They made magenta.
Their respective armies would stop and stare in the upmost of awe when the two chiefs locked eyes. The entire world ceased its purpose and way of life just to marvel at the two men. The sun and sky would wager on whom would be victorious. Even the light of the moon and the slender beams of the stars would illuminate their armor and chests and reflect off of their glowing eyes.
The air singed around the two rivals; the one clad in blue, ferocious and witty and sly like a dragon; and the one garbed in red, with a fiery , blazing personality and honed spears with edges like that of a tiger's mighty claws. Flames poured from their souls, and the wind smoldered and smoke rose to the sky. Every warrior and child and family knew when the two were about to brawl. The earth itself quaked in anticipation.
They would stand for a few moments of tense silence, sizing one another up. They knew their rival down to the bone. They noticed when the other lacked a gleam in his eye or held a limp in his step or wore a scar that hadn't existed before. Their eyes were keen and were drawn hungrily to each other's weapons and strength, longing for the taste of settled scores and blood and the passion of the fight.
They would begin to taunt. The one in blue, cocky and seemingly superior, would egg the younger on. Encourage him, jeer at him, entice him. The more he spoke, his words cool and level, the more the tiger would begin to shudder with rage and eagerness. The boy's blood boiled underneath his taut and muscular skin, and his heart thumped painfully against his chest and in his ears. He was honorable and noble and respectful – he would not bite back with words, even though he desperately wanted to. He would always wait, feeling the tensions rise. It would be soon, he knew.
The dragon, clever and devilish, would step on the tiger's tail one too many times. He would grow closer and closer, swagger in his step, and his remarks would crawl a bit too deep and strike a nerve that was never meant to be struck.
The tiger roared, his poker face shattered and strewn across the field in pieces. He drew his spears, soul blazing, and he needn't voice a challenge. The dragon was planning this all along, and he licked his lips. The gnawing hunger that riled in his stomach nearly every day of his life would be satisfied, even if for a moment.
And they charged.
Blue lightning bolts and elements from the sky showered around the one in blue, bathing him in a cosmic, scorching light. Coursing flames, summoned by the heat of his own intense passion, circled around the one in red. Six claws slashed at twin spears, clashing and gnashing at one another. Purple sparks surrounded the two, locking them in their own world. The war raging around them was forgotten, left on the earth below as they flew up into the sky. They only saw one another, and that was all they could ever care about.
Neither would win, not one would lose. A victor did not exist. There was no victor in their rivalry, and they both hoped that there never would be.
The thought of seeing each other once again, both shrouded in their color and, together, creating something new, was one of the few things that forever kept them fighting.