The moment he uttered those words, Vaeloria's lips curved into a smile that held nothing gentle and everything predatory.
'So sexy…'
The thought slipped through her mind...
She pictured them side by side on blood-stained battlefields, her claws tearing through ancient foes while Ash reduced the rest to ash and smoke. A shiver ran down all nine of her tails before she forced the vision away and fixed her eyes in cold focus.
'Seriously, what's going on…' she wondered, unable to grasp why she kept getting sidetracked.
Then, speaking aloud, she said, "Good. We start with your body and close combat. No weapons, nothing external—just fists, knees, and the will to break or be broken."
And with that, they began.
The next three months were pure war.
----
Every day in the Lesser Chamber started the same.
Vaeloria's kick slammed into Ash's guard hard enough to threaten ribs, his counter slicing through empty air as she spun away on trails of starlight.
They clashed all through the hall, and more often than not, it was splattered with silver and pink blood.
She never held back.
She began at peak C-rank, then moved to low B-rank, then mid B-rank, rising each time he caught up.
His Eyes of First Dawn soaked in her every move. The little sway of her hips before a tail sweep, the tiny twitch in her shoulder that warned of a claw strike to the throat.
One look, and the technique was his.
BOOOM!
By the end of the third month, Ash met her palm strike with one just as fierce. The collision tore the air apart, carved a fifty-meter crater into the earth, and sent them flying in opposite directions.
Flat on his back, chest heaving, every bone hummed with pain and triumph.
Vaeloria stood above him, hair wild, nine tails spread like battle flags, golden eyes glowing with a warmth far too tender for a teacher. Her affection had climbed to a remarkable 75%, though the higher it rose, the slower it seemed to grow.
'Or she's resisting it...' He thought about her standing over him. It wasn't something he truly understood, but the more he used these Talents, the more he learned about them.
"Not bad," she said, "but not nearly good enough. Get up. We're heading to Mana Control."
"What's your mana pool?" she asked.
Ash pushed himself up, wiping blood from his split lip. "Two million, five hundred thousand."
Vaeloria wasn't surprised; it was common for people from influential families to have high MPs. 'Since he's a prince, it makes sense,' she thought—though she had no idea it had all been gained in just a few hours.
Four more months of hell followed.
She taught him to weave mana like thread through every cell, every pore, every heartbeat.
First a paper-thin layer that turned aside blades and claws yet weighed nothing.
It was second skin that could harden to mountain density or flow like mist.
She had him stand beneath a cascade of molten starlight, keeping exactly 0.01% of his energy flowing—no more, no less.
If he slipped, the starlight burned; if he nailed it, she'd give him a smile more dangerous than the fire itself.
She made him juggle a thousand threads of mana while sparring blindfolded.
The moment one thread faltered, her tails struck his back hard enough to tear skin. By the end, a faint, flawless ripple of power wrapped around him at all times—perfect, seamless, lethal.
They sat now in the violet grass, devouring a mountain of mana beast meat and honeyed fruits.
Around Ash shimmered the thinnest veil of mana, so refined it looked like heat haze on a summer day. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glanced at her.
"Hey. Before we start the next round… I'm going to bathe."
Vaeloria's tails flicked once. Her golden eyes narrowed with lazy amusement.
"Finally," she murmured. "I was starting to think you enjoyed smelling like blood and sweat."
Ash stood, rolled his shoulders, and started toward the crystal-clear lake at the edge of the meadow, already peeling off his torn training robes.
Behind him, Vaeloria watched every movement with the hunger of a fox who'd just realized the prey had grown fangs of his own.