without vision, and the elemental particles around the space were calm.

He made his way over to the bed, and sat down.

The mattress shifted slightly under his weight, and…

There was an empty space beside the woman.

Without much thought, he lay down, positioning himself, while Morganna, who was turned on her side, faced him directly.

Is she already asleep?

At this point, it wasn't the first time they had shared the same space, or even the same bed.

The sound of shouting and laughter outside the tent was still audible. It wasn't even midnight yet, and it seemed like many of the troops were still caught up in the lively atmosphere by the sea.

Understandably so, most of them were accustomed to the confined space of the floating island, spending their days enduring grueling training in the volcanic terrain.

Coming down to the lower lands, their true homeland, offered a rare chance to unwind and enjoy themselves.

Is she already asleep?

The question surfaced again in his mind.

At that moment, the woman reached out, her fingers brushing his left arm before she wrapped it gently. She pressed her cheek against his arm, her touch cool and soft.

For a while, there was only silence between them. Neither spoke a word.

Even now, Atlas still struggled to connect fully with this vampire queen. Talking to her wasn't exactly difficult. It was more that their exchanges were always dictated by her whims.

She spoke only when she wanted to, or when she needed something from him. Usually, it was something specific: her favorite food, ice creams, perhaps, or… his blood.

Atlas shifted his position, turning to face her. She was still lying there, eyes closed, her serene expression illuminated faintly in the dim light.

"Tell me…" he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

There was no response. But surely, this vampire queen wasn't truly asleep, completely unaware of her surroundings. Not someone like her. Especially considering how, just moments ago, she had moved closer to him.

"How do I train more?" he asked, his tone quieter this time.

"How can I become stronger… far stronger than I am now?"

Become a vampire?

The thought surfaced in his mind, unbidden. It was something Morganna had suggested to him before.

But was that truly the quickest path to power?

Vampires, after all, were said to weaken under sunlight, weren't they? Yet Morganna showed no signs of that weakness. Maybe their strength grew in the darkness instead.

Even so, Atlas couldn't bring himself to make such a decision.

He turned his gaze back to Morganna's face.

This vampire queen, once an Immortal Rank in his previous world, was now reduced to mortality. Here, she would struggle against anyone beyond Rank 3 or Rank 4, a far cry from the power she once wielded.

Without thinking, Atlas lifted his hand and placed it gently on her cheek, his palm resting softly against her cool skin.

"Remove your hand from my face."

The voice came suddenly, yet the woman hadn't opened her lips or even her eyes.

Atlas simply smiled. Ignoring her command.

No further complaints came from the woman.

The moment lingered, steeped in silence and stillness, until Atlas leaned closer.

Their faces were mere inches apart when he pressed his lips gently against hers.

There was no resistance.

And then, as if slipping into the familiar rhythm of their unspoken bond, it happened once more.

This time, however, she didn't draw his blood. Perhaps she had already satisfied herself earlier, indulging in the feast.

But there were always the days ahead. As long as his blood supply remained plentiful, it wasn't something he minded. At least, not yet.