Azriel didn’t hesitate.
He shifted his stance, his violet eyes igniting with raw, competitive focus as Warrior’s Instinct surged to life, perceiving every micro-twitch of Vesperia’s posture.
"Don’t hold back, Mother-in-law," Azriel gritted out, snapping his chain forward into a blinding, razor-sharp vector.
Vesperia’s lips curved into a sharp, amused smile. "If I truly didn’t hold back, boy, your heart would collapse from my aura alone before your weapon even left your hands."
Azriel flashed a wry grin. "Fair enough, don’t hold back at my level, then."
"Deal," Vesperia purred.
CLANG—!
The initial strike was parried effortlessly.
Vesperia moved like a golden ghost, her crescent blade meeting his with casual, overwhelming authority.
For the rest of that afternoon, the arena transformed into a brutal, unforgiving warzone.
Vesperia held nothing back within the limits of their sparring parameters, forcing Azriel to adapt in real-time under the threat of drawn blood.
Days bled into weeks under the eternal silver glow of the temporal dome.
The daily cycle evolved into an intense, unbroken rhythm.
By day, Azriel traded brutal blows with Vesperia.
When she noticed him relying too heavily on the distance provided by the chain, she closed the gap instantly, forcing him into point-blank brawling.
She began weaving close-quarters martial arts directly into his weapon work, teaching him how to use his elbows, knee strikes, and fists to create instantaneous space when an opponent breached his chain’s defense zone.
He learned to use the black gauntlets for close-up jaw shatters, wrap the chain around his forearms to block incoming blade swings, and throw vicious, low kicks while reeling an enemy toward his sickle.
By night, he absorbed the intricate political networks of Gorgorath under Rosalind’s guidance, followed by wild, unrestrained sessions of passion across the study desk or on the plush bed.
Meanwhile, through every single night, Vesperia lay in the adjacent room, a chamber now rigged with one-way acoustic barriers that kept internal sounds trapped while letting every outside noise filter in.
Resting in the dark, she succumbed to breathless gasps as she took matters into her own hands, her raw desire for her daughter’s partner sharpening with every passing week.
On the forty-fifth day inside the temporal barrier, the arena fell into a sudden, pregnant silence.
Azriel stood in the center of a cratered dirt ring, panted heavily through his nose.
His black gear was torn at the shoulder, revealing lean, rock-solid muscle glistening with sweat.
His left arm held the heavy iron chain wrapped securely around his forearm like a vambrace, while his right hand gripped the crescent blade at a reverse-angle, perfectly guarding his neck.
Five paces away, Vesperia stood with her silver braid slightly disheveled.
A single, thin strand of her golden hair floated slowly down to the dirt, cleanly severed by a micro-second counter-strike Azriel had delivered during a close-range grapple.
Vesperia caught the severed strand of hair between her clawed fingers.
She stared at it for a long moment before raising her golden eyes to Azriel, a deep, shuddering smile spreading across her face.
"Brilliant," Vesperia rasped, her feline ears twitching as her aura slowly settled.
"Weapon control, target entanglement, close-quarters striking, and fluid transition... you’ve fully integrated everything into a single, cohesive style."
Azriel uncoiled the chain from his arm, letting the iron weight clink softly against the packed dirt as he straightened his posture.
"So... am I ready?"
Vesperia sauntered toward him, her golden eyes burning with an intense, unhidden hunger that went far beyond mere martial pride.
Stopping directly in front of him, she reached up to wipe a stray bead of sweat from his forehead with her thumb, her touch agonizingly slow and lingering.
Azriel met her gaze with a calm, unbothered expression. He had long since noticed her subtle advances and growing proximity.
Though she hadn’t pounced on him directly, just as Rosalind had warned him she eventually would, she was actively tearing down every remaining boundary between them.
Deep down, Azriel was more than pleased with the direction things were heading, but he deliberately held back from taking the bait.
He was playing a careful game, waiting for her to take that final, decisive step.
That way, if Rosalind ever questioned him later, he could comfortably shift the blame onto her mother, claiming he simply had no choice but to comply with the demands of a terrifyingly powerful Overlord.
His quiet resistance was driving Vesperia up the wall with frustration.
Catching the faint, amused glint in his violet eyes, Vesperia’s golden gaze flashed with a spark.
She pulled her hand back, a dangerous, thrilling smirk breaking across her lips.
"Yes, Az~... you’re ready," she purred, her voice dripping with dark anticipation. "Ready to step into the dungeons and start gaining real levels."
Azriel’s violet eyes instantly ignited with raw, unbridled excitement.
He had been itching for a true test of strength, a chance to unleash his newly integrated martial style against real monsters and finally push his progression forward.
Over the past few weeks, Seraphine had occasionally granted him system quests to help him level up, but they were frustratingly rare.
As time went on, the frequency of those quests dwindled even further.
While the experience point payouts grew larger, the gaps between them became agonizingly wide.
When Azriel had questioned her about it in private, Seraphine explained that generating system quests consumed substantial amounts of Origin Energy, a resource so ancient and rare that even a Primordial Goddess like herself had to conserve it.
She bluntly told him that future quests would only trigger when she deemed a situation sufficiently entertaining to warrant the expenditure.
As a result, Azriel had been completely brick-walled at Level 5.
The earlier levels had required trivial amounts of experience, 100 XP for Level 1, 200 XP for Level 2, and so forth.
But upon reaching Level 5, the scaling spiked dramatically, demanding a steep 1,000 XP to reach the next tier.
Without a steady stream of divine quests, his progression had ground to a total halt.
Now, hearing that he was finally heading into live dungeon combat to farm raw XP through slaughter, a cold, hungry smile spread across his face.
He was more than ready to hunt.
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