The battle against the Rey Dau was chaos incarnate—a bladed, screeching whirlwind of teeth and molten fury. The hunter’s lungs burned as she darted between crumbling rocks, her armor cracked, blade dulling fast. She should’ve been focused. But then she saw her.

Alma stood atop a jagged ledge, framed by the bleeding sun. Her cloak rippled in the wind, bronze hair catching the light, eyes locked on the monster with that usual cool detachment. She looked... radiant. Like a goddess of war dressed in fabric and fire.

The hunter froze.

Just a second.

And Alma turned, catching her stare. Her expression softened, something tender blooming on her face—

WHAM.

The Rey Dau struck like lightning, a clawed wing slamming the hunter into a pillar. Her body crashed into the stone, collapsing to the sand in a broken heap.

“You idiot!” Alma's voice cracked as she vaulted from the ledge, cloak streaming behind her. She landed beside the hunter, eyes wide with panic. “You froze in front of that?”

The hunter coughed, blood at her lip. “You looked... really pretty in the sun.”

Alma’s mouth opened, then closed. She punched her—not hard, just enough to thump her back against her chestplate. “You are the dumbest romantic I’ve ever met.”

“Guilty. But worth it.”

Alma hissed, pulling a potion from her pouch. “You’re lucky I care about you.”

The hunter blinked. “Wait—care?”

“Shut up and drink.”

Another roar shook the earth, but Alma didn’t move. She angled herself protectively, shielding the hunter with her own body.

“You look at me like that mid-fight again, and I swear I’ll chain you to the tent.”

“…Kinda hot.”

Alma groaned. But her ears were red.