This wasn't sparring. This was torture.
And it just kept going, non-stop.
Phantom Fenrir abandoned his shadowy tendrils and ground spikes. He was no longer using his shadow powers to strike and defend.
Perhaps he truly did want to stretch his ancient bones, as he had so casually claimed. But Aziel didn't think that was the case. It felt more like the Mythical Beast was giving himself some kind of handicap.
Though, even with that self-imposed limitation, Aziel couldn't land a single blow. He was too slow to react, and every move he made was effortlessly anticipated.
Phantom Fenrir moved with effortless grace, effortlessly dodging or deflecting every strike. Each time Aziel's katana swung or his summoned arms lunged, Phantom Fenrir was already three steps ahead — countering with a swift parry, a well-placed kick, or a mocking feint.
In contrast, nearly every one of Phantom Fenrir's attacks found its mark, hammering Aziel with fast, punishing blows.
Each round ended in seconds, leaving Aziel sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and nursing fresh wounds.
Every time Aziel reached his limit — whether from injury or sheer exhaustion — those shadowy tendrils would reappear. They'd slither toward him, presenting yet another vial filled with glowing liquid.
Sometimes they poured the contents over his wounds, the substance knitting flesh and bone back together in seconds. Other times, they gently tilted the vial to his lips. With every sip, strength surged back into his body.
It was efficient. Aziel didn't need to stop to eat or drink — every drop from each vial renewed him. He didn't even need to sleep.
Yet, no matter how many times his physical strength was restored, his mental state continued to decline. His mind was exhausted from the ceaseless onslaught.
At some point, even his katana failed him. The cheap blade he'd been using, unable to withstand the force of Phantom Fenrir's repeated parries, finally snapped in two.
The Mythical Beast simply chuckled and, using the claw on his index finger, tore open a rift in space. He then slipped his hand into the tear and pulled out a katana, which he casually tossed at Aziel's feet.
Aziel looked at the new katana, which appeared plain. But the moment he grasped it, he could feel that this was no ordinary blade.
But there was no time to examine it further — he had to prepare for the next round.
Without the guidance of Blackie, Aziel floundered.
He tried every tactic he could think of, drawing upon the memories of his sword training, experimenting with combining the strengths of each arm he had collected.
Each attempt was met with the same disdainful ease, countered and neutralized before he could even get close.
Phantom Fenrir never stopped talking. It continued to belittle Aziel, trying to break his spirit.
"Is that the best you can do? Really?"
"Seriously? My grandma hits harder than that."
"Pathetic. I thought you had more fight in you."
The cycle repeated, an endless loop of pain and healing.
Aziel lost track of time. Was it hours? Days?
The line between one painful fall and the next blurred, and he devolved into a single, endless moment of torment and loss.
The more he was pushed, the more he wanted to simply give up.
**********
A young woman sat focused at her neat desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, each document bearing the crisp insignia of the Rigel family.
Despite the heavy workload implied by the stacks of reports and letters, the woman — Rudy Rigel — exuded a calm and commanding presence.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted the quiet hum of the room.
"Enter," Rudy commanded.
A man clad in a precisely maintained suit of armor stepped inside, the metal gleaming softly in the lamplight. He bowed his head respectfully.
"Lady Rudy, I have something to report."
Rudy's gaze fixed on him. "What is it?"
"Our contacts have received intelligence from Seer Sibylla, Lady Rudy. She foresees a series of Crazy Beast waves occurring within the coming weeks, focused around several Abyss locations. One of the predicted surge points, is the Abyss in Elysian Forest."
"And?"
"A-and your presence has been directly requested for the response team sent to aid Glenwood against this Crazy Beast wave."
Rudy leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.
"Who's on the Katuka Knight Order assigned to Glenwood? And what is their expected departure date?"
The armored man shifted uncomfortably.
"My apologies, Lady Rudy, I do not have specific details regarding the other members of the team. But I am aware that they will be accompanied by a Katuka's Prophet."
He paused, gathering himself before delivering the next piece of unwelcome news.
"Furthermore, you are also instructed to oversee Lord Vincent on this assignment."
A barely perceptible flicker of displeasure crossed Rudy's face. "By whose order?"
"Duke Rolando's, Lady Rudy."
Rudy stifled a sigh, her internal composure momentarily cracking.
Vincent Vega? Why must Father burden me with that utterly useless boy?
She knew Vincent's reputation — a bootlicker more interested in status than service. All bark, no bite. His presence would be nothing but a distraction, a drain on her already limited patience.
She forced herself to ignore the brewing irritation, burying it beneath a controlled calm.
Useless or not, her father had given the order, and she would obey.
"When do I have to depart for Glenwood?"
"Next week, Lady Rudy. The team is scheduled to leave within the next seven days."
Rudy nodded curtly, making a precise mental note of the timeframe. Preparations would have to begin immediately.
"Very well. Inform the relevant parties that I will carry out the order."
The man, visibly relieved that the interaction was coming to an end, bowed his head once more. "Is there anything else, Lady Rudy?"
"No. You are dismissed."
The man retreated quickly, backing out of the room with practiced deference before gently closing the door behind him.
Left alone, Rudy finally allowed herself to fully relax, leaning back in her chair.
She gently massaged her temples, already dreading the week ahead.
A swarm of Crazy Beasts near Glenwood, combined with babysitting the oafish Vincent… it was shaping up to be anything but a pleasant mission.