Selvara retreated to a corner table in the guildhall, the Codex heavy in her hands. Its leather was cracked, its spine loose, as if it had been opened hundreds of times by trembling adventurers before her. She swallowed, cheeks warm, and slowly flipped the first page.
The script was neat, precise, but the very first line made her stiffen:
"In this world, combat is not limited to blades and shields. Many foes will seek to subdue you through lust and desire. This is called Westling Sensual."
Her eyes darted left and right, making sure no one was watching her read. She tugged her cloak closer, then leaned over the book.
"In Westling Sensual, the body becomes both weapon and battlefield. To resist is to endure, to embrace is to turn weakness into victory. Those who master this art do not merely survive—they thrive."
A sharp gasp escaped her throat. She pressed a hand against her mouth, her whole body trembling. "S-so… so shameless! To fight in such a way…!"
Her fingers curled around the edge of the page, knuckles white. And yet… her shoulders quivered, and a strange, warm laugh bubbled from her lips. "Fufufu… how utterly, exquisitely humiliating… and yet so perfect…!"
She pressed on, eyes gleaming now.
"Attributes determine your resilience: Strength allows you to break free of bonds, Endurance to resist exhaustion, Willpower to withstand temptation. But there is also Charm—both blessing and curse—which can turn even domination into triumph."
She bit her lip, spine arching subtly as she squirmed in her chair. Her gauntlets drummed nervously against the tabletop. "Charm…! To think that even beauty and shame could be turned into weapons…!"
The more she read, the more her composure cracked. Every page seemed written as though it were tailored for her: the concept of "Humiliation Resistance," the notes on "Embracing Damage as Growth," the clear declaration that every defeat still gave experience.
Her body twisted as if she couldn't contain the delight. She hugged the Codex to her chest, golden hair spilling forward, and whispered breathlessly:
"This is it… this is the trial I was born for. A world where even disgrace makes me stronger… Fufufu… ahahahaha…!"
Heads turned at her laughter, but she didn't care. For the first time since being thrust into this strange new world, she felt not confusion, but absolute clarity.
The god's words, the regenerating armor, the system messages—it all made sense now. She was chosen not in spite of her curse, but because of it.
Westling Sensual wasn't a punishment.
It was destiny.
The Codex smelled of old parchment and candle wax, its pages heavy with the weight of knowledge not meant for ordinary mortals. Selvara sat with her back straight, armor gleaming faintly in the guild's dim light, but her hands trembled as she turned the brittle sheets.
The first chapter bore the heading:
"Advantages of Westling Sensual Combat."
Her breath caught, cheeks burning, but she forced herself to read on.
"Unlike conventional combat, Westling Sensual does not end with defeat. Even when subdued, the body absorbs the experience of humiliation and turns it into strength. A loss in this arena grants growth equal to—if not greater than—victory."
Her gauntleted hand pressed to her chest as her heart thundered. "To… to grow stronger through suffering? Through shame? Hah… how perfectly suited to me!"
She squirmed in her chair, eyes glittering with forbidden delight, and turned the page.
"Skills and Techniques."
Each one was neatly listed, complete with effects:
Endurance of Ecstasy – Increases stamina the longer one is restrained or overwhelmed.
Masochist's Resolve – Converts received 'Sensual Damage' into bonus defense in physical combat.
Charm Breaker – When the enemy underestimates you due to arousal, all counterattacks deal bonus damage.
Submission Flow – If forced into a submissive position, temporarily boosts recovery speed and resistance.
Ecstatic Threshold – The closer the body is to its breaking point, the higher the chance to reverse the struggle.
Her eyes danced across the words, lips curling into a trembling smile. "So many… so many blessings hidden inside humiliation itself…!"
She hugged the Codex to her chest for a moment, shivering with delight, then forced herself to keep reading.
"Unique Advantages."
"Westling Sensual is not a punishment but a path. While most warriors rely on steel and strength, those who walk this way wield their very body as both weapon and shield. Every encounter, no matter how degrading, leaves the fighter more resilient. Shame is no longer weakness—it is evolution."
Her shoulders shook with laughter, barely restrained, until it spilled out as a girlish giggle. "Fufufu… ahahaha! Evolution through disgrace! Truly, this is divine providence…!"
The guild bustled around her, oblivious, but to Selvara the hall had vanished. There was only her, the Codex, and the glorious revelation that every trembling, humiliating ordeal waiting in this world was not a curse—
but her greatest gift.
The Codex's script shimmered faintly, as though the words themselves adjusted to her curiosity. Selvara's lips parted, breath quick as she leaned closer.
"Physical Advantages and Disadvantages."
Advantages:
A body in Westling Sensual grows stronger with strain; muscles adapt faster, flexibility increases unnaturally, and recovery from fatigue is accelerated.
Pain tolerance and sensitivity blur together—endurance soars in prolonged struggles.
Even wounds sustained outside the sensual state heal more efficiently after enduring.
Disadvantages:
Vulnerability increases when the body is exposed—armor weakens or vanishes during the struggle.
Balance and precision falter under overstimulation, leaving openings in standard combat.
The more aroused the fighter becomes, the more fragile their will to resist—resilience of the body does not always mean resilience of the spirit.
Selvara traced the lines with a trembling fingertip, her body twisting slightly in the chair as though the words themselves pressed upon her. "So… every weakness becomes a tool for growth… but only if I endure…"
She turned to the next passage, bold symbols marking a section that read:
"Limits of Multiple Combat."
"A fighter may face several opponents at once, but rules both divine and instinctual dictate restraint. No more than three can engage a single vessel simultaneously, for beyond that the body would shatter rather than strengthen. When three are upon one, others must wait their turn, forming lines as though compelled by unseen order. They strike in sequence, not chaos, each awaiting their moment to claim dominance."
Her eyes widened, breath shallow, cheeks warming as the thought took root. A queue… waiting patiently… every foe eager to test her, one after another…
The Codex continued:
Three-on-One Combat:
Pressure is maximized, forcing the body to adapt to near-breaking strain.
Resistance gains are doubled if victory is achieved under such odds.
However, endurance drains twice as fast, and recovery afterward requires divine aid or long rest.
Queue Mechanics:
Enemies not yet engaged are bound by the divine order to wait their turn.
The fighter may use the fleeting pauses between waves to recover breath, stabilize defenses, or exploit the distraction of the waiting foes.
This cycle creates battles of rhythm—waves of torment followed by the trembling anticipation of the next.
Selvara pressed a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with a mixture of shame and exhilaration. "To face them… not in a chaotic swarm, but one after the other, knowing more are waiting… ah… how unbearably perfect…!"
Her laughter spilled softly into the guild's hall, a girlish giggle bubbling from her lips. She twisted in her seat, her noble armor clinking faintly as her body trembled with joy.