Lillian Applehurst (2)

Here's your expanded version with increased tension, especially at the end, emphasising Lillian's internal conflict about her boyfriend and her attraction to Raphael:

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Lillian Applehurst was too slow to react.

Or perhaps Raphael was too fast.

Instead of calling upon Rachael to burn whatever stood in his way, he directed her to control her flames, shaping them with a precision that even he hadn't expected.

The fire did not simply lash out—it coalesced, twisting and folding upon itself in a controlled blaze, growing denser, more refined. It burned bright, white-hot, yet held its form, a masterpiece of destruction forged in an instant.

The result was a weapon like no other.

A two-meter-long blade, not of steel, but pure fire, crackling with ethereal energy. It shone like a beacon in Raphael's grasp, illuminating the room with an eerie, divine glow. The air around it wavered with heat, distorting reality itself.

Lillian instinctively jumped backward, her breath caught in her throat. The sheer radiance of the blade made her heart pound—never before had she seen something so impossibly crafted from magic alone.

Her green eyes widened in disbelief.

"W-what is that?" she murmured, barely finding her voice, one trembling finger pointing at the weapon.

Raphael took a moment to admire it himself, feeling the weight of power in his grasp.

Well done, Rachael. You've done well.

His lips curled into a smirk.

"You should know," he said. "It's a sword, just like yours."

Lillian's own blade—a dark, holy weapon—had once gleamed with pride in her hands. Now, in comparison to his creation, it looked ordinary, almost dull.

For a moment, doubt flickered in her gaze. But then, something inside her snapped. She shook her head, dispelling the fear, and tightened her grip on her sword.

"N-never mind!" she shouted, forcing confidence into her tone. "You can answer once I've taken it from you!"

With a sudden burst of speed, she charged forward. Her sword sliced through the air, trailing a swirling golden-black energy, a force that could cleave through steel.

Raphael raised The White Sword in a guarded position.

The two weapons met with a violent clang, sending a shockwave through the air. Sparks erupted between them, white flame clashing against black divinity. Lillian pressed forward, forcing their blades together in a fierce contest of strength.

Then, the fire began creeping up her arm.

With a sharp gasp, she yanked herself away, staggering backward, frantically shaking her arm to dispel the unnatural heat.

"You're good," Raphael remarked, tilting his head slightly. "You make for good sword practice."

She ignored the compliment. She wasn't fighting for practice—she was fighting to survive.

Gritting her teeth, Lillian lunged again. This time, she spun in mid-air, twisting her body with graceful precision, aiming low for his leg.

Raphael reacted instantly. He leapt above the strike, but Lillian was already prepared.

Before he could land, she slashed upward, forcing him to dodge mid-air.

He needed an opening.

Thinking fast, Raphael shot a burst of black flames from his free hand, the explosion sending him sideways at the last moment. Her sword passed a hair's breadth from his body, but not without consequence—its edge caught his uniform, slicing clean through it.

Fabric tore.

As he landed, his now-bare chest gleamed under the flickering firelight.

Lillian froze for half a second, her breath catching in her throat.

No one should have been able to move that fast. No one should have been able to react like that.

And yet, Raphael stood before her, smirking, his muscles tensed from the exertion, his exposed skin marked by the light of his own flames.

With a single, deliberate motion, he reached up and tore the rest of his ruined shirt away, tossing it aside.

Lillian's face flushed red.

"Looks like we're both half-naked now," Raphael mused, his tone teasing. "Perhaps we should put the swords down and accompany each other in another way."

Her grip on her sword remained tight, but there was something in her eyes—something beyond just battle-lust.

Is that admiration?

Raphael wasted no time. He had another idea.

Summoning his will, he reached out—not just to Rachael, but to Naomi.

Black flames erupted from his other hand, mirroring the first. The energy coiled, shifted, and solidified, forming a second blade, just as perfect, just as powerful.

The twin dragons had gifted him their ultimate weapons.

Now, he stood wielding both, twin swords of pure flame—one white, one black—opposites in harmony.

He raised them high, their brilliance lighting up the room like the weapons of a celestial warrior.

Lillian's mouth parted.

Her sword slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground.

She barely seemed to notice.

"Incredible…" she whispered, her voice full of awe. "They're beautiful."

Raphael lowered his arms slightly, keeping the flames alive but relaxing his stance.

What is this look in her eyes?

Her killing intent was gone.

Lillian stepped closer, her hand hesitantly reaching out.

"C-can I touch them?" she asked, mesmerised.

Raphael smirked. His heart had slowed from the thrill of combat, but now another kind of thrill took its place.

He let the flames dissipate.

Lillian let out a quiet noise of disappointment, as if she had just lost something dear.

"Give me your Holy Blade," Raphael proposed, "and I'll let you try them out sometime."

Without hesitation, Lillian kicked her sword towards him.

"It's yours," she said. "I'll do anything to use one of those fire swords."

Raphael picked up the fallen blade. His mission was complete.

But as he looked back at her—this half-dressed, battle-warmed woman standing so close—he felt something else stirring.

She noticed him staring.

Her body tensed for a moment, her arms instinctively covering her chest. Then, after a brief hesitation, she lowered them again, shyly.

The tension between them thickened.

"Is that what you want in return?" she asked, her voice quieter now, her fingers curling nervously around a lock of her green hair. "My body?"

Then, barely above a whisper—

"I told you…I have a boyfriend."

Raphael raised an eyebrow. "W-what? I didn't say—"

But he stopped himself.

His smirk returned.

Am I an idiot? Why would I pass up this chance?

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. His voice dropped, turning smooth, almost hypnotic.

"He doesn't have to know."

Lillian swallowed hard, her breath hitching.

His gaze locked onto hers.

"Why don't you show me," Raphael murmured, "just how much you adore the twin blades?"

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