The Academy was half in ruins, but the training grounds still stood. Burned. Shattered. Scarred.
It was the perfect place to rebuild themselves.
Celestial Tempest gathered there at dawn, their breaths misting in the cold morning air. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy, forged by failure, but also by resolve.
Bolt stood at the center, hands sparking faintly. His lightning, once wild and uncontrolled, now buzzed with an unusual resonance. Frost clung faintly to his fingertips, subtle but undeniable. The signs of change were there.
"From this point on," he said, his voice low but carrying, "we don't train to get better. We train to survive."
No one argued.
Ren was the first to step forward, blade gleaming in the pale light. His steel was steady now, no longer trembling like during their fight with Kairos.
"Then start with me," he said, planting his sword into the dirt. "If you can't keep up, how will you ever face him?"
Bolt smirked faintly. "Careful, Ren. You might regret it."
The spar began in an instant.
Ren lunged, blade cutting arcs through the air with precision. Bolt answered with bursts of lightning, sparks flashing as steel and storm clashed. The force rattled the training grounds, thunder snapping against the ringing of Ren's blade.
But Bolt was holding back. And Ren knew it.
"Don't insult me!" Ren roared, pressing forward. "Don't fight like you're afraid to hurt me!"
Bolt's eyes narrowed. His lightning flared, exploding outward in a blinding flash. Ren was thrown back, crashing into the dirt, but instead of faltering, he smirked. "That's it. That's the Bolt we need."
Akane clenched her fists at the edge of the arena, her flames flickering higher. "He's right. Stop doubting yourself, Bolt. Push it further!"
Sylva stepped forward next, her aura of earth thick and heavy. "You rely too much on raw power," she said calmly, pressing her palms to the ground. Stone walls erupted, circling Bolt in a cage. "But can lightning break through everything?"
Bolt smirked, sparks coursing around him. "Watch me."
Thunder cracked as his body became a streak of lightning, slamming against the walls. Stone shattered, dust flying. But before he could celebrate, Sylva raised more, faster, thicker, until it felt like the earth itself wanted to bury him.
Bolt gritted his teeth, sweat dripping. His lightning flickered—and then the frost appeared again, crawling over the stones.
Sylva's eyes widened. The ice spread faster than she expected, locking the walls in brittle shells. Bolt smashed through them with ease, frost and sparks exploding together.
When the dust settled, Bolt stood in the open, panting, frost clinging to his arms.
Sylva smiled faintly. "There it is."
Darian was next. He walked calmly into the arena, his water swirling around him in ribbons. His voice was calm, but his eyes sharp.
"You've touched ice," he said. "But water isn't about brute force. It's about flow. Can you adapt?"
The duel began with torrents of water crashing toward Bolt. He dodged with lightning speed, sparks hissing as they met water. But every move he made, Darian adjusted, his waves shifting, redirecting, cutting off every angle of escape.
Bolt growled, frustration boiling. "Damn it—!"
"Don't fight the current!" Darian shouted. "Move with it!"
The words struck Bolt harder than any wave.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting his instincts guide him. The lightning in his veins slowed, synced, blended with the cold chill spreading inside him. When he moved again, it wasn't just sparks—it was a ripple. A stream.
His body blurred as lightning flowed with the water, riding the current instead of fighting it. He shot forward, slipping past Darian's waves, his hand grazing the water—and freezing it instantly.
The spar ended in a blast of steam as lightning, ice, and water collided.
When the mist cleared, Darian was on one knee, smiling. "You're learning."
Kaori, the newest among them, stepped forward last. Her spirit aura flickered, shimmering faintly like glass. "Bolt," she said softly, "your power will keep growing. But so will the weight. If your soul can't carry it, you'll break."
Her spirit energy washed over him, pulling at his essence, testing the core of who he was. Bolt grit his teeth as images flashed in his mind—his failures, his doubts, the mocking voice of Kairos, the abyssal laugh that haunted his dreams.
For a moment, he faltered. The frost flickered. The lightning dimmed.
But then he saw his team. Akane's fire. Aether's wind. Sylva's earth. Darian's water. Damian's shadows. Ren's steel. Valea's light. Kaori's spirit.
They're counting on me.
Bolt roared, his aura exploding outward. Lightning surged, frost crystallized, and the spirit tether between him and Kaori pulsed so strongly it cracked the stone beneath them.
Kaori staggered back, stunned. "Your soul… it's stronger than I thought."
When it was over, Bolt stood in the center of the ruined training ground, his body trembling but his eyes burning with determination. Lightning crackled across his skin, frost layered his arms, and water shimmered faintly around his veins.
He wasn't there yet. Not fully. His mastery was still at 8%, but the path forward had revealed itself. Fire, lightning, ice, water—they were coming together. Slowly. Painfully.
Aether approached him last, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Bolt," he said, voice calm but firm, "you carry the weight of leading us. But remember this—we're not just following you. We're fighting with you."
The words sank deep. For the first time since Kairos's betrayal, Bolt felt the heaviness in his chest ease.
He looked at his team—scarred, battered, but unbroken—and nodded. "Then let's become strong enough that next time… it won't be close."
Far beyond the Academy ruins, in the abyssal depths where the Monarch's influence spread, Kairos stirred. His corrupted body glowed with 10x the power of Zelthar, lightning blackened and twisted, shadows writhing like chains around him.
His lips curled into a smirk.
"Train harder, Bolt. Break yourselves if you must. Because when I return… it won't be a warning."
His laughter—dark, abyssal, endless—echoed through the void.
Bolt collapses after training, frost still clinging to his arms. His body is exhausted, but his eyes remain open, staring at the night sky. He whispers one word, a promise to himself and to Kairos:
"Next time… I'll be ready."