Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Chapter 353 Spiritual Body

Pyris exhaled, shifting his stance, adjusting the way he held his sword. He'd been too aggressive, too straightforward. Nysa had countered him like it was second nature. He needed to change tactics.

This time, when he lunged, his movements were sharper—not just brute force, but calculated. The wind swirled around them, stirred by the force of his step. He feinted left, then twisted his wrist, redirecting his blade at the last second—

CLACK!

Nysa's stick met his sword perfectly, intercepting his attack like she saw it coming a mile away. The impact sent a sharp vibration through his arms, the sound ringing through the clearing.

"You're still telegraphing too much," she mused, spinning the stick effortlessly, the wind catching the motion like it was weightless. Her clothes barely moved, a stark contrast to the rippling force that followed her movements. "Your eyes give away your next move before your body even commits."

Pyris clenched his jaw. Alright, fine. He lowered his stance, this time not rushing in blindly. His breathing slowed, and instead of forcing an opening, he waited.

Nysa raised an eyebrow, approving. "Better."

Then, she moved.

The air screamed as her attack came, a blur of motion that cut through the space between them like a whip. The stick lashed out toward his ribs—fast, precise, impossible to track with just his eyes.

Pyris barely managed to block. The moment their weapons met, a shockwave rippled outward, scattering dust and leaves, rustling the branches overhead. The force of it jolted through his entire frame, but he absorbed the impact, redirecting her strike rather than fighting against it.

Instead of retreating, he countered—swift, smooth, his sword flowing like water.

THWACK!

The stick cracked against his wrist, a sharp sting shooting up his arm. Pyris hissed through clenched teeth. "Damn it—"

Nysa smirked. She hadn't even broken a sweat. "Good try, but you're too rigid. You need to flow with the motion, not fight against it."

Flow with the motion.

Pyris rolled his shoulders, exhaling. He could feel the pieces falling into place. The problem wasn't speed or strength—it was resistance. He needed to move with the attack, not against it.

This time, when she came at him, he didn't brace for impact. He adjusted. Her stick whipped toward him again—he twisted his wrist, parrying it away like a whisper in the wind.

She thrust forward—he sidestepped, letting the attack glide past him, redirecting it with minimal effort. A sweeping strike—he ducked low, pivoting on his heel, feeling the air part just above his head. The wind carried their movements now, swirling in tandem with their clashing weapons.

Nysa's eyes glimmered with interest. The tempo had changed. She pressed forward, faster, sharper, more unpredictable. Their weapons blurred, streaks of light and shadow carving through the clearing. Every step tore apart the grass beneath them, the sheer force of their strikes sending ripples through the air.

A diagonal slash—he parried low, letting the energy disperse behind him.

A sudden feint—he didn't react, forcing her to commit before countering.

A downward strike—he met it head-on, steel against wood, the impact sending shockwaves through their surroundings.

CLANG!

Their weapons locked. The force of it blasted dust and leaves outward in a circular wave, the trees swaying from the displaced energy. For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Nysa grinned. "Not bad." Pyris grinned back, feeling the lingering tremors in his fingertips.

Not bad at all.

_____

Pyris groaned as he stirred awake, his body aching in places he hadn't even realized could ache. The training with Nysa had been brutal—relentless, unforgiving, and exactly what he needed. Every inch of him felt the aftermath of yesterday's lesson, but beneath the soreness, there was something else—progress. A new, deeper understanding of his swordsmanship, humming through him like an extension of his very being.

He exhaled, letting his mind drift back to last night. Nysa had finally stopped after he had mastered the foundations—movements that weren't just techniques but the building blocks of something far greater. In her words, they were the bare minimum he needed if he ever wanted to forge his own path in the way of the sword.

And damn, had he felt it. Every strike, every block, every flow of motion—it wasn't just practice. It was awakening.

A soft sigh next to him made him freeze.

Only now did he realize the warmth pressed against him—multiple sources of warmth.

His eyes flickered open, adjusting to the soft morning glow filtering through the grand windows of his room. The silky sheets barely covered the tangle of limbs and bodies around him. His women had somehow snuck into his bed while he was knocked out cold, curling up beside him as if they belonged there.

Which, let's be real—they absolutely did. Next to him. Too bad, he didn't think they were ready for the "morning training."

One had an arm draped lazily over his chest, her breathing slow and steady. Another had her face nestled against his neck, her soft hair tickling his skin. A third's leg was casually thrown over his, locking him in place like an affectionate trap. They were comfortable—completely at ease.

Pyris, however, was not.

Rank 17. The power he'd consolidated still pulsed within him, thrumming just beneath his skin, coiling and uncoiling like a living force. He had ascended. He could feel it, the very essence of his being shifting, stronger, more refined.

But then—Ruin.

A sharp pang of realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His entire body tensed. Where was Ruin? His entire body tensed. Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

The last thing he remembered was the little chubby menace stumbling around like a clueless newborn, struggling to even walk properly. But that was Ruin—the most dangerous force in existence—and now, it was gone.

His heart pounded, instinct screaming at him to get up and find it—

But then he remembered.

The connection.

He didn't need to search. He could feel it.

Taking a slow breath, he focused inward, reaching through the bond that linked them.

And there it was.

Inside him.

Resting.

In his Mana Pool.

Pyris blinked.

Then blinked again.

"You're kidding me," he muttered under his breath.

Ruin wasn't just sitting there—it was nesting. Resting. Waiting. A flicker of unease and fascination crawled up his spine. He reached deeper, trying to understand, to pull at the connection—

And something stirred.

The world around him dimmed. A pulse of raw, ancient power throbbed through his chest, deep and hungry.

Then, just as fast as it came—

A pair of glowing eyes snapped open inside him—this time it was far from the innocent little creature of yesterday...