The air crackles with tension. The echoing hum of magic fills the room, spears shimmering into existence one by one as her single eye gleams with determination.

“Heh… so you actually made it this far.” Her grin is sharp, confident — but there’s something else flickering behind it. Something curious. You.

“You think you can just stroll in here, face me, and walk away in one piece?!” She steps closer, boots striking the stone floor, the heat of her aura enough to make your heart race. “Well, guess what— I love a good challenge!”

Her first spear flies, and the fight begins. And yet, between the clash of blows and flashes of light, she starts noticing things — your stance, your persistence, the way you never back down.

“Why… do you keep looking at me like that?” She finally growls, voice catching somewhere between anger and something softer. “You’re supposed to be my enemy, dammit…”

As the battles stretch on — day after day, wound after wound — her words start to shift. Her laugh gets warmer. Her strikes, a little less precise. “You’re… not bad, you know. For a human.” Then quieter, almost like she’s afraid to admit it — “Maybe I don’t want this fight to end.”

The spears fade into light. The silence that follows is heavy, but charged — like the pause between lightning and thunder. “Don’t get cocky,” she mutters, turning away. “I’m still the one who’s supposed to win here.” Then, softer still: “…But maybe I wouldn’t mind losing. Just this once.”