Chapter 31: A Little Murder Never Hurt Anyone

"A spar?" Valgereth asks, eyebrows raised, a little intrigued by the suggestion.

"Yep. Me versus you." Lucien says with a grin, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s suggesting a walk through the garden.

Valgereth, currently in his humanoid form with horns, tailored vest, and the general swagger of a demi-god, bursts into a deep, rumbling laugh. He nearly doubles over, crimson eyes glinting with amusement.

Lucien blinks. "What’s so funny?"

Val wipes a tear from his eye. "You, that’s what. You’ve definitely grown stronger, Demon Lord, but you’re still a sapling compared to me."

Lucien pouts dramatically. "I studied, you know. Worked really hard. Took notes. Practiced incantations. Did some late-night crying about magical theory. I just wanna know where I stand."

Val’s smirk widens.

"About 6 feet below me, once I’m done you." he chuckles.

Lucien places a hand on his chest, mock-wounded. "Oof. That’s a hit to morale. What happened to allies lifting each other up?"

"I am lifting you up," Val says. "By reminding you of your weakness."

He then gestures casually toward Veyra, who’s been loitering at the edge of the conversation with a large mug of something suspiciously glowing. "Honestly, I bet she could take you."

Veyra nearly chokes on her drink. "What? No! No way. Lord Lucidius is way stronger than me! R-Right?"

Lucien turns slowly, a wolfish smile creeping across his face. "Be honest, darling."

Her ears twitch nervously. "W-Well... I mean... compared to the old Demon Lords... you do seem a little more... restrained?"

"Restrained," Lucien repeats, as if tasting the word. "Go on."

"I-I mean, not in a bad way! You’re just... tactical! Thoughtful! Not blowing up mountains cause you’re moody. I’m sure you’re hiding your true power, right?"

"Mmhm." He taps his chin. "But if you had to fight me... would you win?"

"I’d never fight you," she says quickly. "I revere you! Worship you! Dream about you... um, ignore that last one."

Lucien snickers. "So that’s a maybe."

Before Veyra can dig herself any deeper, X’zelle walks up behind her and claps a spindly hand on her back. "Come on, Vee. You’ve been whining for months that you haven’t stress-tested your armor. Now’s your chance. Lord Flirtus over here wants a challenge. Indulge him."

Veyra’s eyes dart around like a trapped squirrel. "No way. I don’t want to hurt him."

"So you do think you could hurt me!" Lucien gasps in delight.

"I said no such thing, my lord!"

"Oh come on." Lucien turns up the charm, dialing his smolder to maximum. "You’d be doing me a huge favor. I’ve been working so hard on my magic. I just want to impress you, Veyra."

She whimpers, cheeks flushing. "That’s not fair..."

He leans in, voice a low purr. "Please? For me..."

Veyra makes a squeaky noise and covers her face. "Fine. Okay. I’ll do it. But I—"

Lucien claps his hands like a delighted schoolboy. "Fantastic! Let’s find a spot where you can go wild."

Veyra catches his arm. "Wait! Are you sure we should go all out? I... get a little feral when I’m in battle mode."

Lucien’s grin widens. "That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said. Now I need to see it."

She stares at him, heart pounding, then gives a flustered little nod.

An hour later, the two of them stand in a small valley, just outside the village, nestled and secluded, surrounded by jagged cliffs, both already humming with excitement.

The villagers and Lucien’s crew line the upper ridge like it’s fight night in the Ashlands. X’zelle brings snacks. Vex and Vile sell betting slips. Serenith stands with arms crossed, already muttering about medical emergencies and male ego.

Lucien stands in the middle of the arena, stretching lazily. He glances at Veyra as she runs final checks on her armor, and lets out a low whistle.

"Damn. That thing looks like a mech from an anime."

Veyra turns to him, head tilted. "A what?"

"Don’t worry about it," he says, waving dismissively. "It’s hot. That’s what matters."

Her suit is a monstrous, glorious fusion of, metal, magic, and way too many moving parts. Steam hisses from hidden vents. Runic lines pulse across its surface. Six massive sword hilts jut from the back like the wings of a metal angel... if angels were fueled by murder.

Veyra pulls off her gas mask to give him a grin... and immediately starts coughing.

Lucien frowns. "Veyra, put that back on before you wheeze yourself into the grave."

"I’m fine," she rasps, slipping the mask back over her mouth. "Just wanted you to see my smile before I clobber you."

"Awww," he says, patting the side of her armored hip. "You’re adorable."

With a hiss and a slam, the armor seals shut. The runes brighten. The ground rumbles beneath her.

Lucien steps back, cracking his knuckles. "You ready?"

A gauntleted thumbs-up is his only reply.

"Good," he says, eyes narrowing. "Let’s—"

BOOM~

She vanishes in an explosion of fire and smoke. Lucien blinks, and she’s above him, a flaming greatsword the size of a man aimed at his skull.

Lucien cocks an eyebrow. "You’re way too fast for such a bulky frame."

Then he’s gone, dispersed into ash, and Veyra slams into the earth, creating a crater large enough to swallow a carriage.

Lucien reforms upside-down, standing on a floating slab of ash above her. "I want to see how down and dirty you can get, Veyra. Get me sweaty enough and I’ll take you for a hot bath."

Inside the suit, Veyra yelps. "W-wha... seriously?"

"I never joke about bath time." Lucien grins, "Deal?"

"Deal!"

The watchers on the cliff begin screaming with excitement. Serenith facepalms so hard she nearly knocks herself out.

Veyra drops into a low stance. The six swords on her back twitch, then unfurl like spider legs. A ring of magical energy explodes outward, pushing Lucien back with raw force.

He cackles. "Vex! Vile! Prep the hot tub! We’re gonna need it!"

"You got it, boss!" the twins yell in sync.

Lucien shoots forward, propelled by a cyclone of black ash. Veyra meets him in mid-air, her blades spinning around her like a storm of steel.

Sparks fly.

Flames roar.

The ground screams as magical pressure weighs down the arena.

Veyra shrieks with joy. "I forgot how much I love this!"

"You’re terrifying," Lucien shouts as he dodges a spinning blade.

"Thank you!"

Their clash becomes a blur. Ash tendrils, flaring rune, flying debris.

The watching villagers duck behind shields. Vex and Vile hand out umbrellas. Val nods, arms crossed, silently impressed.

"THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA!" Serenith yells into the wind.

Veyra summons a wall of spiked thorns from the ground, Lucien counters with a wave of searing ash, converting the wood to glowing embers. Veyra jumps backward, her armor smoking, and launches all six blades like guided missiles.

Lucien spins midair, catching one with a clawed hand and using it to pivot and redirect another. One grazes his cheek.

He grins.

"You’re holding back." Veyra yells out as her suit hisses steam.

Lucien’s eyes glow crimson. "So are you, darling."

She laughs wildly. "I LOVE THIS!"

The battle drags on, more spectacle than bloodbath, more flirtation than duel. It’s as much performance as test. Lucien showing his new strength, and Veyra finally going full throttle.

She blasts backward, her hilt-wings spreading and crackling with magic. With a guttural roar, she unleashes a pillar of glowing, purple-blue energy that sends a shockwave of magical pressure ripping through the arena.

It slams into Lucien, skidding him across the ground. Landing on one knee, he dusts himself off, laughing. "You’ve definitely been holding back."

On the ridge, Vex and Vile are waving towels and cheering wildly.

Serenith, arms crossed, mutters, "He better not forget this is supposed to be training, not foreplay."

Val snorts. "With him? There’s no difference."

Down below, Lucien raises both hands, summoning swirling rings of ash and sigils. "Alright, Veyra. Let’s see your best."

"You asked for it," she growls.

The back-mounted swords unsheathe all at once, surrounding her like a deadly flower in bloom. Each hovers independently, spinning slowly. Veyra’s suit glows red-hot with overcharge steam venting from her shoulder ports.

Lucien’s ash aura flares to life, his outline blurring with magic as he darts sideways just as the blades shoot forward.

One misses by inches, another nicks his arm, drawing spurts of blood.

"Now that’s more like it," Lucien purrs.

"Don’t tempt me, my lord!" Veyra calls, her voice layered with manic joy.

Lucien’s grin grows wider, deadly and delighted.

Then flicks two fingers, beckoning Veyra to violence.

"Bring it!"