A single heartbeat. That was all the time it took for the world to tremble.
Flames, furious and unbound, bloomed like the wrath of a dying star. Crimson and gold danced together in a cataclysmic swirl, erupting from Caden's battered frame as if he had torn open the gates of his very soul. The training grounds, once tense with anticipation, now teetered on the edge of annihilation.
The students closest to the ring screamed, some ducking, others frozen in place. The heat blistered the air, and their thoughts turned primal—flight, fear, fire. The explosion hadn't yet reached them, but it felt as though they were already engulfed.
Instructors dashed forward, cloaks flaring behind them, aura shields blooming into existence—but they would not arrive in time.
Gary's pupils shrank as he stepped forward instinctively, his usually composed expression cracked by concern. Ingrid's hand flew to her chest, her breath caught in her throat. Both stared at the detonation that could swallow them all.
Even the Grand Instructor, for once, hesitated. A furrow appeared above his brow, hand twitching. He was preparing to intervene.
---
Just as the fire was about to swallow the training grounds whole— Just as the instructors surged forward, expressions grim with dread— Just as the Grand Instructor exhaled and moved to interfere—
A voice broke the world.
It was not loud. It was not desperate. It was the calm before a universe-ending storm.
A single word echoed—not in air, but in being.
"Stasis."
The syllables came from no known tongue, and yet every soul understood it. It was not remembered—it simply was. Heard not with ears, but with marrow and thought.
The flames—raging crimson, molten gold, streaks of white-hot sapphire—froze.
A scream was caught mid-breath. Fire that had devoured space halted, its tendrils paused in time.
Gary blinked. Ingrid gasped. Their hearts stuttered.
The students near the battle ring collapsed, knees giving way under sheer relief. A few sobbed; others gawked, trembling.
The instructors, halted mid-dash, stared in disbelief. Their Primordial Auras still flared, but for nothing.
"What... was that word?" one whispered. No answer came. None could even recall the sounds they'd just heard.
Then, as if the first miracle had only been a prelude—
"Seal."
The word rang like the strike of a god's hammer.
The halted fire twisted inward. The vortex of destruction folded upon itself, compressed by invisible force.
The world held its breath.
The inferno condensed, wrapped in layered runes that no eye could read but every soul could feel. Rage became shape. Fury became elegance.
And floating above Dawn's outstretched palm, a ruby emerged.
It pulsed like a star on the verge of death. A deep, glassy red laced with gold and sapphire threads. Its surface shimmered with ephemeral sigils—runes etched in the language of celestial bodies.
Dawn's silhouette was bathed in its glow. His robes, torn and scorched, billowed as if caught in a tide no one else could feel. His face was unreadable, save for the calm conviction in his eyes.
Gasps returned like aftershocks.
"Is that... is that Caden's power?" "What kind of concept can stop flames like that?" "He said two words… and the world obeyed…"
A third-year trembled. "But that was just one halo…! Doesn't he have more?"
Another student, voice hoarse, said, "He should. He must. But why only one? What kind of halo can carry that kind of weight?"
Caden, still on one knee, stared up at Dawn. His body was wracked with pain. Blood still trailed from his lips, but his eyes were wide—not with rage, but awe and confusion.
Dawn stepped forward.
His voice was quiet, yet it silenced everything.
"It is dangerous to play with fire, you know. Even more dangerous to perform it in front of a whole crowd."
He paused, gaze darkening.
"And what you have done... is more than the word danger can describe. You literally tried to blow yourself up."
Caden coughed, too drained to respond.
Dawn looked at the ruby hovering over his hand.
"Your foundation is almost all condensed over my hand. If it fell to enemy hands, you'd be in a world of suffering." He smiled—without warmth. "Fortunately, you met me."
He raised his palm. The ruby spun slowly, glowing deeper.
"Reverse."
Another word, another cut into reality.
The crystal unraveled—not shattered, not destroyed. It flowed, like a reversed memory. The flames returned—not burning, but warm. Not destructive, but restorative.
They flowed into Caden's body.
He convulsed once, then twice. His wounds sealed halfway. His skin still bore the signs of self-mutilation, but the life-threatening collapse of his core halted.
He remained injured. But he lived.
The students were stunned beyond speech. Their minds struggled to catch up.
Gary exhaled deeply. "That guy… really knows how to steal a stage."
Ingrid looked on, hands clenched. "What was that language…?"
The instructors whispered among themselves, shaken to the core.
The Grand Instructor simply watched, unmoving. His fingers, once curled to intervene, slowly relaxed. His eyes sparkled—not with relief, but with contemplation.
And far above, in the fading embers of the ruby flame, the single golden halo behind Dawn glowed faintly.
The battle had ended.
But the questions had just begun.
---