Silence followed the scream.
A deep, endless silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that presses against the ears, heavy and suffocating, making every breath feel too loud, too sharp, too real.
Che knelt in the ruins of the shattered underground chamber, his hands still wrapped around Master Rael's lifeless fingers. Rain dripped steadily from broken stone overhead, each drop striking the floor with soft, hollow taps that echoed through the wreckage like a ticking clock counting down the last seconds of something fragile.
His chest rose.
Then fell.
Slow.
Uneven.
Pain clutched his lungs, squeezing with every breath.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The air tasted like dust, blood, and smoke.
His throat burned.
His eyes stung.
His entire body trembled as grief poured through him in violent waves.
He waited.
For breath.
For movement.
For any sign that his mentor would rise again.
Nothing came.
The stone beneath his knees grew colder.
Rael did not move.
Che's breathing broke.
A sharp, choked inhale ripped into his chest.
His shoulders shook violently.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Tears slid down his cheeks, mixing with rain and blood, dripping onto the cold floor.
His fingers tightened around Rael's hand.
"I'm still here," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You can't leave me."
The silence answered.
A deep ache spread through his ribs, expanding until it felt like his heart might tear itself apart.
His breathing became jagged.
Short.
Desperate.
Like a drowning man clawing for air.
His chest locked.
Panic surged.
He gasped, lungs refusing to fill.
He pressed his forehead against the stone, trembling violently as his body convulsed, struggling for oxygen.
In.
Nothing.
Out.
Nothing.
Then air finally rushed back in, burning his lungs raw.
A sob escaped him.
Loud.
Broken.
Uncontrolled.
He collapsed forward, arms wrapping around his mentor's still body, clinging as if holding tighter might reverse death itself.
But it didn't.
It never did.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Hours.
He did not know.
Eventually, his sobs weakened.
His breathing slowed.
Not calm.
Never calm.
But steadier.
His fingers loosened their grip.
The pendant still lay clenched in his palm, faintly warm against his skin.
He lifted it slowly.
The crystal was smooth and clear, glowing dimly gold. Soft light pulsed deep within, moving like a slow heartbeat.
For a moment, he thought he imagined it.
Then it pulsed again.
His breathing caught.
The air around him shifted.
Dust lifted gently from the ground, floating upward in lazy spirals.
Loose fragments of stone trembled.
A faint hum filled the chamber.
Che stared, heart pounding violently.
"What… is this?"
The pendant pulsed brighter.
Suddenly
Pain exploded through his chest.
It felt like lightning tore through his veins.
His spine arched violently.
A sharp gasp ripped from his throat as his body convulsed.
The world tilted.
His breathing shattered into wild, panicked gasps.
His muscles locked.
Every nerve screamed.
Heat surged through him, searing and unstoppable, spreading from his chest outward, flooding his limbs, racing through his skull.
His vision blurred.
White light burned at the edges.
He collapsed onto his back, fingers clawing helplessly at the stone as his body trembled uncontrollably.
His heart hammered.
Too fast.
Too hard.
Like it was trying to escape his ribcage.
Each breath burned like molten metal.
In.
Fire.
Out.
Smoke.
He screamed.
Inside him, something ancient stirred.
Something vast.
Something that had waited patiently beneath his flesh and bone, sleeping in the dark.
Now, it woke.
Energy surged violently through his bloodstream, rewriting him at a fundamental level. His muscles tightened. His bones hummed. His senses sharpened until every sound, every movement, every vibration became painfully vivid.
He could hear the rain dripping from shattered ceilings.
He could hear the distant thunder rolling across the city.
He could hear his own heart pounding like a war drum.
The pendant burned hot against his palm.
His breathing slowed.
Not by choice.
But because something inside him forced control.
In.
Deep.
Out.
Steady.
Again.
His lungs obeyed.
The pain dulled, retreating slowly, leaving behind raw exhaustion and trembling power.
Che lay still, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.
The floating dust settled.
The trembling stone stilled.
The glow faded.
Silence returned.
Slowly, he sat up.
His movements felt different.
Lighter.
Stronger.
More precise.
His body no longer trembled from fear or exhaustion.
His breathing remained steady, deep, powerful.
He raised his hands.
They shook faintly not with weakness, but with restrained force.
Energy hummed beneath his skin, vibrating softly like a barely contained storm.
"What… happened to me?"
Memory surged back.
Rael.
The fight.
The explosion.
The blood.
His throat tightened.
Pain stabbed through his chest.
But beneath that pain, something new burned.
Resolve.
He stood.
His legs held effortlessly.
His balance was perfect.
Every movement felt fluid, deliberate, controlled.
The ruins around him seemed smaller.
Less threatening.
Less overwhelming.
He turned slowly, surveying the shattered chamber.
The devastation was immense.
Stone pillars reduced to rubble.
Walls cracked wide open.
Training dummies obliterated.
And at the center
Rael's body.
Che's breath hitched.
He walked forward.
Knelt.
Closed his mentor's eyes.
"I swear," he whispered, voice low but unshaking, "I'll become strong enough that no one ever does this again."
Thunder rolled overhead.
Rain continued to fall.
But inside him, a storm had already begun.
He left the underground chamber before dawn.
The city lay drenched and silent beneath the storm, streets glistening beneath flickering neon. Smoke rose from shattered rooftops. Emergency sirens wailed faintly in distant districts.
Che moved carefully through the shadows.
Every sound felt amplified.
Every scent sharp.
Every movement precise.
His breathing remained slow, deep, controlled.
Not once did panic rise.
For the first time in his life, fear did not rule him.
At the edge of the ruined sector, he stopped.
Three powerful signatures surged through the air.
Kimyos.
The same ones.
They hovered above a collapsed tower, scanning the streets below.
Che's pulse quickened.
Not with terror.
With anger.
With purpose.
He inhaled deeply.
Held it.
Then released.
Calm.
Control.
The pendant warmed again.
Energy stirred beneath his skin.
The air around him shimmered faintly.
A low hum filled his ears.
He clenched his fists.
Then loosened them.
Not yet.
He wasn't ready.
Not today.
He turned away.
Disappearing into the labyrinth of narrow streets.
Hours later, he reached the outer districts.
Here, towering skyscrapers gave way to broken warehouses, abandoned factories, and sprawling slums. Smoke drifted constantly from burning trash piles. The air smelled of oil, metal, and desperation.
This was where the powerless lived.
This was where he belonged.
For now.
He collapsed inside an abandoned factory, sliding down a cracked concrete wall until he hit the floor.
Only then did his body truly feel exhaustion.
His breathing slowed.
Deep.
Measured.
Controlled.
But heavy.
His muscles trembled faintly.
His mind reeled.
Power still hummed beneath his skin, unfamiliar and volatile.
He rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.
Master Rael's face surfaced in his thoughts.
His calm breathing.
His steady voice.
His unbreakable resolve.
Tears slid silently down Che's cheeks.
But he did not sob.
Not anymore.
Grief still burned.
But it no longer crippled him.
It forged him.
That night, his dreams burned.
He stood inside an endless void, surrounded by swirling golden light.
A massive shape moved beyond his vision.
Breathing echoed.
Deep.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Each inhale shook the darkness.
Each exhale sent waves of energy rippling outward.
A presence watched him.
Not hostile.
Not kind.
Just… vast.
Patient.
Waiting.
"Who are you?" Che whispered.
The breathing paused.
Then resumed.
Stronger.
Louder.
The light surged.
And Che woke, gasping.
His chest rose violently.
Then steadied.
Sweat drenched his skin.
The pendant glowed faintly against his chest.
Whatever slept inside him…
It had only begun to stir.
Far above Astra City, deep within a floating fortress of steel and glass, three figures knelt before a massive throne.
A towering silhouette loomed in shadow.
"The boy survived," the levitator said quietly.
The figure on the throne exhaled.
Slow.
Measured.
Dangerous.
"Then the prophecy breathes once more," the voice rumbled. "Prepare the world."
Thunder rolled across the sky.
War had begun.