The Demon Lord Is An Angel

Chapter 520: Training Owyn - Part II

The first day of training set a lot of the pattern for how things would follow. The mornings would be for physical training and the afternoons would be for basic studies; mostly getting him used to the most common tech, magic terms, and culturalisms he’d need to know if he wanted to blend in.

Owyn seemed to quickly adapt to "ancient" Common runes. It seemed strange to Arc that the writing had changed outside the Common language was largely the same, but when she saw him writing in the version of Common used beyond the Veil, she found she could appreciate the simplifications that had crept in over unknown centuries, if not the extra letters.

The schedule seemed like a good setup... until the morning of the third day.

Arc expected her other dad, Ferro, to be waiting for her and Owyn after their morning run and breakfast. What she didn’t expect was that Amarena would make an appearance as well.

She stifled a groan as she saw the arch demoness waiting next to the large, artificial pond that had replaced the training field. The moment her demon-mother saw Owyn, she disappeared with a crack of air, only to reappear in front of the giant with her arms crossed, a gust of wind buffeting both Arc and Owyn as she loomed. Only the parted waters revealed that she hadn’t teleported, but rather ran through the pond so fast it sent up a spume that surged over the edges and left Ferro a dripping mess.

*

Owyn’s jaw dropped as he realized he wasn’t the tallest person in the room anymore. The demoness looming over him was easily four measures tall and more muscular than even his old Chief. With purplish skin and white hair, she seemed the very image of a demoness of legend.

"So... you’re the one Kir brought home from a kaiju’s guts. What’s your name?"

Owyn felt like he was standing before a predator, one that would pounce on him if he showed any weakness. There had been people like that in his clan, and instinct told him that the way to be left alone was to keep his cool... no matter how intimidated he actually felt. "It’s Owyn," he said, a slight creak sounding from his clenched hands at his sides.

"My name is Amarena. Leviathan Amarena. Do you know what that name means?" She stared him down.

Owyn held as still as he could as a memory surfaced. Bards spoke tales of the "undying" demons. Those seven who passed on names through the ages by slaying the former holders of such names. Those who were recognized as devils, for their power.

Ashmedai, Cthontos, Ifrit, Leviathan, Lillil, Satanos, and the king of the demon continent, Luciferos. Owyn didn’t know much more than their names, since full demons rarely left their continent, but he knew that if a demon claimed such a name, they had to be strong.

"Not really," Owyn admitted, staring into her purple eyes and wishing he were anywhere else at that moment as he held onto his calm as hard as he could.

"It means you don’t mess with my family," Leviathan replied, her eyes flicking over to Arc. Owyn dared not turn, but if he had, he would have seen Arc facepalming to hide her reddened face. "Or else..." she reached up, cracking her knuckles-

"Rena what the Hell?!" Ferro shrieked from across the pond. "Don’t scare the kid. Aren’t you a Knight for fuck’s sake?" He started furiously shaking the water out of his fur, before squeezing his tails dry. "Now I have to reset the pond."

"Ah, quit whining," Amarena turned, "I just wanted to see what he’s made of." Owyn was about to turn and look at Arc when Amarena clapped a steel-like hand onto his shoulder. "After Ferro’s done with you, how about you and Arc have a spar? Seems like it would be a good challenge."

"I don’t think that’s very fair, Mother," Arc said, finally letting her hand down from her face.

"I am a bit bigger than her," Owyn said, only for Amarena to snort. "Perhaps you and I could-"

"You couldn’t survive a proper punch from me. I meant she would be a challenge for you..." Amarena turned her gaze to Arc. "Unless you’ve been slacking on your training. Are you practicing your forms every night?"

"No, Mother."

"’No’ you aren’t slacking or ’No’ you aren’t doing your forms?"

"No, I’m not slacking. I don’t need to do them every night! Besides, I have to keep Owyn out of trouble now because Father-"

"Don’t you disrespect the man who birthed you in front of a guest!"

"You didn’t even let me finish! You always do this!"

Owyn was saved from the heated argument by Ferro, who poked him on the leg and gestured towards the pond. "They’ll be at this for a while. Why don’t you step in, and we can start your lesson."

As the feminine catkin led Owyn to the center, Owyn noticed that he was completely dry despite having been thoroughly inundated. It wasn’t the strangest thing, since most women knew spells for drying clothes, but Owyn was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that spells didn’t need chants at all, according to Arc.

The pond, which had been half-emptied by the passage of Amarena, was once more full and tranquil.

"Now," Ferro began, "what I’m about to teach you is a way to train both your capacity and output for mana. It’s a technique most children learn nowadays, but it’s good for adults too."

"I, uh, didn’t think I’d be learning spells until I got to the Academy," Owyn scratched the back of his head, stealing a glance at Amarena and Arc, who weren’t quite shouting but were still trying to talk rapidly over each other as they aired their grievances. "Is Arc going to join us?"

Ferro shook his head, his ears falling to a slightly sad tilt. "This isn’t something she can really do."

"Why not?"

"I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready," Ferro coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. "I heard you know at least the basics of magic."

Owyn shrugged. "Sure, I mean, you say the right spell while concentrating, and something happens."

"Sort of. The key to what I’m going to teach you isn’t about spells or concentration. It’s about visualization. And it isn’t a spell."

What Ferro described seemed very different from anything Owyn knew about training one’s mana. As far as the giant knew, one trained mana by learning spells and practicing them over and over again. But Ferro’s method used the innate sense of internal mana that Owyn had, expanding on it by having Owyn visualize moving it inside his body first. To help this, Ferro made a copy of Owyn out of water, moving pockets of air about inside as he described the process.

"Keep circulating your mana like this. Don’t try to give it form, just move it around. When you start feeling an even warmth throughout, we’ll move on to the next step."

Owyn pushed the sounds of Arc and Amarena’s continued argument out of his mind as he tried to focus on what he was being taught. It was surprisingly simple but more difficult than he thought it would be, and he found himself feeling odd flashes of heat and little lightning shocks of pain as he tried to maintain his focus. It didn’t help that he was half wet and still tired from Arc’s routine, and he somehow knew that the parts of him that hurt the most were the places still recovering from contamination by the titan that brought him into this strange place.

As he bent his focus inward, he didn’t realize he’d reached his goal until he felt a gentle prod on the forehead.

"Good, you’ve got it," Ferro said, and Owyn looked down to find the catkin completely dry and standing on top of the water, which was the only reason he was able to reach Owyn’s forehead. "I think you’ll like the next part, but first, take a little break. Don’t leave the water, though. Changing things too fast might undo some of your progress."

Owyn nodded and looked about, finally noticing the shirt he’d changed into before breakfast was now soaked with sweat. He found Arc seated at the shore, staring at him, and no sign of Amarena. A rectangular crack in the horizon indicated the door they’d entered through was slightly ajar, indicating the demoness had left. Owyn gave Arc a small smile, which she did not reciprocate.

He felt he had to say something. "Is everything..."

"It’s fine," Arc said, her eyes boring into him. "Just wondering if I’m going to have to fight you in the pond."

"What?"

Arc rolled her eyes. "If you haven’t guessed, my mothers are the sort of people who always get what they want, one way or another. So it’s best to just get things over with quick."

Owyn couldn’t help but sympathize, since growing up in proximity to Aban had been rather similar. He didn’t know what kind of sparring they were going to do, but after two days part of him had recognized that something seemed... off about the way Arc was regarded in her own home. It wasn’t a lack of care, but more like... an abundance of caution. He also noticed that despite their fight, Arc did seem to genuinely liven up with Amarena.

Another thought occured to him, however, and it was that Arc might be more of a warrior than he thought. Every giant was expected to either fight or support their fighters, so it wasn’t uncommon... But giants were, well, giants, and Arc was... not. Which, in this place, meant he had no idea how strong she actually was.

If there was one thing Jederic had drilled into Owyn’s head, it was to respect the unknown.

At that moment, Amarena returned, cracking open the door with what looked like a coffin full of weapons. "Arc, are you going to use the short swords I had made for you, or do you insist on actually putting hands on the little giant boy?" She asked before noticing Owyn was no longer in a state of magic-focused concentration.

Arc sighed a little and pushed herself up. "It’s alright, Mother," she waved away the short swords when Amarena tried to push them on her, eyes still locked on Owyn’s. "I can beat him with my bare hands."