The morning sun spilled golden light over the quiet town, illuminating cobblestones and rooftops alike. Salvus shuffled into the café, his hair a messy black mop and eyes still heavy with sleep. Electricity hummed faintly beneath his skin, a constant reminder that the world he now inhabited had changed him forever.
Kaelen, who had agreed to stay by Salvus's side after the second encounter, leaned against the counter, arms crossed, wearing a stern expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. Yet even as he attempted to maintain a serious demeanor, he occasionally tripped over crates or muttered complaints about the café's layout, giving Salvus a rare glimpse of amusement from the usually imposing general.
"Try not to electrocute the customers today," Kaelen grumbled, a spark of humor in his tone despite himself.
Salvus puffed out his chest. "No worries! I've practiced. I'm… a professional now," he said, only to accidentally spark a nearby teapot, sending a small arc of electricity fizzing harmlessly across the counter. Kaelen winced. "Professional, huh? Right."
Despite these comic mishaps, the duo began developing an unspoken rhythm. Salvus would use his electricity strategically: lighting lanterns in the café, keeping pests at bay, or even subtly shocking a stubborn stubborn barrel to roll into place. Kaelen, meanwhile, would demonstrate his own precise blood manipulation in clever ways: moving trays just enough to catch falling items, or creating a slight breeze of crimson threads to redirect misfired sparks.
By mid-morning, a playful competition arose between them. Salvus tried to zap a hanging lantern to adjust its light without touching it, only to nearly singe Kaelen's cloak. "Careful!" Kaelen barked, simultaneously guiding a thread of blood to push the lantern back into place. Sparks and crimson arcs danced together in a ballet of controlled chaos, turning the café into a bizarre training ground.
As they worked, Salvus found himself slipping into moments of heroic self-talk, muttering phrases like, "No one shall suffer under injustice while I wield the power of the storm!" Kaelen, trying not to laugh, would mutter under his breath, "If only the storm could also clean up spilled coffee…"
Despite the humor, both of them were learning to trust one another. Salvus' quick thinking and electricity allowed him to improvise against potential threats, while Kaelen's experience in blood manipulation and battle tactics made him a mentor of sorts—even if Salvus frequently drove him crazy with clumsiness.
Later that afternoon, news arrived: scouts reported another imperial army moving closer, and the very same general who had led the first attack might return. Salvus' heart raced, but now he was not alone. Kaelen, once a fearsome adversary, now stood firmly by his side, and their combined abilities—electricity and blood, strategy and improvisation—promised to make them a formidable team.
Salvus flexed his fingers, feeling the faint hum of power. "Let's show them what a professional hero can do," he declared. Kaelen just shook his head, though a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time, Salvus realized that the combination of strategy, power, and—unexpectedly—humor could turn even the most serious battle into a dance they could control. The Hero Complex was no longer a solo performance—it was a partnership, chaotic sparks and all.