The First Patriarch: Streaming My Cosmic Harem

Catching his unamused expression, Vesperia casually shrugged her shoulders, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Hey, don’t look at me like that, that’s just what the official textbooks say," she said smoothly, spinning her own weapon with a lazy flick of her wrist.

"I only mentioned it so you wouldn’t come crying to me later after reading some manuals."

[LIVE CHAT]

[Sadistic69] (Red): BRO SPENT TWO HOURS LISTENING TO PHYSICS LECTURES JUST FOR HER TO SAY ’FORGET IT ALL’

[I_Love_Leaf] (Golden): Vesperia is an absolute terror of a teacher! I love her so much!!

[Battle_Maiden_Vera] (White): Actually, grounding the theoretical physics first builds spatial visualization in the mind. She’s a brilliant teacher.

[Nine_Tailed_Vixen] (Cyan): Azriel’s face while she dropped that bombshell... bro wants to throw the weapon at HER instead

Azriel let out a long, weary exhale, rolling his shoulders to shake off the mental fatigue of the last two hours.

"Riiight," Azriel drawled, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm.

"Next time, feel free to skip the physics dissertation, Senior."

Vesperia chuckled softly, stepping back to give him the full arena space.

"Less talking, more throwing, boy. Let’s see that monstrous combat adaptability of yours in action."

Azriel stepped up to the marked line in the dirt.

He uncoiled one loop of heavy iron chain from his fingers, letting the cold weight of the fundo dangle near his boot.

Focusing his gaze on the five-pace dummy, he triggered Warrior’s Instinct.

Instantly, the world around him slowed to a crawl.

The theoretical vectors Vesperia had babbled about dissolved, replaced by a raw, innate spatial geometric overlay.

He didn’t calculate angles or clock faces, his mind simply mapped the distance, the air resistance, and the weight of the iron in his grip as a single, fluid equation.

He flicked his wrist, setting the iron fundo into motion.

The weight whistled through the air, creating a low, rhythmic hum.

Wuuush— Wuuush—

Relying on the theoretical timing Vesperia had rattled off, Azriel snapped his wrist at what felt like the 9 o’clock angle.

SNAP—THWACK!

The iron ball smashed into the fifteen-pace target with a loud crack, but instead of hitting the glowing red center rune, it struck the upper right edge of the wooden dummy, chipping off a jagged chunk of wood before veering wildly off-course.

Azriel yanked the chain back, catching the returning weight with a dull metallic clink.

He stared at the dummy, his brows furrowed.

He had hit the target, sure, but his accuracy was noticeably off-center.

"Not bad for a novice," Vesperia commented, leaning lazily against her own weapon as she watched him with hawk-like intensity.

"You hit wood. But on a real battlefield, hitting an inch away from a vital spot just means your enemy lives long enough to sever your head."

Azriel didn’t reply.

He narrowed his violet eyes, his Warrior’s Instinct flaring up.

Instantly, the world around him seemed to slow down slightly.

His mind began filing away the sensory data of his first attempt, the weight of the heavy iron ball, the air resistance against the spinning link chain, the slight lag caused by the heavy gravity bands on his wrists, and the subtle pull of his own muscles.

Again.

He set the fundo spinning once more, adjusting his grip by a fraction of an inch and tweaking his stance.

SNAP— BANG!

This time, the weight struck closer to the center, smashing into the middle rune, but the recoil threw his balance off, forcing him to take a half-step back to catch the chain without entangling his fingers.

"Your release was better, but your kinetic recovery is garbage," Vesperia’s critique came without mercy.

"If you lose your balance after every throw, any decent assassin will split your throat while you’re busy retrieving your chain. Repeat."

Azriel reset his footing, his expression turning cold and focused.

BANG! THWACK! BANG!

Hour after hour bled away under the glowing silver canopy.

Azriel stood in the center of the dusty arena, throwing, recoiling, adjusting, and throwing again.

Hundreds of attempts turned into thousands.

Sweat drenched his new black gear, clinging to his defined chest, but his movements only grew smoother, sharper, and more terrifyingly efficient.

His Warrior’s Instinct passive skill worked in overdrive, absorbing every mistake, digesting every minor trajectory error, and refining his body’s muscle memory at an unnatural speed.

By the fourth hour, he stopped consciously thinking about rotation angles, degrees, or release points altogether.

The fundo ceased to feel like a piece of iron attached to a chain, it started to feel like an extension of his own arm.

SNAP— CRACK!

The twenty-pace target, the furthest and smallest dummy, shattered directly through its central core as Azriel’s iron weight struck it with deadly, pinpoint precision before snapping seamlessly back into his palm.

Vesperia’s feline ears twitched.

A genuine, unreadable glint flickered in her golden pupils as she watched him shatter five consecutive targets at varying distances without missing a single central mark.

[LIVE CHAT]

[Battle_Maiden_Vera] (White): Wait... look at his adaptation rate! He went from chipping edges to shattering center runes in less than a day?!

[Sadistic69] (Red): WARRIOR’S INSTINCT IS A FREAKING CHEAT CODE BRO!! Look at how smooth his chain recovery is now!!

[I_Love_Leaf] (Golden): Vesperia’s eyes say it all. She tried to bore him with physics, but he’s mastering it by pure muscle memory!

[Moon_Priestess_99] (Cyan): The way his sweat-drenched gear clings to his chest while he spins that chain...

Days began to blur inside the silver temporal domain.

While only a handful of hours passed in the outside world, Azriel spent full days beneath the barrier grinding his weapon fundamentals to absolute perfection.

During the days, Vesperia pushed his body to its physical limits, making the dummies move, increasing the movement speed of the target dummies, forcing him to hit targets while dodging her own casual counter-strikes, and making him throw while maintaining his stance under shifting gravity fields.

During the nights, he returned to the cozy mahogany lodge, where Rosalind eagerly helped him ’de-stress’ through wild, unrestrained sessions in the study and bedroom, further testing the limits of his upgraded bloodline stamina.

By the end of the two weeks inside the silver dome, Azriel stood alone in the middle of a completely demolished arena, surrounded by the splintered remains of over fifty high-tier enchanted dummies.

He caught his returning fundo without looking, his violet eyes glowing with confidence.

Vesperia walked out from the edge of the grounds, stepping over shattered wood.

She looked at the devastation, then looked at Azriel, a smirk spreading across her lips.

"Well, Azriel..." Vesperia said, letting her own weapon drop heavily to the ground.

"It seems your hands have finally caught up with your eyes. Third Lesson is complete."

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