Morning broke over the neutral village, the sun's rays slipping through the cracks in the hut. A soft golden hue lit the small room where Sylvia and Arson lay - still bound together by the stubborn vines. The warmth of the morning was a sharp contrast to the icy night, but it did little to dissolve the tension between the two.
Arson stirred first, his red skin glowing faintly as his strength started to return. His body, still partially wrapped in Sylvia's vines, twitched as he attempted to stretch - only to be met with resistance. His tired mind took a moment to process the situation, and when he finally did, a frustrated growl escaped him.
"You're still clinging to me like a parasite," he grumbled, his voice hoarse. "Untie me."
Sylvia, still half-asleep, didn't even open her eyes. "You're lucky I didn't strangle you in your sleep."
Arson's jaw tightened. "If you weren't so scared of me, you wouldn't need these vines."
Sylvia smirked, keeping her eyes closed. "If I were scared of you, I wouldn't have saved you from freezing to death last night."
The neutral villagers, quietly gathered outside the hut, exchanged glances at the sharp exchange. Some of them whispered among themselves again - marveling at how the two, despite being enemies, seemed to bicker like old rivals tied by something deeper than just war.
Suddenly, the sound of a low, guttural growl cut through the morning air. The Guardian Wolf, though still injured from its battle with Arson the day before, stood tall at the entrance of the hut. Its piercing eyes locked onto Arson - burning with the same fury as before.
Sylvia slowly sat up, raising a hand in a calming gesture. "Easy," she whispered to the beast. "I told you - I'm handling him."
The wolf let out a low snarl but didn't move. It was clear that even weakened, the creature was ready to pounce if Arson so much as blinked the wrong way.
Arson smirked at the beast, defiant as always. "You again," he muttered. "Didn't get enough yesterday?"
Sylvia shot him a glare. "Don't provoke it."
He leaned back against the wall, the vines creaking slightly but holding firm. "I don't take orders from you."
The wolf growled louder this time, stepping forward.
Sylvia's vines instantly tightened around Arson's arms and torso, making him grunt. "Would you stop trying to die first thing in the morning?"
"Would you stop treating me like some helpless child?" Arson snapped back.
One of the neutral villagers, an elderly man with a weathered face, cautiously stepped into the hut. "Please," he said softly. "We have little left. We don't want more fighting."
Sylvia nodded. "Neither do I."
Arson, however, remained silent - his crimson eyes fixed on the wolf.
The old man sighed. "You two... you're like destruction and creation. One burns, the other rebuilds. But even the most destructive flame needs something to consume - and the strongest plant still needs warmth to grow."
Sylvia blinked, caught off guard by the words. Arson simply scoffed. "Spare me the poetry, old man."
The elder shook his head. "You may hate each other, but you're tied together now. Not just by those vines - but by your place in this world."
Sylvia didn't respond, though a part of her found the words oddly striking.
Arson, however, just gritted his teeth. "We're not tied by anything," he said coldly. "I'm a destroyer. She's just the clean-up crew."
Sylvia finally turned to him, her eyes hard. "And you think destruction alone makes you powerful?"
"I know it does."
"Then you're a fool."
The tension in the room thickened, but the wolf, sensing Sylvia's resolve, finally stepped back, keeping a watchful eye on Arson.
The old man gave them one last look before stepping outside again. "You'll see," he muttered. "One way or another."
_ _ _
The morning air thickened with tension as Arson struggled against the tight grip of Sylvia's vines, his muscles straining and flames flaring faintly along his arms. Sylvia, standing her ground, kept her focus sharp - her control over the vines unrelenting.
"You're not going anywhere," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Arson growled, pulling harder. "I'm not your prisoner, princess. Let me go!"
The stubborn vine still connecting their wrists seemed almost alive - refusing to break despite their opposing forces. With every tug, Arson's fire singed the edges of the vine, while Sylvia's energy pulsed through it, keeping it intact. It became a battle of willpower, destruction clashing against creation.
Finally, with a final surge of strength, Arson managed to tear his body free from the entangling vines, though the one linking him to Sylvia remained firmly in place, glowing faintly - almost as if mocking their rivalry.
He staggered back a step, his chest heaving, then immediately raised his hand, flames crackling at his fingertips, aiming directly at the wolf standing protectively by Sylvia's side.
The Guardian Wolf let out a menacing snarl, its injured frame still fierce, but before Arson could unleash his flames-
THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!
A rain of metallic needles shot through the air, piercing the wolf's side and legs with deadly precision. The beast yelped in pain, collapsing onto the ground, blood seeping into the soil.
The neutrals gasped in horror, some rushing forward instinctively to help the wolf, while others turned sharply toward Arson, their eyes blazing with fury.
"You monster!" one shouted. "Even after last night, you still-"
But Arson didn't smirk. He didn't revel in the suffering this time. His jaw was tight, his flames still glowing in his palm - yet they didn't ignite. His crimson eyes darted past the crowd, scanning the direction the attack had come from.
"Who did that?" he demanded, his voice rough and dangerous. "Show yourself!"
A group of armored figures emerged from the tree line. Their bodies gleamed with futuristic silver plating, a blend of metal and mechanics. Sharp, weaponized gauntlets extended from their arms - designed for both offense and defense - and their helmets bore intricate designs resembling gears and cogs.
Leading them was a tall, broad-shouldered warrior with a jagged blade attached to his arm and a stern, calculating expression beneath his helmet.