Vastarael already knew hie to defeat his mother. In fact, he already figured out how he could win. The only thing stopping him back was...
Fear.
He didn't know if he would erase his mother's memory if he managed to kill her. Would it make him forget her? Even though it wasn't his real mother, how would he face his real mother if he endured everything and passed the First Epoch Cycle?
So he fought using his essence, deliberately making himself spend it on dodging, parrying and attacking. Because what he was going to do needed him to use only his Water Divinity. It was the last step of training his mother taught him.
His memory mother wasn't a Nexus. If he had to guess, she was at least a Third Phase Ascender. Even the spire had limits of making beings stronger, especially his mother.
If it was the original Lysameria, he would have been dead before he even began. That's how scary she was. He was fighting a nerfed version of his mother and even so...
Vastarael's muscles burned with fatigue and his breaths came in sharp gasps. His sapphire glaive moved in a blur, clashing with the razor-sharp edge of Lysameria's katana again and again. Every strike sent vibrations up his arms, his hands trembling under the sheer force of her blows.
Lysameria was not hesitating. Her katana came at him with relentless precision that seemed to strike from every direction at once. Her attacks were elegant and perfect. She wielded her blade like an artist, every swing a masterpiece. Every movement was flawless.
Vastarael barely managed to block the next strike, his glaive meeting her katana in a clash that sent sparks rippling through the floating rain. The impact jarred him, nearly knocking the weapon from his hands and he stumbled back, his boots skidding across the soaked platform.
There was no time to recover. She was on him in an instant, her blade slicing through the air like a whisper of death. He ducked just in time, the edge of her katana grazing his cheek. Blood trickled down his face, mixing with the rain, but he ignored it. He twisted his body, using the momentum to bring his glaive around in a wide arc.
She parried effortlessly, the force of her block sending him reeling. Her movements were impossibly fast, her strikes growing sharper and more precise. It was as though she was toying with him now, testing the limits of his endurance.
And Vastarael was losing.
Every dodge, every parry, every desperate swing of his glaive drained him further. His essence reserves were dangerously low and the pseudo-core in his chest hummed erratically, struggling to keep up with his exertion. He could feel the strain in his body, the heaviness in his limbs, the creeping numbness that threatened to slow him down at the worst possible moment.
Lysameria capitalized on his exhaustion, her attacks growing more aggressive. Her katana became a blur of turquoise arcs, each strike cutting closer and closer to him. One swing nicked his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Another grazed his thigh. Another almost chopped his arm off.
She was dismantling him piece by piece.
Vastarael's mind screamed at him to act, to stop hesitating, to use the technique she had taught him. But fear still held him back. He couldn't shake the image of his mother.
Lysameria didn't wait for him to decide. She moved like a phantom. Vastarael barely dodged the next strike, the blade passing so close to his neck that he felt the wind of it. He retaliated with a thrust of his glaive but she sidestepped easily, her counterattack coming faster than he could react.
Her katana slammed into his side, the force of the blow sending him sprawling. He hit the ground hard, the rain soaking into his already drenched clothes. His glaive clattered across the platform, just out of reach.
Lysameria didn't hesitate. She closed the distance between them in an instant, her katana raised high for the finishing blow. Vastarael's heart—what remained of it—lurched in his chest as he scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. He summoned Calimostria, his fingers closing around the haft just as her blade came down.
The clash of weapons sent another shockwave rippling through the storm, the suspended rain trembling with the force of it. Vastarael gritted his teeth, pushing against her katana with all his strength. The edge of the blade was mere inches from his face. The sharp gleam of it was a grim reminder of just how close he was to losing.
His arms shook under the strain, his legs threatening to give out. Lysameria's strength was overwhelming. For a moment, it felt as though he would break beneath it, that his body would finally give out.
But then he remembered.
This wasn't her.
The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through his fear like the edge of a blade. This wasn't his mother. It was a memory, a replica crafted by the spire from his own mind. And if it was a memory, then it was his. He controlled it, not the other way around.
With a roar, he pushed back against her blade, forcing her to retreat. His hands tightened around Calimostria as he straightened, his gaze locking onto hers. The rain swirled around them, the droplets moving faster, more erratically, as though responding to his renewed resolve.
He didn't hesitate this time. Vastarael surged forward, his glaive blazing with sapphire light as he attacked with everything he had. Lysameria met him head-on as their weapons clashed again and again. The rain around them seemed to explode with each impact, the suspended droplets shattering into smaller fragments before reforming.
The duel reached a fever pitch. Lysameria still had the upper hand. Her strikes were faster, her technique was flawless but Vastarael didn't give up. He fought with a ferocity born of desperation and determination.
The platform beneath them trembled as their weapons struck again, the rain swirling in a vortex of energy and chaos. Vastarael could feel his body reaching its limits, his essence reserves nearly depleted, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
If he was going to win, he had to use the technique she had taught him. The thought made his chest tighten, but he forced the fear aside.
He couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.
"Mother... do you know what you gave me for my seventeenth birthday?"
Lysameria froze.
Vastarael used the opportunity to push her back. He slid farther away from her and sighed deeply. His essence was depleted.
"You told me that you will give me my final training lesson. You told me to use Memory Implantation on you. Of course, you allowed me to do it and somehow, you blocked me from accessing all your memories, except one."
"..."
"It was the memory of the four Plenituse Techniques."
Lysameria smiled.
"You told me that they can only be used with my water divinity. Divinities don't use energy because they are a part of us. That's what makes the Plenituse Technique so dangerous. They don't use energy at all, just the divinity. I never used them since I got them because I didn't realize how to use them. After all, I use my Water Divinity underwater. It only works if I'm close to a water body. But now, it's raining, is it not?"
Lysameria's smile grew into one of admiration, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.
"You finally figured it out, hm?"
Vastarael didn't respond with words. Instead, he raised Calimostria, his sapphire glaive shimmering with the last remnants of his essence. There was no turning back now.
"One final strike," he said. "Whoever loses dies."
Lysameria's eyes sparkled with excitement, the joy of the duel still burning bright in her chest. She lowered her katana and assumed a stance.
"I've been waiting for this moment," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let's see if you can still surprise me."
Vastarael smiled faintly and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he entered the zone. He felt the rain fall around him, each drop a tiny heartbeat of nature, pulsing with life. The platform beneath him, slick with water, hummed with the divine presence of his Water Divinity.
He deliberately expended the last of his essence. His Omniphage stayed dormant, allowing him this singular moment of clarity. For this one attack, nothing else mattered but his Water Divinity.
Time slowed.
He could feel each rain drop gathering and pulling together. The platform beneath him glowed faintly with the energy of the water. His mind opened up, flooded with the knowledge his mother had given him, and he reached into the deepest corner of his power.
And then, he struck.
"First Plenituse Technique, Viridescence!"