Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 138: Something Different(1)

Chapter 138: Something Different(1)

Steve’s glare didn’t waver. It remained locked on Ser Ira like a drawn blade. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths as he stood upright, bloodied, yet unbowed. Across from him, Ira was just as focused, her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him in return.

Fiona—no, Tonya—stood by his side. Her hand reached for him hesitantly, voice trembling as she tried to anchor him back to reason.

"Steve, what are you saying?" she whispered.

But Steve jerked his hand away.

"Leave me," he snapped, cutting her off without even looking.

His gaze flicked to Ser Ira again, sharper this time, fueled by something deeper than pain or pride.

"It’s Ser Ira," he growled, voice low and strained. "Not Sahara... not Sa’aira or Saira or whatever the hell you keep seeing."

He took a shaky step forward, his frame taut, defiant.

"Come on," he said. "I’m personally ready for you."

Ser Ira’s head tilted slightly. Her eyes moved slowly over him, reading every subtle twitch in his posture, every tremor in his limbs.

’He’s begging to be killed,’ she thought. ’He has to know this can’t end well for him. He’s not a fool... So why is he pushing so hard?’

There was a pause—silent, but heavy—before she exhaled softly.

"No," she said. "I win."

Steve blinked. "I still don’t know how."

"Didn’t you fucking hear me?" Ira snapped.

"You’re going to cut in again?"

"I didn’t hear you. But if we keep battling like this..." She shook her head slowly. "Finding a winner is going to be a futile attempt."

Her voice softened as she continued. "So what’s going to happen is... The clear winner of the battle is me. But I suppose—no matter what—I already know you’re not going to follow me."

She turned toward him, not with hostility now, but with a strange finality.

"If you truly want to find your mother... you can. I give you permission."

Steve’s breath caught. And behind him, Tonya’s eyes widened. Fiona looked stunned.

’Is this some kind of joke?’ Ira wondered.

"If it was a joke..." she murmured to herself. "Well, it doesn’t sound like one. I just... decided for a change. Since the day I turned around, I’ve been walking forward. And right now, the truth is... I really do believe this is a futile path."

Her eyes scanned the others—Fiona, Tonya, and Sarah—measuring them with sharp clarity.

"And what about you three?" she asked, her voice now clear and direct. "Are you going to follow him? Searching for a woman who won’t help our survival course in any way... and who is likely already dead? Or are you going to follow me—and survive?"

Silence followed, thick with tension.

’They’re thinking about it,’ Ira realized. ’Following me would still mean protecting Maggie. If the Veil is taken down, we all survive. But finding her alone? That’s not a guarantee of anything.’

The question lingered like smoke, until Fiona finally spoke. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

"I’m going to stay with him."

Ira’s eyes flicked toward her, unreadable.

Then Tonya stepped forward.

"Me too. I’ll stay with him."

Ira turned her head slowly, her expression hardening.

"Are you two serious? Even if you do find her—and even if she is alive—what do you think comes next?"

"Obviously, we’ll take the Veil down," Fiona said.

"And what if she’s not alive?"

"That’s not what matters," Tonya answered. "What matters is that we have to know for sure. She’s a survivor... and she’s dear to us. We can’t just leave her behind."

Ira paused, then turned her gaze toward Sarah.

"You too?" she asked. Her tone had cooled now, more curious than accusatory. "I can understand their decision—it’s biased by their relation to her. But you... I don’t recall you having any personal ties to Maggie."

Sarah’s expression didn’t change.

"I’m not like mortals," she said softly. "I have my own reasons for following her."

Before Ira could respond, Steve’s voice cut through the space again—rough and sure.

"There you have it. They’ve made their decision."

He stood tall despite the blood trickling down his temple, despite the damage etched across his body.

"They’re all willing to follow me. So..." His eyes returned to Ira.

"What are you going to do, Ser Ira?"

Ira looked at him for a long, frozen moment. Her stare was cold—bordering on unreadable. Then slowly, she sighed and turned her gaze away.

"There’s nothing more I can do, is there?" she murmured.

She pivoted, her cloak fluttering faintly at her heels.

"I’ll be leaving you all here. Unlike you, I don’t make my decisions out of bias. So..." Her voice sharpened.

"You’d better fucking find her. And she better be fucking alive. Because if she’s not—you’ll have a lot to answer for."

The words left her lips like iron.

"And if we do get out of this alive..."

She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

Steve stood in silence as Ira stepped away. One step. Then another. Her figure retreated into the dim passage of the cavern, and the echo of her footsteps faded.

The aftermath of the battle hung in the air like a storm cloud refusing to break. The chill hadn’t left, and neither had the dread.

Steve stood there, trembling slightly, blood still seeping from the wounds on his arms and side. His lips were parted slightly as he stared at the space where Ira had disappeared.

’I can’t believe it... I actually got through it. I actually... defeated her.’

A soft breath escaped him as his hand slowly reached up to rub his brow. His fingers brushed against the dried blood, the bruises, the swelling near his eye.

Tonya approached gently, her steps cautious. In her hand was a small vial—the healing potion. Her gaze was heavy with worry.

"Here," she said, offering it out to him. "Drink this."

***

Time moved gently through the silence, and eventually, night settled fully over them like a thick, dark blanket.

Earlier, before Steve had returned, Fiona had managed to hunt a few rabbits—lean creatures, but enough to serve as their dinner.

When Steve finally rejoined them, weary and bloodied, they offered him the healing potion without a word. He drank it slowly, each swallow a quiet groan of pain and relief...qnd after that, they ate in silence.

The meat was dry, barely seasoned, and yet it felt like a luxury after the day they’d endured.

Conversation was limited, as well.

A few questions were tossed Sarah’s way, subtle attempts to learn more about her past and her motives, but even that didn’t last long. Fatigue had claimed them all, and before long, one after another, they retreated to sleep.

The cave dimmed with soft, steady breaths, and the flickering embers of their small fire slowly faded to ash.

And then came morning.

It started slow, like a whisper threading through the stillness. The sun had barely crested the horizon when Fiona stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open, lashes heavy with sleep. As she slowly sat up, her body moved with languid grace, her breasts rising softly, shifting beneath the fabric with each breath. They were heavy with warmth, flushed from slumber. The faintest bounce followed her movement, a subtle, natural motion. She felt it—herself—as if seeing her own body from a distance.

Her wide hips rolled beneath the thin cloth, smooth and shapely as she straightened her spine. She sat there a moment, still, listening.

’Morning already?’ she thought, brushing strands of hair away from her face.

There was no sound. Not yet.

But her heart was already beginning to beat faster—quietly, deeply.

This wasn’t just a casual morning for her. She’d woken early for a reason. A desire.

This was her best chance to see him... to please Steve.

’If it’s morning... then Stevian’s probably already awake.’ she thought, biting the inside of her cheek.

’Waiting on me. Like always.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly, heat flickering in her chest—not irritation. Something... warmer.

’Damn it.’ she muttered silently.

’Why do I keep dancing around this like he doesn’t already know.’

A blush crept across her cheeks.

She turned her gaze to the side—and froze.

Sarah lay only a few feet away. Still curled in sleep from the night.

She lay on her side, back turned, hair tousled across the uncomfortable floor. But that wasn’t what held Fiona’s attention.

It was the curve of her backside.

Full. Firm and generous.

Sarah’s ass was unmistakably plush—

Her clothe had ridden up, revealing more than it concealed. Round and soft, her hips flared out, exposing the suppleness of her fat ass.

’Ohh my...Has she always been this—?’

A flicker of heat stirred between her thighs.

She clenched her jaw and turned away, forcing her eyes off the image. Her throat tightened with guilt.

’No...’ she snapped at herself.

Even as she turned her attention elsewhere—Tonya, still asleep, curled beneath her cloak—her heart still beat too fast. Then she noticed it.

Something was missing.

Steve wasn’t there.

Her brow furrowed.

’Huh...he was supposed to keep watch. Where did he go?’ she wondered, scanning the cave.

That’s when she saw the footprints—broad, deep impressions in the dirt, moving toward the entrance.

She followed them with her eyes, the path leading into the early light beyond the cave mouth.

A tremor of something stirred inside her.

Curiosity? Worry? Or... excitement?

She didn’t pause to ask. With her body still tingling from what she had seen—and what she hadn’t let herself fully feel—she reached for her cloak and slipped it over her shoulders, leaving the rest untouched.

Then she rose, silently, and followed his trail into the wild morning.