"Let her go."

Tinsurnae tilted his head. Down the cavern's length, bathed in the flickering glow of fractured crystals and glowing red Ryun, stood a man in tattered shorts and worn boots. Next to him was a girl cloaked in an orange and black robe, sandpaper-colored hair in a shuffled mess. Tinsurnae sighed—audibly—his hand still flaring with Sryun as he kept Sšurtinaui pinned against the rock wall.

He raised his hand lazily, and from behind the jagged stones and crevices, creatures began to crawl out—mole-lizard hybrids, snakes made of stone and smoke, some even stitched together from other beast parts. His earlier summons had been expended against the warrior guarding the temple, but these were newer, rawer—meant for shredding distractions.

Jonathan and Caroline didn't flinch. As the first beasts lunged, Caroline's tails snapped to life, her sigils flaring like red neon glyphs as she tore through the first wave with fluid, brutal efficiency. Jonathan was less graceful but no less effective—his red-and-black Ryun crackled around his arms, fists crashing through jaws and plating as he moved like a wild boxer fueled by fury.

Tinsurnae's brows raised slightly. He was… impressed.

Sšurtinaui steadied her breathing, calming the pulse of Sryun still coiled inside her muscles. She could see now—he hadn't been caught off guard. He'd baited her. The bastard.

Tinsurnae released her and took a step forward, forming a hand sign with deliberate precision—three fingers bent, one palm open, then twisted sharply. A fiery projectile sparked into existence, a roaring sphere of molten Ryun and compressed heat.

He launched it without flair.

The blast erupted through the tunnel, devouring the path in a cascade of fire and smoke. Stone cracked. Dust choked the air.

But as the flames died and the smoke thinned, his smirk returned.

Standing amid the scorched rubble was a shimmering dome—a shield of red threads and crackling Ryun arcs. Jonathan grunted under the strain, Caroline's tails coiled tightly around him, helping to hold the barrier together.

"When did you learn to do this?" Caroline whispered, not looking at him.

Jonathan shrugged. "I didn't."

It annoyed him. This had to be Jafar's muscle memory. Not his own.

But it worked.

And now they had Tinsurnae's full attention.

He clapped.

"Bravo. Really. Fireball didn't work? Guess you're not as sorry as I thought."

His voice was smooth, light, and oddly charming. He cracked his neck and gestured casually toward Sšurtinaui, still frozen from the Sryun lock.

"She was following me. Stalking me even. That was very uncomfortable," he added, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

Jonathan raised a finger. "Hey now, don't blame her. She's just an elf with boundary issues. Its compulsive she can't help it."

Caroline snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" Jonathan asked innocently, shrugging. "We're gonna act like the woman isn't nosey?"

"No," she said flatly.

Sšurtinaui just rolled her eyes the best she could. Tinsurnae smirked, clearly amused. "Are you all like this, or did I just win the jackpot of dysfunction?"

Jonathan stepped forward, brushing debris off his shoulders. "Look, joke time aside—you're strong. I'll give you that. But if you're gunning for that gem too, maybe we should team up."

Tinsurnae blinked. Then laughed. "Ah… no thanks. I've seen how you three move. You'd slow me down. And I like not dying."

Jonathan scowled. "Excuse me?"

"Don't take it personally. You're scrappy. You've got that whole no-shirt, full-spirit, anime-protag look going. But my standards are higher than 'didn't die immediately.'"

Caroline sighed. "And here we go."

"You don't have to help," Jonathan said to her, cracking his neck. "But I've got something to prove."

She deadpanned. "Duh. Of course I'm helping. Sšurtinaui, a freakin 'hostage right now. So don't go all crazy."

"Hmm… very true," Jonathan said with a grin. For some reason he didn't feel like she was really in danger. "We get a hit on him, we win her back."

Tinsurnae raised a brow. "When did I say that?."

"Scared?," Jonathan replied.

Tinsurnae sighed and stretched. "Fine. You get a clean hit on me—I'll consider it. Not promising anything. But I'll consider it." Something was pushing him forward. He wasn't actually sure what but he was one to trust his instincts. Besides, they shouldn't be able to actually touch him.

"Deal." Jonathan said confidently.

Caroline muttered, "I hate this already."

Tinsurnae cracked his knuckles and glanced between the two of them. "Let's keep this serious, though. I didn't spend five years under Rhan's sky to lose to a moody lightning guy and a part-time fire fox."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to be edgy, man."

"I am edgy," Tinsurnae said flatly. "It's part of the brand."

Jonathan looked to Caroline. "Ready to kick his ass?"

Caroline sighed, tails flaring. "You better not miss."

Tinsurnae didn't waste time.

The second Jonathan blinked, he was already there—hand glowing with green Sryun and slamming into his ribs like a sledgehammer. Jonathan skidded back, boots dragging trenches into the cave floor.

"Fast," Jonathan muttered, breath hitching.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Warming up," Tinsurnae said.

Caroline flared her tails and leapt in, her health now fully restored and her aura humming with crimson energy. With a flash of symbols beneath her feet, she activated Sigil Brawler—a close-range subclass in Arc Sigil Unite 4, meant for dealing with fast opponents through overwhelming precision.

"Grab Sšurtinaui!"

She dashed forward, fox tails flickering behind her as her body blurred in and out of teleportation flashes. Tinsurnae dodged her first three strikes with practiced ease, the fourth grazing his cheek—but his smile never faded.

"You're better when you're serious," he admitted, ducking a spinning hookkick laced with runes. "But still not enough."

She snarled and threw a palm strike that sent a rippling sigil shockwave through the air. He sidestepped it, but the delayed rune detonated behind him and sent shards of purple crystal into his back. His wind absorbed the hit, he rolled midair, and bounced off the cave wall into a flicker-step across the chamber.

Caroline chased him, weaving sigils mid-run, fists glowing.

Jonathan watched the streaks of light and shadows zip around the chamber like a superpowered pinball machine.

"They're gonna bring this whole mountain down," he muttered, then inhaled deep—channeling the Ryun lightning into his limbs. This time, he tried something new: shaping his energy before releasing it.

It started with a single wordless intention.

Hit him. Hard.

He sank low, dug his feet in, and bolted forward like a red-and-black streak. As Tinsurnae ducked a swipe from Caroline, Jonathan appeared from above—right arm wreathed in spiraling lightning like a coiled dragon.

Tinsurnae turned too late.

Jonathan came down with a thundering punch—only for Tinsurnae to twist midair and barely deflect the hit with a wind-forged arm guard. The force still sent him flying into the stone wall, cracking it deep and sending debris crumbling.

Silence.

Even Caroline blinked.

Tinsurnae dusted himself off, coughed once, and gave a crooked grin.

"Okay. That… almost hurt."

Jonathan cracked his knuckles. "I'm just getting started."

Tinsurnae's eyes gleamed. "Good. Me too."

"Wait, that doesn't count!" Caroline shouted, her voice cracking with disbelief.

Jonathan and Tinsurnae turned in perfect unison, identical grins carved across their faces.

"Hell no!" they yelled back.

They shot toward each other like fired bullets, blurs of color and pressure tearing the air.

Jonathan's body flared in red-black arcs, lightning screaming across his skin and into his veins. His muscles ballooned with raw force, the energy surging through him so violently it looked like he might explode from within. But he didn't hesitate—he leaned in. Every movement now came with a thunderclap, every step cratered the ground.

Tinsurnae didn't retreat.

He raised his arm and a wreath of flame spiraled to life around him, a rotating inferno that formed a barrier of scorching death. The ground boiled beneath his feet. Jonathan didn't care. He tore straight through, body ablaze, fists coated in coiling red energy.

The impact sent an explosion through the cave.

Jonathan's knuckles slammed against the fire, and even through it, Tinsurnae staggered back. Flames licked across Jonathan's forearm, cooking the skin, but he barely flinched—already winding up his next strike.

Tinsurnae's counter was immediate.

He slammed a palm into the ground.

The floor ruptured—jagged spires of stone bursting upward like earth-born blades. Jonathan twisted in midair, narrowly dodging the first and deflecting the second with a sweeping backhand. The third caught his shoulder, ripping open skin and sending blood sizzling across the cavern.

Jonathan hit the floor on a slide, sparks trailing from his feet. He threw his hand outward and a wave of crimson mist hissed into the air. The moment it touched the space between them, the world warped. Spires meant to impale him curved away like warped metal under a magnet. Light bent. For a second, Jonathan vanished entirely.

Tinsurnae's eyes widened. He spun around—just in time for Jonathan to reappear behind him, fist cocked and black lightning screaming down his forearm.

He threw the punch.

Tinsurnae ducked low, sliding under the strike and bringing a flaming knee up toward Jonathan's ribs.

Jonathan twisted again—fluid, brutal—and caught the knee with his forearm, but the blast still knocked the wind from his lungs.

Both staggered back. Breathing hard. Eyes locked.

Caroline blinked from across the cavern. "So… do I jump in or let the testosterone sort itself out?"

Tinsurnae smirked, sweat dripping down his cheek as he held his stance. "Not bad."

Jonathan chuckled, shaking out his bruised knuckles. "You either."

They charged again.

There was something in the way they moved—some buried recognition in rhythm, in instinct, in aggression. Like this wasn't the first time they'd clashed, even if they didn't remember when. It felt familiar. Exhilarating. Discomforting. Neither said it. Neither flinched.

Tinsurnae exhaled—and the entire battlefield lit up.

Flames bloomed across the cavern floor, igniting in wide, precise arcs. The fire didn't dance—it marched, moving in calculated surges like tendrils being directed by a conductor. Lava veins lit the walls, controlled infernos carving trenches through rock. Caroline leapt back with a yelp as a wall of fire bisected her from the battle.

Jonathan barely had time to respond when the ground screamed.

A colossal hand—stone-born and rune-etched—erupted, fingers gnarled like ancient tree trunks. Titan's Grasp clawed toward him with crushing intent, fingers digging into the earth as it lunged.

Jonathan's body crackled.

Black lightning surged up his spine, wrapping around his chest and limbs like a living thing. Crimson runes pulsed to life, flashing across the surface of his skin. The golem hand crashed against him—and he didn't budge.

The force of the strike echoed through the cavern. Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling. Caroline yelled something from behind the flame wall—he didn't hear her.

Instead, he grinned.

Red lightning surged from the runes across his chest, punching outward like a detonation of divine defiance. The stone hand recoiled—fingers snapping, shattering—before melting into rubble.

Tinsurnae's eyes widened.

Jonathan raised his arms. The air around him twisted, rippled, then roared.

A burning halo of crimson and obsidian lightning flared behind his head. It spun like a wheel of wrath, and with each step he took forward, it fired concentric waves of raw force. Flame lines collapsed. The march broke. The very air warped under the pressure.

Tinsurnae threw up a Ryun barrier, dodged, rolled—but Jonathan was already moving.

Black lightning coiled into a spiral above his palm—tight, angry, hungry. He hurled it forward and it spun, widening mid-flight into a vortex of screaming energy. The pull was immediate—rocks lifted, debris sucked inward, even the edges of the flame field bent toward it.

At the core of the vortex pulsed bursts of red—each pulse faster, hotter, tighter.

Tinsurnae tried to leap out of range—but the spiral caught his leg. He snarled, slicing his own leg free to escape the full pull, but even then his body was seared by static heat as he barely launched himself to safety.

The vortex detonated.

Everything nearby was atomized. The terrain collapsed inward. Stone shrieked and cracked, stalactites dropped like spears, and the cavern floor tore open beneath the weight of unleashed Ryun.

The cave rumbled—entire tunnels above them beginning to cave. Flames no longer raged. The scent of char, ozone, and scorched stone filled the space. The once-wide chamber had become a broken canyon of chaos.

And in the eye of it—Jonathan stood, panting, half-burning, eyes locked on Tinsurnae.

Tinsurnae slowly pushed himself up, smirking through the pain.

"You're a lot," he muttered. "I'll give you that."

Jonathan exhaled hard, wiping blood and soot from his brow. "Okay, let's review. You threw a lava tornado at me.

"You responded with an electric hurricane!"

"Then you summoned a rock fist the size of a minivan?! Was it that deep?!"

"You brought out a damn lightning halo that screamed." Tinsurnae snorted, coughing on ash. "And somehow we're both still standing. What the hell are we doing?"

"Flirting, apparently," Jonathan muttered, dragging his foot across a scorch mark. He wasn't sure why but he felt like this guy wasn't trying to kill him.

Tinsurnae raised a hand and let it fall back down. "Alright. I lost."

Jonathan blinked. "Wait, really? Why?"

Tinsurnae nodded and motioned around to the surrounding chaos. "I got launched into a wall. Twice. First time, sure, I blocked. Second time? I had to remove my leg and still got flung." He regrew his leg in a second, and stood up.

"Good," Jonathan said, collapsing to one knee. "I was out of juice anyway." He laughed, then grimaced as his ribs reminded him they still existed. "Bro, I was one attack away from passing out and waking up as a motivational quote. You sure you wanna forfeit now?"

Tinsurnae shrugged. "Yeah. I just don't have the will to keep swinging." He walked over, extending a hand. "Tinsurnae."

Jonathan stood, wiped his hand on his shorts like it made a difference, and shook it. "North."

Tinsurnae blinked. "North, huh? That's a name alright."

"What, and Tinsurnae is in the top ten baby names of the year?"

They both laughed—and then the air twisted.

Reality hiccuped. The space around them cracked like a mirror dunked in static.

Before either could react, the floor beneath them turned to light. The world blinked out—and they were swallowed into a stream of swirling timelines and collapsing paradoxes. It wasn't summoning them, not exactly. It was remembering them. Drawing them in.

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