Meanwhile...
Ten days had passed. Ten long, smoldering days. And in that time, the flames of conquest had never once ceased.
Arson - the blazing storm of the Magma Tribe - left village after village in smoldering ruins. His firestorm rampages were swift and unrelenting, burning through forests, fields, and homes alike. Wherever he walked, magma-scorched earth followed, a searing reminder of his passage.
But just as consistent as his destruction... was Sylvia.
The Nature Princess trailed close behind him, never far, never stopping.
As Arson's infernos died down, she would arrive - barefoot upon the ash-covered ground, her emerald aura glowing with gentle fury. Her hands coaxed the land back to life, planting saplings in the soot, raising trees where there had been only blackened stumps. Children and elders alike gathered around her, seeking the protection only she could offer.
It had become a rhythm.
Fire, then bloom.
Destruction, then healing.
Arson knew she was behind him. He could feel the growing pulse of life reclaiming his conquests. And yet, he didn't stop.
Instead, he left behind trails of his magma crest - a glowing, red-hot insignia scorched into rocks, walls, and even trees. It marked the land as his. A warning. A dare.
If any other tribe tried to stake a claim on these neutral territories, they'd have to go through him.
And still, Sylvia restored.
Her vines grew around the magma sigils without breaking them - a quiet act of defiance. She didn't erase his marks, but she embraced them, wrapping his warnings in ivy and blooming petals. Her message was clear: These people may live under your shadow, but they still breathe because of me.
To the neutral tribes, their presence was confusing - terrifying, yet oddly protective.
Arson would scorch a village, but not kill. Sylvia would shield the villagers and bring their home back to life.
They were enemies. Rivals. Complete opposites.
And yet, together, they were turning every neutral village into something new:
Territory neither fully Magma nor fully Nature - but somehow both.
Every day, the fire burned.
Every night, the forest grew back.
They never spoke. They didn't need to.
This... was their routine now.
Their strange, elemental dance.
A silent war that shaped the world more than either of them realized.
And in those ten days, something else was growing - something subtler than a sprout, more volatile than magma.
A bond.
Arson, for all his explosive nature, began to anticipate her.
Every time he set a village ablaze, his mind flickered - she'll be here soon.
At first, it was annoyance. Then... curiosity.
And then something more.
He began noticing things.
The way her green hair shimmered when she restored.
The determined look in her eyes when shielding children from his fire, even though she knew he'd never burn them.
The way she never backed down, never scolded, just... stood there, like a wall of life against his destruction.
He'd scoff and move on, telling himself it was nothing.
But somewhere deep in his molten core, the thought burned:
If she stopped following me... would this all feel meaningless?
Would it be... empty?
Sylvia felt it too.
At first, she followed him out of duty - someone had to stop the Magma Prince.
But now... she felt it in her chest whenever she sensed his flames.
She'd arrive, see the flickering red sigil scorched into the earth, and her pulse would quicken.
Not in fear.
In familiarity.
There was something magnetic about his reckless destruction, his pride, his impossible need to burn everything.
Without that, what would she be healing? Without him, who would she protect these people from?
And it wasn't just about duty anymore.
Like vines curling around a lone stone in the firelight...
Like sparks hiding beneath the bark of a tree...
Something was forming.
Quiet. Warm. Dangerous.
Their hearts had become battlegrounds, too.
Not just for their elements, but for each other.
And neither of them realized...
That love, in its strangest form, had already begun to smolder.
That night, beneath a quiet sky flickering with faint stars and the cooling embers of Arson's earlier conquest, the world around them was still - but not them.
As always, Sylvia lay beside Arson, her shimmering green vines wrapped tightly around his torso like a living cocoon.
It had once been to restrain him - now it was routine.
Intimate. Silent. Strange.
Arson didn't resist.
He hadn't for days now.
He'd gotten used to the warmth of her body beside his, the way her vines kept his temper-and sometimes, his loneliness-in check.
But tonight, sleep didn't come.
His crimson eyes stared at the dark sky above, reflecting the glow of distant flames still licking the horizon.
"...I've taken over thirty-seven neutral villages by now," he murmured into the night, his voice low and proud.
Even now, that pride was like magma in his veins-hot, dangerous, alive.
Sylvia, still resting against him, opened her eyes. She didn't say much at first, but a soft smile curled her lips.
"You haven't burned everything," she whispered. "Because I didn't let you. They're still alive."
That made Arson grunt. A flicker of irritation crossed his face... but it melted into something softer.
It stung, sure.
But it was her.
That stubborn, unshakable refusal. That was Sylvia.
He smirked. "Tch... you're always like this."
She smirked back. "You'd be bored if I wasn't."
Silence fell again, but it wasn't empty. It pulsed with something deeper now.