The night outside Nevermind was stitched in paradox. The neon signs bent sideways, colors folding in on themselves like paint refusing to dry. Flex City breathed, and the streets hummed with contradictions.
The candidates spilled out of the bar, their chatter still heavy with Kranor's clash with Banjo.
Kranor smirked, tapping Banjo's shoulder.
Kranor: "You've earned my respect, Banjo. But next time you go poking around my insecurities… I'll make sure you join the cowards."
Banjo chuckled, bowing with a card flip.
Banjo: "Noted. I prefer winning my games, not being buried by them."
The group chuckled, the tension easing into the city air—until Jairak froze. His aura pulsed in jagged sparks, anguish and confidence braided into one.
Jairak: "Wait. Look ahead. Deviant Alliance."
Down the fractured boulevard, a line of armored enforcers strode with mechanical precision. Each step warped the pavement like it couldn't decide whether to stay solid or collapse.
Nicia raised an eyebrow, her black goo coiling around her wrists, eager.
Nicia: "Cheaters, huh? That's the word they use?"
Androsha, leaning forward, voice edged with curiosity.
Androsha: "Not cheaters. Half-believers. The ones who didn't fully surrender to Omega Devia."
Eugene's form flickered—half here, half elsewhere. His voice carried unease.
Eugene: "That's… concerning. Punished for doubt? For not being confident enough?"
Banjo, tilting his hat, grin sharp.
Banjo: "Rule-bending at its finest. Traxis would be proud. Intriguing indeed."
Jero shifted uncomfortably, his voice cracking between courage and fear.
Jero: "I almost gave in too… But I chose it. And honestly, it feels good—like evolution. But… what if they're doing to them what happened to Tarren… and Klexis?"
Ulok slid up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
Ulok: "Relax, buddy. You're fear wrapped in skin. But hey… that's you. Nothing wrong with that."
Androsha, waving her hand, dismissive.
Androsha: "Please. We're in Flex City. Chill. No one's gonna shackle us here. Not in the Free Abyss."
Marneth and Gullia nodded quickly, their silence almost more desperate than reassuring.
Jason stepped closer, embers drifting lazily around his body. His flames licked the air, painting the contradictions like a sermon.
Jason: "Flex City thrives on conflict. These people aren't traitors. They're just… conflicted. And isn't that what Devia always promised?"
The group murmured, some nodding, some scowling.
And then Kranor laughed—loud, sharp, dismissive. He folded his arms, chest broad with pride.
Kranor: "Pathetic. If they can't seize a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, they're weak. Weak like Tarren. Weak like Klexis. And weakness doesn't belong here."
The words cut the air. Even the city seemed to pause, neon bending sharper around him.
The students walked casually down the twisted streets of Flex City, neon lights bending like water around them. But one figure stepped out from the shadows.
His stride was deliberate, measured. Dominance clung to him like a second skin. White and blue plates, navy fabric stitched meticulously—uniform of the Deviant Alliance.
GreyFord.
The group froze, unsure. Only Kranor's smirk cut through the tension, steadying the uneasy energy.
GreyFord scanned them, sharp eyes taking in every detail. Then he spoke, voice low, commanding:
GreyFord: "So, you lot are the so-called future of Omega. Not surprised… truly. Traxis's golden boys—or golden children."
He paused, turning slightly, appraising a subset of the group.
GreyFord: "On this side, elite candidates… Jairak, Jason, Androsha, Eugene, Banjo, Eve Maid. You're already part of the Alliance, yet I doubt you've truly earned the title. Am I right?"
The group scratched their heads, unease mixing with pride.
GreyFord, eyes narrowing, swept across the rest.
GreyFord: "And on the other side… fast stars. Kranor, Ulok, Nicia, Jero, Marneth, Gullia, Meilo."
A ripple of astonishment and pride ran through them.
Kranor stepped forward, voice bold, unshaken.
Kranor: "Eh… we know our worth, sir. What are you on about?"
A collective gasp echoed—GreyFord's eyebrow raised in surprise at his audacity.
GreyFord: "Your boldness amuses me, Kranor… Manu and Kari weren't lying about you. You carry a great aura."
Kranor nodded, Banjo nudging him on the shoulder.
Banjo, teasing: "So… how's it feel, being part of the Alliance, huh?"
Kranor's crew stiffened, wide-eyed.
Kranor, stammering slightly: "Uh… I… yeah. Great. It's what we came to Flex City for… nothing less."
GreyFord's smirk widened, sharp as a blade.
GreyFord: "Welcome, then. I expect great things from you, Kranor. The future war… it might need them."
With that, he turned, his boots clicking on the warped pavement, and disappeared into the night.
The streets of Flex City pulsed with strange life—buildings bending into arcs of color, rails and slides forming where there had been nothing moments before. Loyalists of Omega Devia zipped through the air, wings of energy sprouting and vanishing, while others glided smoothly across shimmering ground, laughing like it was second nature.
But those who hadn't committed to Omega Devia? Nowhere to be seen. Hidden. Vanished. As if the city itself had no space for them.
Jason and Jairak slowed their pace, eyes sharp.
Jason, flames flickering faintly at his fingertips: "Strange… see how everyone outside moves like the system itself is rewarding them? It's almost… too convenient."
Jairak, his aura faintly rippling, voice hard with suspicion: "Convenient for the Loyalists. Those who didn't commit are either locked inside—or erased. Either way, this doesn't sit right."
Ahead, Kranor scoffed, his stride filled with pride. His crew trailed behind him, basking in the glow of his new "promotion."
Kranor, smirking over his shoulder: "Tch, let them hide. What's it matter? We got recognized. Promoted. That's the only thing that counts. Ain't no way I'm wasting time chasing ghosts."
His words carried arrogance, but also certainty—the kind that silenced questions before they could form.
Banjo, however, stopped dead in his tracks, crossing his arms. His grin was sharp, mischievous.
Banjo: "Nah, not me. If Flex City—the so-called city of freedom—is laying down rules and punishments behind shiny lights and parades, then that's a joke. And I don't let jokes slide."
His voice dropped into a low chuckle. "Not on my watch."
The group split right there in the open street. Jason and Jairak moved toward the crowded avenues, following the flow of strange energy. Banjo followed them in the opposite direction, muttering about breaking rules.
Kranor and his "fast stars" marched forward with confidence, ignoring both paths.
But Jero lingered. His face pale, eyes darting. He knew something was wrong. He felt it. Fear wasn't weakness for him—it was clarity, whispering warnings in his ear. But when he glanced at Kranor's back, he shivered. Cross him, and he'd end up like Tarren. Beaten. Humiliated. Forgotten.
So, swallowing hard, Jero stepped into Kranor's shadow.
Behind, Jairak glanced back. His aura flared, an unspoken unease gnawing at him. His thoughts betrayed him as he stared at Kranor's confident gait.
Jairak, muttering: "I have a bad feeling about him. That confidence… it isn't growth. It's hunger. And hunger always consumes."
Jason caught it, his fiery aura flickering in rhythm with his calm tone.
Jason: "You're not wrong, Jairak. But that hunger is also what makes him dangerous. Or… a prodigy. Sometimes they're the same thing."
From the back, Eve Maid giggled, twirling strands of energy between her fingers like ribbons mixed with sedation energy, the liberation field glowing around her .
Eve Maid: "Heh, he reminds me of Ian—just without the nobility. Strip out the honor, keep the stubbornness. Same mold."
Her laugh was light, but there was a knowing edge behind it.
Eugene, who had been silent, finally spoke, his form shifting faintly like he was half in and out of the street they stood on.
Eugene: "Omega Devia's flexible by nature. You can twist it, bend it, break it, reshape it. If Kranor wants to redefine its rules for himself, let him. The system was built for contradictions anyway."
Androsha, walking a little ahead, smirked without turning back, her voice carried by the fog that curled around her ankles.
Androsha: "Mmm. If he ever tips too far, I can always nudge him. Twist his perception with my fog, bend his confidence until he thinks twice."
Kranor looks back at them...as if he anticipated what they said about him...
He looks at Jero, then looks back at the elites.
Kranor, loud enough for them all to hear: "Tch. Keep your worries. Keep your tricks. I'll take the future head-on. The rest of you? Just try not to choke when the Alliance calls your name."
Then he looks at Jero again...as if he's trying to warn him of a potential future....
Jero gulped...
And with that...they trailed off... living Jairak and his group behind...
The neon glow of Flex City swallowed his words, but their sting lingered in the air.