The air shifted as Ozai's eyes locked onto him.
In that instant, the temperature soared again, skyrocketing past reason, past survival, ten thousand degrees and climbing.
The cave walls split open with deafening cracks, molten lines of orange webbing through the blackened rock. The floor caved slightly under the pressure, fissures glowing like rivers of fire.
The world had become a furnace.
And yet, in the heart of it all, Bruce still stood, unburnt, unbent, and utterly focused on the blazing devil standing before him.
At that moment, the air around Ozai shimmered with heat so intense it warped reality itself. Then, without warning, he began to rise, slowly, deliberately, his feet lifting a few inches off the ground.
Bruce's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his usually calm face. 'He can fly…'
Before the thought could even settle, Ozai vanished.
