Chapter 154: Spar Against His Mother Lyra (Grand Mage vs Grand Martialist)

In the guest room, now bathed in the soft morning light, Iridelle adjusted the elegant violet robe around her, a delicate blush rising on her cheeks. She glanced at Alaric, who was now fully dressed in a dark grey tunic that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique.

“Young Master Alaric,” she began shyly, her purple eyes sparkling, “You look… very dashing in that attire.” She fidgeted with the silken sash of her robe, her gaze flitting over his handsome features. “It suits you remarkably well.”

Alaric, who was just fastening the buckle of his belt, turned towards her, a playful smirk curving his lips. His ruby eyes raked over her figure, taking in the way the violet robe draped over her curves, hinting at the voluptuousness beneath. In a swift motion, he closed the distance between them, his hands settling firmly on her buttocks, his fingers kneading the soft flesh through the silken fabric.

“And you, Iridelle,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “You look… good.” He paused, his smirk widening. “Though, if I’m being honest, I still prefer you without it.” He gave her backside a playful squeeze.

Iridelle’s blush deepened, spreading across her cheeks and down her neck. “Young Master!” she exclaimed softly, though there was no real reprimand in her tone. She knew Alaric’s teasing nature well by now, and truth be told, she rather enjoyed it. “You are too honest,” she murmured, but a small, pleased smile played on her lips. “But thank you… for finding my body pleasing.”

’Pleasing?’ Alaric thought to himself, his gaze still lingering on her curves. ’Pleasing is a massive understatement. Obsessed is more like it. Utterly, completely obsessed.’ He tightened his grip on her buttocks for a moment longer, enjoying the soft feel of her beneath his hands.

“Pleasing is hardly the word I’d use, Iridelle,” he said aloud, his voice laced with a husky undertone that made her shiver. “But that will suffice for now.” He released her, though his gaze remained fixed on her, a silent promise in his eyes. “Now,” he said, stepping back slightly, “What are your plans for the morning?”

Iridelle’s expression turned slightly more serious. “I was hoping to see Natasha,” she said, her voice softening with concern. “Young Master, what you described… about the academy… it sounds truly terrible. She was there, she saw it all. I… I want to be there for her.”

Alaric nodded, his own expression turning thoughtful. “That’s a good idea, Iridelle. She will need your support, especially after witnessing something like that.” He paused, considering. “I’ll leave you to it then. I was planning on getting some training in myself.”

Iridelle’s purple eyes widened slightly, a flicker of understanding in their depths. “Training? Yes, of course. After… after what happened, it’s only prudent.” She nodded seriously, her gaze meeting his. “We don’t know what those… demons… want, or why they attacked. Being prepared is… essential.”

’Demons,’ Alaric thought, a slight frown creasing his brow. ’Still don’t know what they are, or why they attacked. Or why they attacked the academy of all places. But training… training is always a good idea.’ He pushed the thoughts aside for now.

Training was indeed what he needed.

Action, physical exertion, it was always the best way to clear his head.

“Exactly,” Alaric said aloud, nodding in agreement with Iridelle. “So, you go see Natasha, and I’ll head to the training field. We’ll meet up later?”

“Yes, Young Master,” Iridelle said softly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer, a silent question in her eyes. But she didn’t voice it, instead offering a gentle smile. “Later.”

With a final nod, they parted ways. Iridelle headed towards the guest rooms, her mind already focused on comforting her younger sister.

She knew Natasha was strong, but even the strongest individuals could be shaken by such a traumatic experience.

And Iridelle, despite her own lingering desires and the intoxicating memories of the night just past, knew that Natasha needed her sisterly support now more than ever.

Of course, Natasha would never know about Iridelle’s night of passion with Alaric. Some things were best kept private, especially when it came to matters of the heart, and… other things.

Meanwhile, Alaric made his way towards the training field, a familiar sense of purpose settling over him. The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

The Steele Family mansion’s training grounds were extensive, a sprawling area of manicured lawns, wooden dummies, and various training apparatus. Even at this early hour, the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of exertion could be heard from afar.

As he approached the main training area, a figure caught his eye. Standing in the center of the field, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun, was Lyra Steele. His mother. His slut.

Lyra had her long blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, the style emphasizing the elegant curve of her neck and the sharp angles of her jawline. She was dressed in tight-fitting training clothes, dark leggings and a sleeveless top that showcased her toned arms and the generous swell of her breasts.

Even from a distance, Alaric could see the sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her muscles flexed with each movement as she practiced her sword forms.

Lyra moved with a fluid grace, her movements precise and powerful as she wielded a gleaming steel sword.

She wasn’t just going through the motions; Alaric could see the focus in her blue eyes, the intensity in her stance.

Despite only recently reaching the Grand Martialist rank, she was clearly dedicated to honing her skills.

And Gods, did she look good doing it.

Alaric slowed his pace, his ruby eyes raking over her body, a familiar stir of lust awakening within him.

Lyra’s figure was even more voluptuous than Iridelle’s, her breasts fuller, her curves more pronounced.

The tight training clothes did little to conceal her assets, instead highlighting every curve and contour, the way her breasts swayed subtly with each swing of her sword, the way her leggings clung to her shapely legs.

Despite the night of intense passion he had just spent with Iridelle, Alaric felt his cock stir in his trousers, a primal hunger rising within him at the sight of his mother’s sweat-drenched body.

Lyra, as if sensing his presence, paused in her movements, lowering her sword. Her blue eyes, sharp and intelligent, locked onto his, a slow smile spreading across her face.

She knew that look in his eyes, she recognized the lustful gaze that lingered on her body. And she, Alaric’s devoted slut, was undeniably pleased by it. A faint blush rose on her cheeks, highlighting her high cheekbones.

“Alaric, my dear,” she said, her voice carrying across the training field, a hint of playful reproach in her tone. “Back already? I heard you returned to the mansion last night. And yet, you didn’t even bother to come and visit your own mother?” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Did you perhaps… find yourself… preoccupied elsewhere?”

Alaric approached her, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He didn’t bother to deny it, didn’t feel the need to offer any excuses.

Lyra knew him too well, and besides, there was no point in hiding anything from her. She was his mother, yes, but in their twisted dynamic, she was also his willing plaything, his devoted slut.

“Preoccupied, yes,” Alaric confirmed, his gaze lingering on her sweat-drenched chest, the way her breasts strained against the fabric of her top. “With… important matters.” He let the implication hang in the air, knowing Lyra would understand perfectly well what those ’important matters’ entailed.

Lyra let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head but still smiling. “I see,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Iridelle, was it?” She didn’t need confirmation, it was more of a statement than a question.

“Among others,” Alaric replied casually, shrugging slightly. “But that’s not why I’m here now, mother.” He gestured towards her sword, his ruby eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I’m here for a spar.”

Lyra’s playful pout instantly transformed into an eager grin. “A spar? With me? My dear, you read my mind!” Her submissive side, the one that craved his attention and approval, was clearly delighted. She straightened up, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I’d be honored to test your skills, Alaric. Though, be warned, just because I’m your mother doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alaric replied, a matching grin spreading across his face. He drew his own sword, the steel gleaming in the morning light.

For this spar, Alaric naturally didn’t plan to use his Azure Spirit Lion’s Beast Essence and just use his skills as a Grand Mage.

As a Grand Mage, he had long since mastered the art of enhancing his physical abilities with magic. He was curious to see how his magic-infused martial arts would fare against his mother’s pure martial prowess.

’Time to see what a few months of Grand Martialist training have done for her,’ he thought, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him.

Lyra shifted into a ready stance, her practice sword held lightly but firmly in her hand. A faint golden aura shimmered around her, the telltale sign of a martial artist channeling their Battle Aura.

“Prepare yourself, Alaric,” she said, her voice now focused, all traces of playful teasing gone. “I’ve been honing my skills, and I’m eager to see how far you’ve come as well.”

Alaric mirrored her stance, his own magic energy subtly swirling around him, though less visibly than Lyra’s Battle Aura. He channeled elemental magic, preparing to weave fire and wind into his movements, enhancing his speed and power.

“Let’s begin, Mother,” Alaric said, his voice low and steady.

Lyra lunged first, her movements surprisingly swift and powerful for someone who had only recently reached the Grand Martialist rank. Her sword flashed in a rapid series of strikes, each one aimed with precision and force. “Steel Serpent Strikes!” she called out, naming her technique as she attacked.

Alaric met her assault head-on, his sword meeting hers with a resounding clang of metal. He deflected her initial strikes, the impact jarring slightly even with his magic-enhanced strength. Lyra’s swordsmanship was indeed impressive, honed by years of dedicated practice, now amplified by her Grand Martialist Battle Aura.

He parried another strike, then another, each clash echoing across the training field. Lyra was relentless, her sword a blur of motion, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. “Dancing Dragon’s Tail!” she cried, executing a sweeping horizontal cut aimed at his legs.

Alaric reacted instantly, leaping back to avoid the sweeping blade, then countering with a swift thrust of his own. “Wind Blade!” he chanted silently, channeling wind magic into his sword, the blade whistling through the air with enhanced speed.

Lyra parried his thrust, her movements fluid and economical, years of muscle memory guiding her blade. She countered with a series of rapid jabs, each one precise and dangerous. “Piercing Sparrow’s Peck!” she shouted, her sword darting forward like a striking bird.

Alaric dodged and weaved, his magic-enhanced reflexes allowing him to anticipate her attacks. He deflected the jabs, his sword a whirlwind of motion around him, deflecting, parrying, countering. He incorporated fire magic now, channeling flames into his blade, the air around his sword shimmering with heat. “Flame Dance!” he muttered, unleashing a series of fiery slashes, each one leaving trails of heat in the air.

Lyra danced back, avoiding the fiery strikes, her expression focused, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration. She was impressed, he could tell. Alaric’s fighting style was indeed unpredictable, a chaotic blend of magic and martial arts that was difficult to read and counter. Her own style, grounded in years of disciplined training and mastery of basic forms, was more traditional, more predictable, but also incredibly solid and experienced.

“You’ve improved, my dear,” Lyra said, her voice slightly breathless but still strong, as she parried another of his fiery strikes. “Your magic integration is becoming quite seamless.”

“And you’re as tenacious as ever, Mother,” Alaric retorted, deflecting a powerful overhead strike. “Still relying on those basic forms, I see?” He teased, knowing it would provoke her.

Lyra grinned, her eyes flashing with competitive fire. “Basic forms are the foundation, Alaric! Master them, and you can do anything!”

She unleashed a flurry of attacks, her sword a whirlwind of steel, each strike imbued with her Battle Aura, making them heavier, faster, more powerful. “Raging Tiger’s Claws!” she roared, her sword a blur of slashing attacks.

Alaric met her onslaught, his own sword dancing, deflecting, countering, his magic enhancing his speed and strength, allowing him to keep pace with her relentless assault. The clang of metal on metal echoed across the training field, a rhythmic symphony of battle, punctuated by their grunts and shouts as they pushed each other to their limits.

’She’s good,’ Alaric thought, a thrill of excitement coursing through him. ’Really good. She’s actually pushing me.’ He was enjoying this spar, the challenge, the dance of blades, the familiar scent of sweat and exertion mixing with the faint fragrance of Lyra’s perfume.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this combat with his mother, a blend of familial connection and something far more complex.

Lyra, too, was clearly enjoying herself. Her blue eyes sparkled with exhilaration, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her smile wide and genuine despite the intensity of the fight. She was pushing herself, testing her limits, reveling in the thrill of combat, and in the unique intimacy of sparring with her son, her lover, her master.

“Come on, Alaric!” she taunted, her voice ringing with laughter as she launched another powerful attack. “Is that all you’ve got? Show your mother what you’ve learned!”

Meanwhile, Alaric had a teasing smile on his face.

“Hmm. I wonder thought…Is it getting a little… difficult to maneuver with all that up top, Mother?” He asked as he gestured with his sword towards Lyra’s chest, his ruby eyes twinkling with mischief. “I mean, all that… assets must be weighing you down, especially when you’re trying to be all nimble.”

Lyra’s blue eyes widened for a split second, genuine surprise flickering across her face before a deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, spreading like wildfire from her neck upwards. Her mouth opened slightly, as if to retort, but no words came out. She just stared at Alaric, momentarily flustered, her usual confident demeanor faltering just for a heartbeat.

Alaric seized that fleeting moment of distraction. ’Perfect timing,’ he thought, a surge of magic energy coursing through him. He stepped back slightly, widening the distance between them just enough to begin the familiar rhythmic chanting of a spell.

“Zephyr’s Embrace, winds obey my call,” he began, his voice resonating with magical power, the air around him starting to subtly shift and swirl. He focused his intent, drawing on the wind element, visualizing gusts and gales gathering at his command. “Gather now, in furious squall,” he continued, the chant growing stronger, the wind picking up around the training field, leaves rustling on nearby trees, dust swirling at their feet. “Unleash your fury, break and fall—”

Lyra, snapping out of her momentary blush-induced stupor, realized what Alaric was doing just as he was about to complete his spell. Her eyes widened in alarm. ’Damn it, Alaric, you sly fox!’ she thought, her competitive spirit roaring back to life. She wasn’t about to let him unleash a powerful spell while she was standing there like a lovesick fool.

With a guttural cry, she channeled her Battle Aura to its maximum, the golden energy flaring around her like a miniature sun, intensifying the already impressive aura she had been projecting. Her movements became lightning fast, a blur of motion as she launched herself towards Alaric, her practice sword held out in front of her, crackling with newly awakened Sword Qi.

“Not so fast, my dear—!” Lyra roared, interrupting Alaric’s chant mid-word, her voice a battle cry as she closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Alaric cursed inwardly, ’Damn, she’s fast!’ He knew he wouldn’t have time to complete the spell now. He swiftly broke off the chant, the swirling winds dissipating as he shifted his focus from spellcasting to defense. He raised his sword just in time to meet Lyra’s furious attack, the clang of metal on metal ringing out with even greater force than before.

Lyra’s sword, now infused with Sword Qi, felt heavier, sharper, more dangerous. The air around her blade shimmered with a faint, almost invisible energy, a testament to the power she was now wielding. She unleashed a relentless flurry of attacks, her sword techniques now imbued with a new level of destructive force.

“Whirlwind Assault!” she yelled, her sword a spinning vortex of steel, each strike aimed to overwhelm his defenses, to break through his guard with sheer power and speed. The training ground around them began to suffer under the intensity of their spar. Patches of grass were torn up, training dummies were sent flying, and the very air crackled with magical and martial energy.

Alaric grunted with effort as he parried and deflected Lyra’s onslaught. Her Sword Qi enhanced attacks were significantly stronger than anything she had thrown at him before. He could feel the force of each blow reverberating through his sword and into his arm, even with his magic enhancements. ’Sword Qi, huh? Not bad, Mother. Not bad at all,’ he thought, a grudging respect mixed with a thrill of excitement.

He shifted his fighting style, abandoning the purely defensive stance and meeting Lyra’s aggression with his own. “Flame Burst!” he chanted, this time a shorter, faster spell, unleashing a sudden burst of fire magic from his sword, a wave of heat and flames erupting outwards to meet Lyra’s whirlwind assault.

The fire clashed against Lyra’s Sword Qi, a visible ripple of energy exploding outwards, scorching the ground and sending gusts of wind whipping through the training field. Lyra didn’t flinch, pushing through the flames, her Battle Aura shielding her from the heat as she pressed her attack.

“Crimson Slash!” she roared, her sword arcing downwards in a powerful diagonal cut, imbued with even more Sword Qi, leaving a faint red trail of energy in its wake.

Alaric barely managed to parry the Crimson Slash, the force of the blow nearly knocking his sword from his grasp. He staggered back a step, feeling the raw power of Lyra’s Sword Qi techniques. ’Okay, she’s definitely not holding back anymore,’ he realized, a grin spreading across his face. ’Good. Neither will I.’

He retaliated with a barrage of his own spells, weaving elemental magic into his swordsmanship, creating a dazzling display of power. “Ice Shards!” he chanted, sending a volley of razor-sharp ice shards flying towards Lyra, forcing her to defend. As she deflected the ice, he followed up with, “Water Whip!” conjuring a whip of water magic that lashed out at her legs, trying to trip her up.

Lyra was forced to jump back, narrowly avoiding the water whip, her movements agile and responsive. She countered with her own techniques, her sword techniques now flowing with a newfound fluidity and power thanks to her Sword Qi. “Flowing Stream Defense!” she declared, her sword moving in a series of intricate, defensive patterns, deflecting Alaric’s spells and attacks with practiced ease.

Their battle raged on, a whirlwind of steel and magic, tearing up the training ground, shattering practice dummies, and sending shockwaves of energy rippling outwards. Alaric unleashed a barrage of elemental spells – searing flames, freezing ice, torrents of water, and crackling bolts of lightning – each spell more powerful and destructive than the last.

“Inferno Blast!” he roared, sending a wave of fire engulfing a section of the training field. “Glacier Spike!” he chanted, summoning a massive spike of ice from the ground, aimed to impale Lyra.

“Torrential Wave!” he cried, unleashing a surge of water magic, flooding a portion of the field. “Lightning Strike!” he yelled, bolts of lightning crackling from his fingertips, striking the ground around Lyra.

Lyra, however, was not overwhelmed. She met his magical onslaught with her own martial prowess, her Sword Qi and Battle Aura enhancing her defenses and attacks to incredible levels.

She deflected the flames with powerful slashes of her sword, the Sword Qi acting as a barrier against the heat. She shattered the ice spike with a focused strike of her blade, the Sword Qi shattering the ice into harmless shards. She cut through the torrential wave with precise sword movements, parting the water like Moses parting the Red Sea. And she dodged the lightning strikes with lightning-fast reflexes, her Battle Aura enhancing her speed and agility.

“Impressive, Alaric, truly impressive!” Lyra shouted over the din of battle, her voice filled with exhilaration. “Your spells are far stronger than before! But are they strong enough to break through this?”

With a roar, Lyra unleashed her ultimate technique, a culmination of her Sword Qi and Battle Aura, a technique she had been honing for weeks, ever since she had unlocked her Sword Qi. “Celestial Severance!” she bellowed, her sword rising above her head, gathering energy, shimmering with an almost blinding light. She brought the sword down in a devastating vertical strike, unleashing a wave of pure Sword Qi energy, a blade of invisible force that tore through the air towards Alaric.

The force of the attack was immense, the air itself seemed to distort and ripple as the Sword Qi wave hurtled towards him. Alaric’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the sheer power of Lyra’s technique. He knew he couldn’t simply block this attack head-on. He needed to evade, to redirect, to counter with something equally powerful.

’Alright, Mother, let’s see if you can handle this,’ Alaric thought, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He channeled all his remaining magic energy, focusing his intent, drawing on the most volatile and destructive element he knew – lightning. He began to chant, his voice resonating with raw power, the air around him crackling with electric energy, the sky above darkening ominously despite the morning sun.

“Storm’s Fury, skies ignite and roar,” he chanted, his ruby eyes blazing with magical intensity. Lightning crackled around his fingertips, arcs of electricity dancing across his skin. “Unleash the tempest, strike and soar,” he continued, the chant building in power, the air growing thick with ozone, the ground vibrating beneath their feet. “Thunder Emperor’s Wrath!”

Just as Lyra’s Celestial Severance wave was about to crash into him, Alaric unleashed his spell, a bolt of pure lightning erupting from his hand, a blinding flash of white-hot energy that collided head-on with Lyra’s Sword Qi attack.

The impact was cataclysmic. The training ground exploded in a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar of thunder. The ground beneath them cracked and splintered, sending chunks of earth and stone flying in all directions. The air itself seemed to buckle and warp, the force of the collision creating a shockwave that rippled outwards, flattening the remaining training dummies and shaking the very foundations of the mansion.

Both Alaric and Lyra were thrown back by the force of the explosion, stumbling back several paces, their swords clattering to the ground. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring their vision, the lingering scent of ozone and burnt earth heavy in their nostrils.

The spar, for now, was abruptly, and spectacularly, concluded.