CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 198: LOVE AND SWEAT

Elias watched him for a long moment, the faint light catching in his damp hair, making it shine like tarnished silver. "And if I choose to let fate do its job?" he asked at last, his voice quiet but steady.

Victor’s expression didn’t change immediately, but the air around him seemed to darken, as though the idea itself carried gravity. He moved to the window, parting the curtains just enough for a blade of cold light to slice across the room. "Then fate will do what it always does," he said, almost gently. "And nothing good will come of it... for your family, at least."

Elias’s fingers tightened in the sheets. "And you?"

Victor turned his head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming like coals in shadow. "Me?" His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. "I’ll be fine. I’ll shield you from it."

That simple assurance made something twist sharply in Elias’s chest. "I don’t want you in danger because of them."

For a heartbeat there was silence, and then Victor laughed. It wasn’t mocking but rich, low, and thoroughly amused. He turned back to face him, his sharp smile bright in the morning light. "Danger?" he echoed. "Oh, little one... I am the danger. Do you truly think a handful of greedy mortals could scratch me?"

The laughter faded into a small, satisfied hum. "No one will touch me. Not now, not ever. And I won’t touch those who don’t deserve it. The only ones fate will find are the sinners who helped your father dig his own grave."

Elias’s lips parted, something in him loosening at that. He exhaled slowly. "Then let fate do it," he said at last. "I won’t ask you to intervene. Not for them."

Victor’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment, assessing. Then he gave a single, approving nod. "Good," he murmured. "It suits you, letting rot eat itself."

He pushed away from the window, expression softening with a kind of wicked satisfaction. "Now," he said, his tone shifting abruptly, "get dressed."

Elias blinked. "What?"

Victor was already rolling up his sleeves. "We have to restart your training. Uno’s little game set us back three days."

Elias groaned, dragging the pillow over his head. "How did it set us back three days when we started yesterday? It makes no sense."

Victor’s laugh was soft but unmistakably smug. "It makes sense to me," he said, tugging at his cuffs as if he were about to preside over a meeting rather than a sparring match. "You were distracted for two and a half, spent the other half arguing with me, and that counts as three."

Elias lowered the pillow just enough to glare at him. "That’s not how time works."

"It is when I say so," Victor countered smoothly, his crimson eyes flicking to the corner where their training gear waited. "And I say you owe me three days of focus. Your form in ether manipulation is abysmal."

Elias groaned again, louder this time, and flopped onto his back. "I’m not coming."

Victor arched an eyebrow, a slow, deliberate movement that made the air seem to tighten. "You’re not coming?" he repeated, his voice silk-wrapped iron. "That’s what you’re going with?"

Elias dragged the pillow back over his face. "Correct. I’m rebelling. This is me rebelling." His voice came out muffled. "You can’t stop me."

There was a pause, just long enough for Elias to almost believe he’d won. Then the mattress dipped under Victor’s weight.

"Elias," Victor murmured, his tone dangerously patient.

"Still rebelling," Elias said from beneath the pillow. "Still not moving."

Victor’s hand closed around the edge of the pillow and pulled it away with unnerving gentleness. His crimson eyes gleamed down at him, bright and unamused. "Do you know what happens when someone tells a god no?"

"Yes," Elias muttered. "They get smote, or turned into a metaphor."

Victor smiled, teeth flashing. "Smart. But you’re neither getting smote nor turned into a metaphor. You’re getting out of bed."

Elias blinked up at him. "Or what?"

Victor leaned in, close enough that Elias could feel his breath against his cheek. "Or I’ll come up with a creative method to make you."

Elias’s pulse stumbled. "That sounds like a threat."

"It’s a promise," Victor corrected, his tone deceptively soft. "And a remarkably generous one, considering your form yesterday was so tragic I could’ve arrested you for endangering the concept of balance."

That earned a small, reluctant laugh. "You’re unbelievable."

"I prefer persistent."

"Obsessive."

"Dedicated."

"Insane."

Victor’s grin widened. "In love."

That threw Elias off enough for silence to stretch between them. Then, quietly but firmly, he said, "You’re still not making me move."

Victor chuckled, low in his throat. "Oh, Elias," he said, already slipping an arm under the omega’s knees, the other at his back. "I don’t recall asking for your cooperation."

Elias yelped as Victor lifted him clean off the bed. "Victor... put me down!"

"I’m putting you down," Victor said mildly, carrying him toward the training room door, "right where you belong. On the mat."

Elias struggled half-heartedly, his indignation dissolving into laughter. "You are ridiculous!"

"And you," Victor said, pressing a kiss against his temple as he walked, "are late for training."

—

Three hours in, the training room smelled of ether and sweat. The polished black floor shimmered faintly where Victor’s sigils burned through it, glowing just enough to remind Elias of the sheer scale of what he was trying to control. His palms stung, his muscles ached, and the fine tremor in his arms had gone from nuisance to agony.

He slumped against the edge of the mat, breathing hard, hair sticking damp to his forehead. "I’d very much rather die," he muttered, dragging his sleeve across his face. "Or..." He stopped, gulped air, then added darkly, "become your soulmate and get access to your power just so you’ll leave me alone."

Victor straightened from his crouch, unbothered, crimson eyes gleaming under the training room lights. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbow; the veins along his forearms glowed faintly where his ether channels pulsed. "That," he said, his voice velvet-dry, "is not a reason to do it."

Elias glared up at him from the mat. "It sounds like a perfectly good reason to me."

Victor crouched, resting one arm on his knee. "You’re tired. You’re cranky. And you’re still going to finish the set."

"No," Elias muttered, flopping flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Yes."

Victor’s mouth curved. "Suck it up and keep going, little one."

"That’s not motivating."

"It’s not supposed to be." Victor extended a hand. "Up."

Elias eyed it, then rolled onto his side instead. "Nope. Dead. Officially dead. Bury me."

Victor chuckled, low and warm. "We’re doing this the hard way then."

Behind the observation glass, Ruo’s laughter rang out like silver chimes. She was perched on the narrow ledge, one leg tucked under her, a mug of coffee balanced in her hand. She looked like she was watching her favorite show.

"Is he always this dramatic with you?" she called through the intercom. "I’ve never seen Elias like this in almost ten years of being roommates."