Omniphage of Apathy

Vastarael's first phase of training had been a trial by fire, culminating in his loss to Adelasta.

Yet, as crushing as it was, it marked the beginning of an important lesson in his life. His mother had been relentless in her training, never offering him pity or concessions.

Despite this, there was something more he needed to understand, something that could elevate his fighting abilities beyond the glaive he had now mastered.

The Plenituse Techniques.

Lysameria's own sword form, the Plenituse Technique, was known throughout the world of Spheraphase. It was a fluid, graceful style, created for speed and efficiency, one that blended movement with elegance and deadliness.

She had mastered it herself and it was said that no one else could replicate it in its purest form. However, the technique was a philosophy, a way of fighting that required harmony between the mind, body, and spirit.

The Plenituse Techniques were a collection of four distinct movements, each built upon the others.

It was a song to all weapon masters.

But for all her pride in these techniques, Lysameria understood something that Vastarael did not yet grasp: the Plenituse Techniques were not simply skills.

They were a part of who she was.

Her body, honed by millennia of training, was the perfect vessel for these techniques. For Vastarael, at his young age, his body and mind were simply not developed enough to handle them.

The techniques, though born from his mother's blood, were too advanced for him to wield just yet. He used Memory Extraction on his mother but only because his mother allowed him to access his mind. She blocked all her memories and made him focus on those.

Lysameria had seen his growth over the years, but she knew he needed time to mature, to understand the subtlety of combat, and to refine his ability to read and react to opponents.

"You're not ready yet," she had told him on the final day. "The Plenituse Techniques will come to you, Vastarael, but not now. You need to reach maturity first. These forms are beyond what your body can handle at this moment."

Vastarael didn't argue. He wanted nothing more than to learn them, but his mother's words stuck with him.

She was right. He had yet to fully comprehend the harmony between his body and the glaive. He still had so much to learn.

As the third year passed, it was no longer just Vastarael's growth that mattered. His younger sister, Anamorsia, was about to experience her own turning point.

Her Ascension.

Today was her sixth birthday, a monumental day for their family, as it marked the moment when she would awaken her powers, just as Vastarael had when he was six.

Though their destinies were intertwined, Anamorsia was different from her brother. She was not bound by the same bloodline techniques, but rather, she carried within her the potential to wield powers of her own.

Vastarael watched from the sidelines as his mother, Lysameria, prepared for Anamorsia's awakening.

The young girl, dressed in simple yet elegant attire, stood in the center of the palace's sacred training hall. Her golden eyes were wide with anticipation, yet there was an undeniable calm about her.

As Vastarael watched his sister, a strange feeling crept into his chest. Despite their different journeys, he knew they would both carry the weight of the Richinaria bloodline.

And as much as he longed for the Plenituse Techniques, there was a part of him that understood. This moment, Anamorsia's awakening, was just as important as his own.

He wouldn't miss it for training.

Since her Ascension would happen at midnight, they had the entire day to celebrate.

But...

"Um... why am I getting my birthday gifts now?"

There were fourteen people in the party.

Dilasyus and his wives, Vastarael, Anamorsia, Milliania, Leones and Leon, who are Opera's three year old twin children, Duke Landle and Duchess Miane, Adelasta, her older twin brothers and her middle older brother.

A total of fourteen members.

"Since your last birthday didn't go so well, we decided to give you the presents on Anamorsia's birthday," Opera admitted as she took out a present. "This is from me and Caresse."

Vastarael shrugged as he opened the gift box. His eyes widened when he saw what it was.

"A credit card?"

Opera nodded with a smirk that definitely looked mischievous.

"Since I gave you seventy million Enousi the last time, I decided to make a bank account for you under the royal name. And, I added an extra thirty million onto it. So, if you want to get to the academy, you'll have something for yourself."

His eyes widened.

"You..."

She rolled her eyes as if this was something obvious.

"Riddle me this. You don't have any political standing, you chose a Viaca who is the same as you, no one supports you yet. Where is the place to improve your influence?"

Vastarael sighed in defeat, "The Minafallen Academy..."

Opera was the definition of a merchant. She deals with all the royal finances and the richest member in Dynasty Richinaria. And...

She's a little too smart for her own good.

He faced his parents, who were not surprised by this news.

"Oh come on," Dilasyus grinned. "You're not that hard to read. Isn't it obvious why you wanted to get stronger? So that you can be able to defend yourself? Even your mother knows it too."

He faced his mother, who gave him a nod.

"And knowing you, you'll definitely go," Caresse said. "Your father did the same thing you know. Went to Minafallen Academy five millennia ago, hid his identity and revealed it at the right moment. It's a basic trick."

"Just how old are you, dad?"

He shrugged as he took out his own present. "Not more than eight thousand. Come on. This is from me and your mother."

He nodded as he took the box. For some reason, it felt weightless but he didn't mind. He was surprised by what he got.

"A tome... wait a second. Is this..."

"Yes. It's a Divine Mystic Book just for you. You can write your mage research and even add your own details."

Vastarael knew about the five ranks of equipment;

Normal, Rare, Epic, Legendary and Divine.

A Divine Mystic Book is like the ultimate material for mages, same as a Divine Weapon is to a weapon user.

For Vastarael, he didn't need to read from a book to understand his mage skills. His father was the greatest mage in Spheraphase after all.

Being the child of powerhouses was a very big advantage. However, this didn't mean that he slacked off. In fact, he wanted to get stronger.

"Since I'll be teaching you from now on, that book will act like your research book. It never runs out of pages too so you don't have to worry about it."

Vastarael couldn't help but embrace the handsome Monarch.

"Thanks dad."

"Anytime, son. Now then, House Viaca has something for you too."

He slowly turned his head as Duke Landle approached him with a very long briefcase on his hand.

Vastarael's curiosity piqued as he watched Duke Landle carefully open the long, polished briefcase. The room seemed to still as everyone leaned forward, their eyes fixated on the object within.

Inside the briefcase lay a glaive but utterly unremarkable in appearance-colorless, plain, and devoid of any decorations. At first glance, it seemed nothing like the weapon he imagined for himself.

"We couldn't present this to you before, as we didn't know the weapon you would choose," Duke Landle explained, his tone proud and respectful. "But now that you've made your decision, I crafted this glaive specifically for you, my prince. It's not finished yet. You must complete it."

Vastarael frowned, confused. "Complete it?"

"You'll see," the Duke replied with a knowing smile. "Please. Lift it."

Hesitating for only a moment, Vastarael reached out and grasped the glaive's shaft. The instant his fingers made contact, something extraordinary happened. A surge of energy coursed through him and the glaive reacted.

Sapphire essence, shimmering like liquid light, erupted from Vastarael's palm and enveloped the glaive. The once colorless weapon began to glow, its form shifting and evolving as if responding to his very soul. The room filled with gasps as the glaive absorbed the his energy, its bland exterior giving way to a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

First, the shaft turned a deep, glossy black, sleek and polished like obsidian. Double spiral patterns in pure black appeared along its length, coiling upward and downward in a symmetrical design that seemed to pulse with power. The glaive's blades, which had been dull and featureless, now gleamed with an intense sapphire hue, razor-sharp edges catching the light like jewels forged from the ocean's depths.

Delicate but bold inscriptions appeared along the shaft, written in Xinoraci runes, the ancient script of Spheraphase. The words seemed to etch themselves into the glaive, glowing faintly in blue against the dark background. Vastarael leaned closer to read them, and his breath caught in his throat.

The runes spelled out:

"Tainted By Time, Herald of Justice, Bearer of the Peonies."

As the transformation completed, the glaive gave a faint hum, resonating with the air around it. Vastarael turned it in his hands, marveling at how perfectly balanced it felt, how natural it was in his grip. It was as though the weapon had been forged not just for him, but from him.

"It's magnificent..." Lysameria murmured, her hand coming up to her mouth. Even she, with her years of expertise in weapons, had rarely seen something so intricately tied to its wielder.

Opera crossed her arms, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Leave it to the Viacas to deliver a gift that dramatic."

Duke Landle, however, seemed the most satisfied of all. He stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the glaive.

"This weapon is not ordinary, my prince. It is crafted from Divine and Demonic Metals, known for adapting to the soul of its wielder. You completed it when you touched it. It is now yours alone. No one else can wield it as you do."

Vastarael's grip on the glaive tightened as he took in the Duke's words. He couldn't suppress the smile that crept onto his face, despite the usual composure he tried to maintain.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head to Duke Landle. "This... I don't have words to express my gratitude."

The Duke nodded, his smile widening.

"There's no need for words, my prince. Use it well. And when the time comes, let it be the tool that shapes your future."