Flin strutted into Godwin City the next morning, a smug grin glued to his face and a literal chimera's head slung over his back like a trophy bag. "Guess who's back with another W—"
Koyote was already seated at the inn's balcony, sipping something that looked like soup but had the consistency of toothpaste.
"Oh. You're here," Flin muttered, his smile twitching.
"I won," Koyote said with the enthusiasm of a man who'd just watched his whole life flash before his eyes. "By the way."
Flin pouted, arms crossed. "You always do this. You act dumb then pull out some dumb divine miracle like—"
"I almost drowned a child in holy water by accident yesterday."
"…What."
"Anyway!" Koyote stood up, brushing invisible dust off his cloak. "I have something to tell you."
Flin perked up. "Oh?"
"But I'll say it," Koyote smirked, "when Catherine returns. Until then, you're paying for dinner."
"WHAT—?!"
---
Later that night…
A feast that could bankrupt kingdoms lay between them. Flin cried silently into his gold pouch as Koyote ordered seconds. And thirds. And "one for the road."
"I challenge you," Koyote said, mouth full of rice and mystery meat.
"Huh?"
"A duel."
"You're Tier One," Flin blinked. "I'm Tier Three. This is gonna be the easiest win of my life."
"Ahh," Koyote grinned, "So that's how it is, huh?"
They stood under the pale moonlight, inn lights flickering behind them, a few drunk townsfolk betting copper coins on the sidelines.
---
And so the battle began.
Flin split into five illusionary clones instantly, all striking with polished synchronicity. Koyote responded by snapping his fingers and summoning…
…a literal bed. It hit one of the clones square in the chest, causing a ripple of static — it disappeared.
"YOU WEAPONIZED SLEEP?!"
"I'm the god of dreams, bro," Koyote said, riding the bed like a surfboard, weaving through spells.
Flin hurled flash bombs and conjured binding shadows. Koyote summoned a dream-version of Flin who immediately started insulting him.
"Dude, why does your imagination hate me?"
"I dunno. It's honest, though."
They clashed, rolled across the field, swapped weapons mid-fight, accidentally punched the same tree, and by the end of it both were lying flat on their backs, gasping for air.
"…Not bad," Flin panted.
"Same to you, clone-boy."
They stared up at the stars.
"Anyways it was a great dinner" said koyote.
"Praise to the Dreamweaver," Flin muttered.
Koyote turned his head slowly. "…Did you just rhyme?"
"…Shut up."
---