Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Ayame dances back, completely unfazed, her movements as graceful as ever. Every time I try to close the distance, she's already gone, and then her strikes land with ruthless efficiency.

She's everywhere at once- always just out of reach, always one step ahead. My frustration grows with every missed attack, every failed attempt to land a hit. She blocks my strikes with ease, her wooden sword moving faster than I can follow. Each time I think I've got her, she slips away, leaving me open to another punishing blow.

My body is screaming in pain, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I'm giving it everything I have, but it's just simply not enough. Ayame isn't just better- she's leagues ahead of me. Every move I make, she counters with a fluidity and precision that makes me feel like I'm swinging in slow motion.

Ayame doesn't relent on her verbal assaulting either; "I think it's best for your mental well-being if you settle for occupying the title of the second best sword user in our party."

Her words sting, but not as much as her wooden sword does, which once again crashes against my side, sending a jolt of pain through my body.

"How does it feel to beat someone up who only has half your stats and almost no training under his belt, Ayame?"

She giggles, "you would be right that what I'm doing tends to be shameful, but since it's you, I feel nothing but pure bliss. I love every second of this exchange, it revitalizes both my body and soul..."

With my saber clenched tightly in my hand, I glare at Ayame. Despite the physical agony coursing through me, a fire begins to fiercely burn within, fueled by my fury and the overwhelming desire to see her humbled.

I struggle to get to my feet, my entire body trembling from the pain and exhaustion. My knees feel like they could buckle at any moment, and every breath I take is a sharp reminder of the bruises blooming beneath my armor. My vision blurs for a second as I rise, but I force myself to stand tall, refusing to let her see just how much she's worn me down.

"Mark my words, you horribly arrogant woman... This is my oath to you, may the Goddess herself be my witness." I hiss through gritted teeth, my voice thick with resolve. "One day I will best you, and when I do, I will grab a chair, sit down comfortably, and bend your lithe body across my thighs.

I'll spank your unruly behind until it becomes so red that Blossom will mistake your ass for two overgrown, ripe tomatoes... She'll be so tempted, she might even try to take a bite out of them...!"

Ayame's smirk falters ever so slightly as she watches me, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge just how serious I am.

I continue my promise with an unrelenting tone. "I will step up and be the man who provides you with the firm guidance you are evidently in such desperate need of, so that your late father may rest in his grave peacefully, knowing his daughter is in the right hands. Hands that refuse to spoil or encourage the haughtiness of his beloved princess."

For a brief moment, Ayame freezes, clearly taken aback by the intensity of my words. But then, her surprise gives way to a fit of mocking giggles. The sound is light and airy, yet tinged with disbelief as if the very idea is utterly laughable to her.

"Oh? You, putting me in my place by spanking me like I'm some misbehaving daughter of yours?" She shakes her head, her amusement is evident as she takes a step closer. "That will never happen, Quinlan, for I'd rather die than let you go through with it."

Her confidence is unshaken, her stance still as relaxed and teasing as ever, but I don't let that deter me. I know that I said that she would be the superior swordsman for a long time to come, quite possibly until the end of times, but I've made my promise, and no matter how impossible it may seem right now, I will strive to fulfill it. One day, I will put her in check.

This oath will serve as an amazing motivator for me to give it my all to improve every day.

Sadly, it seems that that day will not arrive today, for no matter how hard I try or how much I push myself, I can't even phase her, let alone land a hit. Ayame is simply untouchable, her movements so quick and fluid that she makes me think that she's the actual alien super(wo)man while I'm the puny mortal, not the other way around. She's in complete control, and she knows it.

Each dodge of my blade, each strike she lands is a stark reminder of just how outclassed I am.

…

The rest of the day was a blur of relentless sparring and sharp-tongued banter. Ayame and I spent hours exchanging blows and slinging jabs at each other, both verbal and physical. I fought desperately to hold my ground, struggling to protect my honor and physical well-being. Each swing of my saber was met with a quick, effortless counter from Ayame, who clearly reveled in the fight.

For her, this wasn't just a sparring session- it was an exercise in dominance, a way to establish once and for all that she was the superior sword wielder. And, despite my best efforts, she succeeded in making that point clear. Every move I made was either dodged or blocked with a precision that left me feeling like the rank amateur that I am.

Her wooden sword, enchanted with increased durability, hammered against my armor time and time again, each blow a reminder of just how outclassed I was.

We took a brief respite when lunch time arrived and had a nice chat with Broderick and his three whale-wives. After a quick meal and a much-needed bath, we were back at it, continuing our brutal dance of swords and slurs. A similar pattern repeated itself over and over: I would attack, she would counter, and we would exchange taunts in between.

By the time the day drew to a close, I was bruised and battered, my body aching from head to toe, while Ayame stood victorious with a blissful, fulfilled grin on her delicate lips and with a spotless skin, not even a single blemish apparent on her body after my many hours of arduous effort.