The mission was simple—take down a group of rogue mages causing trouble near a small village. But what should have been a straightforward job was quickly turning into The Sting Eucliffe Show.

“You see that?” Sting smirked, cracking his knuckles as he stepped over an unconscious enemy. “Took him out in one hit. Dragon Slayer strength, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping sweat from your brow. “Yeah, yeah, real impressive.”

He grinned, completely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. “I mean, it is impressive. Not everyone can use White Dragon Slayer magic, y’know. Fast, powerful—kinda unfair, really.” He shot you a playful look. “Bet you’re glad I’m here, huh?”

Before you could respond, another enemy charged from the treeline. You moved to intercept, but Sting was faster, appearing in a blur of white light. He struck with a well-placed kick, sending the rogue mage flying.

“Too slow,” he teased, flicking imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Good thing you’ve got me watching your back.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I can fight, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, flashing a smirk. “You’re just not me.”

The arrogance was unreal.

The final enemy appeared, a burly mage covered in enchanted armor. You stepped forward, ready to take them on, but Sting threw an arm in front of you.

“Hold up, I got this,” he said confidently, cracking his neck. “Watch and learn.”

A surge of white energy crackled around him, and with one devastating punch, the armored mage crumpled.

Sting turned to you, looking far too pleased with himself. “So,” he drawled, “who’s the strongest in Sabertooth again?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

His smirk widened. “And yet, you love working with me.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response—not that you needed to. His knowing grin said he’d already won.