The ruins of the Academy were quiet. Too quiet.
Stones still smoldered where Kairos's abyssal lightning had torn through walls, leaving jagged scars across what was once a sanctuary of learning and power. The proud banners of the Warborn Academy, symbols of hope, now lay shredded on the ground. Half the campus had been reduced to rubble.
And Celestial Tempest stood among the wreckage, silent.
For the first time since their formation, the faction had tasted the full weight of despair.
Bolt stood apart from the others, hands clenched so tightly that blood dripped down his palms. The blue arcs of lightning around his body flickered violently, uncontrolled, as his mind replayed Kairos's mocking laugh again and again.
It could have been worse, he thought bitterly. We could all be dead.
But the truth didn't comfort him. Because what Kairos had left them with was worse than death—it was a warning.
"Anywhere. Anytime. Where it all started…" Bolt muttered, his teeth gritted.
Behind him, Akane sat on a cracked stone pillar, arms wrapped around her knees. Her usual fiery energy was gone, replaced by silence. Her flames had sputtered uselessly against Kairos's abyssal storm. For the first time, she doubted if her power meant anything at all.
Aether knelt nearby, his fingers brushing against the earth. His calm demeanor was strained, his sharp eyes clouded. "The land itself recoils from his presence," he whispered. "Nature doesn't bend to us anymore—it hides."
Sylva closed her eyes and pressed both palms to the scarred soil. The green of her aura flickered weakly before fading. "The earth is bleeding," she murmured. "Even if we rebuild this place, it will never be the same."
Darian, the water-user, sat with his back against a broken wall. His composure cracked as he rubbed his face with trembling hands. "I… I felt the rivers turn away. Like even the water knew we couldn't win."
Valea knelt with her hands clasped in prayer, but the light that usually surrounded her was dim, faint. Her lips moved, but her prayers faltered. If even the light fears him… what can we do?
Ren leaned against a half-broken column, sword buried into the dirt before him. His blade still trembled in his hands, though not from fatigue. It was fear. Fear that he could not cut through the abyss.
Damian stood apart, cloaked in shadows that quivered unnaturally. His connection to the dark had always been his strength, his comfort. Now it betrayed him. The abyss Kairos wielded was not "darkness." It was something deeper—something that consumed shadows as if they were nothing.
And Kaori—newest among them—stood at the very edge, her eyes downcast. Her spirit energy was sensitive, too sensitive, and she had felt it before anyone else: Kairos was not just changing. He had been replaced. She hugged herself tightly, tears stinging her eyes. "We're not strong enough," she whispered.
The silence hung over them like a suffocating shroud.
Until Bolt finally turned. His eyes, burning with electric blue fury, scanned his broken team.
"Are you all just going to sit there?" His voice cracked through the still air, harsher than intended. "We lost, yes. We almost died. But if we keep sulking, then Kairos already won!"
Akane looked up, her lips trembling. "Bolt… he destroyed half the Academy like it was nothing. He swatted us aside like insects. You saw it—he's not Kairos anymore. He's… something else."
"I don't care what he's become." Bolt's voice shook, but his fists glowed with renewed sparks. "Kairos or monster, Abyssal Warborn or demon—it doesn't matter. He's still our fight."
Aether finally spoke, voice low. "And if we can't win?"
Bolt's gaze hardened. "Then we learn how to."
The words hung in the air, fragile but undeniable. One by one, the members of Celestial Tempest lifted their heads.
Ren's trembling hand steadied around his sword. Valea's light flickered, dim but present. Darian exhaled shakily, shoulders relaxing slightly. Akane's flames reignited faintly around her hands, small but stubborn.
For the first time since their near-destruction, hope sparked again.
Kaori sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Her spirit sense still quivered, but when she looked at Bolt, she felt something… different. A resonance. Something inside him was stirring.
"Bolt," she whispered, eyes wide. "Your aura…"
Everyone turned.
Bolt blinked, confused. He hadn't noticed it himself. But as they stared, they saw it clearly: the blue arcs of lightning weren't just lightning anymore. Mixed within the crackling energy were droplets of condensation, small motes of mist rising into the night. And beneath it, a faint chill radiated from his body, frosting the stones beneath his feet.
Darian's eyes widened. "That's… water?"
Sylva gasped softly. "And ice…"
Bolt looked down at his hands. The lightning still danced around his fingers, but in its wake came faint trails of frost, a strange mixture of fire and cold.
"What… what is this?" he muttered.
Kaori stepped closer, her spirit aura glowing faintly. "It's not awakening yet. Not fully. But something in you is changing, Bolt. I can feel… doors. Two doors, waiting to open."
Bolt's heart pounded. Water and ice? The realization struck him hard. Until now, he had only commanded lightning, with fire beginning to awaken under his mastery. But this? This was something else. A sign of growth. A sign of what was possible.
And yet… the War God's warning echoed in his mind: Power will cost you more than you realize.
He clenched his fists, frost shattering as sparks flared once more. "Then I'll break through. No matter what it takes."
The night deepened as silence returned to the ruins. But it was not the same silence as before.
It was heavier. Stronger.
Fractured though they were, Celestial Tempest stood together again. Each one broken in their own way, each one scarred by failure.
But they were unbroken.
Later, as the faction rested, Bolt remained awake, staring at the shattered moonlight above. His body still hummed with a strange chill, and his veins buzzed with energy he barely understood.
Kairos was out there, corrupted, powerful beyond measure, waiting for them to falter again.
But when Bolt thought of his team—of Akane's fire, Aether's wind, Sylva's earth, Darian's water, Damian's shadows, Ren's steel, Valea's light, Kaori's spirit—he knew something else too.
They were not alone.
And as long as they stood together, they still had a chance.
Somewhere far away, in the abyss, Kairos stirred. The Abyssal Warborn's corrupted lightning pulsed, as if mocking the faint frost beginning to gather in Bolt's hands.
Bolt feels the frost creeping into his veins, the first true sign that water and ice are awakening. But the War God's prophecy lingers in his mind: to gain this strength, something must be lost.