Chapter 139: I Surrender "Monsters..." That was the only sentence Veyra could utter as she watched them since the very first clash. The sheer violence of their strikes still echoed in her ears, a low, trembling thunder that refused to fade. The Patriarch and his son moved too quickly for the naked eye to follow, each swing of their swords a quake that threatened to tear the very hall apart. Her lips parted slightly as she stared. Not many people could clash with the Patriarch even once and live to tell the tale. To stand against him more than once... to still be alive after dozens of exchanges? That was beyond belief. Not even she, his trusted subordinate, could clash with him like this. And even if the Patriarch was holding back, still standing against that much force was incredible. Veyra turned her head, just slightly, toward Julius. The boy was slack-jawed, staring at the battlefield as though he were witnessing the descent of gods. His knuckles were white where they gripped. Veyra’s throat tightened. Heat rose in her chest and sank low in her stomach. She pressed her thighs together, a shiver running through her body. ’Goddess above... I want him to breed me already,’ She thought with sudden, shocking clarity. Her breath hitched. It wasn’t her fault. It was nature itself. Winter women were born with an instinct etched into their blood — the undeniable attraction to strength. To stand near overwhelming power was to feel a primal call. And Azel... Azel had been radiating it since she met him. She turned her gaze toward Edna. The older woman’s eyes were locked on Azel too, but hers carried a different heat. Veyra’s chest tightened with something she rarely felt — hesitation. ’I hope she doesn’t mind if I become his second wife... or something like that,’ she thought, biting her lip. It was natural, wasn’t it? For strong men to take multiple wives or concubines. Patriarchs, kings, conquerors — they all did. The Patriarch himself could have had a hundred wives, but he hadn’t. Not because no one desired him, but because he had no time for them. .. The battle continued. Azariah’s strikes fell like falling stars, each one heavier, faster, more brutal than the last. His swordsmanship pressed Azel further and further back, his every parry straining against the weight of inevitability. The Patriarch’s blade gleamed white, each movement trailing divine pressure that cut wind and stone alike. The floor beneath them cracked with every step, dust falling from the rafters above. Azel’s arms trembled under the force. Sweat slicked his palms. His aura wrapped his arms, healing him each time his flesh split open, but the relentless pressure of his father’s onslaught carved exhaustion into his bones. Azariah’s chest rose and fell heavily. A bead of sweat traced his jawline. He hadn’t expected this fight to last so long. Not against his son. And yet — here he was, having to build pressure for the third style. He clashed again, the shockwave rattling the hall. As the blades locked, his crimson eyes gleamed with thought. ’The third style isn’t easy. It demands momentum, timing. Each clash fuels it. But one thing bothers me...’ His gaze flicked to Azel, who met his glare with burning defiance. ’This boy can reflect my art back at me instantly.’ That danger forced him to reconsider. But only for a moment. ’If I put enough power into my strike...’ His teeth clenched. ’His bones could shatter outright. He’ll heal later. And in the end, I’ll get what I came for — divinity.’ Resolve hardened. The next series of strikes were deliberate. Each swing drew in wind, built pressure, stacked momentum. Azel felt it. His instincts screamed at him, louder with every heartbeat. His skin prickled with the forewarning of death. Was this man truly trying to kill him? Azel didn’t know. But then it happened. The air changed. Everything in the hall seemed to still. Azel knew. This next one... this is it. The strike that could end him. Azariah’s eyes narrowed as he raised his sword high. His stance was perfect, his aura condensed into the blade until it hummed like a star about to collapse. Then it fell. Azel didn’t even bother trying Reversal. He could tell from a single glance that this strike was different. So instead, he called upon something he had sworn he’d perfected. ’Alternative Style — Star Defense!’ Golden light flared. Azel’s bone sword shone as if it had swallowed the heavens. The aura that usually cut and tore now bent inward, folding upon itself until it became a shield. Starlight wasn’t meant to defend. But Azel had bled and broken himself perfecting it. Azariah’s sword came crashing down. Bone met Starlight. The sound was indescribable — a shriek of cosmos grinding against divinity. Sparks of gold and white exploded outward. Azariah’s eyes widened as his sword fractured, cracks racing along its length. With a shattering roar, the Patriarch’s weapon splintered into dust, the fragments dissolving into light before they touched the ground. Azel’s own blade didn’t fare much better. It crumbled in his hands as the golden light faded, the volatile shield devouring itself. His arms throbbed with pain, the backlash threatening to tear muscle from bone. A smile tugged at his lips. "I call this the ultimate defense," he said through heavy breaths. "Like it?" Silence. The hall was frozen. Even Azariah stared for a heartbeat, his chest rising and falling, his gaze unreadable. Then another voice broke through. [ I’m still in awe how you managed to turn the stars that were meant to slice... into a shield. ] Kyone’s voice echoed in Azel’s mind, still tinged with disbelief. Azel smirked inwardly. ’Guess all that blowing paid off,’ he thought grimly. But even as the glow faded and dust settled, he knew the truth. One more clash, and his father would have defeated him. He wasn’t even facing him seriously. Before Azariah could move again, Azel raised his hands high. "I surrender." It was the wisest decision he had ever made. Who wanted to be stuck in an endless battle with a man barely hiding his desire to beat him to the brink of death? The Patriarch blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. "Hahaha~ Looks like I’ve won!" He tossed aside the broken hilt of his sword and spread his arms wide, the victor basking in his triumph. [ Ugh... I did this for you, Esteemed Husband ] Kyone muttered bitterly. Then it came. A drop of divine energy descended from the unseen heavens, glimmering like liquid starlight. It sank into Azariah’s body, and instantly the air around him shifted. Pressure surged outward. The hall glowed faintly as the Patriarch’s body radiated divinity. He shifted into a meditative stance, his form serene, his aura terrifying in its purity. Azel’s eyes narrowed. ’Fucking bastard,’ he thought with a sneer. ’He wanted the divine energy from the start.’ [Author’s Note] Phew thanks for reaching the goals, I wrote the Chapters according to what I owe and I still owe like two more. I’ll do them when I wake up fam, I’m tired 🖤so later and thanks for reading.