Nephis's breath hung heavy in the stillness of the dojo. The soft artificial breeze whispered against her skin, but it did nothing to soothe the heat coursing beneath the surface. Her silver eyes lingered on the entrance—silent, unmoving—yet every flicker of her pulse demanded otherwise.
He'll come.
She had asked him this morning.
The words had left her lips calmly, as if her heart hadn't been racing beneath the weight of them. There had been no tremble in her voice, no crack in her exterior—just quiet certainty. "Tonight" she whispered.
But the embers hadn't faded.
They burned hotter now, licking at her insides, daring her to acknowledge what lay beneath. Her fingers twitched at her sides, faint tendrils of heat trailing along her palms like echoes of something long past but never forgotten.
Ares.
The thought of him was like striking flint to steel—violent, immediate, and consuming. His name pulsed through her chest, threading itself into the molten core of her memory, and no matter how much she tried to pull away, it dragged her deeper.
She wasn't sure why she had asked him to meet her.
Not truly.
But the pull had been undeniable.
Nephis exhaled sharply, forcing herself to move. She crossed the floor with measured steps, though each footfall felt heavier than the last. Her hand brushed against the rack of wooden swords, fingers closing around one without hesitation.
If her body refused to settle, she would silence it the only way she knew how.
The dojo blurred at the edges as Nephis closed her eyes, the weight of the sword grounding her. But she wasn't in the dojo anymore.
The past called to her, dragging her beneath its surface.
And she let it.
---
The memory surged forward.
The first thing she saw was his eyes.
Crimson. Deep, endless, and alive with something that set her veins ablaze.
Ares stood across from her, a silent storm wrapped in the form of a man. His gaze never wavered—never drifted. It pinned her beneath its weight, like a predator watching prey too foolish to run.
But it wasn't fear that stirred inside her.
It was something far more dangerous.
I need to break him.
The thought had slipped through the cracks in her mind, uninvited but relentless.
Nephis hadn't sought victory that day. She hadn't fought for pride or strength or the recognition of her peers.
No.
She had fought to shatter him. To drag him beneath the crushing weight of her will and drown him in it.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest, every beat hotter than the last.
Why?
Even now, she didn't know.
But it didn't matter.
The fight had already begun to replay in vivid detail.
Nephis moved.
Her feet glided across the dojo floor as if guided by strings of molten fire. The wooden sword lashed forward, cutting through the empty air in front of her. The dojo filled with the whisper of her strikes—each one sharper, more brutal than the last.
But in her mind, it wasn't empty air she struck.
It was him.
Ares.
Her palm had lashed toward his eyes that day, fast and lethal, but his fist had surged to meet her. Their bodies twisted like opposing storms, colliding in bursts of fire and shadow. Each blow she dealt was met with savage retaliation.
And she felt it.
His desire.
Ares hadn't fought to survive.
He had fought to devour her.
His gaze had told her everything—his hunger, his madness, his twisted craving for more.
Her breath caught in her throat as the memory roared louder.
Nephis's sword slashed forward, the polished floor trembling beneath the force of her strike. She pivoted, driving the blade downward with merciless precision. Sweat trailed down the curve of her neck, but she paid it no mind.
She could see him.
His eyes. His twisted grin, sharp and wild, like every blow she landed only fed the fire burning inside him.
And she wanted more.
Her body moved faster, her strikes chaining together in a brutal rhythm—unrelenting, unforgiving. The wooden sword became an extension of herself, slashing through the air like a whip of flame.
But no matter how hard she fought, his phantom never faded.
His eyes haunted her.
She could feel his gaze, even now, like a collar tightening around her throat—binding her to something she couldn't name.
Her heart pounded louder.
Nephis struck again.
Again.
Again.
Each swing of her sword lashed against his ghostly form, as if commanding him to yield—to kneel beneath the weight of her fury and beg for release.
And yet, even in her mind, Ares never faltered.
He stood his ground.
Bleeding, battered, but unbroken.
His eyes met hers, crimson blazing beneath the imagined cracks of light she tried to force upon him.
Her sword moved like lightning, slicing through the air with a final, devastating arc.
She imagined him there—kneeling, defeated, his crimson gaze never leaving hers even as the blade descended.
The wind howled around her as the shadow in her mind shattered, collapsing beneath the weight of her strike.
But it didn't satisfy her.
Nephis's eyes snapped open, the dojo returning to view, bathed in the soft glow of artificial light.
Her chest heaved, her grip trembling around the wooden hilt of her sword. The fire inside her hadn't dulled.
It burned hotter.
Because she knew now—
Breaking him wasn't enough.
She needed more.
She needed to see him again.
Ares wouldn't break.
But maybe, just maybe—
He would yield.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The slow, deliberate sound echoed through the dojo, slicing through the heavy silence like a blade.
Nephis froze, the wooden sword still mid-air, her breath caught somewhere between this world and the one her mind had conjured. Sweat traced a delicate path down the curve of her jaw, but the heat in her chest wasn't from exertion alone.
A low, rich laugh followed—smooth and sweet, yet laced with something darker.
Her silver eyes darted to the source of the sound, and there he was.
Ares.
He leaned casually against the entrance of the dojo, one shoulder pressed to the frame, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as if he owned the space. The flickering artificial light above did little to soften the sharpness of his features, but it was his eyes that held her.
Crimson, deep and endless, staring at her with no pretense of restraint.
Desire.
Barely leashed, yet utterly unapologetic.
His gaze traveled over her slowly—too slowly—taking in the sheen of sweat that glistened along her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
He didn't speak right away.
He didn't need to.
The look in his eyes said more than words ever could.
Nephis tightened her grip on the sword, but she knew it was pointless. The heat that surged beneath her skin wasn't from anger or embarrassment.
It was from the way he watched her.
Like he'd already claimed her.
And the worst part?
She didn't hate it.
"Don't stop," Ares said finally, his voice low, smooth—dangerous. His lips curled at the edges, that same maddening smirk from their fight haunting her all over again.
"I was enjoying the show."
Nephis's knuckles whitened around the hilt, but she couldn't tear her gaze from him.
Her heart pounded louder, drowning out every reasonable thought, but she didn't let it show.
"I wasn't performing for you," she replied, her voice steady—cool.
Ares pushed off the doorway, his movements fluid, like a panther stepping into the ring.
"No?" His eyes glinted, the amusement there sharpening into something more wicked. "Could've fooled me."
He began to close the distance between them, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
Nephis forced herself to stay still, though every muscle screamed at her to react—to move, to strike, to do something.
But she didn't.
She let him approach.
Let him draw closer, until the faint heat of his body brushed against the edge of her senses.
Until those crimson eyes filled her vision and left no room for anything else.
Ares glanced at the wooden sword still raised in her grip, then tilted his head slightly.
"Is that for me?" he asked, voice barely above a murmur.
Nephis's fingers flexed, but she lowered the weapon slowly, the blade dipping toward the floor.
"I thought you liked a challenge," she replied, forcing her heart to stop betraying her.
Ares's grin widened, his gaze never wavering.
"I do," he said, stepping even closer—so close now that their shadows bled into one another beneath the dojo lights.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The world shrank, the air thickening between them like the moments before a storm.
##############################
Ah~my queen nephis.....
Oh don't mind me~ hope you liked the chapter, and also, I would appreciate some ideas for the plot.
Have a good day~