The sun cast a mellow warmth over the sprawling western quarter of Batangara. Past the dusted training yards and rows of looming trading houses, Ari found himself walking toward a small, ivy-covered outpost tucked along the outskirts—a mix of rustic charm and workshop utility. This was where Vinny worked when she wasn't crushing people in magical duels or flustering nobles with her casual warmth.
The building was filled with metal sounds—soft clinks and hums of magical resonance. Inside, it was part forge, part sanctuary. Faint glows of threads shimmered from relics suspended midair, each encased in faintly pulsing sigil-etched crystals.
Vinny stood in the center, back turned, brunette hair tied in a casual bun. She was wearing her undersuit armor—threadless, unadorned—and had a soot smear across her cheek. Her voice rang out before she even turned.
"Thought I felt a nosy compiler nearby," she said with a playful tone. "You stalking me now, Mr. Ancient Syntax?"
Ari chuckled. "You're the one who beat me to a pulp for half the match. I'm trying to learn."
Vinny spun around, grinning. Her smile was pure sunshine, but there was always a spark of challenge beneath it.
"Learning from me, huh? Careful, I charge double if you're trying to apprentice."
She wiped her hands and waved him over. The relics around her slowly settled back into their storage runes.
"I was hoping you'd visit anyway," she said, a little quieter now. "I wanna show you something."
Ari followed her into the back room. Unlike the shop front, this place was quiet. Still. Along the wall hung her summon-armors, each a relic formed from a soul-bound summon spirit—a fusion of magic, memory, and will. She stood beneath them like a priestess surrounded by shrines.
"These are my girls," she said, beaming. "Each of 'em gave up their form for me to wear their strength."
She pointed to the first: a rose-gold plated armor, sleek and elegant. "That's Mirala. She's a hawk-spirit who used to scout over firestorms. Fast, sharp, elegant. I wear her when I need aerial speed and high-precision magic."
Next, a black and blue jagged armor that radiated raw intimidation. "That one's Vorain. A lizard-bull hybrid who tore through enemies in the Flood Wars. It's my tank set—resistant, strong, heavy. The closest thing I've got to punching with a mountain."
She motioned to a shimmering silver-white armor, almost transparent. "That's Nell. My favorite. She used to be a trickster fox-spirit. Focuses on stealth and high-sensitivity tracking. Hardly even touches the ground when I run in it."
Ari listened quietly, absorbing her affection for each one.
Vinny leaned on a crate, looking at the relics with a mix of pride and deep respect. "I didn't inherit them. I bonded with them. Every time I summon their form, I feel their emotions, their fears, their hopes… like echoing dreams."
"That's why you fight like that," Ari said, understanding dawning. "It's not just battle styles. It's empathy."
"Exactly," she whispered. "I love them, you know? Not like tools. Like… sisters."
Her voice trembled slightly. Then she gave a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair away. "Not many people get that. Most think I'm just a cheerful bruiser."
"You are cheerful. But you're also deeply bonded. That's a rare kind of strength," Ari said honestly.
Vinny looked at him for a moment. Then stepped closer.
"I always wanted to fight with people who respect their magic, not just use it. You do that, Ari. You scared the hell outta me, but you also made me proud."
He smiled, unsure what to say, but grateful.
She gave him a soft punch in the arm. "Don't go getting all sappy though. Next time we fight, I'll win with all six suits active."
"You'd probably look terrifying."
"I better look terrifying," she laughed. "I'm the prettiest artifact bruiser Batangara's ever seen."
They both laughed—deep, light, free.
And for a moment, in a city made of strength and bloodlines, Ari realized Vinny wasn't just powerful—she was someone whose heart was her weapon, and her armor was made of trust.