Tyr rose, anchoring himself onto the lip of the wall with earth magic. She was watching him in interest, having been more than happy to wait inside the fortress he'd so kindly built for her until he grew bored or tired.

Wondering what he thought he could do in this situation. His specialization, the only element he was above average in was fire. Water was the obvious counter to fire, but only when the quantities and control were equivalent. Wind magic, when used correctly, would completely invalidate most fire spells simply by attacking the mechanics a non-physical source of energy relied upon. Hot air rose, and in terms of a counter spell, there was no element that could equal wind in deconstructing a fire spell, their apparent synergy was what made them so strong against one another to a practiced user.

Tyr's 'style', as it were, operated on the same precepts – in a way one could even say he taught her how to beat him.

Alex smiled up at him, laughing.

Confident and supreme in her place on this earth, eyes widening as she realized what he was doing, but it was already too late. That was the thing about mages... Arrogance and magical talent so often ran hand in hand.

Tyr turned himself into a man shaped steam engine. Baking like a roast slab of beef under the incredible heat, a pillar of vaporized water erupting in a spout, slamming into Alex. She met it with a rotating gust of wind of her own, but what had seemed a sure thing became a test of endurance. Tyr had a great deal of mana, slightly more than her in terms of reservoir, but that was not the issue. The issue was the fact that his gate, the theoretical factor that determined how mages recuperated their reserves from the atmosphere, was massive beyond human proportions. In essence, he had taken her 'I can do this all day' and called her bluff, he could do it as long as he could stand the discomfort of pushing so hard, this was nothing to his rate of recovery.

Alex had no solution for it, either. Sure, she could stop the steam from burning her, but heat was heat. She had nuzzled herself into a location of his choosing, a literal kiln, and he was cooking her inside of her armor by railing her electrical field with vaporizing mist. A lobster to match his slab of beef. Alex could not use ice magic and didn't have enough skill with water to properly insulate herself, sagging under the incredible temperature as steam turned to a crimson storm of fire. Sweat beading down her back and face until she could barely see – stinging at her eyes. A sauna, slumping under the pressure and gritting her teeth.

Wanting to scream, one chance – the only one she was likely ever to be given... Why was he always better than her with so little effort?

After a while, it stopped, leaving her panting and covered in sweat, barely able to stand. Legs wobbling and stomach feeling ready to empty itself at any moment after such a violent change in temperature. Heaving for breath, burning her tongue and mouth in the process as if she'd taken too soon a sip from freshly poured tea.

Tyr hopped into the cauldron he'd made. He did not swagger, did not boast the way she'd expected him to. If anything, he looked... Happy? But not happy to have 'won', and while truly he considered himself the victor, he looked joyous for reasons besides the victory.

She gasped as he chilled her with a cool gust of frosty air. She could not use ice magic, but Tyr could use every element, hypothetically and without affinity, even compound elements like ice by the looks of it. To varying degrees of competency, her theory being that it was his emotional state and relationship with said element that gave him such an uneven skillset. Like an elementalist that was afraid of water, so water magic was hard for them, there was still some scientific statute for spiritual affinity even in the modern era and she'd felt it. Gifted... Too gifted, and that had always aggravated her considering his practically nonexistent effort.

Not much for earth or water, herself. Tyr was like that, but with darkness. Everything else was at a level two standard at a minimum, save anima, but that wasn't abnormal. He could even use rudimentary kinetic magic for some reason, though he never did. Always talking about 'aesthetics', but he also said that it tired him out at a rate beyond the others, talking about backlash without a control circle.

The way he explained it didn't make any sense to her, personally.

“I'm proud of you.” He patted her head, approaching her sagging form and throwing caution to the wind – she was done, smiling like some old man or gray bearded master, his eyes little crescents and barely open. She knew what he expected. Her to blush, perhaps pout about losing, but the match wasn't over yet, she had yet to fall to a knee let alone verbally surrender. With a basic transmutation spell, her thighs stretched at her leggings, the armor adjusting actively to fit the new bulk, hammering the tip of her boot directly in his manhood. The vague sensation of two grapes popping under the force of the steel sheathing her toes, stunning him a bit – though not for the obvious reason.

“...” He stared at her, motionless besides the unsteady twitching of his mouth, otherwise completely serene in expression.

“Doesn't that hurt...?” She asked, both out of regret of what she'd done in her anger and surprise at what it'd felt like. There was that softness there, and then a clank of metal. She'd never paid much attention to his way of armoring himself, because why would she, but it was odd to find a man that did not utilize any sort of groin protector or plackart... And why did his bones quite literally feel like metal?

“Not really.” Tyr replied flatly. She couldn't tell if he was lying or not, but her boot was still well lodged in his flesh, allowing her to feel the 'healing factor' that had made him so famous. Like a balloon inflating. Considering their intimacy, she was doubly surprised at how disgusting she found his manhood to be in that very moment. What were the biological mechanics of that? Did he... Perhaps have infinite seed, what were the limits to refilling himself? Questions for a more appropriate minded academic, most certainly.

All Alex could do was blush apologetically. Whether she was a consummated wife now or not made no difference in her aversion to lewd things outside of very specific circumstances.

“I didn't like it though, so don't get any ideas. It's always very uncomfortable, but it's less painful than say getting stabbed in the heart. Odd, too, because every time I do it to someone else, they vomit all over and mewl like a sick cat.” Tyr said.

“Always?” Alex's expression was ghastly, but interested all the same. “You mean this has happened to you before?”

“Oh yeah.” Tyr nodded calmly. “Quite a few times. I ran into a beastkin woman once who bit it all clean off. Like the whole thing, really strange how much their mouths can distend considering they have so near an identical facial structure to humans. Huge lady. A very muscular rabbit, caught me bathing one day and spread me like a roast turkey, reached up inside me and parading me around on an arm for her party thinking I was dead. That was uncomfortable. One of my late companions said that the kijin women are even more muscular and fearsome. Do you know any? I'd like to meet one.”

“...For what purpose?” Alex asked.

“Big dommy mommy milkers.” Tyr nodded sagely, as if she could possibly understand that statement in the slightest. “Anyways, ready to surrender? Have I sufficiently humbled you, or should we go on?”