The air screamed with heat.
A fist of molten rock, large enough to crush a man, hung in the air for a terrible second before accelerating towards Vayu. He was on one knee, his breath ragged, the golden light of his sword guttering like a dying candle.
There was no time for a defense. Sindhu could only watch, his mouth dry, his own suppressed power a hollow ache in his chest.
Sindhu's world narrowed to a single, cold stone of certainty in his gut. We're dead, his mind spat, and there was no room for anything else.
A thunderous blast shook the arena—
A shockwave of pure force erupted from the side, slamming into the magma fist. It completely disintegrated, exploding into a cloud of superheated dust and droplets that rained down harmlessly, sizzling against an invisible barrier of shimmering air.
Through the heat haze and smoke, the Sihilotte stepped forward. He was tall, his skin etched with faint, glowing patterns like the cooling lava. Jwala. His eyes, the colour of burnt amber, scanned the scene, lingering on the massive demon for only a second before flicking to Vayu and Sindhu with a look of pure contempt.
"Pests..." Jwala's voice was a low, gravelly thing, barely louder than the magma's rumble.
Without waiting for an answer, he pivoted, a whirlwind of motion. A sphere of condensed flame, roaring like a forge, bloomed in his hand. He didn't aim; he simply shoved it forward, a brawler's punch made of fire, straight into the demon's torso.
Sindhu's mind finally caught up to his lungs. "No! Stop, you idiot!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
But it was too late. When Jwala's fire sank into its core, it exhaled with a low, human sigh of contentment—the kind you'd hear after a long drink. The sound didn't belong in this world. The dark energy around it swelled, and the obsidian under their feet glowed brighter. The oppressive weight in the air intensified.
Vayu was already moving. Jwala's reckless attack was a catastrophe, but it was also a distraction.
While the demon basked in its newfound energy, Vayu pushed through the pain, his muscles screaming. Vayu swung low at the rakshasa's leg, no stance, no style—just desperation. The blade bit deep, severing tendon and something that felt less like flesh and more like the world's foundation. The demon bellowed—a true sound of injury and surprise—and crashed to one knee. The moment it hit the ground; the entire arena shuddered. The constant, crushing pressure on Sindhu's chest lessened just a fraction. He could take a full breath.
For a split second, Jwala's contemptuous mask slipped into pure, uncomprehending shock. Then his face twisted into a snarl of understanding. "Fine," he grunted, the word a low promise of violence. "The hard way."
He raised his hands, and the very air began to waver. The heat from the Magma Rivers twisted upwards, drawn into a vortex above his head, forming a new fireball, larger and angrier than the first. And launched it up. As it grew, the demon's obsidian world began to fray at the edges; the absolute blackness softened to a deep grey.
The demon, now wounded and challenged, focused its malice. It ignored the obvious threat of Jwala's growing inferno. This was its strategy. With one hand, it lobbed a dense, fast-moving ball of obsidian at Vayu, forcing a defence. With the other, it slammed its fist into the ground directly beneath Jwala.
Vayu saw the projectile coming. He braced, his sword coming up to block. His dizziness blurred his vision; he couldn't focus. The magma ball splattered over his blade and arm, instantly solidifying into a crushing, burning weight.
At the exact same instant, the ground under Jwala buckled. For a half-breath, he fought it—palms burning, teeth clenched—the sphere quivered in the air, held together by the thinnest thread of his concentration. Strings of flame licked out, stubborn and raw. Then the earth heaved, those threads snapped, and the massive fireball winked out as all his focus shattered. He was thrown off his feet, landing hard on the jagged obsidian; the impact drew a sharp gasp of pain.
The demon rose, the severed tendons reformed as jagged shards of obsidian pushed through molten flesh, locking into place like broken glass. It took a heavy step towards the prone Jwala, its foot rising for a crushing stomp.
Sindhu didn't think. He moved on an instinct that screamed against every self-preserving bone in his body. He could let him die. He should. But—to save this arrogant fool was to invite his own doom. Yet to let him die was to lose their only chance. He launched himself forward in a survivor's lunge. He collided with Jwala's side, shoving them both roughly out of the way just as the demon's foot came down with a sound like shattering stone.
They tumbled together, a tangle of limbs, coming to a stop near the searing heat of a magma flow. Sindhu pushed himself up, his hands scraped and bleeding from the sharp rock. "Are you hit?" he panted, his voice rough with adrenaline.
Jwala rolled over, his face a mask of pain and fury. His eyes, which had been a steady amber, now glowed with a deep, bloody crimson. They locked onto Sindhu.
There was no thanks. No acknowledgment. Only instant, venomous recognition.
'Kaveri scum,' the words dripped with a hatred so old it felt ingrained in the very planet.
"Get your filthy hands off me."
A shudder rolled through the obsidian. Heat rippled against Sindhu's back. He turned, and the demon's massive shadow fell across them both, its molten core pulsing with sick delight.
The battlefield fell away. The regenerating demon, the injured Vayu—all of it was secondary to the new, more intimate danger that now lay sparking between them. The alliance was broken before it had even begun.