The air cracked with power as Hatku stepped into the circle Shyla had drawn in the ground—deep, burnt grooves from earlier battles still visible beneath their feet. Tashina sat on a broken slab of stone nearby, watching silently, her expression unreadable.
"Alright," Shyla said, rolling her shoulders. "Show me what you've got, Green Flame."
Hatku smirked. "Hope you can keep up."
He thrust his palm forward and Green Flame erupted like a tidal wave, slamming toward Shyla in a controlled burst. But she didn't flinch. With a twist of her fingers, she bent gracefully, sliding beneath it with inhuman agility. Her boots barely kissed the ground as she twisted mid-air, releasing a crackling bolt of deep crimson light from her palm—an energy Hatku had never seen before. It struck his flame, neutralizing it on impact.
"Okay," he muttered, impressed. "That's new."
Shyla darted in, forcing him back with quick, sudden jabs of her strange power. Hatku answered with a volley of Ice Spears, conjured mid-motion and sent hurtling toward her in a spiral. She deflected two, dodged the rest—then vanished into thin air.
Hatku's instincts screamed.
He spun, catching her descending with a smirk from above, her fist glowing with raw energy. He barely managed to block the hit with a surge of Nightmare Chains from the ground, wrapping them around his own arm to absorb the impact.
The moment they clashed, he felt it—her strength was monstrous, her control absolute.
But that only made him push harder.
He stomped the ground and summoned more chains, this time laced with cold mist from his ice affinity. Shyla landed on one chain, used it like a springboard, and hurled herself into the air. As she spun, her top—short and loose—flared.
Hatku's flame faltered for a moment.
Shyla raised her arms above her head to gather her long red-black hair into a quick tie, and that's when it happened—her shirt lifted just high enough to expose the soft under-curve of her breasts. They bounced slightly with each movement, damp with sweat, full and beautifully shaped beneath the loose fabric. She seemed entirely unaware.
But Hatku was very aware.
His mouth went dry.
Time slowed.
He knew he should focus—but he couldn't stop staring.
The way her top clung to her, the faint outline of her nipples under the damp fabric, the teasing reveal of skin—it set off something raw inside him. He clenched his jaw, but it was too late. His trousers tightened uncomfortably, his breathing grew shallow.
He imagined touching them. Slowly, gently. Feeling the weight, the warmth. The softness.
"Focus," he hissed to himself, shaking his head. But it was no use. The image had already scorched itself into his thoughts.
They kept sparring, moving farther and farther from where Tashina sat watching—Hatku increasingly distracted, Shyla growing more playful with her attacks. She flipped, twisted, danced through the air, her body a blur of lethal elegance. Hatku met her with flames, ice, and darkness, his powers finally unleashed in full force.
And she still outmatched him.
She responded with blasts of unfamiliar power—light so dark it shimmered, orbs that twisted gravity itself, and blades of pure sound. Hatku barely kept pace, each exchange pushing him further into his limits.
By the end of it, they stood panting across from each other, the ground cracked and smoking between them.
Hatku walked past her slowly, brushing his shoulder against hers.
And as he did, he leaned in and whispered just low enough for only her to hear:
"You have nice boobs."
Shyla froze.
Her eyes widened as the memory returned—arms raised, shirt lifted, the unintentional exposure. Her cheeks turned bright red.
She turned to glare at him, mouth half-open in disbelief, but then her lips curled into a reluctant laugh.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, covering her face with her hand. "Why are all the strong ones also complete idiots?"
Hatku just grinned, eyes still smoldering with more than just flames.
From far off, Tashina called, "Are you two done flirting or do I have to come cool you both down?"
Neither responded.
The silence between them crackled, heavy with sweat, magic, and something else neither of them quite had the courage to name yet.