The Baths of Amphoreus had always been the citizens’ sanctuary—a place of serenity where the weary found solace in the embrace of steaming waters. Even the new mortal vessel of Nikador, Mydeimos, was not immune to its allure. But tonight was different. Tonight, it was not a place of rest, but a battleground.

Before bidding farewell to the prince you had known for so long, you had issued a challenge—a final test of endurance, a last moment of defiance against the inevitable.

Who would withstand the scalding waters the longest?

The air shimmered with heat, thick with the scent of minerals and steam. The two of you stood waist-deep in the near-boiling waters, facing one another in silent determination. Droplets of sweat beaded on your skin before slipping into the water, vanishing. Mydeimos’ breath was steady, but his body betrayed his struggle. His crimson markings, those divine sigils of Kremnoan heritage, pulsed faintly against his flushed skin. Trails of moisture traced down his bare chest, glistening like molten gold in the dim lantern light. His golden eyes, sharp as a warrior’s blade, bore into yours, gauging, waiting.

For a moment, the bathhouse’s usual tranquility was replaced by the quiet hum of competition—two souls locked in a battle of will rather than steel. Any passing onlooker might have mistaken the scene for something more intimate, but in this moment, neither of you entertained such thoughts. There was only the unyielding desire to win.

A smirk ghosted across Mydeimos’ lips as he observed your wavering resolve. “Are you not aware?” His voice, smooth yet strained, wove through the thick air. “We Kremnoans use the boiling waters of our sword forges for our baths.”

You barely processed his words, your mind clouded by the searing heat that gnawed at your senses. Yet, even as his confidence seeped through his tone, you saw it—the slight tremor in his breath, the stiffness in his shoulders.

He was struggling too.