Chapter 89
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Warrior and Master, Woman and Man
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-Thwack! Smack!
"Hah... huff..."
"Hooo..."
A rugged man's body, reminiscent of a Greek statue, and a graceful brown feminine form that any man would drool over intertwined busily, pressing together and parting repeatedly.
I'd long since stripped off the thin robe that had been getting in the way, and Atalanta had only been wearing a simple cloth garment herself, now soaked with sweat, her brown skin teasing seductively beneath the clinging fabric.
"What's wrong, tired already?"
"Hng... hnggg!!"
Under my relentless barrage, Atalanta panted harshly as she gathered her strength and charged again, but I deftly caught her momentum and shoved her back.
-Boom!
"Kugh!!"
Unable to control her charging force, Atalanta flew back from my gesture, tumbling far away.
The spot where she and I had faced off was atop one of the wooden pillars I'd personally driven into the ground.
"You were doing well, but you always charge in the moment you get a little tired or let your guard down. Still haven't fixed that habit?"
"Nngh... but..."
"But what? Why do you think I went to the trouble of setting up all these wooden pillars to make a training ground?"
Humans instinctively fear leaving the ground with their bodies or feet, so this training ground exploited that instinct—moving across tall wooden pillars to naturally hone footwork.
The Boundless Fighting Demon had trained me atop a stone pillar dizzyingly high, like a small hill.
Even as a soul, the spine-tingling sense of floating and the impact of crashing to the ground had felt vividly real, like phantom pain.
I'd desperately dueled him up there, clinging to life and death, mastering that footwork and the Fighting Demon Art.
Taking that as my model, I'd spared no effort to help Atalanta master the Fighting Demon Art's footwork faster and more surely.
"Back in my day, it was so high you couldn't even see the ground. Anyway, deduction!"
"Tch..."
I stood unscathed atop the pillar, while Atalanta had already rolled across the ground several times, not a single spot on her left unharmed.
Atop the towering wooden pillars, our fierce martial arts duel unfolded.
Anyone would gasp at such a harsh and dangerous training method, but it was equally effective for sure results.
"Tsk... you still instinctively go for a slugfest whenever there's an opening? Haven't fixed that temper?"
"I can't help it! My body just..."
"Shut your mouth!"
My voice shifted in an instant, startling Atalanta into looking up, but I was already gone from where she'd been staring.
"One more thing—what do you do in a fight?"
It's not over until one of you dies.
A kick similar to the one Atalanta had launched at the iron giant earlier, but far faster and heavier, flew toward her head.
"Urgh!"
Sensing the attack, Atalanta hastily raised her guard, but I mentally deducted points for her form.
"Don't block—dive in."
The Fighting Demon Art's strength lay in its aggressive external style: charging like lightning in any situation or stance to seize the enemy's meridians first.
Like her signature pankration joint locks, it should reverse the enemy's meridians to induce qi deviation, or overwhelm them with such ferocious attacks that they couldn't even react to gather energy.
Attack was the best defense. Even when taking hits, you clung on relentlessly, snatching victory from the goddess herself by wrenching the enemy's neck—that was the essence of the Fighting Demon Art.
From the moment she hit the ground and tried to defensively block my attack, her Fighting Demon Art had already lost its momentum and weakened.
-Crack!
"Kaaaaagh!"
As I'd predicted, Atalanta took my side kick head-on and flew back, rolling across the ground several times.
When she staggered to her feet, her arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, likely broken.
"Nngh... ah, it hurts..."
"You can vent all your grudges and anger later. Not now."
Atalanta wasn't dead yet, nor in qi deviation or crippled beyond movement.
The Boundless Fighting Demon.
A grandmaster revered across the martial world, the pinnacle of masters who led a hundred thousand demonic paths and came closest to conquering the world in the Heavenly Demon Cult's history.
She wasn't just peeking over his shoulder at his ultimate techniques—she'd stolen their essence and fled. Mastering them fully wasn't merely a goal for her; it was a duty.
"Even if you gathered every human in Greece, there'd be more martial artists desperate for a single form of what you just used. Got it?"
That was the legacy of the Twelve Divine Demons, the ultimate arts of the Heavenly Demon Cult's grandmasters.
A miracle born from abysmal odds rivaling the histories of great sects piled over decades, fused with once-in-a-millennium talent.
I'd honed it through countless deaths and lives in timeless limbo. When that miracle reemerged in the world...
I bore the overwhelming faith of devotees who dismissed even Zeus the Supreme God, ascending to the seat of a living deity.
I clashed with masters rivaling the Titans priests spoke of, leveling mountains into plains, drying rivers until they vanished from maps.
"So get up. If you sit there whimpering like some ordinary girl over a broken arm, I'll never forgive you."
These demonic arts were their history, my second life. Building the Heavenly Demon Divine Art to perfection on the Twelve Demons' legacies had led me here.
I could take it easy on everything else, accepting it all with a shrug, but never on martial arts.
-Craaaack!
The sound of splintering wood echoed from behind.
The pillars couldn't withstand the shock of my steps from moments ago.
"...!!"
At the sight, Atalanta's ruby eyes darted between me and the pillars behind, forgetting her arm's pain in shock.
* * *
Atalanta's arm was broken, and though it was to teach her a lesson, I'd half-destroyed the pillar training ground, so training ended for the day.
She hadn't lost consciousness, but after giving her all, she collapsed limply.
Caked in dirt, blood trickling from her hair and face, broken arm and all.
Like a warrior fallen on the battlefield or a novice who'd completed exemplary training. Satisfied, I scooped her up with a smile.
"Nngh... couldn't land a single hit again today..."
"Hey, hey, don't you remember last time when you nearly killed me? I even took a trip to the Styx for the first time in ages."
"Tch, you just tanked it all, that's why. Still, I made you sweat quite a bit, huh?"
Atalanta smugly trailed her fingers over my sweat-slicked chest.
"Yeah, you can be proud."
At our first meeting's tap dance battle, I'd pushed her back without breaking a sweat.
Now, with the Fighting Demon Art ripening nicely, she kept me busy matching her—no wounds, but plenty of action.
"Just those bad habits holding you back. You're ready for real combat right now."
I set her down in the shade of our usual massive oak rest spot and began pointing out her flaws and mistakes from today, caressing her body as I went.
"Eek! T-tickles!"
"Hold still."
Tensed neck and shoulders knotted with effort. Overloaded back and shoulder blades from repeated heavy strikes. And those full breasts that had stolen my gaze even mid-fight.
"Hng... haa!"
I traced them one by one with my fingertips, using the divine power Nemesis taught me to heal serious wounds and activate muscles for recovery and growth.
Whether from the relief or our closeness, Atalanta let out strange nasal sounds, gazing at me.
Honestly, the warrior woman meekly nestled in my arms, her heaving chest streaked with dirt and sweat—it nearly stirred me.
"Ssssip... ah, ow! That hurts!"
Poke her broken bone, and the mood vanished as she teared up, whining.
"Of course it hurts. If it didn't at this stage, you'd whine then too—and that'd mean you're in real trouble. I'll fetch Asclepius."
"...Sigh. Aagh! Slower!"
Truth be told, I was a vigorous young man, and Atalanta was a stunning, wild beauty worth dying for.
When she tempted so openly, blood naturally rushed south.
But now wasn't the time for Greek-style dalliances—we needed to review today's training while it was fresh.
"I know what you want, and I want it too. But not now. Perfect spar, perfect recovery—let's review while it's hot."
"Nooo... fine!"
True to her passionate nature in all things, she shot me resentful eyes for holding back her heat.
Yet at mention of the duel, her gaze sharpened into a martial artist's poise.
I felt both regret and pride.
"See? I'm not using my inner energy or divine power like you are. Yet the pillars I stepped on are splintered, while yours stand fine?"
"Because you're stronger?"
"No, honestly, your body's perfect in every way. But..."
How long did we sit reviewing the duel face-to-face?
Only after Apollo's chariot dipped lower could we wrap up.
"The key is composure and control. A rampaging beast kills people, but...?"
"A trained warrior hunts the beast."
"Right."
True to her fame as Greece's renowned heroine, Atalanta grasped my teachings sharply, nodding vigorously.
A disciple who takes it all in so well is a feast for the eyes.
As I declared training over with satisfaction, Atalanta charged like an arrow.
"Mwah!"
"Mmph?!"
A moist sensation covered my lips in an instant.
Her intense feminine scent filled my nostrils, those seductive ruby eyes sparkling before me.
Just like I'd taught her today—a warrior's gap exploit, a surprise flesh-and-blood assault. I could only surrender.
-Smack... smooch!
"Haa... huff!"
Her sweet, soft lips invaded my mouth as reward for the grueling training, her breath stealing mine in retaliation.
Her crimson eyes burned with desperate thirst. Chuckling helplessly, I yielded my breath to her.
The still-scorching sun, shielded by cool tree shade.
A perfect moment for man and woman to share scents and a light kiss.