"Sugoii!! Issei, not bad!" Irina laughed as she effortlessly dodged another one of Issei's attacks.
Clearly, she wasn't taking this seriously at all. While Issei was pouring every ounce of effort into his movements, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to land even a single hit, Irina looked like she was playing a casual game. Her wooden sword danced through the air, deflecting his strikes with minimal effort while she maintained that cheerful smile.
Issei felt frustration building in his chest, but underneath it was something else - a sense of accomplishment he hadn't expected. Even though he was clearly outmatched, even though Irina was obviously holding back, he could see the fruits of his training. He was stronger than before.
It was only a little progress, but it was progress nonetheless.
Unfortunately, that didn't change the outcome. Within another minute, Irina had maneuvered him into a position where his own momentum worked against him, and he found himself flat on his back on the training mat, her wooden sword pointed at his throat.
"And that's the match!" she declared brightly, offering him a hand up.
"Damn it," Issei muttered, accepting her help and getting back to his feet. His legs were shaky, and his arms felt like jelly.
"You did very well, Issei-san," Asia said softly, immediately moving to his side with a damp towel and a bottle of water. Her gentle hands glowed with soft green light as she began healing the minor bruises and strains from the sparring session.
"Asia-chan's right," Irina added, sheathing her sword. "That was actually impressive for someone so new to combat training."
"Really?"
"Really! How long have you been training?"
"About a week," Issei replied, taking a grateful sip of the water Asia had provided.
Irina's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Only a week? Wow, Issei-kun, that's amazing progress! Most people would still be learning basic stances after a week of training."
She stepped closer to him, her expression earnest and encouraging. "You should be proud of yourself."
As she spoke, she unconsciously moved even closer, close enough that Issei could smell the light floral scent of her hair and see the way her training clothes clung to her athletic figure. Her eyes were bright with genuine enthusiasm for his progress, and there was something in her expression that seemed... different from how she'd looked at him when they were kids.
'Holy crap.' Issei thought, his brain immediately going to places it probably shouldn't. 'When did Irina get so... developed? And she's so close I can practically…'
He felt his face heating up as his mind began wandering down increasingly inappropriate paths.
Asia noticed the direction of his thoughts - she'd gotten pretty good at reading his expressions over the past week - and felt a small pang of something she couldn't quite identify. Jealousy? Possessiveness? She wasn't entirely sure, but she didn't like the way Issei was looking at Irina.
"Issei-san," she said a bit more firmly than usual, "you should probably rest now. You've been training very hard."
"Ah, right," Issei said, shaking his head to clear away the perverted thoughts. Though they didn't entirely disappear - it was hard to ignore the fact that he was suddenly surrounded by attractive girls who seemed genuinely interested in his wellbeing.
Irina seemed oblivious to the tension, still focused on encouraging her childhood friend. "Seriously, Issei-kun, keep training like this and you'll be amazing in no time! I can't wait to see how much stronger you get."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wooden swords clashing with surprising intensity. All three of them turned to see Leon facing off against Xenovia in the center of the training room.
Watching them fight, Issei felt his jaw drop.
Leon moved like water - fluid and effortless. Every strike Xenovia threw at him was either deflected with minimal movement or simply avoided by the smallest possible margin. He wasn't even breathing hard, while Xenovia was already showing signs of exertion.
"How is he doing that?" Issei whispered in awe.
Xenovia launched a series of rapid strikes. Any one of those attacks would have overwhelmed Issei completely. But Leon responded to each one rather easily.
He was making her look like a beginner despite her obvious skill.
"He's not even trying," Irina observed. "Look at him - he's barely moving."
Xenovia's frustration was becoming more apparent with each exchange. Her attacks grew more aggressive, more desperate, but nothing seemed to work.
The blue-haired exorcist attempted a complex combination - a feint high followed by a low sweep, then a rapid thrust aimed at Leon's center. It was a move that should have forced any opponent to make a significant defensive commitment.
Leon simply wasn't there when the thrust arrived. He'd moved as Xenovia's blade passed harmlessly by his side. His own wooden sword tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"Match," Leon said calmly.
Xenovia stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, staring at the wooden sword still resting against her shoulder. Her face showed a mixture of frustration, amazement, and respect.
"Again," she said, raising her sword once more.
Leon raised an eyebrow but nodded. "If you wish."
The second match went much the same way, though this time Xenovia lasted perhaps thirty seconds longer before Leon's blade found its mark - this time at her throat, positioned with the same gentle precision.
"Again," she said immediately.
"Xenovia..." Father Dante warned.
"Again," she repeated, her voice carrying the stubborn determination of someone who refused to accept defeat.
Watching this display of overwhelming skill, Issei felt something ignite inside him. This was what he was working toward.
He turned back to Irina with renewed determination.
"Let's go again," he said as he stood up.
Irina looked surprised. "Issei-kun, are you sure? You just finished a match, and-"
"I'm sure," he interrupted, taking his stance. "I want to try again. I think... I think I learned something from watching Leon."
Asia looked concerned. "Issei-san, you should rest-"
"I'm fine, Asia-chan. Really." He met Irina's eyes with more confidence than he'd shown all day. "Come on, Irina. One more round."
Irina studied his face for a moment, then smiled and drew her own wooden sword. "Alright, Issei-kun. But don't expect me to go easy on you just because you asked nicely."
"I wouldn't want you to." Issei said with determination.
=====
Unknown Location - Third Person POV
The laboratory was a testament to unholy science, its sterile white walls lined with dozens of clear cylindrical containers. Each tank was filled with a viscous, luminescent fluid that cast an eerie green glow throughout the room. Suspended within each container was a humanoid figure - not quite human, not quite monster, but something altogether more disturbing.
Valper Galilei moved between the tanks with the enthusiasm of a man whose life's work was finally coming to fruition.
His weathered face, marked by years of exile and obsession, showed none of the uncertainty that had plagued him during his early experiments. Here, in this hidden laboratory, surrounded by his greatest creation, he felt the vindication he'd been seeking for decades.
"Magnificent," he whispered, pressing his palm against one of the containers. The figure inside twitched slightly in response, its artificially enhanced muscles rippling beneath pale skin. "Each one capable of wielding holy power without the... restrictions... that limited my previous subjects."
"Your enthusiasm is infectious, priest," came a voice as Loki emerged from the shadows. "Though I must admit, even I'm impressed by how quickly we've perfected the process. Your expertise continues to impress me, priest,"
Valper turned to his benefactor with barely contained excitement. "Your knowledge of creation, combined with my understanding of holy sword integration... it's created something beautiful. Something that will vindicate everything I've worked toward."
The old priest's eyes gleamed with fanatic fervor as he gazed upon his creations. For years after his excommunication, he'd been driven by a singular obsession - proving that his research into artificial holy sword wielders wasn't the abomination the Church had declared it to be. Every night since his exile, he'd dreamed of the day when he could demonstrate that his methods were not only valid but superior to traditional approaches.
These clones represented the ultimate evolution of his work. Unlike the tragic children who had suffered and died in his earlier experiments, these beings were specifically designed to handle holy power.
Warriors capable of wielding the stolen Excalibur fragments without any of the weaknesses that had plagued his previous attempts.
"They're not just weapons," Valper continued, his voice taking on the tone of a lecture. "They're proof. Proof that the Church was wrong to cast me out, wrong to condemn my research as heretical. When these perfect warriors demonstrate their capabilities..."
"Yes, yes," Loki interrupted with barely concealed impatience.
The god's thoughts turned inward, focusing on the true purpose behind this elaborate scheme. Leon Mishima. The name sent waves of cold fury through his divine consciousness. That human had taken everything from him and the complete humiliation of being forced to flee like a common coward while his children died.
Loki's form flickered, briefly revealing glimpses of the true monster beneath.
As the father of monsters, he had created beings of immense power and terrible beauty. Losing them to a mere human - even one as formidable as Leon - was an insult that demanded blood.
He wasn't naive enough to believe that these artificial soldiers would be enough to kill Leon directly. The human's power was too great, his capabilities too vast. A direct assault would likely fail just as catastrophically as their last encounter.
But Leon had something Loki could exploit. People he cared about. Friends, allies, perhaps even lovers. The human had surrounded himself with individuals he considered worth protecting, and that made him vulnerable in ways that absolute power couldn't address.
He didn't want him dead. No, death was too simple, a mercy Leon hadn't earned. What he wanted was for him to suffer.
He wanted Leon to feel the same tearing loss, the same hollowing grief he'd felt when the man murdered his offspring. He wanted him to watch, helpless, as everything he cared about was torn away from him, piece by piece.
An image bloomed in his mind, vivid and satisfying. He wanted to drown him in the helplessness of it all, to make him watch his loved ones die while being utterly unable to save them.
These clones… they were perfect. Strong enough to inflict unimaginable pain, numerous enough to strike everywhere at once, and so perfectly, wonderfully expendable.
Let them be the instruments of his revenge. Let them break Leon. Let them shatter his spirit with grief and weaken his body with loss. And when Leon finally fell, a hollowed-out wreck of a man, then and only then would Loki descend to finish what he had started. He would stand over the broken hero and ensure his final lesson was learned: the true price of crossing a god.
He could almost feel the unholy power of the stolen Excalibur fragments pulsing nearby, waiting for a hand that had never known mercy, a heart that had never known doubt. They, like him, were eager to begin.
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