Narisva Starisnova had never tasted the floor before.
She lay sprawled across the training arena in a pool of her own shimmering Celestial blood. Both her hands were gone, severed cleanly at the wrists. Her right eye was a hollow, mangled ruin. Dozens of sword cuts slashed across her body. Her Achilles tendons were sliced. Walking was a fantasy now, one she couldn't even pretend to reach for. Pain burned across her nerves, but worse than the pain was the emptiness.
Her Boon that had never let her get defeated was silent as though even it was ashamed. A shadow fell over her ruined form. Narisva forced her remaining eye open.
Lysameria Richinaria was smiling.
"Well," Lysameria said, crouching. "I expected the strongest Divine of the Third Generation to be stronger. However, it seems you're simply too weak."
Narisva tried to snarl back but she couldn't lift her torso. Her muscles refused. Her body trembled under the weight of a defeat she had never been designed to understand.
Lysameria's blade slipped into view and plunged into Narisva's chest. Narisva's breath shattered into a ragged gasp. Her spine arched. For a second, the world flared white.
Lysameria pushed harder until the hilt of the blade kissed her sternum and then sank deeper still, forcing stone to crack beneath the impact. Then she ripped it out with a wet, merciless pull.
"You Third Generation girls," Lysameria wiped the blade on Narisva's torn tunic, "are weak as shit. My son truly has weak beloveds."
The words struck harder than the blade because around her were the others. Lysameria had dismantled them like toys.
Adelasta's arm was severed at the elbow, her regeneration failing for the first time in her life. Elyonari's left leg was carved open from hip to ankle. Phaenora had a gaping stab wound through her shoulder and a missing eye. What terrified them was that their bodies weren't healing. Lysameria had struck them with something beyond their comprehension.
"A Richinaria's beloved must be powerful but what I'm seeing here are weak points. Cracks. Vulnerabilities. You're all Third Enlightenment yet you crumble like children. I wonder what my son even saw in you four. In truth, you should be thankful Enlightenment Powers no longer exist. Had you relied on them, your inexperience would have killed you outright. A mercy, maybe."
She paused beside Narisva.
"And you are the most disappointing of all."
Narisva's remaining eye glared at her.
She was the strongest Divine of her generation. She had never lost. Her Boon had carved a path of invincibility through every challenge.
Lysameria knelt, bringing her face inches from Narisva's.
"The strongest Divine reduced to this? Tell me, child. How does it feel to discover your victories were nothing but illusions? That you were never strong, only favored?"
Narisva's throat tightened. A sob tried to claw its way out, but she swallowed it down. Hard. She would not cry.
"We are raised in a matriarchal world. This is a world where women must be powerful to shape society. To rule. To choose their mates. That is why I chose my husband. That's why you and the others chose my son. He is powerful, worthy and beautiful in bloodline and strength."
She flicked her gaze around the hall.
"But all of you are being overshadowed by him. Not one of you, except perhaps you Narisva, comes close to matching him. And I loathe that."
She pointed her blade toward Adelasta, Elyonari and Phaenora.
"They are pathetic. If I could, I would have told my son to choose differently and choose women who could stand beside him without becoming burdens."
Her gaze returned to Narisva.
"But it's too late for that, isn't it? His bonds with you are too deep. Even a mother cannot sever them. So instead, I will teach you. I will break you. I will carve strength into your bones and force power into your veins through agony and humiliation, because you will not embarrass my son again."
Lysameria lifted her hand. Body Reconstruction answered her. Muscles wove themselves. Bone shards slid back into place. Skin stitched shut in smooth, instantaneous sweeps. Severed limbs regrew. Adelasta's arm reformed in a flash of cerulean light. Elyonari's shredded leg reshaped. Phaenora's missing eye grew back as though rewound in time.
With a bored flick of her wrist, Lysameria summoned a sphere of water the size of a boulder. They barely had time to breathe before she released it. Even for Divines, it was extremely cold. All four gasped, bodies jerking in instinctive shock. Their freshly healed nerves screamed at them. They shivered so violently their teeth cracked together. Lysameria stood over them with her arms crossed, looking down like a disappointed professor forced to teach a class.
"That is to help with the shock and tingling from regeneration. You'll live."
They didn't answer. They were too busy trying not to collapse again. Lysameria continued anyway.
"Also, if you don't impress me before my son returns, I will personally make sure none of you see him again."
A wave of dread rippled through the room. Phaenora, still trembling, forced herself upright.
"Veneri wouldn't allow that."
"He wouldn't allow it? Darling, I am a Nexus. He may be a Dynasty Monarch but he doesn't defy me. Not yet. And he shouldn't. Monarchs need strong companions. Right now, you are not strong. You're liabilities with titles."
Phaenora's jaw clenched. Adelasta finally spoke though it wasn't as cold as before.
"Should… should we have trained with him instead?"
Lysameria laughed.
"Train with Vastarael? Girls, my son could take all of you head-on and survive easily. He knows your combat habits. He's smarter, refined and unlike you, he's constantly improving. And before you comfort yourselves with delusions, I didn't use Divine Energy against you earlier. I didn't even use my Divinity. Just my sword. Despite that, you still couldn't keep up."
Lysameria stepped back and looked at the four of them as though she was assessing weapons rather than future daughters-in-law.
"My daughter and stepchildren are handling Richinaria. Which means for the first time in ages, I have time to train you properly. And your first task is simple."
Her gaze slid to Phaenora.
"Fight Narisva to the death."
Phaenora asked: "Why me?"
"Because you are the weakest of my son's beloveds."
Phaenora's eyes widened with fury, but she didn't speak.
"And unfortunately for you, you're an Omniscient. You can copy some of my son's capabilities. That should make you the second strongest among his beloveds, just below Narisva. But instead, you're embarrassingly weak."
Lysameria turned her blade toward the Celestial woman.
"As for you, Narisva, if you hold back for even a second, I will intervene personally. And this time?, I won't be in a playful mood."
Narisva swallowed hard.
"Divinity is allowed. All abilities are allowed. The winner will immediately fight the next opponent. And then the next, until she defeats all her rivals."
She clapped once. The sound was like a thunderclap. With a flick of her fingers, space warped. Water coiled around the hall and then expanded, forming a towering barrier of shimmering liquid at the edges. Lysameria, Adelasta, and Elyonari were lifted and carried by the water, deposited gently against high walls to her a proper view.
Only two remained in the center of the arena: Narisva Starisnova and Phaenora.
Lysameria folded her arms and leaned back as a throne of ice materialized before she sat on it.
"Begin."
The water barrier shimmered, locking them in, isolating the two women like specimens in a trial they couldn't refuse. Phaenora's playful, teasing vibe was gone. Narisva rose to her feet slowly as Celestial Divinity kindled inside her. Her right eye still ached from phantom pain. Phaenora cracked her knuckles.
"Well then, guess I get to beat the Celestial today."
"If you can."