Omniphage of Apathy

The sound of clashing weapons echoed through the training arena. The cold stone floor beneath them bore the marks of their intense duels and the air buzzed with the remnants of their essence-fueled attacks.

Vastarael spun his glaive, sweat dripping down his brow as he tried to anticipate Adelasta's next move. She stood a few paces away, twirling her twin daggers. Her stance was calm, controlled and utterly unreadable.

"Is this all you have, My Betrothed?" She asked, her voice devoid of warmth, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than their battle.

He gritted his teeth, her words cutting deeper than any weapon could.

"I'm just getting started."

He lunged forward, the glaive sweeping in a wide arc aimed to keep her at bay. She sidestepped effortlessly. The moment his glaive passed her, she closed the distance with terrifying speed, vanishing out of sight.

Vastarael barely managed to twist his glaive to block, the force of her strike reverberating up his arms.

He staggered back, trying to create space but... she was relentless. Adelasta struck low, then high, forcing him into a defensive dance that he knew he couldn't sustain for long.

"You leave too many openings," she remarked, her tone as cold and detached as ever.

"You say that every time," he shot back, trying to keep his frustration in check.

"And yet, you haven't improved."

Her words stung because they were true. He had poured countless hours into his training and yet he still couldn't find a way to defeat her. Each time they fought, she dismantled him with the precision of a master craftsman disassembling a flawed creation.

Vastarael swung his glaive in a sweeping motion, hoping to force her back. But instead of retreating, Adelasta used the momentum of his attack to her advantage. She leapt onto the blade of the glaive, balancing on it for a split second before launching herself over his head.

'What the-'

Time seemed to slow as Vastarael turned to face her but it was too late. She landed gracefully behind him, one dagger pressed against his neck, the other hovering over his ribs.

"Five hundred fifty-seven," she said quietly, stepping back and sheathing her daggers. "You've lost again."

Vastarael turned to face her, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "How do you always win?"

"Because I see every flaw in your movements. You rely too much on strength and reach. Against someone faster and more precise, you'll always lose."

He wanted to argue but he couldn't. She was right. Again.

For the 557th time.

"One day, I'll beat you," he muttered, gripping his glaive tightly.

Adelasta tilted her head slightly with a cold expression.

"Perhaps. But not today."

She turned to leave, pausing only briefly to glance over her shoulder.

"Until then, My Betrothed, try not to be so predictable. It's... unbecoming."

Vastarael stared after her as she left the arena. He sighed deeply as he looked at his glaive.

"Seriously, I'm using a Divine Weapon and so is she and yet.... haah..."

At thirteen years old, Vastarael had grown stronger, faster, and more skilled with the glaive than ever before. Yet, despite his progress, he still hadn't managed to defeat Adelasta.

In fact, their tally had grown to 557 losses, which was a humiliating number that weighed on him every time he entered the dueling grounds.

And still, he kept challenging her.

The arena had become their battleground, a stage where Vastarael relentlessly threw himself against her expertise, only to be systematically dismantled each time. Adelasta remained as emotionless as ever.

Vastarael, meanwhile, never used his mage skills. No circles, no essence manipulations and no runes. His reasons were as clear to him as they were frustrating.

First and foremost, he knew Adelasta didn't need them. She was born a prodigy, her mastery of the Viaca Technique ingrained in her from the moment she could hold a weapon.

Her technique didn't rely on mystical enhancements or external forces; it was pure skill, honed to perfection. For Vastarael, using magic against her felt like a crutch, a way to mask his own inadequacies. If he wanted to surpass her, he needed to do so on her terms, through sheer martial ability.

Secondly, he saw their duels as an opportunity.

Losing to Adelasta wasn't just a humiliation; it was a lesson. Every loss taught him something new about her fighting style, about himself and about the gap that separated them.

Mysticism, in his mind, would only get in the way of that learning. It was too easy, too quick. He wanted to earn his victory, not have it handed to him by the convenience of his Tethers.

Finally, there was the matter of pride. Adelasta, with her icy demeanor and sharp words, represented an ideal he couldn't ignore.

She never took shortcuts.

She never relied on anything but her daggers and her unparalleled skill. To defeat her with anything less than the same discipline felt... wrong. Vastarael couldn't bring himself to disrespect her in that way.

And while Adelasta never mocked him, her cold, emotionless demeanor only made the defeats sting more. Her words were always precise, cutting straight to the truth without a hint of malice or pity.

"You rely too much on patterns," she'd say after a particularly quick defeat. "Stop telegraphing your intentions."

Or, "Your footwork is improving, but your follow-through is weak. Fix it."

Her critiques were ruthless but fair. Vastarael knew she was helping him in her own way, but that didn't make the sting of losing any easier to bear.

So why, despite the endless defeats, did he keep challenging her? The answer was simple.

He respected her too much to stop.

Every duel with Adelasta was a test, not just of his skill but of his will. It was a way for him to measure his growth, to see how far he had come and how far he still had to go. And as much as he hated losing, he knew that each loss brought him one step closer to the day he would finally win.

There was also an unspoken bond between them, one forged in the fires of competition. Adelasta, for all her coldness, never refused his challenges. She never mocked him for losing or dismissed him as unworthy. In her own way, she acknowledged his efforts, even if she never said it outright.

And then there was the matter of his pride. Vastarael was a Richinaria, destined for greatness. He couldn't accept defeat, not truly. He would keep fighting until he won, no matter how long it took, because that's what a Richinaria did.

"Too bad the twins will be going with their mother for financial matters..."

Leone and Leones were now six years old and their sixth birthday happened a few weeks back. For some reason, his father and mother's hid the Tethers of their children from each other. Vastarael didn't know what Tethers the twins or his sisters Anamorsia and Milliania had.

Why?

He didn't know and he didn't ask. To be honest, they didn't know his Tethers either. But he had a theory.

Because soon, they would be dueling each other. Maybe that's why their parents didn't tell his Tethers to them and why his were never revealed.

And he never told them, except when he levitated water when they went to Rise Borough.

Speaking of Rise, once every week, they go there all the time with a different mother, but mostly Opera. Out of all of them, she was free.

His father and mother had a continent to rule and they don't like disguises. Caresse was the Commander so she usually tended to military matters.

They usually leave home from time to time but they were never deprived of anything, especially love. They were the kind of parents who think of family first, Dynasty work second.

Having the smallest, richest the most dynamic and heavenly continent had a lot of merits. The meritocracy system really reduced the workload they are supposed to have as a Dynasty. Even Opera, who dealt with the Dynasty finances, didn't have much to do.

She had her subordinates do it for her and got involved when they really needed her intervention.

And today, it was one of those days.

Leone and Leones were accompanying their mother Opera to a financial discussion. Apparently, since the heir of Dynasty Richinaria is already chosen, the twins decided to go for finance and act as Vastarael's future finance managers.

And so, they had to leave and go to the Business District of Rise. Anamorsia and Milliania went with Caresse for their weekly city visits.

And her mother... was dealing with a skirmish of monsters outside the Borough. Her father on the other hand, had to go to another continent for negotiation matters with a Dynasty he didn't know about.

And Anamorsia was sleeping.

So... he was all alone.

"Adelasta, wait!" He called out, walking over to where she stood before she left the arena.

Her head barely turned, but her eyes met his.

"What is it?" She asked, her voice cold and indifferent. She had always been that way, aloof and emotionless, like a perfect mirror of the world around her.

"I was thinking," he began, unsure of how to proceed. "Since both our parents are gone, and we're stuck here for the day, maybe we could... hang out?"

He felt ridiculous just saying it. How long had it been since he'd asked anyone to simply spend time with him without a reason or a purpose?

Adelasta raised an eyebrow, her expression as unreadable as ever.

"Hang out? With you?"

Vastarael hesitated, then pushed on. "Yeah, I mean, why not? We've fought countless times but we've never just... done something together. You always seem so... distant. Maybe it's time we tried something different."

Adelasta's gaze flickered momentarily, but she didn't respond right away. The silence stretched, almost suffocating.

"You're asking me to spend time with you for no reason?" Her voice was flat, devoid of any real emotion. "What would we even do?"

"Well," Vastarael said, scratching the back of his head, trying to ignore the flutter of awkwardness in his chest, "I went to the Sky Gardens when I first got here to Rise. It was... beautiful. I thought maybe we could go there. Just to see it. You can say no but... I thought it might be nice."

Her eyes didn't soften, but they didn't harden either. She remained impassive as ever, but after a long pause, she spoke again.

"Fine," she said, her tone still as frigid as ever. "But don't think this means anything, My Betrothed."

He grinned, relieved she hadn't outright refused him. "Of course not. It's just a trip. Nothing more."

Adelasta didn't respond to that, but she did turn her back to him and began walking, her figure cutting through the quiet corridors of the palace with the same graceful, detached movements she always exhibited.

Vastarael followed her, his mind already racing through the thought of actually spending time with her outside of their endless sparring matches.

'Wait a second. Isn't this like a date?'