The world did not panic all at once. It hesitated. Yokohama's skyline was still there. The bay still smelt like salt and fuel. Trains still ran, and people still argued till they couldn't. Even the wind behaved strangely, almost as if it were waiting for permission to move. The sky above the city remained open. Not as a violent tear or as a storm but as a stable wound, a constant reminder to the people of Asia. Across Yokohama, screens on buildings and phones repeated the government broadcast in looping fragments. The same diagrams with the same terms. The same words are attempting to contain something that just simply cannot be contained. Awakening. Elemental DNA. The words promised calm. They promised assistance.
In a crowded intersection in Minato Mirari, a man shouted that the entire thing was fake, and a woman responded by slapping him before breaking down herself. A student, uniform stained with blood, laughed manically. Then the air pressure shifted. It was a presence, and unfortunately for the people of Asia, it has become a familiar one. People felt it in their teeth first, a deep quiet weight pressed down on the city like a foot on the back of a kneeling neck. Cameras tilted upwards, desperate to capture history changing before their very eyes. From the open sky, descended a figure that made everyone, even the ones pretending to be brave, lose the ability to lie to themselves. He did not fall, no, he stepped down through the air as if the atmosphere was a staircase built specifically for him. The man's long hair drifted behind him, controlled by currents that moved with the precision of a legion of soldiers. His cloak followed, flowing in a disciplined manner. In his hands was his spear, a spear etched with symbols too old for any human language databases to translate. Lightning crawled across the surface of the living metal and lightning, restrained, never lashing out as if serving as a reminder, a reminder for the people of Asia who knew too well of the destructive potential of that weapon. A nightmare humanity desperately tried to wake from. The Warden of the North stood above the city, and he looked at the crowds of humans that meshed together below him. The Warden of the North was disappointed. From the feedback he has received from the small group of elementals that accompanied him yesterday for the introduction, many humans resisted the Accord. Such foolishness. A reminder is necessary, the warden thought to himself; he was given a task, and he will complete it well. He turned towards the rift and felt the elemental energy surge from the sky's open wound. About time, he thought to himself. His escort arrived from the rift, much to the horror of the crowds of humans observing in silence and dread, moving in formation. Air elementals in pale armour, their steps silent as if the very wind itself prostrated itself before its masters. Lightning elementals whose bodies sparked softly, electricity breathing beneath their skin. Nature elementals whose presence altered the world around them without even trying, tiny motes of green energy rising from their every step. With the nature elementals came their elemental beasts. Beings that carried themselves with pride, thunder hawks with wings wide as small buildings, their feathers threaded with wind; antlered titans whose very breath makes nature grow, creatures sniffing in the direction of the crowds of flesh, drooling in anticipation. Below them, soldiers formed lines around the breach zone; the human military had prepared for emergencies for events such as riots, acts of terrorism, but nothing could prepare them for what they were currently witnessing. Some of the soldiers were awakened; only a couple of hours had passed since they had awakened. One man had rocks floating around his feet, and another soldier had frost spreading from underneath them. A third couldn't stop causing the metals around her from vibrating. Their rifles felt like toys.
A young, awakened soldier swallowed hard, staring at the floating figure of the Warden of the North. "This is... him?" he whispered. His fellow soldier didn't answer at first, scared he would be noticed. "It feels like the sky is watching us," he replied, his eyes never leaving the new ruler of Asia. Behind him, hurried footsteps echoed as more officials arrived. Then more. Then far more than anyone expected. A convoy of black vehicles screeched to a halt at the far end of the plaza. Security scrambled as doors opened one after another. Leaders from across Asia emerged. South Korea. China. India. Indonesia. Singapore. Thailand. Vietnam. Some arrived composed. Others pale. All of them looked up. The Japanese Prime Minister stepped forward, swallowing hard before speaking. "Warden of the North," he said, voice amplified yet trembling. "Japan welcomes—"
"You are late," the Warden interrupted calmly. The words were soft. The impact was not. Lightning cracked once in the sky above them, not striking, not attacking, but simply existing. The sound alone caused several officials to stagger. "I arrived when the Awakening began," the Warden continued. "Not when your schedules allowed."
No one spoke.
The Prime Minister bowed deeply. So did every other leader present. Only then did the pressure ease, just slightly. The Warden descended, boots touching the ground without a sound. Up close, his presence was worse. Not louder. Not more aggressive. More absolute. "I am the Warden of the North," he said, voice carrying effortlessly. "Representative of the air, lightning and nature Empire. Overseer of Asia. Arbiter between humanity and the Elemental Realm." His gaze swept across the plaza, lingering briefly on the awakened squads. "You are not soldiers," he said to them. "Not yet." Several soldiers flinched. "You are variables," he continued. "Unstable, dangerous, but also useful." A murmur rippled through the crowd. "From this moment onward," the Warden said, lifting his spear slightly, "all awakened individuals within my jurisdiction fall under my authority." The spear struck the ground. Lightning erupted outward, not in destruction, but in demonstration. The stone plaza fractured in perfect concentric rings, stopping precisely before reaching the nearest civilians. Control. Absolute control. He turned his attention back to the assembled leaders. "I see some governments did not attend, how brave", he said mildly. The temperature dropped. Names were not spoken. They didn't need to be. "I will visit them," the Warden continued. "Personally." The implication hung heavy in the air. "The Awakening is not an accident," he said. "It is the echo of a war that never ended." Whispers spread like wildfire. "Wardens exist to prevent annihilation," he continued. "To regulate conflict. To ensure that when war comes, as it always does, it does not erase everything beneath it." His gaze settled on the awakened squads once more. "You will be trained," he said. "Monitored then deployed." A pause. "Disobedience will not be tolerated." Then came the line that would be replayed for years, clipped into memes, printed in newspapers, whispered in panic, debated in classrooms. "Mercy," the Warden said, lightning flickering like a restrained predator, "is only a reward for the obedient." The pause after that sentence was massive because nobody understood, but everybody did. Then, as if to prove he wasn't here to talk endlessly, the Warden turned slightly and looked at the officials who had rushed into his presence: mayor, ministers, emergency directors, the heads of security, presidents. Among them stood a woman whose voice the world had heard first, the one from the announcement. Her posture was straight, her face controlled, but her eyes carried the exhaustion of someone who had been holding back panic for an entire nation, yet there was a hunger there as well, a desire for leadership and responsibility. The Warden spoke again, softer this time. "You will designate a single human authority to coordinate with my squads." The woman didn't hesitate; she didn't need to, and stepped forward. This was an opportunity, and she was going to take it even from the hands of death itself. "My department will handle it," she said, carefully. "I oversee elemental matters within Japan." The Warden studied her as if measuring whether she was worth the air she consumed. Then he nodded once. "Good," he said. "You will remain useful." The word useful landed like a collar. "The Wardens of the East, West, and South have also arrived," he said. "America, Africa and Europe." He paused, then added. "Different continents are responding differently. Some with order. Some with riots. Some with foolish pride." The Warden of the North sighed deeply. "Do not disappoint me, Asia". Behind him, his escort shifted into place around the city air and lightning squads moving with military discipline. Nature elementals and their beasts positioned like guardians rather than invaders, yet their presence made every creature in Yokohama go silent.
Over America, the sun did not rise; it ignited. Fire split the clouds, and a figure descended through blazing heat, metal shards orbiting him like a halo. Light followed his steps, bending shadows away from his form, forcing the world to look at him whether it wished to or not. The Warden of the East had arrived. "The Warden of the East greets you, Humanity," he declared, his light illuminating America's sky. Three Banners unfurled from the burning sky, sigils of the Fire, Light and Metal Empires burning against the heavens. Fire elementals stood motionless beneath them, flames burning with the density of miniature suns. Metal elementals descended next, massive towering beings clad in armour from head to toe, and light elementals hovered above, halos radiant and merciless, their glows neither warm nor kind.
"The Americas will never yield!" a voice screamed. The Warden of the East looked down. And sneered. Entire armies mobilised in seconds. Missiles locked. Artillery roared. The sky filled with humanity's greatest weapons. "Destroy the aliens, do not let a single one touch American soil," an order echoed. The Warden of the East grinned a frightening smile, his eyes glowing brightly. Toys are so much more fun when they break. The sky burned. Missiles vanished into light. Metal warped mid-flight. Fire turned weapons into molten debris before they could detonate. Cities vanished in firestorms shaped with surgical precision. Hope died too loudly. The Warden of the East watched calmly as a continent learned what defiance truly cost.
The oceans moved first. Tides shifted violently across coastlines. Earthquakes rippled inward, as if they were footsteps announcing arrival. From the sea rose a pillar of water taller than mountains, freezing solid mid-ascent. The Earth rose next, shaping a platform that hovered impossibly above the waves. The Warden of the South has arrived. Water flowed around her like a living cloak, ice forming patterns of ancient symbols, and the earth responded with quiet reverence. The water, ice and earth empires that she represents followed behind her. Water elementals riding the waves as if they were an extension of their own body, ice elementals whose breath crystallised the very air and the earth elementals rose from the water like emerging mountains beings who the Earth itself obeys with sincerity. "The Warden of the South greets humanity," the Warden declared. Silence answered her. She tilted her head. "Very well." The Earth shook, and the entire ocean erupted in fury, gigantic waves consuming the coastlines in walls of water. Entire regions vanished beneath controlled devastation. Order would be learned. Or enforced.
Darkness did not fall over Europe. It pooled. Shadows thickened unnaturally, swallowing the sun's light entirely. Poison mist crystallised faintly in the air, subtle and invisible, only noticed when your lungs and organs corrode from the inside. Then came the pressure. Not heat or force, a migraine pressed directly into the skull. Across cities and country sides, people screamed without knowing why. Others went silent, eyes glazing over as thoughts unravelled mid-sentence. Some clutched their heads and collapsed. Some simply stood still, blood seeping from noses, ears, eyes. The Warden of the West arrived. A column of shadows folded inward, and she stepped out, her presence dragging the world down with it, psychic pressure radiating outwards in crushing waves. "The Warden of the West greets you, humanity." Her voice did not travel through air, instead blooming from inside minds. Thousands fell instantly. Mouths foamed as neural pathways burned under the weight of her arrival. Bodies convulsed as poison seeped into bloodstreams, corroding from the inside out. Shadows surged outward, swallowing streets, climbing buildings, peeling people from walls like wet paper. Cities vanished beneath living darkness. The Warden represented three empires, Shadow, Dark and Psychic, and she unleashed them on without hesitation. Psychic elementals hovered high above, eyes glowing faintly as invisible waves tore through crowds; memories shattering, identities fracturing, sanity collapsing like glass under pressure. Shadow elementals emerged from every corner: from beneath cars, inside alleyways, from the silhouettes of screaming people themselves, dragging victims into depths that never reflected light again. Poison elementals walked openly, their very presence decaying the air. Plants withered instantly and metal corroded. Flesh blistered and sloughed from bone as toxic auras flooded streets and shelters alike. The Warden watched it all with amusement. Late. She arrived last. An irritation. "That is unfortunate," she thought lips curling faintly. "At least I may enjoy myself." A fleet of vehicles pierced the darkness, headlights cutting weakly through shadow. Flags emerged. Emblems of unity. Desperation wrapped in ceremony. The European Union arrived. "We surrender," a trembling voice announced through loudspeakers. "We recognise your authority." The Warden's expression darkened. Slowly. Reluctantly she lifted one hand. The destruction halted. Shadows froze mid-motion. Poison mist thinned. Psychic pressure eased just enough for survivors to gasp in air that still burned. Across Europe, people exhaled, some collapsing in relief, others sobbing openly. Then they realised something was wrong. The pressure didn't leave. It settled. "You are safe," the Warden said softly, her voice booming inside every remaining mind. A single man in the crowd thought of his hatred for this monster.
POP.
His body detonated, flesh and bone rupturing outwards in a wet explosion. Screams returned instantly. "Such hateful thoughts, Europe," she murmured, smiling as her presence tightened again. "You are breaking my heart." Another body imploded, then another and another. Blood rained across the streets already soaked in shadow.
Four directions. Four authorities. In that moment, humanity understood the same truth, not through words, not through speeches but through pain.
Earth no longer belonged to them.
Away from governments and cameras, two training grounds existed within the same city. Two philosophies. Two futures are being sharpened in secret. Sensei's dojo smelled like old wood, incense, and ash. Ashyra stood barefoot on tatami mats, blue-tinted flames flickering too close to her skin. Her breathing was uneven, her shoulders tense, her eyes burning with emotion she hadn't named yet. Beside her, Nyssara knelt with a calm posture, water coiling around her wrists in quiet loops, responding to intention rather than chaos. Ashyra's flames flared when her thoughts flared. Nyssara's water moved when her will moved. "You're thinking too much," Nyssara said softly. Ashyra let out a bitter laugh. "Easy for you to say." Water answered intention, and fire answered emotion. Ashyra was drowning in both. Sensei stepped forward, his presence heavy but grounding. Not gentle. Not righteous. Not comforting. But Real. "Fire does not obey fear," he said. "It devours it." Ashyra swallowed. Images surged of crowds screaming, glowing bodies, the sky splitting open. And somewhere far away…
Him.
A sharp ache in her chest, familiar and cruel. Not heat. Not pain. Loss. Nyssara noticed instantly. A thin ribbon of water wrapped around Ashyra's wrist, cool and steady"You're here," Nyssara said. "Not there." Ashyra closed her eyes. Her flames tightened, coiling around her arms like wings folding inward instead of exploding outward. Sensei nodded once. "Better." He didn't teach restraint; instead, he taught how to survive and fight for yourself. That night, Ashyra stood on the dojo's balcony, staring out at the city lights that were still shining so bright despite all of the chaos. She could still feel it. That ache, that pull. Nyssara joined her silently, leaning against the railing. "You felt him again," she said. Ashyra nodded. "I don't know where he is," she whispered. "But I know he's hurting." Nyssara's fingers tightened around the railing. "I thought he was dead," she admitted.
"So did I."
They stood there in silence, firelight and moonlight mixing softly around them.
Across Yokohama, behind concealment so thick even the Wardens would struggle to sense it, there was another training space. A much colder, dimmer place that was more honest about what it was. The children stood in formation like soldiers waiting for orders. Shadow flickered beneath Shadow's feet, responding to his presence. Giozan's purple eyes were wild, and his movements restless like a beast caged too long. Vhaleria's crimson lightning crawled under her skin, engulfing her in power. Rael stood too still, blood faint at his nose, wiped away before anyone could comment, his smile forced just enough to be believable. Magneta didn't move. Not because she couldn't. Because she had been trained that stillness could be sharper than motion. At the front stood Miastra, the children's second-oldest sister. Her eyes were closed; they always were, but despite that, everyone in the room felt her gaze anyway, like pressure against their souls. She was protective of her babies; however, she was cold to everything else. Secluded compound. Around her, the children trained without rest. She moved among them, correcting stances, adjusting flow, steadying trembling limbs. When Giozan's laughter grew too sharp, her hand rested briefly on his shoulder. Gentle. Protective. Her beautiful babies. Above them, Noctyra watched from the shadows, eyes open, expression unreadable. "You coddle them," Noctyra said. "They will survive," Miastra replied. "Will they?" asked Nocytra, her expression beautiful and as cold as always. "Again," she said, calm and absolute. They obeyed instantly because they adored her in the way weapons adore the hand that holds them, the way a blade adores the forge that made it.
The world above was holding its breath.
And in Yokohama, two different kinds of fire were being shaped.