Mira was getting visibly annoyed that Jelo could dodge her attacks so easily. Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed with frustration, and she huffed audibly before pressing harder. She coordinated flawlessly with her clone, the two of them attacking in alternating waves that left Jelo with little room to breathe.

When the real Mira threw a strike, the clone was already positioning for the follow-up. When Jelo dodged left, they were there waiting. When he moved right, they cut off that angle too. The pressure was relentless, a constant barrage of coordinated attacks that would have overwhelmed most opponents. Their synchronization was perfect, like watching a single fighter split into two bodies operating with one mind.

Jelo realized she was going all out now, no longer holding anything back. If he kept playing pure defense, she'd eventually wear him down or catch him in a mistake. He needed to slow her momentum, disrupt the rhythm she and her clone had established.

He threw a few small fireballs, each one about the size of a baseball, launched with casual flicks of his wrist. They weren't aimed to injure—he made sure of that—but rather to disrupt their timing and test their reactions. The fireballs forced both Miras to break their coordinated assault, diving and weaving to avoid being hit. The flames passed harmlessly between them, scorching the ground where they landed but creating just enough chaos to give Jelo breathing room.

Even so, it was obvious he was holding back significantly. He was conserving energy, refusing to escalate the fight into something more dangerous. His movements remained defensive, his attacks minimal and non-lethal. He was fighting like someone who didn't want to be fighting at all.

Mira noticed immediately. She skidded to a halt several meters away, her clone mirroring her movements perfectly, and glared at him with clear annoyance. "Stop holding back!" she shouted, her voice sharp with frustration. "Put your all into this spar, Jelo, or it's completely useless! I want to know my strength relative to yours. If you don't use your actual strength, then the whole test is wrong. What's the point if you're not even trying?"

Jelo hesitated, his defensive stance faltering slightly. He could see the determination and frustration mixed together in her expression. This really did matter to her. This wasn't just some casual sparring match or a way to pass time. She genuinely needed to know where she stood compared to him, and his half-hearted effort was only making things worse.

He sighed internally. Fine. If she wanted to see what he could really do, then he'd show her. But he'd still be careful not to seriously hurt her.

As Jelo processed her words, his entire stance changed. The reluctance drained away, replaced by focus and intent. His movements sharpened immediately, his reactions becoming decisive and purposeful rather than purely reactive. He stopped thinking about not hurting her and started thinking about winning efficiently.

He began to attack between dodges, no longer content to simply evade. When Mira and her clone rushed him again, Jelo combined Wing Burst with precise fireballs that cut off their movement angles and forced separation between them. The clone had to veer left to avoid a fireball, while the real Mira dodged right, breaking their coordinated assault.

Before they could regroup, Jelo was already on the offensive. He pressed forward with controlled aggression, launching fireballs that weren't meant to hit directly but to control space and dictate where his opponents could move. He was herding them, controlling the pace of the battle, turning their coordination against them by forcing them to react to his attacks rather than executing their own strategy.

Mira struggled to defend as Jelo started dominating the flow of combat. She and her clone tried to reestablish their rhythm, but Jelo didn't give them the chance. Every time they moved to coordinate an attack, a fireball would force them apart. Every time they tried to close distance, a Wing Burst would reposition Jelo to a more advantageous angle.

The clone was dispersed first. Jelo feinted toward the real Mira, drawing both of them in that direction, then suddenly used Wing Burst to appear beside the clone instead. A precisely aimed fireball struck the clone directly in the chest, and it disappeared in a shimmer of displaced energy, dismissed back into whatever space Mira's ability pulled them from.

Now it was just the real Mira, and the disadvantage was immediately obvious. Without her clone to help coordinate attacks and cover angles, she was fighting alone against an opponent who was faster, stronger, and more versatile than her. She tried to press forward anyway, refusing to give up, but Jelo was relentless. He pushed her back step by step, controlling distance and timing with surgical precision.

A final burst of speed placed Jelo directly behind her before she could react. She started to turn, tried to defend, but he was already there. Jelo placed a single finger gently against the side of her neck, right where a blade or claw would have ended the fight instantly.

"It's over," he said quietly. "I won."

Mira froze, her entire body going still as she realized the position she was in. Disappointment flooded her features immediately. She'd lost, and not just lost—she'd been completely outclassed. The gap between them wasn't small. It was massive. Even going all out, coordinating perfectly with her clone, using every trick and technique she knew, she hadn't been able to land a single meaningful hit on him.

The realization stung.

But Mira wasn't ready to accept defeat yet. In a last desperate move, she suddenly twisted her body and threw an elbow backward, aiming for Jelo's ribs. It was a cheap shot, a move that broke the unspoken rules of sparring, but she was too frustrated and disappointed to care.

Jelo saw the attack coming before she even started moving. He reacted instantly, grabbing her arm mid-motion and looping his other arm around her neck from behind, holding her firmly in place. He laughed, the sound light and teasing. "What you just tried to do was cheating, you know."

Mira didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Her breath had caught in her throat, and her entire body had gone rigid for a completely different reason now.

Jelo realized a second later what position they were in. His arm was wrapped around her neck and shoulder, holding her against his chest. Her back was pressed against his front. He could feel the warmth of her body through their clothes, could feel the rise and fall of her breathing, could feel how soft she was despite all her combat training and physical strength.

His face immediately went red. His thoughts scattered. His brain short-circuited.

Her body is so soft and warm…

The thought hit him like a freight train, and Jelo's entire nervous system went into panic mode. He immediately released her and pushed away, stepping back several paces so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet. His face was burning, he was absolutely certain it was bright red, and he couldn't look directly at her.

He coughed awkwardly, trying desperately to regain some semblance of composure. "That was… uh… that was a good spar," he managed to say, his voice coming out higher than intended.

"Y-yeah," Mira agreed, her voice choked and strained. "Good spar."

To Jelo's absolute dismay, when Mira turned to look at him, there was a bright blush spread across her face as well. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were wide, and she looked just as flustered and embarrassed as he felt.

"What a scandal!" Jelo cried inwardly.

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