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Chapter 164 - Lazyness (164)

The boy laying on the floor refused to accept defeat. His eyes blazed a deep red as he transformed back into his Resurrección. He wasn't done. His wounds healed at speeds even the human eye couldn't follow—he had to win.

Chains manifested, coiling around him as he stared down his sister, who was simply watching him. Not tired... just with that look.

He hated that look.

He hated it so damn much.

And as if the spirit of the former Andrew Tate of this world took over his body, he lunged at her—rage burning in his eyes.

As if to say: Don't you dare look at me like that.

However, before he could reach her—

A firm grip halted him. All of his power vanished like smoke in the wind.

"That's enough for now. Both of you... did well."

Gabriel's voice carried no condescension—just calm authority and pride. Still, the words tasted like ash to Aurelón.

Looking up, he saw his father's back.

That... stung.

Why was he looking away?

Was it because...

He had lost. Again. For the hundredth time.

He didn't like this feeling—no, he despised it from the bottom of his heart. His eyes glowed a searing red. He wanted more. If only he could've fought longer, he would've won.

Dammit.

From Gabriel's point of view—

Seraphina was a mess. She had passed out—literally. Her gaze from earlier? It wasn't contempt. She had genuinely passed out mid-fight. If the battle had dragged on even a second longer, she would've lost.

Sure, she had more hax than her brother, but in raw stats? She would've been overwhelmed. The boy was ready for a hundred more rounds. He could take thrashings worse than what Invincible endures on a regular basis and keep going.

One trait of his dad that he had fully awakened: unless it was purely soul damage, it wouldn't kill him. He could regenerate from practically anything. And in this world of Soul Reapers, getting someone to inflict soul damage shouldn't be hard...

Yet if even a single cell remained—a single atom—he would regenerate back to full health.

While his son had inherited the more devilish aspects of him, his daughter had inherited something else—something more heavenly.

Gabriel had been a Fullbringer before becoming a Hollow, so... you do the math.

(Wow... so everyone has a piece of him now.)

Gabriel looked down at his daughter—her breathing shallow but steady. Her pale lashes fluttered faintly against her cheeks. Her uniform was slightly torn from the clash, her limbs slack and delicate. He sighed quietly as he lifted her into his arms once more—careful, almost reverent.

"She burned through too much of her soul energy again," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Her brows scrunched slightly at his voice, and she whispered hoarsely, "Did I do good...?"

It seemed his voice had brought her back. Hm. How sweet.

Gabriel gave her the sweetest smile a man could give his daughter. "You were magnificent, Seraphina. But you don't need to give everything just to prove your worth. You're already enough."

A soft hum escaped her before she passed out again in his arms, her head gently resting against his chest. Gabriel carefully brushed a few strands of green hair behind her ear.

He placed a hand over her core and poured a controlled dose of his Reiryoku into her to stabilize her internal balance. She had overclocked her Law of Reality ability again—brilliant, but fragile.

Think of it like running out of chakra. Her ability was like a Shinjutsu... and she had overclocked herself like Jinshi did on MT Firmament.

Now, like Rover, Gabriel had to fix that mess. Unlike the white-haired girl, though, there was no big-ass dragon this time around.

"Reckless girl..." he muttered. He sighed. She did know that doing this kind of thing chips away at her lifespan...

Which—now that he thought about it—wasn't that big of a drawback.

She was immortal, after all.

It was like chipping away at infinity. Or expecting Hera to actually leave Zeus after the countless times he cheated. Nah—she would always go back to her brother's meat. His lightning rod, one might even say.

He turned.

And there it was again—that red glow.

Aurelón stood there, trembling, fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked under the pressure. The glow in his eyes wasn't just rage anymore—it was pain. A boy on the edge, not understanding why it hurt so much.

Because from his point of view, he hadn't just lost.

He had failed.

And worse... he wasn't being carried out. He wasn't being praised in whispers. He wasn't in his father's arms.

He was just... standing there. Alone. Again.

Gabriel looked at him.

"You did well," he said, offering a smile.

"If this match had gone on longer, I am confident you would've won."

To the boy, those words meant nothing. They felt like pity—like the empty things you say to someone who came up short.

But they weren't lies.

She couldn't keep fighting. She had gone overboard. While he...

She stood zero chance.

Calming down his anger.

"...Tch."

He turned.

And walked out of the chamber.

Each step left behind a faint trail of steam, the ground sizzling beneath his bare feet. His spiritual pressure was rising, boiling like magma under pressure—but it was inward now. Compressed. Contained. Focused.

He didn't even wait for the doors to open fully. He kicked them off their hinges, sending them crashing into the wall outside before vanishing in a thunderous BZZZT—BOOM!

Gabriel blinked.

"That's not good," he muttered, brow furrowing slightly.

Maybe he needed to speak to his son before some stupid shit happened.

(Ya think.)

For some odd reason, Gabriel felt like he was being scolded by a random god or something.

Oh well.

But first—she needed first aid. Immediately. Before her powers acted up again.

Elsewhere...

Aurelón stood atop a jagged cliff far from the training grounds, his fists buried into the rock. Waves crashed violently below. Steam rose where his Reiryoku collided with the ocean mist.

"I'm not weak..." he muttered to himself.

"I'm NOT weak...!"

He slammed his fist into the stone again, shattering the entire cliff's edge. Chunks fell into the sea below.

Yes... sea. Idle transfiguration worked wonders. Gabriel had recreated an ocean in this place, since whenever he went to the Human World, if he so much as sneezed wrong—an entire country would vanish.

So, instead of suppressing himself too much, he did this.

Back to his son.

He stared at his hands. At the steam curling off his skin.

He knew he had power. He knew if the fight had gone longer, he could've won. Maybe. Possibly.

But he didn't want to kill his sister to win.

He just wanted to be acknowledged.

"Why... can't I catch up...?" he whispered.

"I was ready to go another hundred rounds," he muttered, storming through a sandstone corridor. Shadows licked the walls, seemingly afraid to get too close. "I healed everything. I took hits that'd make Viltrumites weep. And what do I get? A 'well done.' WELL DONE?!"

And then—

BZZZT—BOOM!

A presence. Strong. Impossible to sense. And that was the problem.

Aurelón's sensory skills were just slightly below Leonidas's—who could sense people from kilometers away. His own weren't bad either.

So whoever had just blitzed him...

Could only be—

His mother? No. She wasn't here.

His father? He was healing Seraphina.

Which left—

A man.

Hands in pockets.

Half-asleep.

Hair messy.

Expression bored.

Starrk.

The Horseman of War.

"...So you're the reason for all that panic," Starrk said in a voice so indifferent, it was nearly disrespectful. A yawn threatened to escape mid-sentence.

Aurelón's anger hit pause. His eyes widened.

Wait.

This wasn't just anyone.

This was him.

The boy immediately lowered his head into a sharp bow.

"Apologies, Lord Starrk! I didn't mean to—!"

Starrk lazily waved a hand. "Eh. Calm down, kid. Not like you blew up Las Noches."

This time.

Aurelón's glowing red eyes flickered uncertainly. He stared up in awe.

This was the man...

The one who—according to some rumors—was the only one who could actually give Gabriel, his father, a true fight. Maybe even beat him.

(Bullshit.)

Aurelón opened his mouth—couldn't help himself.

"...Some people say you're the only one strong enough to take down my father."

Starrk had just brought a bottle to his lips. He spit it out with a loud choke.

"PFFFFT—!! WHO is spreading that BULLSHIT?!"

He coughed, rubbing his chest like the statement personally attacked him.

"Nah. I ain't that strong," he muttered, waving off the smoke.

Something felt... odd. Aurelón sensed another presence around Starrk, but couldn't place it.

Starrk casually tilted his head to hide his neck.

Didn't want the boy seeing that.

"So... what's the little prince doing so far from home, huh?"

"...I lost to Seraphina. Again."

The boy's voice dropped.

Starrk blinked. "Ah. Sad."

That was it. No comfort. No motivational speech.

Just pure, apathetic relatability.

Aurelón narrowed his eyes.

"...That's it?"

"...I'm a man of very few words."

Aurelón growled under his breath.

"...Why are you even here?"

"Siiiigh. Because I'm in charge of this sector, technically..." Starrk gestured lazily at the open desert behind him. "And your Reiatsu surge was so wild, it scared off half the Adjuchas living here. I prefer naps, y'know... not babysitting the consequences of your daddy issues."

Aurelón deadpanned.

"...So, you only showed up to do your job."

"Unfortunately."

Was he... actually disappointed about that? Damn.

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