The tea was warm, calming, and far too peaceful considering the three monsters sitting inside Tessandra's house.
John took one final sip, set the cup down, and looked at Tessandra with that quiet, unreadable expression of his—half-stoic, half-calculating, somehow still effortlessly charismatic.
"Tess," he said softly, "take a walk with me outside."
Her eyes lifted. A small smile tugged her lips—not forced, but genuine.
"…Alright."
Alzwalt's eyebrows shot up instantly. He elbowed Kaelven and whispered way too loudly,
"Bro… look at that. The all-powerful John is soft right now."
Kaelven snorted. "Man's practically glowing."
John's eyebrow twitched.
He didn't move.
Didn't turn his head.
Didn't even blink.
Three pebbles manifested between his fingers—smooth, black, polished like obsidian.
He flicked them.
FWO–FWO–FWO!
One smacked Kaelven directly in the forehead.
"OW—BRUH?!" Kaelven grabbed his face.
Alzwalt dodged the first pebble with a laugh.
"Hahaaa you missed me—"
The third pebble curved mid-air like it had a mind of its own and smacked him square in the center of his forehead.
TOK!
"GYAAAAH—JOHN, YOU MENACE!" Alzwalt grabbed his head dramatically. "I swear on my luminous ancestors—I'm paying you back for that! You hear me?! I said I'm—JOHNNNN!"
John didn't even look at him.
"Shut up, muscle brain."
Kaelen—barely awake on the couch—groaned, "Why did I get hit…?"
Alzwalt threw an arm around Kaelen's shoulder in solidarity.
"Welcome to our suffering, kid."
John exhaled sharply, grabbed his coat with one hand, and nodded for Tessandra to follow.
"Let's go."
She slipped on her shoes, cheeks faintly warm, and walked beside him out the door.
Sand and dry earth stretched across the plain. Nothing special. Nothing beautiful.
But the moment they stepped forward—
The ground shimmered.
A soft breeze whispered.
And then—
Color.
Flowers erupted from the barren ground in an instant.
Blues, violets, whites, deep crimson petals—an entire ocean of blossoms blooming outward like a living painting. A paved walkway formed beneath their feet, warm light shimmering along its edges.
Tessandra slowed, eyes wide.
"John… you—did you just—?"
"Yes."
He kept walking, hands folded behind his back, tone simple and almost teasing.
"I'm not letting our walk be boring. And besides…"
He gave her a sidelong look.
"You deserve something better to look at than sand."
She felt warmth rise beneath her skin—but she kept her composure.
"Using your power just for a date?" she said lightly.
"It's not 'just' a date," John replied.
"It's me showing effort. Even I can do that much."
He said it without embarrassment—straightforward, confident, dominant.
Tessandra liked that.
A man who didn't need to pretend, or flirt awkwardly.
A man who simply acted, and the world bent to match.
"You know," she said, stepping closer, "most men try to impress me by bragging about their circuits."
John snorted. "I don't need to brag."
And that—right there—made her smile again.
She tilted her head, studying him.
"You're the type who leads without force. Who acts without needing validation. That's rare."
John shrugged once.
"And you're the type who doesn't fold under pressure. Even when you should."
He looked at her more directly now.
"You're strong. Not because of your rank. Because you're willing to stand alone."
Her lips parted slightly.
"…You read me easily."
"Of course," John said. "We're similar. That's why we get along."
They reached the end of the flower path, where a soft glow rested atop a wide, open-air pavilion. A dark wood floor, lanterns hung from the corners, silk curtains fluttering in the gentle wind.
At the center, a table set with wine and food—perfectly warm, perfectly arranged.
Tessandra stopped, stunned again.
"You created all this… while sparring earlier?"
"No," John answered, stepping ahead of her. "I made it right before I asked you to walk with me."
He pulled out a chair for her—smooth, graceful, the gesture confident but not overbearing.
"Sit," he said softly.
Tessandra's gaze met his—strong against strong.
But tonight, the battlefield was different.
She sat down, slow, elegant, a smile blooming across her lips like the flowers around them.
John smirked, pulling his own chair out with one hand.
The night wind carried the scent of blossoms.
The lantern light glowed warm.
Two powerhouses sat across from each other—dominant and steady, sharp and unwavering.
Perfectly matched.