The crisp morning air carried the sound of clashing steel and echoing voices as Ari stepped into the guild’s private training grounds. The circular stone arena, surrounded by trees and blooming flowers, had been their sparring space for years. It was peaceful now—save for the unmistakable sight of Yuri and Kimi locked in yet another heated exchange.

“Could you at least try to land a hit?” Yuri taunted, her twin daggers spinning deftly in her hands as she dodged a blast of ice magic from Kimi. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Kimi’s serene smile faltered for a moment. “I wasn’t aiming for you. I was aiming for your arrogance,” she shot back, unleashing a swirl of flames in retaliation.

Yuri rolled her eyes and darted to the side, her movements a blur of red hair and polished steel. “Oh please. You couldn’t hit me if I stood still.”

Ari settled against the low wall of the arena, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an air of quiet amusement. These “friendly” sparring matches were as much about skill-building as they were about pride—though, with Yuri and Kimi, it was mostly the latter.

“What’s the score now?” came Finoria’s voice, light and teasing as she appeared beside Ari. She leaned on her massive shield, a sly grin playing across her lips.

“Three rounds each,” Ari replied. “This one will probably last until lunch.”

Finoria chuckled, brushing her golden hair out of her face. “Yuri’s going to break her record for insults at this rate.”

In the arena, Yuri lunged forward, her daggers aiming for Kimi’s flank. A shimmering barrier of light erupted in response, Kimi’s violet eyes flashing as she cast the spell. The barrier held, but just barely, forcing Yuri to leap back with a growl of frustration.

“Careful,” Kimi said sweetly. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Ha! Like you’d ever get the chance,” Yuri snapped, darting forward again.

Ari sighed, pushing off the wall and strolling toward the edge of the arena. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Both women froze mid-motion, turning toward him with twin expressions of indignation.

“But I was just about to win!” Yuri protested, her green eyes blazing.

“No way,” Kimi countered, brushing invisible dust from her robe. “You were a split second away from eating dirt.”

“Was not!”

“Were too.”

“Enough,” Ari repeated, stepping between them. His presence alone was enough to diffuse the tension—mostly. “You’re both strong. Stronger than most people in the world. These little arguments don’t mean anything.”

Yuri huffed, sheathing her daggers with a sharp motion. “Tell that to her. She’s the one always pushing my buttons.”

“Me? Pushing your buttons?” Kimi’s innocent tone did little to mask her amusement. “I think you’re imagining things, Yuri. Or maybe you’re just frustrated because you couldn’t keep up.”

“Oh, that’s it!” Yuri made a move to lunge, but Ari caught her arm with ease.

“Let it go,” Ari said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Finoria, who had been watching the exchange like a spectator at a play, burst out laughing. “You two are priceless. It’s like watching kittens fight over a ball of string.”

Yuri shot her a glare. “Why don’t you try sparring with her then? Maybe you’ll wipe that smug look off her face.”

Finoria raised her hands in mock surrender. “Oh no, I’m good. Watching is far more entertaining.”

Kimi giggled softly. “Of course you’d rather sit on the sidelines. You know I’d wipe the floor with you too.”

“Keep dreaming,” Finoria said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Unlike you, I don’t need flashy spells to win a fight.”

Ari pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience tested but not broken. “If you’re all done arguing, how about you focus on the reason we’re here? Training. Remember that?”

The three women exchanged glances, their competitive spirits momentarily overshadowed by Ari’s steady tone.

“Fine,” Yuri grumbled, stepping aside. “But next time, I’m not going easy on her.”

“As if you ever do,” Kimi muttered with a smirk.

Finoria leaned closer to Ari, lowering her voice just enough for him to hear. “You’re too soft on them, you know.”

Ari shot her a look. “And you’re too eager to stir the pot.”

She grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

As the group settled into a more cooperative rhythm, Ari couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of pride. They might argue, bicker, and drive each other mad, but they were his team. After everything they’d been through, these moments of normalcy—chaotic as they were—meant more than any battle ever could.