Getting Stronger by Pleasuring the Goddess-Chapter 38: Black Market {1}

Clara wiped the sweat off her flawless, porcelain forehead as she stood in the training grounds. The sun cast golden rays over her lithe frame, illuminating the sheen of exertion on her skin.

She wore a snug blue crop top and dark leggings that accentuated her youthful but already captivating figure—elegant yet unassuming, with the effortless grace of someone born to move like flowing water.

Before her stood a row of reinforced training dummies, already mangled by her relentless assault. With one final breath, she stepped forward and unleashed a sweeping flurry of sword strikes—each slash flowing into the next, faster than the eye could follow.

"Twelve Blooming Sword Dance... Second Form."

The air trembled. The final slash was so fast that a lingering arc shimmered in the air for a heartbeat, like the trailing light of a falling star. The dummy before her didn’t just split—it was cleaved so cleanly that the top half slid off silently before crashing to the ground.

That sword dance wasn’t just a technique. It was the pride of her family—the signature style passed down by her father, an S ranked swordsman renowned across several districts. He had mastered the first ten forms but had struggled to complete the eleventh. The twelfth? It was still incomplete...

it’s Flaw was not even Bad but rather Good The More one used it The More the User Skin would be Flawless.

But Clara.

Talent was immense and could almost use the 4th Form at her age it should be impossible but her Talent was no joke.

Her breathing slowed. She let her sword fall from her hand and collapsed backwards onto the cold marble floor, arms sprawled, legs splayed in exhaustion. The chill seeped into her skin, soothing the burning ache in her muscles.

"Should I even go to school tomorrow?" she muttered, gazing up at the artificial lights embedded in the dome ceiling.

School was more of a formality at this point. She was already on the cusp of D- rank, and the academy instructors—many of whom barely reached D+ could teach her nothing she hadn’t already surpassed.

But skipping would earn her nothing but praise from her father. That man treated her like a precious blossom—partly due to her beauty, but more so because of her terrifying potential. Clara wasn’t merely a prodigy. Her presence alone could make other so-called geniuses question their entire existence.

After a moment, she stood up, exhaled, and decided on a whim.

"Maybe I’ll head out. I could use some air."

After showering and changing, she stepped out of her room dressed casually in a bright blue t-shirt and tight-fitting jeans. A simple baseball cap and sunglasses completed her disguise—not because she was trying to hide, but because the attention she usually drew was... exhausting.

She descended via the private elevator from the ninth floor of her luxury apartment building and stepped into the bustling city streets below.

The air outside was alive with motion—hovercars zipped overhead, vendors called out from colorful food stalls, and pedestrians moved in rhythmic chaos. Peoples buzzed like a hive of energy and unpredictability. Yet even here, Clara stood out.

She sighed under her breath, trying to blend into the crowd. But as she turned a corner, something unusual caught her eye.

People were shouting—scattering—making way for a man sprinting at unnatural speed down the main street. A group of figures followed behind him in pursuit, and judging by their auras, none of them were pushovers. C- to E atleast.

Clara blinked. Her sharp gaze tracked the runner with ease, even under the disguise of his hood and mask. But then—just for a heartbeat—the wind caught his face covering, and she saw it.

"Wait... Ryan?"

She blinked again. Surely not?

But it was. His build, his hair, his Calm expression when under pressure—it was unmistakable.

He darted past her in a blur, completely unaware of her presence.

Clara stood there frozen, momentarily stunned. Then, in an instant, Ryan Turned into a Beautiful Woman with a Purse Running no one really noticed it since there’s countless People blocking.

From the corner of her eye, she scanned the group chasing him. Seven, maybe eight individuals—clearly bounty hunters or private enforcers. Two of them emitted killing intent sharp enough to scrape against her senses.

"What the hell did you get yourself into this time...?" she muttered, slightly amused.

But there was something else—curiosity maybe. Why would Ryan, of all people, be targeted? He was strong, sure, but he had a knack for avoiding the limelight. For someone like him to be chased so brazenly meant only one thing.

He had done something incredibly reckless.

And that... that made her lips curl into the smallest hint of a smirk.

"Guess my day just got interesting."

She stepped to the side, merging with the crowd like a phantom, silently tailing Ryan and his pursuers.

[Note:Clara still don’t know since in the information she got his name was Ryan not Reo]

What actually happened.

Reo walked steadily along the cracked stone road, the afternoon sun casting warm light across the winding path that led toward the infamous Aspiring City—one of the largest hubs for mercenaries, black market dealings, and unregulated power trades in the entire region. The journey had already taken hours, and although his body didn’t complain, his mind was fraying at the edges.

Mostly because of one very talkative goddess.

"Mortal, are we there yet?" Andrea’s voice rang out once again inside his soul, sulking and dramatic as ever. "I swear this walk is taking longer than your last kiss attempt with Althea—"

"Shut it," Reo muttered under his breath, his eye twitching slightly.

Althea, thankfully, was silent—content to observe quietly from within his own soul. Her calm presence was like cool water next to Andrea’s burning flame of chaos.

"Unbelievable," Andrea sighed, as if suffering through the greatest hardship imaginable. "A divine being of passion like myself... reduced to wandering through barren roads and empty stomachs! If I had my full power, I’d fly us there and conjure a five-course meal on the way."

Reo ignored her. Again.

Two more hours passed in mostly silence—if you didn’t count Andrea’s constant humming, dramatic monologues, and occasional insults seeing People’s Throwing away and smoking speaking how immoral it was.

Finally, he reached it Aspiring City.

Even from a distance, the energy was palpable. Towering walls lined with metal spikes loomed over the entrance, and hundreds of people bustled about—some cloaked in secrecy, others flaunting their strength openly. The black market here wasn’t hidden underground. It was one of the People anticipated Locations.

Dozens of stalls lined the cracked stone streets, selling everything from rare herbs to illegal cores and worn-down gear. But the most eye-catching were the glowing Blessed Stones, displayed like precious gems under magical barriers. The prices, however, were absurd.

"40 million for a Blessed Stone?" Reo scoffed.

"Tsk." Andrea clicked her tongue in his mind. "These mortals have no sense of divine economy. That stone isn’t even have good quality in my perspective."

"I can tell," Reo muttered.

Even the cheaper ones hovered around 20 million credits—completely overpriced. These merchants were clearly taking advantage of the desperation that surrounded power progression in this world.

Still, he scanned the stalls with keen eyes. There had to be something worthwhile.

"Mortal~ There’s still no food," Andrea grumbled again. "Is this a market or a graveyard? Not a single roasted soul fruit, not even grilled Fish. Disgusting."

Reo was about to shoot back a sarcastic reply, but then—something caught his eye.

Down a narrow alleyway, past the more mainstream stalls, was a smaller, shadier setup. There was no flashy display, no magical protections, and no yelling vendor. Just a table... and a very old man with one eye, sitting calmly behind it.

On the table were three items: a tattered scroll, a dim-blue orb, and a black dagger with crimson inscriptions that pulsed faintly.

But what really drew Reo’s attention... was the scroll.

His eyes narrowed. A system notification blinked quietly in the corner of his vision.

it was a Skill it was a D+ and surely would cost alot of Money it looked very interesting as Reo Looked at The Bone Patterns.

it was honestly a Gamble since the side effects are unknown.

"Huh..." Reo muttered, stepping closer.

"Wait," Andrea’s voice shifted in tone, suddenly curious. "That scroll... it’s faint, but surely there’s something special about it."

Althea finally spoke, her voice cool and sharp. "it Looked honestly interesting too why not Gamble it?."

The old man looked up at him with a crooked smile, a single milky eye glinting faintly.

"You’ve got a sharp eye, kid," he rasped. "That scroll ain’t for the faint-hearted. You sure you want to mess with somethin’ that bit the last three buyers in the ass?"

"How much?" Reo asked.

"Depends," the man leaned forward, grin widening. "You got anything interesting to trade?"

Reo’s fingers brushed the inside of his spatial ring. He still had loot from the last noble mansion robbery a few rare gemstones, some Cash He was abundant with Money atleast.

"Let’s talk"

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