With heavy eyelids and a deep groan, Jet finally woke up. Her body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, each muscle crying out in protest as she tried to move. The long hours of sleep that had refreshed her mind had left her body stiff and unwilling. Just like when she was exhausted from essence.
Though her thoughts were clear now, her limbs refused to obey. The simple act of sitting up made her head spin. She needed to escape this prison of flesh, needed to return to the place where her spirit could roam free. Without wasting another moment, barely able to focus her thoughts, she reached inside herself and pulled on her tether—the invisible rope that connected her to the dream realm. Within seconds, her physical form began to shimmer, tiny sparks of golden light dancing around her body like fireflies in summer twilight. The air around her bed swirled as if caught in a miniature storm, and then, with a flash that lit up the small bedroom, she vanished.
Sunny had chosen that exact moment to check on her. He pushed open the door just as the golden light reached its peak, just in time to catch a glimpse of Jet's nearly naked form dissolving into sparks. She had been wearing nothing but a simple pair of black underwear, her skin pale against the dark fabric. The sight burned itself into his memory before she disappeared completely, leaving behind only the lingering scent of ozone and the faint shimmer of light particles floating in the air.
Realizing what he had just witnessed—and more importantly, what he had just seen—Sunny's face flushed a deep red. He quickly backed out of the room, pulling the door shut with more force than he intended. The bang echoed through the hallway as he turned and walked away, his footsteps quick and uneven as he headed toward the kitchen, trying to clear his mind of the image.
He hadn't made it ten steps when a furious scream erupted from behind the closed door.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
Jet's voice carried through the walls, thick with rage and embarrassment. The crash of something heavy hitting the wall followed, then another, and another. The sounds of destruction continued as she knocked over furniture and threw whatever she could grab. Her anger was a living thing, filling the space she occupied and spilling out into the rest of the house.
Sunny winced at each new crash but kept moving away. This wasn't his problem to solve. He rounded the corner toward the kitchen, only to find himself face to face with Nephis, who was rushing toward the source of the noise. Her eyes were wide and alert, her body tense and ready for battle. She wore her usual dark training clothes, with a short blade already drawn and held tightly in her right hand.
Before she could pass him, Sunny stepped into her path, using his shadow-step ability to appear directly in front of her, blocking her way forward. The sudden movement surprised her, making her stop short, the tip of her blade rising slightly before she recognized him.
"What happened?" Nephis asked, her voice tight with worry. The emotion in her tone caught Sunny off guard. He was used to her flat, emotionless way of speaking, the careful control she maintained at all times. This sudden display of concern was so unexpected that he found himself staring at her for a moment too long.
"Nothing to worry about," he finally replied, keeping his voice casual despite his racing heart. "Jet made a mistake and is now mad at herself."
As he watched Nephis's face, Sunny noticed something strange happening in her eyes. The usual cool gray seemed to darken, a storm brewing behind them. It started as a small spark, but grew steadily brighter—pure fury building within her, probably without her even realizing it was happening. The sight alarmed him. An angry Nephis was a dangerous Nephis.
Acting on instinct rather than thought, Sunny reached out and pulled her into an embrace, hoping the unexpected contact might distract her from her building rage. Her body was stiff against his, warm and solid. He could feel her heart beating rapidly where their chests touched.
But instead of calming her, his action had the opposite effect. Her body grew even more rigid, the fury in her eyes flaring brighter.
***
The wooden practice sword sliced through the air where Sunny's head had been just a heartbeat earlier. He bent backward at the waist, feeling the rush of air as the blade passed mere inches from his nose. Though the sword was made of simple oak, not steel, in Nephis's hands it moved with deadly speed and perfect control. Each strike she made carried enough force to crack bone.
Nephis advanced again, her feet moving in the precise patterns of a master swordswoman. Her divine aspect—the blessing that set her apart from normal humans—gave her unnatural strength and speed. The wooden sword in her hands became something more than it appeared, a true weapon guided by skill built over countless hours of practice.
Sunny couldn't help but wonder why she was fighting with such intensity. This was supposed to be a training session, not a death match, yet she attacked him as if she truly wanted to end his life. Her gray eyes had turned almost black with concentration, her face a mask of cold determination.
Raising his own wooden sword, Sunny shifted his weight and moved into one of the countless sword styles he had mastered over the years. His body flowed into a stance that seemed both awkward and graceful at once—a style Nephis recognized from their past training together, yet somehow changed, as if he had mixed it with something else, something new.
Their weapons met in midair with a loud crack. Neither blade splintered under the impact. They pulled back and struck again, and again, trading blows so quickly that their movements blurred together. Attack followed defense followed counter-attack in an endless dance of wood against wood, skill against skill, will against will.
And still, Sunny could not understand the anger that drove her blade, or why his simple embrace had ignited such rage within her.
# The Silver Flames
Her wooden blade whistled through the air once again, cutting an arc just past Sunny's face and missing him by mere millimeters. The rush of air tickled his skin as he twisted away from certain impact. Nephis tensed her muscles, fully expecting Sunny to counter with his own blade as he had done countless times before in their training sessions. She prepared herself for the familiar clash of wood against wood, her body already shifting to block the anticipated strike.
But it never came.
Instead, in a move she hadn't foreseen, Sunny dropped low and pivoted on his left foot. His right leg shot out in a sweeping arc, bypassing her careful sword defenses entirely. His foot connected solidly with her stomach, the impact like a hammer blow against her unprepared body. The air rushed from her lungs in a painful gasp, leaving her mouth open in silent shock.
The force of the kick lifted her off her feet entirely. Her body flew backward through the practice room, moving at an incredible speed that seemed to defy the normal laws of physics. The wooden sword slipped from her fingers, clattering against the floor as her body continued its uncontrolled journey through the air.
Sunny's face drained of all color as he watched her flight. This wasn't what he had intended. In all their previous sparring matches, Nephis had always managed to counter his techniques or at least prepare herself for a fall. He had expected her to twist mid-air, to roll with the impact, to use her divine aspect to soften the blow. But something was different today. She seemed distracted, her usual perfect focus fractured by whatever emotions were churning beneath her calm exterior.
Without a second thought, Sunny dropped his own practice sword. The wooden blade hit the floor with a hollow thud as he launched himself toward her falling form. Using his shadow-step ability to its fullest extent, he crossed the practice room in less than a heartbeat, his body moving so quickly that it left a blur in the air behind him.
He reached her just before she hit the ground, his arms encircling her body and taking the brunt of the impact. They tumbled together, rolling across the polished wooden floor until they came to a stop with Nephis beneath him, her back against the floor, his arms still protectively around her.
Their eyes met and locked. Sunny searched her face for signs of pain or anger, but found neither. Despite the blow to her stomach and the difficulty she clearly had breathing—her chest rising and falling in short, quick movements—she made no move to heal herself. Her divine powers remained dormant, unused.
Slowly, unexpectedly, a smile spread across her lips. It wasn't just a smile of happiness or relief, but carried a hint of something else—a touch of smugness, as if she had somehow achieved a victory in her defeat.
"You beat me," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with more emotion than Sunny had ever heard from her before. "Good job."
The unfamiliar warmth in her tone left him momentarily stunned. This was not the Nephis he knew—the cold, calculating warrior who kept all feelings locked tightly away. This new, emotional version of her was something he was still learning to navigate, still struggling to understand.
Before she could say another word, something broke loose inside Sunny. A dam of restraint that had held for too long suddenly crumbled under the pressure of unspoken feelings. Moving with the same lightning speed he had used to catch her, he closed the last few inches between them.
His lips found hers in a kiss that surprised them both with its intensity. The moment their lips connected, a strange phenomenon began around them. Silver flames, not hot enough to burn but warm like sunlight on skin, sparked into existence. The mystical fire danced around their entangled forms, growing brighter and more animated with each passing second.
The flames cast wild, flickering shadows across the practice room walls, turning the simple space into something magical and otherworldly. The silver light played across their faces, highlighting the contours of their cheeks and brows as they remained locked in their embrace. The shadows themselves seemed to move with purpose, twisting and turning as if performing some ancient, forgotten dance—a celebration of the connection that had finally been acknowledged between the two warriors.
Neither Sunny nor Nephis made any move to break away from the kiss or the enchanting display of silver fire that surrounded them, both too caught up in the moment that had been building between them for longer than either would admit.