SSS-Class Overlord: My Harem Rules the Realms (18+)
Chapter 38: Battle in Mind Scape?

Chapter 38: Battle in Mind Scape?

Ethan stood in the boundless white scape of his mind. The ground beneath him looked like

marble soaked in a silver sheen, stretching infinitely in every direction. Light pulsed overhead from

an unseen sky, casting sharp reflections across the smooth floor.

A breeze that wasn’t really there whispered over his skin, cool as ice. He shivered slightly, every

hair on his body prickling in anticipation.

"System," Ethan murmured, voice echoing through the silent expanse, "who’s my opponent?"

A shimmer of blue data spiraled into existence before him. And then—

CLANG.

The sound of armored boots striking stone. A ripple of power coursed outward like a shockwave,

rattling Ethan’s bones.

A towering figure strode from the swirling light, his crimson cloak billowing behind him as if caught

in a storm. Gleaming silver armor covered him from throat to toe, etched with runes and scarred

with countless battle marks. A lion’s-head crest was emblazoned upon his chestplate, and a black

sword hung at his side, radiating a deadly edge even while sheathed.

Vandelion, Knight Grandmaster of the Empire.

Ethan felt his gut twist into a knot. Cold sweat broke out along his hairline. His breath stuttered in

his chest.

He’d seen Vandelion once—during a public demonstration in the Empire. The Grandmaster had

obliterated a platoon of enchanted constructs in less than thirty seconds. The man’s strikes had

cut through magic shields like paper. Even Tower Masters respected his blade.

And now he was standing five feet away, eyes locked on Ethan with the glacial calm of a predator

observing a helpless animal.

Ethan’s throat worked as he swallowed. "I... I have to spar with him?"

[Confirmed.] the system chimed. [Opponent summoned as requested: Knight Grandmaster

Vandelion. Difficulty: Maximum. Initiating combat simulation.]

Ethan stared at the Grandmaster, a faint laugh bubbling in his chest despite the terror coursing

through his veins. "Shit... I’m so screwed."

But at the same time, a rush of adrenaline surged through him. His fists clenched. His eyes

narrowed.

Because beneath the fear... was an unquenchable hunger.

"Bring it," Ethan hissed, grinning even as his palms sweated. "Start the match!"

Vandelion didn’t even unsheathe his sword. He simply tilted his head the slightest fraction. A

ripple of pressure rolled off him like a tidal wave.

CRACK.

Ethan felt his ribs splinter and his skull implode as the world went black.

He blinked—and was instantly back in the white marble scape, gasping, completely whole once

again.

"Holy shit!"

[Simulation terminated. Cause of defeat: Massive spiritual and physical suppression. Restarting at

full power unless user specifies otherwise.]

Ethan pressed a hand over his hammering chest. His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out

of his ribcage. "Okay... okay... let’s not do that again at max."

He sucked in several shaky breaths. "System—drop Vandelion’s power level to ten percent."

[Confirmed. Adjusting opponent to ten percent of normal output.]

The silver knight stood motionless, waiting, like a living statue. Ethan flexed his fingers, rolling his

shoulders, feeling his mana coil tighter in his veins.

"Let’s go!"

He lunged forward, channeling mana into his legs, aiming for a blinding first strike. He swept in

low, sword humming with dark energy, and swung for Vandelion’s side—

Vandelion merely lifted one armored finger.

BONK.

A single flick against Ethan’s forehead sent his vision spinning into darkness again. His neck

snapped back as though he’d been struck by a battering ram. When he respawned, he lay

sprawled on the gleaming floor, staring at the featureless ceiling.

"...Okay. Ten percent still sucks."

His voice trembled with laughter and disbelief.

"System. One percent."

[Opponent’s power decreased to one percent.]

Ethan rose, shaking his arms out. He charged again. This time, he aimed a feint left and swung his

sword from an oblique angle.

Vandelion didn’t move his feet. He simply backhanded Ethan’s weapon aside, closed the

distance, and slammed his palm into Ethan’s chest.

Ethan felt his heart rupture. A sound like shattering glass echoed in his ears before darkness

swallowed him once more.

He gasped back into existence, kneeling and panting, sweat pouring down his face.

"Fuck me..."

He clenched trembling fists. "Okay. This time... no pride."

He forced himself to breathe steadily, wiping his forehead.

"System. Set Vandelion’s power... to zero point one percent."

[Opponent’s power decreased to 0.1%. Initiating combat simulation.]

Ethan stood facing the Grandmaster yet again. This time, Vandelion’s aura felt... gentler. Still a

mountain towering over him, but not radiating enough killing intent to collapse his soul outright.

Ethan inhaled slowly. "Alright... third time’s the charm."

He lunged forward in a blur, faster than before, throwing a wild arc of shadow mana toward

Vandelion’s helmet.

CLANG!

Vandelion raised his finger—and this time, Ethan managed to deflect it slightly off target. For a

fraction of a second, he didn’t die.

Ethan’s eyes widened. "Holy shit. I survived a hit!"

But Vandelion’s follow-up was immediate. The knight flicked a boot under Ethan’s foot, tripping

him. Ethan hit the ground face-first, cracking his nose against the marble.

[Simulation terminated. Cause of defeat: Loss of balance. Restarting unless user specifies

otherwise.]

Ethan lay groaning. "...System, let me breathe for a second."

[Pause granted.]

He rolled over, clutching his aching nose even though he knew it was all imaginary.

Still, he found himself grinning.

Because for a moment—just a brief heartbeat—he’d survived a blow from the Grandmaster of

Knights.

"That’s progress," Ethan muttered. "We’re gonna get there."

He rose once more, eyes blazing with stubborn determination.

"Alright, old man," he called out to Vandelion, "again!"

The knight merely shifted his stance, silver armor gleaming under the ghostly lights of Ethan’s

mental arena.

And so, the training continued. Over and over. Until Ethan could stand just a few seconds longer

each time, learning the timing of blocks, reading minute shifts in Vandelion’s shoulders, and

beginning to anticipate the crushing strikes that once flattened him outright.

Despite blood, bruises, and countless simulated deaths, Ethan felt something dangerous rising

inside him:

Hope. And the thrill of a challenge worthy of his ambition.