As the crude old saying went, a field is never ruined by the plow, but the ox can easily be worked to death.
But Aiden, this particular "ox," was clearly different from mortal oxen.
As a top-tier Level 4 adventurer, his [Endurance] stat inherently far exceeded that of ordinary people, not to mention he was an "anomaly" possessing several overpowered cheats.
And Robin, as a mage specializing in support and magic, clearly didn't have physical toughness as her strong suit.
An entire night of high-intensity "performance" was already the absolute limit of what she could endure.
Yet Aiden felt full of boundless energy right now, brimming with unrelenting vitality. Let alone fighting for another night, fighting for another three days and three nights probably wouldn't be a problem for him at all.
Of course, he also knew this was impossible.
According to his estimates, strictly in terms of stamina, the only person in the entire Familia capable of fighting alongside him for three days and three nights was probably Jeanne—and only after she leveled up again and fully brought out the terrifying passive effects of her [Saint] skill.
As for the others... yeah, it was highly improbable.
"Alright, don't be mad."
Aiden hugged the still-sulking Robin a bit tighter, gently rubbing his chin against the top of her head. "Just get some good rest today. By dinnertime, everyone will have forgotten about it."
"They won't forget."
Robin retorted with a muffled voice from within his embrace. "Hyacine is secretly devious. She'll definitely use this to make fun of me."
"Then I'll help you spank her."
"You wouldn't dare."
The two joked and laughed on the bed, the room filling with a warm, sweet atmosphere.
The intense passion from last night had faded, leaving behind a deeper, richer affection and tenderness that had settled between them.
The afternoon sun, carrying just the right amount of warmth, spilled over the vast training grounds of Palais Mermonia.
On the sidelines, Hyacine was carefully spraying her custom-mixed "Healing Spray" onto Tifa's wrist. On the other side, Jeanne was rubbing a bruised spot on her shoulder with a bitter smile.
Their faces all bore the complex expressions of disaster survivors.
In the center of the training ground, Aiden stood holding an ordinary wooden sword, scratching his head guiltily.
"Sorry, Tifa, Jeanne. I'm still not quite used to my current strength."
Just this morning, in order to help Aiden—who had just leveled up to Level 4—adapt to his explosively increased physical stats as quickly as possible, Tifa and Jeanne had taken on the task of acting as his sparring partners.
However, the results were disastrous.
The current Aiden, in terms of sheer physical ability alone, had comprehensively surpassed the scope of Level 4, even closing in on the realm of Level 5 First-Class Adventurers.
His untempered, violent strength was nothing short of a nightmare for Tifa and Jeanne, who were still stuck at Level 2.
Even in the most basic sparring matches, the terrifying wind pressure generated by his swinging wooden sword left the two of them struggling just to parry.
In the end, after merely a few minutes, both of them had their blood and qi thrown into turmoil from the shocks and had sustained injuries.
Filled with guilt, Aiden had originally planned to give up on sparring with people and head to the upper floors of the Dungeon alone to stomp some low-level goblins and hilichurls, using the dumbest method possible to familiarize himself with his power little by little.
But right then, a gentle voice stopped him.
"If it's just to get used to your strength, and you don't mind, let me be your opponent."
Astrea, the goddess symbolizing "Justice," had changed into a light dress suitable for movement at some unknown point. Also holding a wooden sword in her hand, she smiled and extended an invitation to him.
And so, this current scene came to be.
Aiden and Astrea stood facing each other.
"Lady Astrea, please be extremely careful," Aiden said solemnly.
He knew very well that although the goddess before him possessed a supreme divine status, the vessel she used upon descending to the lower world was no different from that of a mortal.
Compared to Tifa and Jeanne, Astrea's physical constitution was undoubtedly far inferior.
"Don't worry, I'm not that fragile."
Astrea's smile was confident and composed. "The rules are the same. You cannot use any magic or skills. Use your full physical strength to attack me. Don't hold back at all."
Having received permission, Aiden's gaze instantly sharpened.
He took a deep breath. The stone floor beneath his feet cracked in response. Like a cannonball fired from its chamber, he crossed a distance of over ten meters in an instant, appearing right in front of Astrea.
The wooden sword in his hand chopped straight down in the simplest, most direct overhead strike.
No technique, no tricks. Just pure, absolute strength and speed.
The terrifying wind pressure dragged up by this sword strike caused even Cecil and the others watching from a distance to feel a suffocating sense of oppression.
However, facing a heavy blow capable of cleaving even a Minotaur in half, Astrea's face didn't show a single ripple of emotion.
She didn't retreat, nor did she block.
In the very split-second before the wooden sword touched her hair, her body merely swayed gently to the left, like a willow leaf brushed by a light breeze.
It was a sidestep so small it was almost imperceptible.
Aiden's earth-shattering sword strike brushed right past the tip of her nose, missing by a hair's breadth, and smashed heavily into the ground behind her.
"Boom—!"
With a loud crash, a crater half a meter deep was smashed into the hard training ground, sending crushed stone flying everywhere.
And Astrea's figure had, at some point, already appeared at Aiden's side.
The wooden sword in her hand, like a lover's gentle caress, lightly tapped against the small of Aiden's back without a trace of lethal intent.
Smack.
A crisp sound rang out.
Aiden only felt a masterful application of force transmit through him. It didn't hurt, but it halted his forward momentum, freezing him entirely in place.
Before he could react, the second round of attacks had already begun.
This time, Aiden wised up.
He no longer relied on brute force, but instead integrated all the sword techniques he had learned in the past into his attacks.
Horizontal slashes, diagonal sweeps, thrusts, upward cuts...
The wooden sword turned into a blurred shadow in his hands, enveloping Astrea from all directions at incredibly tricky angles.
Every strike was as fast as lightning and as fierce as the wind.
But the results didn't change in the slightest.
Astrea's figure amidst that tempestuous net of swords was like a tiny, flat boat floating atop monstrous waves in a stormy sea.
No matter how fast Aiden's sword was, how tricky the angles, or how fierce the blade wind, she could always dodge with ease using the smallest movements and from the most inconceivable angles.
Her body seemed to possess no weight, as if it had transformed into a piece of paper without physical substance.
Every one of Aiden's all-out attacks felt like punching cotton—his strength had nowhere to land.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The crisp sounds of striking, like an accurate metronome, rang out continuously across the training ground.
----
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