CHAPTER 82: HER CHAMPION [3]

"Haa... Haa..."

Alaric lay flat on the floor of the training hall, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Sweat clung to his skin, soaking through the light training tunic, his arms sprawled out as if even lifting a finger would cost too much.

Across from him, the older man, lean, scarred, was breathing heavily himself.

He stood with his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed.

He’s stronger than he should be...

He studied Alaric with quiet intensity. Even with a lower rank and an elemental path, his body’s endurance is absurd.

Then the man gave a sharp, respectful nod.

"I shall take my leave now, young lord."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and exited the hall, boots echoing against the stone floor, leaving Alaric alone with the sound of his own breathing.

Tap! Tap!

Soft footsteps echoed lightly against the stone floor.

But Alaric didn’t bother to look up.

The steps drew closer, then stopped beside him.

A moment of silence passed before a gentle voice broke it.

"Here."

He blinked and finally turned his head.

A beautiful girl in a crisp maid’s dress crouched beside him.

Her silver hair caught the warm light seeping through the high windows, and her amber eyes regarded him with calm patience as her one hand was extended toward him.

He took it.

With a small grunt, Alaric pulled himself upright, his muscles still burning from the intense session.

Without a word, she handed him a canteen.

He accepted it, uncapped it, and drank in large gulps.

The cool water slid down his throat, grounding him.

Then Iris knelt beside him and, with a quiet huff, pulled a clean cloth from her apron pocket.

Without asking, she leaned in and dabbed the sweat from his face.

Alaric blinked but didn’t protest.

Her movements were brisk, bordering on annoyed, but careful, betraying concern behind the facade.

"There. You looked like a half-dead mutt," she muttered, glancing away with a faint pout.

Alaric chuckled lowly, then leaned back, propping himself up with his arms behind him.

His breath had steadied, but exhaustion still clung to his limbs.

"That guy was tough," he murmured, staring at the high ceiling.

Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes shifting toward her.

"Shouldn’t you be in your quarters? What are you doing here?"

Iris scoffed softly. "I was just passing by. Saw the training hall lights on and figured you’d be here getting beaten to pulp."

Alaric narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness, his tone deepening as he leaned forward slightly.

"You know there are consequences for maids who slack off on their duties."

Iris opened her mouth to shoot back a retort, but he didn’t give her the chance.

"What? You thought you could get away with it just because you’re a little closer to me?"

Before he could say more, a cloth smacked against his face.

"Mmph—!"

"It’s lunch time, idiot young master," she snapped, arms folded.

Alaric peeled the cloth off, a dry smirk tugging at his lips. "Idiot, huh?"

He began to push himself up, voice low and theatrical.

"You’ve just committed a direct offence against the next head of the house. Are you ready to face—"

"Shut the crap up and just go rest," Iris cut in sharply, clearly done with his antics.

She stood up with a huff, clicked her tongue, and muttered under her breath, "Coming here was a mistake..."

But the faint blush warming her cheeks gave her away.

And before Alaric could say anything more, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the hall quickly and unmistakably flustered.

Alaric watched her storm off, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. Then he exhaled a long breath and stretched his sore arms behind him.

"Status," he muttered.

A translucent window flickered into existence before his eyes.

[STATUS WINDOW]

Name: Brandon (Past Life: Alaric Noir)

Race: Human

Age: 19

Title: Slave, Model Servant, (The Fallen King)

Essence Path: The Path of #$#&##@##

Sub-Path: Flame Essence

Rank: E+

EXP: 1980 / 3900

Stats:

STR: 63

AGI: 58

END: 56

WIL: 41

CHA: 49

INT: 60 (??)

Free stats points: 22

Domination Points: 1690

Main Quest: Subjugate Selene Glimore (In Progress)

System Level: 2 (Requires 3000 Domination Points to Upgrade)

Skill Tree: Intermediate Fire spell (F), Scorchblade Arts (S)

Shop: Basic Tier Items

Obedience Meter: Target Not Found!

Loyalty Meter: Target not found!

Harem Tracker: 0

DP Exchange: Available

??? (Locked – Requires System Level 3)

His gaze roamed over it.

I should balance them now, that way, it would be better.

Stats:

STR: 63 — 65

AGI: 58 — 68

END: 56 — 66

WIL: 42

CHA: 49

INT: 60 (??)

Free stats points: 22 — 0

Then with a flick of his thought, he closed the window, stepped out of the hall, and made his way to his room.

Once inside, he stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and changed into something light and clean.

Then, without another thought, he dropped onto the bed. The mattress sank under his weight as he lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling.

Muscles still throbbed from the brutal training session. "Phoenix Trials..." he murmured.

A slow breath left him before he turned sideways, burying his face into the cool pillow.

"Let’s see what you’ve got tomorrow."

And then the sleep claimed him.

******

"You useless scum."

The voice cracked through the heavy air of the chamber, sharp and loud like a whip.

A young man stood before the large desk, shoulders tense, head bowed. He looked to be in his early twenties.

Golden-brown hair messy over his pale face, and blue eyes fixed on the floor.

"What’s the meaning of this?"

The man behind the desk roared again, rising from his seat.

Caleb’s head sank even lower.

"I-I..."

"You know how much we’ve been spending on you?"

Varell’s voice cut through Caleb’s trembling words.

Caleb swallowed, his hands clenched at his sides as his mouth opened again, struggling to form a response.

"Get out of my sight, you useless prick."

Varell’s voice dropped to a venomous mutter, but it struck harder than a shout.

Caleb stiffened. "F-Father, give me an—"

"Just get out."

Caleb’s mouth trembled as if more words were coming, but none arrived.

He turned, shoulders rigid, and stepped out of the chamber, pulling the heavy door shut behind him with a click.

"Haa..."

Varell exhaled, the sound low and exhausted.

He slumped back into his seat. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at nothing.

Then he leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced. His brow came to rest upon his clasped hands.

"I think I’ve got no other choice."