He turned, his tail lashing, and began to walk. After a second, Ness followed, his battered sneakers squelching in the mud.
He lunged.
Ness didn't run. He stepped in . Close. Too close. He could smell the sulfur on the lion's breath, feel the individual points of heat radiating from his mane. He pressed two fingers to his own temple. rivals of aether ness
It wasn't a pounce; it was a detonation. Zetterburn vanished in a blur of orange and red, leaving a smoking trench in the ground. Ness had a single microsecond to react. He threw up a PSI Magnet, a shimmering green shield of mental energy. He turned, his tail lashing, and began to walk
It wasn't a victory. It was a truce. And as the sun set over the strange, churning horizon, the Boy from Onett and the Prince of Fire walked side-by-side into the unknown, two rivals bound by the simple, terrifying truth that neither could destroy the other. Ness didn't run