Staring at the silverish ball able to fit whole around his palm, Lutiel didn’t need to wonder for long to understand the use of it.


    “Take it and throw it as hard as you can,” Zyponia said with a composed face, staring blankly at the man in her vision.


    “I will damage the furniture, my lady,” he suggested, glancing up at the demon, who seemed to have found his statement amusing. A mellow smile took shape on her mouth before glancing directly at his eyes.


    The man then turned to Camilla, only to see her also veiling a smile with her hand.


    “I guarantee you won’t,” Zyponia spoke with a calm tone before it warmed up slightly. “Though, if you do, you won’t get in trouble.”


    “I understand,” he said with a straight face before moving down to the chest in the next breath, his right hand swiftly engulfing the ball within its grasp. However, as he gripped it, Lutiel’s eyebrows puckered while Camile looked ahead with silent mirth. Zyponia, on the other hand, faced the man with crinkled eyes, focusing tautly.


    The veins around his right arm bulged out as he tensed it, clenching his jaw to grip harder. With a struggle more tiresome than fighting against the twin demons, he had scooped out the ball, supporting it with both hands, though it was still trying to oppose his strength.


    ‘What kind of metal is this?’ His mind furrowed while looking at the ball in his hand, a hastened breath escaping his nose. Despite looking like a normal, tough sphere made out of iron, it stripped him completely of brawn.


    He was meant to throw it with all of his strength, but just holding it was enough to make his arms useless.


    The demonic lady finally stopped looking at him with the blaring, pink eyes, sighing faintly. Seeing as his arms practically gave out, she simply opened her mouth, only to shut it back up a moment later.


    “You can just hold-”


    However, before she could complete the sentence, Lutiel breathed out while thrusting his upper body to complete the throw.


    With a raised eyebrow, she, along with her student, watched the man in complete silence. Leaving his grasp, the ball didn’t travel for long, almost immediately falling to the ground since there was little force to begin with, but he still threw it, much to her striking astonishment.


    Though, quickly clearing her face of any reaction, a cool expression replaced it. “Do it again,” she said while an increasing glare scoured through his body.


    “... Yes, my lady,” he replied amidst staggering breaths, watching as the ball moved through the air towards him unlike the prior scuffle. Tensing his muscles once again, he felt the sudden increase of mass around his hands as the ball stopped flying.


    However, he wasn’t able to keep it this time around. Quickly, it fell down to the ground after slipping through his palms. Yet, just before it could properly graze the carpet with its weight, something from below caught it, transporting the item to the crate from which he first took the ball.


    “That’s enough for now. You still did good for your first time,” Zyponia said suddenly as he breathed for more air, his chest heaving up and down. Yet, hearing her finish, his arms felt a cool sensation, the strength he had spoiled to lift the ball returning instantly.


    Yet again, the man’s eyebrows creased under the wondrous event. The veins that previously bulged out receded away, the muscles relaxing as warmth returned. At the same time, his breath quickly stagnated back to its normal rate.


    Before he could ponder about any of it, however, she added on. “For the second one, lift it up to your stomach while squatting before returning it to the ground.”


    As he nodded, the first wooden case rapidly moved to the side while another one left the bed’s surface, slightly bigger than the last. Landing in the same spot as before, it swiftly opened its top, revealing another metal ball to the slave with nothing but underwear and his collar.


    Roughly the size of his hand, it was much bigger compared to the previous ball, making him wonder how she even wanted him to do the exercise. Putting the thoughts away however, Lutiel quickly lowered his body, squatting before placing both of his hands on the ball.


    ‘Hmm?’ He mused, much to his surprise. The weight of the two metal balls seemed identical, despite their clear difference in size.


    Raising the ball up to his stomach, he brought it down the next moment before breathing calmly for a moment. Then, he repeated the motion under their intense gazes.


    Five times were needed before his arms and thighs weren’t capable of moving anymore, dropping the ball and himself just as he was about to stand up.


    With a quickened heart and breath, he sat on the carpet, resting under the sweat that started gathering around him. Though, once again, a brisk air brushed past his skin, covering it in goosebumps as well as bringing him a fresh motion of vim back.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Standing up with utter ease, it was as though he hadn’t exercised at all, except for the sweat clinging to his skin. Coming back to the intricate case, the ball moved to meet the first box while the man saw another case rustle on the bed.


    By far the longest of them four, as well as thinnest, it slowly descended down to his legs, revealing what appeared to be a staff, nothing changing in the composition of the metal.


    Of similar girth to a broom’s handle, it instead made up in mass with its length, though Lutiel wasn’t sure whether he should trust his common sense anymore. And, just as he had suspected, once he picked the staff under Zyponia’s instructions, it felt practically the same as the other two.


    Clenching his hands against the shaft, as his master told him, he raised it up before holding the staff still for a few seconds, only letting it fall to the floor once the shoulders began to heat up.


    However, after a few moments of steady, calm breaths of the clean, unadulterated air, he lowered his body under their constant glare. They were not letting up even for a slightest brief, for reasons the man couldn’t find nor explain whatsoever.


    Picking up the metal once again, his jaw strained itself as the muscles around his arms tensed tougher, raising the staff above him before stretching out his limbs and holding the weapon in place for a few seconds.


    Yet, quicker than before, the shoulders began burning intensely while his posture wobbled with uncertainty. Flowing down, the staff quickly made its way to the carpet while he needed to catch his breath anew.


    “That’s enough of that one,” the purple-haired demon said, moving her right arm towards the staff a few steps away. Floating in the air immediately, the staff was promptly stored inside the chest before going back to the rest of the crates.


    “Now, for the last one, you have to swing it, in whatever way feels right for you,” she continued right after, with a tone softer than usual, and one that was directly aimed towards him.


    Turned straight at him, the demon saw as his ragged breath became easier, the used-up muscles relaxing with tremendous speed. Watching the face of her slave butler, it was clear that he had become quite perplexed, but she didn’t say any more on the matter.


    Longer than the two balls yet shorter than the staff, the last chest was wider, reminiscent of a certain shape inside Lutiel’s head.


    ‘A sword? That’s a shame,’ he mused while following the flying chest, however, he didn’t display his disappointment to the lady in the slightest.


    Still, thinking of the matter silently, the man declared forthwith. ‘I can’t just tell her I’m used to the spear, so I guess I will have to use it for now. Sorry Raphael. I will have to break our promise for now.’


    Falling down onto the carpet, the item inside swiftly unveiled itself to him. A long, sleek, and sharply caressed edge glistened under the light. The fine, silver blade fell down to the guard made from the same material before a black, leathery grip covered most of the hilt. The pommel, blank of anything, looked like an undistinguished, metallic shape, but he didn’t care for that.


    As much as the sword didn’t really interest him, Lutiel couldn’t help but be drawn to the blade. His eyes constantly glancing down at the sharp weapon, he mused it must have been the special material it was made out of.


    His hand moved forward to the hilt, slowly coming closer and closer. Yet, with a near distance, a sensation from beneath struck him, a jolt of some sort. Before the man knew it, his right hand was already in tight grasp of the weapon, his eyes opened wider than usual.


    The weight was basically the same as before, but something changed within him as he gripped the sword. Grabbing the longsword with both hands, Lutiel stood before the girls, holding it near the base of his torso and angling to the ceiling.


    Standing in a tranquil air together with the sword, the man’s calm face seemed like that of an experienced warrior.


    ‘It feels right,’ he wondered while wishing for the hero’s glyph to hide itself. With a swift maneuver, the sword cut along the side before arriving behind and above him, further which he didn’t slow down, slashing beyond himself.


    Yet, to the surprise of the bearer, he promptly fell to his knees, the sword dropping out of his hands. A spreading, scorching warmth surfaced through his heart, paining him from within while the man clutched his chest.


    Gritting his teeth, the heart raced for a second breath while Camilla’s feet moved. With a similar, yet different approach, Zyponia simply stared at the man with a steady gaze, quickly stretching out her hand before his breathing calmed along with the clenched face.


    Easing her approach, Camilla lowered her body, the chin almost hitting her knees. “Are you okay?” She asked the man plainly while he glanced up at the pupil.


    “Yes, I’m fine now,” he replied, but the voice was nippily drowned out by his master.


    “Ars’e seor lite’p zice afi zibe vil mana,” she said, her eyes directed at her student’s snowy hairs.


    Camilla turned her head soundly, the hairs swishing against each other while she faced her teacher. “Li junt vic?” Her mouth moved, intangible to the man sitting on the floor.


    With droopy shoulders, Lutiel’s calm eyes observed as they spoke through the demonic tongue, saying things he could never understand properly. The lady’s lips smacked against each other while the student’s head was still turned against him, the slave unable to do anything other than stand up and wait as they finished.


    “Kozs beie ges cyji?” Zyponia asked, her eyes discreetly following Lutiel’s movement before once again settling onto Camilla.


    “Arn li lare,” the demon with no horn murmured almost, yet her voice was clear in every direction of the room. “Dho eana li ris’yr glad’yp, ila ars’e seor li bei’yr elie un dho vyrc.”


    “Junt li rih,” his lady exclaimed, nodding her head slightly. “Intima la e voi urpo. Ara inbie yast e rae, ila ara nayd yast kiz teug dho enea kozsiroche.”


    “Ahh, tis vidi,” the student opened her mouth for a while, releasing a breath of realization. Yet, as she did, her eyebrows furrowed rapidly, glancing up at Zyponia for a second time. “Inli arn lepe, tem? Dho seor cesaefr pima eana kiz bic zice.”


    The girl asked with intrigue written all over her face, however, the demon lord only shook her head before moving through the room, towards the doors. “Tis tane plin v nazev.”


    Immediately, hearing her words, Camilla supported herself with hands on the knees and stood up from the place, quickly following her teacher. Though, right before the doors, the demonic duo stopped frozen.


    “What are you standing there for?” Zyponia suddenly asked, to which he flinched silently. “Get dressed up and meet us in the backyard. Bring the paper and ink from my desk as well.