Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] Chapter 139: Book 2: Chapter 53: Rematch

Read chapter 139 of Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] by TTReynolds on NovelPedia.

Book 2: Chapter 53: Rematch Book 2: Chapter 53: Rematch The battlefield tore itself apart under their feet. Alex surged forward first, blinding aether licking at the edges of his fists as the [Flare] spell erupted from his palm. The Aeralith Prince barely shifted his stance, sliding through the explosion like the wind itself, his blade cutting the shockwave in half. The counterstrike came fast, too fast, Alex barely brought his forearm up in time, the impact ringing down his bones even as his [Shield] spell flared to life, absorbing the brunt of the blow with a ripple of abure-blue. The prince’s eyes gleamed behind the mask. What Alex saw wasn’t amusement and not quite surprise, something colder. “You’ve improved.” Alex’s grin was feral. “I had to.” The next exchange was a blur. Alex’s feet carved arcs through shattered earth as he shifted through Demon Asura stances, his body twisting low, pivoting high, parrying one strike while kicking off the ground to launch a counter. The prince met every move, his swordplay smooth as a breeze, turning aside Alex’s raw aggression with infuriating precision. Alex wove spells into his rhythm, each strike punctuated by controlled bursts of magic. [Flare] erupted point-blank with his punches, forcing the prince back a half-step. Alex chained into [Earth-Chain], jagged aether constructed links snapping up from the ground to lash at his opponent. For a heartbeat, the prince was caught, his movements slowed… and then shadow magic bled from his blade, slicing the chains to ash. “You think to bind the wind?” The prince mocked. He spun, silver aether gathering and forming at his feet, launching a cutting gust that sent Alex tumbling backward to avoid his feet being severed. Alex hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up with a [Wind Lance] already forming in his hand. His newly routed aether channels sang under the demand of his spells, the flow smooth, flawless, energy poured through the energy-veins like liquid lightning. He launched the spell, followed by a darting rush of Asura footwork, closing the gap before the prince could counter. Their blade and fists met, shockwaves blasting loose rubble into the air. The prince’s wind barrier clashed against the demonic strength of Alex’s stance, every strike exploding with a crack of force. They traded feints, counters, near-lethal sweeps, neither gaining ground for more than a second. Alex’s mind was alive with focus, Obby highlighted incoming wind spells, prediction trajectories. Indicators for subtle stance changes flashed and vanished rapidly as the sentient rock fed him information rapidly. Every breath was timed. Every muscle in perfect sync with the movement. For the first time, he was flowing through the fight. Just like he had briefly seen with Sylvaris, a harmony of martial style and spellcasting, the exact lessons he was supposed to be learning from the scroll the elf had left him. His knowledge only touched on the concepts, a dipped toe in the ocean. But it was something. A flash of shadow-laced wind screamed toward him, Alex planted himself, flaring his aether channels to their limit, and cast [Shield] just in time. The blast shattered against it, but cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier, light bleeding from the edges. Alex shoved through, stepping into the storm with a roar. He struck with a right hook, augmented by [Flare], trailing dark aether across the prince’s chestplate. The smell of scorched metal hit the air. For the first time, the prince slid back two full steps. His eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Better,” the prince said softly. “But still not enough.” Alex spat blood and reset his stance, smokey purple-blue energy curling around his limbs. “Then keep trying me, fuck around and find out.” The prince lifted his blade in response, shadows swirling, and the air itself seemed to tremble as the fight reached its fever pitch. And then they clashed again, two storms colliding, tearing the hilltop apart blow by blow. Alex’s breaths