Fireforce Games Novels & Stories

Lennox just stood there for a beat. Surprised. Impressed. "You... actually trained for this?" "Maybe I don't just push paper all day," Sloane replied, then launched another combo. A switch-up, a body twist, an uppercut—Lennox had to step back half a pace to block it. He smiled. Not mocking. Not smug. Playful. Like a beast who's just recognized a worthy challenge. "All right, Fireflower," he growled. "Let's play." And they played.

It's been a while and I'm sure it has been for Max too. What I just said, works; Max breaks out into a grin. He leans forward and fist-bumps. "You got it, dude," he agrees. "Where are you hiding all the six-packs?" he bravely asks, smirking evilly at me. I fold my arms across my chest and back away from him, discreetly nudging my six-packs under a chair. "Don't push it, Mills," I warn him before threatening him. "Don't force me to kill someone that I actually enjoy tolerating."

The sun beat down on the training field, but it wasn’t nearly as hot as the determination radiating off the Guardians. Dust kicked up beneath their boots as they sparred, shifting between forms and strikes, sweat clinging to skin and scales alike. No rest for the weary. Not even for legends. Cheyenne ducked under a high punch from Tora and flipped her onto the mat with a grin. “Nice try, Flame Breath,” she teased, panting. Tora groaned and muttered something draconic under her breath as she rolled onto her back.