Before the silence. Before the healing. There was fire. And fury.
Alden's breath caught as he stared at the man before him.
"...Sir Jonas?"
It was impossible. Ridiculous.
Jonas his old history teacher. The guy who told terrible jokes about ancient civilizations. Who once brought a plastic Roman helmet to class and insisted on being called "General History." The man most students called "Scary Funny" because his dark aura made even the toughest bullies sit up straight, but his punchlines were so random they broke the tension.
And yet here he stood, surrounded by burning light and crawling sigils, facing down nightmare creatures.
Jonas gave Alden a glance just a flicker of a grin, a spark of familiarity behind steel-blue eyes.
"Looks like you've had a hell of a Monday, kid."
Then his expression turned cold again.
This wasn't the Jonas Alden remembered. This man stood in the center of the broken hallway like a monument to another age black polo, sleeves torn to reveal glowing, An old like geometric sigils burned into his forearms. They looked like circuitry etched into flesh archaic, powerful, thrumming with something not quite magic, not quite technology.
Jonas didn't look scared. He was focused, utterly still, like a storm holding its breath.
The shadow army twisted and hissed at the sight of him. Around their leader, the lesser creatures quivered as if feeling something ancient stir in the air.
Then the shadows moved.
---
**The Battle**
The leader a towering form of writhing black limbs and bone-like armor let out a low, guttural snarl. From its body, tendrils slithered out and latched onto nearby minions. They responded immediately, rushing toward it like moths to flame.
But they didn't fuse gently. They bit into each other—jaws snapping, bodies folding like melted wax, clawing and devouring one another in brutal synchronization.
Their mass twisted, screaming, reshaping into something massive and horrifying: a monstrous axe, too large for any normal being to wield. The blade pulsed with crimson energy, and the handle writhed as if alive.
The shadow leader gripped it with arms that now had too many elbows and charged.
Jonas moved. Not ran *moved* like a gust of thought through still air. He stepped directly into the creature's charge, placed one foot forward, and slammed his palm into the ground.
The floor responded.
With a thunderous roar, a massive spike of jagged earth erupted upward pure stone, honed to a blade's edge. The axe struck the spike dead-on and shattered, screaming into sparks and shadowdust.
He twisted his wrist again and more spikes launched from the floor in sequence, like the hallway itself was becoming a forest of spears. Each thrust came with seismic force, stabbing at the shadow leader from every angle.
The creature howled in rage. One of its limbs morphed into a hooked blade, swatting through the stone, but Jonas had already vanished leaving only wind and dust in his wake.
Alden shielded his eyes, but it didn't help. He couldn't see the fight anymore not properly. The speed, the magic, the sheer force of it was beyond him. It was like trying to watch a lightning storm while underwater.
One second Jonas was on the ground. The next he was upside down, flipping past the shadow's strike with wind slicing in spirals around him. He didn't shout. He didn't rage. He moved with terrifying calm each attack precise, each movement executed with centuries of discipline.
From behind the creature, Jonas reappeared mid-air, flipping through a cyclone he summoned beneath his feet. He rotated once then kicked downward, flame spiraling around his leg, smashing the shadow across its malformed jaw.
As the creature crashed into lockers with a screech, Jonas landed softly, flames licking around his fists.
"You were always content staying in the dark," he said, voice low, almost disappointed. "Lurking in the cracks. Feeding off fear. Why now?"
The shadow's voice split and echoed, layered with dozens of tongues.
"Because the cracks between worlds... are widening," it hissed. "And soon... we won't need to hide."
The creature surged forward again, swinging its axe in a horizontal arc meant to cleave the hallway in two. Jonas raised both arms and with a heavy stomp, a wall of dense stone rose from the ground, blocking the slash just in time.
As the shadow stumbled forward, Jonas ducked low, clenched his fist and punched upward, flame erupting from his knuckles. The creature howled, its chest igniting.
"You didn't answer me," Jonas said coldly. "Why now?"
The leader screeched as it twisted away, a second mouth opening along its shoulder.
"Because the World Trees that hold the balance are dying," it spat. "One by one. Starved. Cut down. Forgotten by your kind. Once, the roots held the balance across worlds, but they're dying now. And the great gate will open."
Jonas's jaw tensed.
His next strike came not with flame or stone, but wind a twisting spiral that coiled around his leg as he leapt, spun mid-air, and dropkicked the shadow with the force of a hurricane.
The shadow staggered up, coughing black mist. Its form now frayed and glitching, parts of it fading in and out like corrupted video.
"Your kind has fought gods before," it snarled, laughing bitterly. "You remember how that ended."
And then, as Jonas stepped forward, the creature took a final step back.
"You cannot stop what's coming," it hissed, slinking into the flickering darkness. "The gods you people sealed... are already stirring."
Then it vanished into mist its cursed axe dissolving into particles.
It escaped.
Jonas exhaled and casually tapped his clothes where there was a bit of dirt.
---
**The Healing**
Silence returned, but not peace. The air itself was still charged thick, humming, and warm like the breath of some sleeping titan.
Jonas remained in the middle of it all, barely panting.
"Looks like I'm gonna need my power drain today," he muttered.
Alden sat crumpled against the scorched wall, his breathing ragged. His chest burned where the shadow's blast had torn through him. Through his swimming vision, he watched something impossible.
Jonas took a single, slow step forward.
The ground beneath his foot responded with intention. His boot touched the fractured tile, and faint blue lines of energy slithered outward in spiraling arcs. They traced over the broken floor like vines of light, and wherever they passed... cracks sealed. Chips vanished. The very matter reassembled itself with mechanical grace.
Glass shards dozens of them trembled on the ground, then began to rise. They floated like memories being remembered, spinning and tilting as they moved through the air. Alden watched, eyes wide, as the shards realigned into their original shape, gliding back into window frames—not glued, but melded, fractures stitching backward like time itself was rewinding.
Jonas walked under a shattered light fixture. His hand rose, open but gentle, and the metal arms curled back into place wires reconnecting with a hum. The bulb reformed from fragments, glass weaving like liquid crystal into a solid sphere, glowing softly.
Scorched lockers? Bent doors snapped back with a clang of reversed violence. Burn marks faded. Holes in walls re-knitted. Even scattered papers fluttered up and slid back into their desks, perfectly stacked.
Jonas reached the center of the fallen students. Then he stopped, lifted his chin, and placed his feet firmly together.
He raised his hands slowly toward his chest and brought them together in a folded prayer gesture, palms locked inward as if clasping a hidden sphere. From the space between his hands... light bloomed.
Not bright—not blinding. But warm. Deep. A silver-blue glow that pulsed like a heartbeat, expanding outward in gentle waves.
As the wave touched each student, the healing began.
A girl with a slice on her arm flinched as the light enveloped her. The bleeding stopped not by sealing the cut, but by reversing it. Blood that had flowed outward shimmered, paused midair, then slid back inside the skin like time forgot it had left. The wound closed from both ends, sealing like a zipper pulled shut by invisible fingers.
A boy with a torn cheek twitched. The skin bubbled not in pain, but as if cells were remembering how they were before the injury. They grew back, slowly knitting together.
Another student gasped awake as bruises on her ribs faded from purple to yellow to nothing.
Jonas stayed motionless, hands still in that folded prayer, eyes sharp and focused.
The light pulsed again and more students stirred. Some gasped. Others whimpered quietly, eyes fluttering open. But none screamed. It was as if the fear that had clung to them had been lifted like fog.
But Alden... he was still hurting.
Jonas turned and stepped toward him.
As Jonas approached, Alden felt something stirring inside himself not pain, but recognition. The mark beneath his shirt grew warm, pulsing in rhythm with Jonas's healing light. For a moment, their energies seemed to echo each other, like two instruments finding the same note.
Jonas knelt beside him, that same silver-blue light gathering around his hands. But as he reached toward Alden's wounds, he paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Interesting," he murmured, more to himself than to Alden. "Your body's already trying to heal itself."
And it was true. Alden could feel it now a golden warmth spreading through his chest, different from Jonas's silver light but somehow complementary. The pain was fading, not because of Jonas's power, but because something within Alden was awakening.
Jonas pulled his hands back, a small smile playing at his lips. "Looks like you won't need much help after all."
As the healing light faded and the last of the students began to stir, Jonas stood and surveyed his work. The hallway was restored, the students were safe, but Alden caught something in his teacher's expression a flicker of concern, a shadow of worry.
"Sir," Alden managed, his voice hoarse. "What were those things? And why did they call you...?"
"Kalasag," Jonas finished. "That's a conversation for another time, kid. Right now, we need to make sure everyone gets home safe."
But as Jonas helped him to his feet, Alden felt a chill that had nothing to do with his injuries. In the corner of his vision, just for a moment, he thought he saw a wisp of shadow lingering near the window watching, waiting.
The battle was over. But something told him the war had only just begun.