[9] Ten Minutes to Taste

The purple sky barely penetrated the thick walls of the Valac training chamber, leaving the space in perpetual twilight. Perfect for shadow work. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the satisfying pop as tension released. Three days since Father promised me my Evil Pieces, and I'd spent every spare moment preparing—mentally and physically.

"Again," I commanded, circling the center of the room.

Ariel stood opposite me, her maid uniform replaced by a fitted black combat outfit that hugged her curves while allowing maximum mobility. Her usual perfect composure had slipped, replaced by something far more interesting—her crimson eyes gleamed with predatory focus, her breathing controlled but quickened with exertion.

"Young Master," she said, her voice lower than usual, "we've been at this for five hours."

"Getting tired?" I flashed her a taunting grin. "Not like you."

"No." She brushed a strand of long black hair from her face. "Concerned about your stamina."

I laughed. "My stamina's more than fine fine. Your attacks, on the other hand..." I gestured dismissively. "You're too weak."

Her eyes narrowed slightly—the only warning before she exploded toward me, a blur of movement culminating in a palm strike aimed at my sternum. Fast, but predictable. I sidestepped, catching just the whisper of her attack breaching my personal space.

"Better," I acknowledged, pivoting away from her follow-up. "But still slow."

"I am your protector, not your executioner." Her movements flowed like water, transitioning from strike to kick without pause.

I dodged each attack with calculated precision, never countering, only evading. "Today you're neither. You're my opponent."

Frustration flickered across her face as another combination failed to connect. She dropped back, reassessing.

"Let me propose a game," I said, rolling my neck. "Land five solid hits on me in the next ten minutes, and I'll give you something you want."

Interest sparked in those flame-colored eyes. "And what might that be?"

I smirked, deliberately letting my gaze drop to her waist before returning to her eyes. "An essence drain. From your lips to mine."

Her breath caught. We both knew what I meant—not the lips currently pressed into a tight line, but the others, hidden beneath her combat attire.

"That would be... inappropriate," she said, but her voice had roughened.

"Only if you win." I spread my arms. "Which, at this rate, seems impossible."

The shift was immediate and dramatic. Her entire demeanor changed—her eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating, lips parting in a smile that held nothing of servitude and everything of hunger.

"Ten minutes," she said, her voice dropping to a register I rarely heard outside of actual combat. "Five hits."

"Clock's ticking."

Let's see how she handles me at 30% power…

She vanished from my sight—not teleportation, but raw speed. I felt rather than saw the displacement of air behind me and dropped into a crouch as her leg scythed through the space where my head had been. Without pausing, I rolled forward, coming up in time to see her palm ignite with crimson flame.

"Getting serious now?" I taunted.

Her answer came in the form of fire—not a wild blast, but a precisely controlled stream that curved and followed my movement like a hunting serpent. I sprinted along the chamber's perimeter, the flame pursuing, herding me toward the corner.

Smart play, I thought. Limiting my escape options.

"Umbra," I whispered.

Shadows leapt to my command, wrapping around my body like a second skin. The familiar rush of power surged through me—heightened speed, enhanced reflexes, senses sharpened to predatory acuity. The world slowed fractionally as my perception accelerated.

I dove straight through her flame construct, the shadow cloak absorbing the heat that should have seared my flesh. Ariel's eyes widened in genuine surprise—she hadn't expected that tactic.

"Cheating," she accused, already adjusting her strategy.

"Adapting," I corrected, my voice distorted slightly by the shadow energy. "You should try it."

Her eyes narrowed. "As you wish."

The air around her hands shimmered with heat as she summoned her signature technique—Crimson Tempest. Wind and fire merged, creating miniature vortexes that orbited her body like satellites. With a gesture, she sent three spinning toward me simultaneously, each taking a different trajectory.

I grinned beneath my shadow cloak. Now we were getting somewhere.

The first vortex I avoided with a backflip that carried me higher. The second required a mid-air twist that defied physics. The third—

Pain lanced across my ribs as the fire-wind construct grazed my side, slipping past my shadow defenses. First hit.

I landed in a crouch, one hand pressed to my side. "One," I acknowledged.

Satisfaction flashed across her face, quickly replaced by renewed focus. She wasn't celebrating early.

"Four more," she said, already launching her next attack—a complex pattern of fire daggers that materialized around her before shooting toward me in staggered waves.

I channeled more power into Umbra, feeling the shadows thicken and respond more eagerly to my will. With a thought, I extended shadow tendrils from my cloak, using them to deflect the incoming projectiles while simultaneously propelling myself across the chamber floor.

"Creative," Ariel commented, tracking my movement. 

She clapped her hands together, and the deflected fire daggers reversed direction mid-air, converging on my position from all angles. No clear escape path.

Think fast, Dante.

I dropped to the floor, pressing my palm against the stone. Shadows rushed outward in a circular wave, dousing the fire constructs as they met. The collision created a momentary smokescreen of magical residue.

Perfect cover. Or so I thought.

"Two," Ariel's voice came from directly behind me as her knuckles rapped sharply against my spine.

I spun, but she was already gone, using the same smokescreen to her advantage. My shadow senses picked up her movement—a circular pattern, staying just at the edge of my perception.

"Getting predictable in your old age," I called out, tracking her progress through the lingering haze.

"You're acting like I'm not just three years older, boy." Her voice seemed to come from multiple directions at once—a wind manipulation trick I'd seen her use before.

"Boy?" I scoffed, sending shadow tendrils probing through the smoke. "That's no way to address your master."

The smoke suddenly cleared as she summoned a sharp wind to disperse it. She stood ten meters away, hands raised in a complex magical formation I didn't recognize.

"Forgive me," she said with a smile that held nothing of subservience. "I meant to say inexperienced child."

Before I could retort, the floor beneath me erupted in a pillar of spiraling flame. I leapt aside, but not before the fire scored a line across my left thigh.

"Three," she counted, already preparing her next attack.

Time was running out—I could feel it in the increased urgency of her movements. She needed two more hits in perhaps five minutes remaining. And I... well, I needed to remind her who she was dealing with.

I stopped evading and stood my ground, shadows writhing around me like agitated serpents.

"Come on then," I challenged. "Show me what you've really got."

Her eyes lit up—literally, glowing with internal fire as her battle-hungry nature fully emerged. This was the Ariel few ever saw, the predator beneath the perfect maid exterior.

She charged, not with wild abandon but with lethal precision. Her body became a blur of fire and flesh, each strike flowing into the next in a continuous assault. I matched her movement for movement, Umbra enhancing my reactions to superhuman levels.

Palm strike—dodge. Knee thrust—sidestep. Flame-enhanced roundhouse—duck.

We danced across the chamber, the space between us charged with magical energy and something else, something electric and primal. For every attack she launched, I found an evasion, our bodies moving in a deadly choreography that bordered on intimate.

"Tick tock," I taunted, slipping past another combination.

Frustration flashed in her eyes. She needed to change tactics again.

She leapt back, putting distance between us, and raised both hands toward the ceiling. The temperature in the room plummeted as she drew all ambient heat into her spell. Above her palms, a miniature sun formed—concentrated fire magic compressed into a sphere no larger than an apple.

"Careful," I warned, genuinely impressed. "Damage the training grounds and Father will have both our hides."

"Then don't dodge this one," she replied, her smile turning predatory.

She hurled the sphere—not at me, but at the floor between us. The moment it made contact, it exploded outward not as fire but as blinding light. Even through my shadow cloak, the intensity seared my vision, leaving me momentarily blind.

Clever girl.

I relied on shadow sense, feeling rather than seeing her approach. But she'd planned for this too. The explosion had scattered her own magical signature, creating dozens of false readings in my perception.

Something solid connected with my jaw—her fist, driving upward in a textbook uppercut.

"Four," she counted, triumph in her voice.

My vision cleared gradually, revealing her standing just two meters away, her body coiled and ready to press her advantage. One more hit and she'd win our little wager.

I straightened, letting Umbra flow more completely through me. The shadows didn't just cloak me now—they became me, my physical form blurring at the edges as I surrendered more fully to the family technique.

"Impressive," I acknowledged. "But time's almost up."

She charged again, unleashing her most complex attack pattern yet—a combination of physical strikes and fire manipulations that came from multiple angles simultaneously. Under normal circumstances, even an exceptional opponent would struggle to track it all.

But cloaked in Umbra, I wasn't normal.

I became shadow itself, my body dissolving into darkness whenever her attacks should have connected, reforming just beyond her reach. She growled in frustration as punch after kick after flame construct passed through seemingly solid shadow.

"That's cheating," she accused, breathing hard from exertion.

"That's winning," I corrected. "Different concept entirely."

With a cry of frustration, she unleashed her ultimate technique—Crimson Tempest at full power. The vortex engulfed half the training chamber, a tornado of superheated wind that would have incinerated a lesser opponent.

I sank into my own shadow, using the Valac family's most fundamental ability to simply hold my breath and exit the battlefield temporarily. From the safety of the shadows, I watched her attack rage harmlessly above.

When the flames died down, I rose from the floor behind her, Umbra dissipating as I resumed solid form.

"Time's up," I said quietly.

She whirled, eyes wide, then slumped slightly in defeat. "Four hits," she acknowledged. "Not five."

"Not bad though." I touched my jaw where her last hit had connected. "That uppercut will leave a bruise."

Her breathing gradually steadied as the battle-hunger faded from her eyes, replaced by her usual composed demeanor. The transition was fascinating to watch—predator to proper servant in the space of moments.

"You've improved significantly," she said, straightening her combat attire. "The shadow dissolution technique was particularly effective even at less than half of your strength."

"I've been practicing." I rolled my shoulders. "You should fight like that more often."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Perhaps. But it would be inappropriate to actually harm the young master."

"Even when promised such an... intimate reward?"

Color touched her cheeks—barely perceptible, but there. "That was a most improper suggestion."

"Yet you fought harder for it than I've ever seen." I stepped closer, deliberately invading her personal space. "Something to consider for our next session."

She took a measured step back, resuming her formal posture. "Will there be anything else, Young Master? You have a meeting with Lady Selene at noon regarding the arrival of your Evil Pieces."

And just like that, the battle was over, the moment passed. Ariel the perfect maid once again.

"No, that's all for now." I turned toward the chamber exit. "Have a bath prepared in my quarters. And something to eat."

"Of course." She bowed slightly. "And might I suggest a healing salve for your injuries?"

I glanced back at her, catching the hint of satisfaction in her eyes as she noted the marks her attacks had left.

"Four hits," I reminded her. "Not enough to claim your prize."

"This time," she replied, and for just a moment, that predatory gleam returned to her crimson eyes. "There's always tomorrow's training session."

I laughed as I walked away, already looking forward to it. "Tomorrow it is. Better bring your best game."

"Count on it, Young Master." Her soft voice followed me out of the chamber. "Count on it."