The night was silent, but it was not peace.
Smoke curled upward from the shattered Academy, drifting into the wounded sky. Half of the once-great campus lay in ruin—towers split in two, lecture halls buried in rubble, dormitories scorched by abyssal lightning. What had once been a beacon of learning and strength was now a graveyard of broken stone and shattered dreams.
The ground was littered with craters, each one a reminder of Kairos' farewell. The very air still hummed with residual abyssal energy, foul and heavy, making even the strongest struggle to breathe.
For the first time in centuries, the Academy looked fragile. Mortal. Breakable.
Celestial Tempest gathered in the heart of the destruction. Their faces were pale, their clothes torn, and their bodies trembling from wounds that had not yet healed. The silence between them spoke louder than words—an unspoken acknowledgment that they had faced the unthinkable… and nearly lost.
Bolt stood at the front, fists clenched so tightly blood seeped from his palms. He hadn't said a word since Kairos vanished. His elemental aura still flickered faintly around him, unstable, as if his body hadn't fully recovered from the surge that forced him past his 8% mastery.
Beside him, Akane pressed her hand against a bloodied bandage on her arm. Her usual fire had dimmed; she glanced at the ruins of the dormitories and whispered, "All those students… gone. Families torn apart. How do we tell them their sons, their daughters, died because we weren't strong enough?"
Valea, her white robes stained with ash, forced herself to stand straighter. "We saved many. Don't lose yourself in guilt, Akane. If not for us, no one would be alive. The Academy would have been erased."
But her voice wavered, betraying the doubt in her own heart.
Aether, leaning heavily on a staff of condensed starlight, shook his head. "This wasn't victory. This was survival. Kairos was toying with us. He wanted to prove we weren't ready. And he was right."
The words cut deep. They all knew it.
From the rubble, faint cries echoed—students calling for help. Sylva hurried toward the sound, kneeling to heal a wounded boy trapped beneath stone. Her vines wrapped around the debris, lifting it gently as she whispered soothing words. The boy's sobs quieted, but his eyes were wide with terror.
"Is it over?" he asked weakly. "Is the monster gone?"
Sylva froze, her throat tightening. She forced herself to nod. "Yes… for now."
But deep down, she knew the truth. Kairos wasn't gone. He was waiting.
Later, inside the half-collapsed Council Chamber, the surviving faculty gathered. The Headmaster, normally so composed, sat slumped in his chair, his face shadowed. His robes were torn, his beard stained with soot.
"We failed them," he said finally, his voice heavy with despair. "Our duty was to protect this Academy, to shield these students… and we could not even hold against a single corrupted Warborn."
Bolt stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "Don't put this all on yourself. Kairos wasn't just any Warborn. He was reforged by the Abyssal Monarch himself. None of us were prepared for that."
The Headmaster's eyes flickered toward him. "And yet you… you went beyond what anyone thought possible. You touched a power deeper than any recorded Warborn in history."
Bolt's jaw tightened. "It wasn't enough."
"No," the Headmaster admitted, sorrow cutting into his words. "But it means hope is not gone."
The chamber fell silent. Hope—was that what they had left?
Outside, whispers spread among the surviving students. Groups huddled together in the ruins, eyes wide with fear. Some wept quietly; others stared at the ground, numb. The name Kairos fell from their lips in terror.
"He was one of us once…" a girl whispered. "If even a Warborn can fall, what chance do we have?"
"Bolt fought him," another said, clutching his friend's hand. "I saw it. He stood up to him when no one else could."
"But he didn't win."
The words lingered, poisonous and true.
Bolt overheard them as he walked through the wreckage. Each word sank deeper into his chest. No matter how he tried to steel himself, guilt and anger gnawed at him. He had fought with everything he had… and still, Kairos had left half the Academy in ruins.
When the fires were finally doused and the last of the injured were carried to the infirmary, night descended. The Academy grounds, now scarred and broken, lay under the pale gaze of the moon.
Celestial Tempest gathered in what remained of the courtyard. They had nothing left to say. Each member sat in silence, lost in thought.
Akane sharpened her blade in slow, deliberate motions, her hands trembling. Valea whispered silent prayers for the fallen. Sylva wept quietly into her hands. Damian sat with his head bowed, bloodied sigils still etched faintly across his skin. Ren leaned against a shattered wall, unreadable as ever, but his knuckles were white from clenching his daggers. Darian lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in slow, labored breaths.
And Aether simply stared at the stars, his cosmic glow dimmed, as though even the heavens refused to answer.
Bolt stood apart from them, staring at the ruins, lightning flickering faintly around his shoulders. His heart was heavy, but his mind refused to rest. He couldn't let Kairos' words go.
"Anywhere. Anytime. Or where it all began."
The warning echoed in his skull, a curse that clung to him. He clenched his fists tighter, vowing to be ready, no matter what it took.
At last, exhaustion overtook him. Bolt collapsed onto the broken stone of the courtyard, his body giving in. His vision blurred, and the world around him dissolved into shadow.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't in the Academy.
He stood in a vast void, endless and silent. Stars burned faintly in the distance, though the ground beneath his feet shimmered like liquid fire. The air hummed with ancient energy.
And then—he felt it.
A presence.
The air split, and before him appeared the figure he had once seen before: the War God. Clad in radiant armor that gleamed with the essence of creation, his eyes burned like twin suns. His presence was overwhelming, yet calm, steady—a force of absolute authority.
Bolt fell to one knee instinctively, unable to withstand the sheer divinity before him.
The War God regarded him for a long moment, silent, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he spoke.
"Bolt…" His voice was like thunder rolling across eternity."I have news."
The War God's burning gaze seemed to pierce through the void itself, locking onto Bolt with unshakable weight.
"Very important news."
The words hung in the silence of the cosmos—immovable, final, and shattering.