An Ample Chest

A surge of potent energy flowed through Ty's skeletal frame, casting an eerie glow across the scorched battleground. 

His bones, which would usually resonate with an undying fortitude were now quivering under the lingering aura of the departed soul he had just absorbed. 

Fragments of memories which didn't belong to him started whispering through his consciousness – fragments of malevolence and power intertwining with his own being.

Raising a bony hand to his skull, Ty mused, "So, the encounter with the goblin...it wasn't isolated, was it?"

Images of a mystical figure from a dreamlike state floated through his mind, intertwining with visions of Elithira, helping him to grasp the depth of his newfound ability. 

Suddenly, he realized: he now had the ability to use the strength of the enemies he had killed.

However, that power drained him a lot, and a strong, drowsy feeling started to take over his consciousness.

Ty's skeletal legs gave way, and as his bones began to seemingly inevitably descend towards the unyielding cobblestones below, yet unexpected cushion arrested his descent.

He found that his skull was now nestled between two ample, gentle mounds. This sensation was oddly comforting despite his lack of flesh. The softness yielded beneath his weight, absorbing the impact and cradling him in a tender hold.

A subtle and sweet scent wafted into his non-existing nostrils, making him feel as if he was in a dream.

A rich, teasing chuckle filled the air above him, and Ty was almost able to feel the vibrations through the bosom that pillowed him. 

"Oh, you're a pretty weak skeleton, huh?" The voice was sensual and carried a playful lilt with it as it hovered in the air, tickling his auditory senses.

The scent of sweet, fragrant perfume filled the space around him, further blurring the line between his current predicament and some bizarre dream.

Giggles, light and airy, fluttered around him, barely penetrating his muddled senses. A playful pout, framed by a cascade of flowing hair, peeked into his blurred sight.

Gentle yet firm hands steadied his skeletal frame, fingers delicately dancing along his bony shoulders. 

Ty swayed slightly, while the world still seemed spinning for him, yet it was tethered by the warm, soft haven that had unexpectedly cradled his fall.

Ty's thoughts briefly flickered, recalling his beloved who was now in another realm. As her thoughts emerged, a pang of guilt and longing threaded through his being.

However, suspended within this unexpected rescue, he pushed aside any further contemplation, allowing the darkness of unconsciousness to envelop him.

…..

Meanwhile, a few moments ago.

Kieran tumbled across the pristine white pavement, propelled by the forceful kick through the portal which carried her a good distance. She gradually slid to a halt in the Celestial Realm, a stark contrast to the chaos which she had left behind. 

Not far off, a trio of brothers was already assisting a bleeding Caelum, steadily making their way toward an infirmary-style office, the Caelum's blood marking their path in a stark, red trail.

Rubbing her side, Kieran cautiously voiced her confusion, "W-where is everyone else?"

Aurelius, with his demeanor as cold and unyielding as ice, sharply answered without even turning to face her, "What were you expecting? Some kind of welcoming party for failing?"

He continued, without a hint of sympathy, "Head to the training hall. You've training with the 1st Division Captain today."

"You're too weak to advance in your current position," Aurelius reprimanded without even taking a look at Kieran.

"Kieran, while you might display some potential with your fighting abilities and unique technique," he continued, his voice stern, "When it's unavailable, you crumble and lose your essential self. Moreover, cease concerning yourself with creatures from other realms. They are beneath us and exist only to be cycled through rebirth and to aid us in growing stronger before the true enemy returns."

With her head bowed and heart pounding in her chest, Kieran managed to utter a quiet, "Y-yes, Captain."

"Will Caelum be okay?" Kieran's voice quivered slightly, her eyes flickering with her concealed anxiety as she spoke.

Aurelius paused, allowing a somber expression to flicker briefly across his face before masking it with stoicism. "Yes," he responded flatly, "and once he recovers, will be exacting revenge on that woman—Elithira. So make sure that you're prepared for it."

Kieran's heart pounded insistently against her ribs, its rhythm loud enough that it could be heard in her ears, as Aurelius's cold dismissal lingered. 

His icy detachment haunted every step she took toward the training hall, his words echoing amidst the distant sounds of Caelum's plight. 

Guilt weighed in her stomach, making her wonder if her actions were what led to his injury.

 Subconsciously, her hand brushed across her chest, feeling the subtle pulse of her own Reiesencia beneath the light pressure against her ample bust, its light dim and flickering beneath the surface.

Approaching the colossal doors of the training hall, Kieran paused. Her mind wrestled with the teachings, the inflexible doctrines that had always guided her people. Thoughts of Ty spiraled in her mind, causing her to teeter on the edge of doubt and questioning. 

With a heavy exhale, she pushed against the massive door, its familiar resistance offering a tangible struggle before she entered.

Kieran's eyes cautiously scanned the formidable figure before her: a man whose silent, heavy aura spoke of untold battles, his dark, cascading hair whispering of wars weathered and won. 

 Two sheaths rested against his sides, concealing blades whose menace seemed almost palpable, even as they lay dormant. His gaze was akin to deep wells of aged knowledge and stoic ferocity as they intersected with hers, immersing her in a silent yet oppressive scrutiny.

A lump constricted her throat, but she wrestled her voice into a whisper of defiance, "Captain."

A slow, almost imperceptible turn brought him almost a step away from her, the depth in his eyes relentlessly dissecting her resolve. 

"You're late," his voice, a barren whisper, demanded accountability amidst the hall's stillness.

Giving a gentle bow while her muscles tensed under her blue cloak, Kieran clung to the rituals of respect, her voice barely breaching the hush, "I apologize, Captain."

He gestured for her to approach with an imperceptible nod, belying the wellspring of dominance he carried. The Captain's attire which was meticulously bound by ancient tradition, whispered tales of valor – layered with silver-white haori and marked with the subtle, intricate embroideries of his division that were cascading over hardened, black battle attire. 

A serenely tumultuous sea dwelled within his eyes as Kieran hesitantly stepped forward, ready for the fight.