The night over Future Pride burned red.
Not with light — but with memory.
It began the same way it once had: lightning without thunder, a shimmer in the sky that shouldn't exist. A wound reopening in reality.
From the heart of that ancient storm — the plasma storm that birthed Ignis — the air itself screamed as something broke through.
Where Ignis had been forged by the balance of elements, this new energy tore through creation like a disease. The clouds bled crimson. The rain hissed against the ground, sizzling with static.
And then he emerged.
A man — or what was left of one. His armor was blackened metal fused with pulsing red veins of energy. His eyes glowed like dying stars, his aura thick with the scent of ash and ozone.
"If Ignis burns for hope," he murmured, his voice distorted, both human and storm. "Then I'll burn the world to prove hope is an illusion."
His name was Vexar.
Once, long ago, he had stood beside Urja — co-founder of the Hero Syndicate, savior of continents, bearer of the Twin Plasma Core. They had fought together in the Storm Wars, guardians of energy humanity was never meant to touch.
But in the final battle, Vexar had vanished — consumed by a reactor surge that even Urja couldn't stop. Everyone believed him dead.
He wasn't.
The plasma storm had claimed him, reshaping his body and mind with something beyond comprehension — a corruption of the ALL IN ONE. Where Ignis carried harmony, Vexar carried entropy.
Creation's mirror. Balance's end.
And now, he had returned — not to save, but to unmake.
In the ruins of the old Syndicate fortress, Vexar stood before the shattered emblem that once symbolized unity. His touch burned it to cinders.
"Urja chose balance," he said, eyes narrowing. "And now he hides behind a child carrying stolen light."
He raised his hand. Sparks of black-red plasma coiled in his palm — writhing like living smoke.
"But I will finish what we began. The ALL IN ONE belongs to no one. I will be its vessel. The final form. The end of fire and shadow alike."
The ground cracked beneath him as his energy surged, distorting the air. Drones monitoring the perimeter short-circuited instantly; satellites caught only fragments of static.
And across the city, Ignis felt it.
A tremor through the elements — the same voice, twisted and reversed.
Where his power sang, this one screamed.
He staggered mid-rescue, clutching his head as waves of distorted energy burned behind his eyes.
Urja appeared at his side, his face pale with disbelief.
"No..." he whispered. "That can't be..."
Ronak looked up. "What's happening?"
Urja's expression hardened — old pain flickering in his gaze.
"The other half of the storm. My partner... Vexar. He's alive."
"Alive?"
"No," Urja said grimly. "Something worse. The plasma changed him — just as it changed you. But where you became the balance... he became the void."
The words hung heavy in the air, drowned by the rising hum of a distant explosion.
On the city's horizon, black lightning tore through the clouds — a signal to the world that another had risen.
In the following days, the world trembled. Power grids failed without cause. Weather spiraled into chaos.
A message began hijacking networks, spreading across every screen:
THE LIGHT IS A LIE. BALANCE IS A PRISON. THE STORM IS FREED. — VEXAR
Ignis watched in silence as his own symbol — the phoenix of light — was defaced with streaks of dark crimson across the city.
The people who once cheered his name now whispered in fear again.
Hope was burning away — replaced by doubt.
Urja's voice broke through the static.
"He's coming for the core, Ronak. The heart of the ALL IN ONE — the energy that binds every element. If he finds it first..."
Ignis clenched his fists, the flame in his veins roaring to life.
"Then I'll stop him."
Urja looked at him, almost sorrowful.
"You can't destroy him, Ignis. He carries the same fire as you. To end him... you may have to burn yourself."
Ronak's gaze hardened. The city lights reflected in his eyes like molten steel.
"Then I'll burn brighter than he ever could."
In the heart of Future Pride, two flames began to rise — one born of balance, the other of ruin.
Light and shadow, twin sons of the same storm.
And as the skies began to fracture once more, the world braced for what it didn't yet understand —
The War of Flames.