The morning sun over Airien Academy did not simply rise — it ascended, deliberate and divine, as if the universe itself had chosen to unveil its light with sacred patience. Rays of amber spilled across the floating mountains that cradled the academy's domes, refracting through the veil of mist that wrapped their edges like a secret. The mountains hung in serene suspension, casting long shadows over the lush bluegrass below, each shadow pulsing faintly with Avian energy — the rhythm of Airious itself.
It was a stillness that carried weight, like the pause before a heartbeat. Even the air vibrated faintly, thick with awareness — the kind that only followed revelation.
Jack Sterling Oberempong sat at the mountain's edge, his posture straight but unguarded, his hands resting loosely on his knees. He was meditating, or at least trying to. Threads of lightning whispered across his forearms, dancing between his fingers as if mimicking his pulse. For a while, his breathing was steady — calm, rhythmic, precise — each inhale a slow surge of control, each exhale a measured release. His Avia hummed in harmony with the world.
Then, his breath faltered.
The rhythm broke. His chest rose unevenly, and his fingers twitched. The calm that had wrapped him unraveled like cloth caught in a storm.
Jack's eyelids fluttered. Sparks flashed behind them — not of lightning, but of memory.
A pressure coiled in his chest, heavy and intimate, like a hand reaching inward. The peaceful current of his mind fractured into flickering reels of chaos. Faces. Words. Laughter. Then, pain.
Jair.
The name struck him like thunder. His oldest friend. His shadow. His mirror.
Images flooded his mind — two boys sparring under a cracked streetlight back on Earth, laughter bleeding into exhaustion, ambition burned into the night air. Jack remembered how Jair always smiled with that strange calm — a smile that said, I see the truth, even when it hurts.
Even then, Jair was fearless. Bold where Jack hesitated. Brutally honest where Jack tried to soften every edge. If Jack was the spark of awareness, Jair was the flame that consumed hesitation. The one who wasn't afraid to look into the ugliness of humanity and name it necessary.
Jack had once admired that. Until admiration turned to unease. And unease to distance.
Even now, even after all this — the training, the wars, the revelations — Jair's words still echoed in his skull.
"You can't fix the world with compassion, Jack. It's not purity that saves people, it's pain."
Jack's lightning flickered violently. His heart hammered.
He wanted to believe he had moved on — that he was no longer that timid boy who avoided confrontation with a smile. But the truth clung to him like static. He hadn't moved past it. Not completely. Jair was still there, living in the corners of his consciousness — a ghost shaped like truth.
Their duality haunted him. Jair, the embodiment of painful clarity. Jack, the defender of hopeful purity. Two sides of the same coin, orbiting each other through destiny's cruel geometry.
Jack's body tensed, lightning crawling up his shoulders in erratic lines — until a long exhale broke through. The sparks softened. His Avia quieted.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight that had grown warmer, kinder.
Jack muttered, voice low but steady, "Oh boy… can't even meditate in peace."
A voice called from behind.
"Yeah, because your aura's screaming louder than a storm."
Jack turned. Henry stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a hovering stone ledge, his usual mischievous grin tugging at the edge of his lips. Sparks arced lazily around his fingers — not charged with aggression, but playfulness. His presence always carried that rare paradox: chaotic and grounding all at once.
Henry stepped closer, studying Jack's face with a faint crease in his brow.
"Uh… you good, man?"
Jack blinked, caught off guard by how direct the concern sounded.
"Yeah," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine now."
Henry raised a brow. "Fine now?" His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning Jack's aura — the lightning still whispering like restless thought.
"What happened? You were radiating like you'd seen a ghost."
Jack chuckled nervously. "Ha… well, close enough. It's Jair again. Living rent-free in my head."
Henry's grin softened into something gentler. He stepped beside Jack, lowering himself onto the ledge with an easy motion. Sparks danced idly between his knees as he spoke.
"So that's what I've been feeling. That weird pressure. You still afraid he's right about you?"
Jack blinked, surprised by how easily Henry pierced through the surface.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah… maybe. I don't know. He always saw things differently — maybe clearer."
Henry tilted his head, his tone half playful, half piercing.
"Bro, you don't have to be perfect, alright? You act like you're some lightning god sent to purify the world, but come on." He grinned. "We both know you're just a dude with too much brain and not enough chill."
Jack couldn't help but laugh. The sound came out raw, genuine. For a brief second, the heaviness lifted.
Henry nudged him with his elbow. "See? That's better."
But Jack's gaze lingered on the horizon. The laughter faded into thought.
"What if he's right though?" he said quietly. "What if I'm not… capable?"
Henry sighed, leaning back on his palms. "Man, you really love this self-doubt stuff, huh?"
He paused, as if searching for the right words — then decided against words altogether. His grin returned. "Alright. I'll ask you one thing. Answer me straight."
Jack nodded warily.
Henry's eyes glowed faintly with electric light. "Is your Avia flickering?"
Jack blinked. "What—?"
"Your Avia," Henry repeated, the grin widening. "You know, the system that flows within all of us, apparently you've forgotten about? Is it flickering?"
Jack looked down. His hands glowed steady. His lightning flowed smooth and alive, not erratic or dim.
He blinked again, realization dawning. "No… no, it's not." A laugh escaped him — light, almost boyish. "Wow. I almost forgot."
Henry groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Of course you forgot. You overthink everything, man. Even your analysis eyes can't keep up with your brain sometimes."
That broke Jack completely — he laughed, loud and unrestrained, and Henry joined in. Their laughter echoed down the cliffs, blending with the wind's song, bouncing across the mountain ridges until it reached the temple ahead.
For a moment, they weren't warriors, or chosen, or whatever titles Airious had assigned them. They were just friends. Boys who'd carried too much too early, finding fragments of light in the cracks of their burdens.
Henry caught his breath first. "See? It's not flickering, so chill out."
Jack nodded, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're right."
Henry stood, brushing off his pants. "And if you're not ready for the war…"
His tone shifted, subtle but sharp. The smile remained, but his eyes darkened, the storm behind them stirring.
"…you don't have to be."
Jack frowned slightly, sensing something under those words — a shadow he couldn't name.
Henry's gaze lingered for a moment longer, unreadable now. Then he turned, electricity rippling faintly around him as he started walking away.
"You'll understand soon," he said quietly.
The air hummed in his wake — an aftershock of power and intent that felt almost prophetic.
Jack watched him go, his brow furrowing. "Well… that's something," he muttered, half amused, half unsettled.
The wind picked up again, carrying the faint scent of ozone and mist. Jack closed his eyes, letting the breeze cool his face. But the peace didn't quite return this time. There was a heaviness in the air — not ominous, but aware. Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Far in the distance, the mountains shimmered — and somewhere beneath their vast shadows, a new pulse of Avian energy began to awaken. Something stirring. Something old.
Jack exhaled softly, electricity whispering at his fingertips again.
"Guess the universe isn't done with me yet."
The wind answered with silence.
And in that silence — far below, within the hidden chasms of Airious — a faint echo rippled. A resonance not yet understood.
The war hadn't begun. Not yet.
But the air knew.
The air always knew.
Just as Jack was about to steady his breath again, a voice thundered through the horizon like a divine bell.
> "Earthbound students — to the Assembly!"
Kainen's voice.
No mistaking it.
It rolled through the clouds and across the floating mountains, carrying authority so sharp that even the wind seemed to straighten its posture.
Jack's eyes snapped open. His face twisted in mild frustration.
"C'mon… already!?"
He sighed, shaking off the static that still danced faintly along his arms. The air around him still felt heavy — Henry's words lingering like echoes in a canyon — but duty didn't wait for clarity. It demanded presence.
---
Below the Hanging Mountains, the Airien Academy buzzed with organized chaos. The assembly grounds stretched across a terrace of floating platforms interconnected by shimmering light bridges. Students gathered in tight formations, robes flowing with subtle Avian auras. Above them, the academy's spires gleamed, inscribed with shifting runes that pulsed with rhythm — like the heartbeat of Airious itself.
One by one, the Earthbound students appeared.
Ian was first — stepping from the shadows of the training hall, twin transparent blades strapped across his back. His eyes, sharp and cold as tempered glass, reflected the kind of purpose only born from surviving loss. The edges of his swords caught the light, flickering like distant stars.
Next came Sonia, materializing in a burst of orange mist that immediately flickered green. Her aura was a canvas of emotion — anxiety and determination in constant dialogue. She exhaled slowly, forcing the colors to steady into calm resolve.
Yyvone descended from above, floating gracefully. Golden threads streamed from her fingertips, weaving lazily around her like ribbons of sunlight. Her expression was tranquil — the peace of someone who had faced her pain and learned to bow to it without surrendering.
Then, without warning, a door appeared midair — a door without walls, without hinges, standing upright against nothing. Its surface shimmered with cinematic distortion before swinging open.
Kennedy stepped through, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket. "Hah, still works," he muttered under his breath, smirking as if he'd just outwitted reality.
A second portal bloomed beside him — this one lined with glowing inscriptions like coded circuitry. Charles emerged, glasses catching the light, posture relaxed but eyes sharp — the kind of calm that belonged to someone whose mind never truly rested.
Osei was already there, perched casually at the far edge, silent and watchful. His presence felt instinctive, as though he'd sensed the summons before anyone else had heard it.
And before the others could even greet one another, a loud crack of air —
Henry zipped into place in a blur of lightning and wind.
He stretched, electricity flickering lazily around him. "Alright, who's late? Wait—don't tell me it's—"
Kainen descended from above, landing on the main dais with effortless poise. His cloak rippled once, Avian symbols etched across its surface. His expression was calm but commanding — the kind of presence that could silence storms.
His arms crossed, eyes scanning the students with an approving yet exacting gaze.
Only one face was missing.
"Where," Kainen's voice carried with quiet gravity, "is Jack Sterling?"
Henry raised a finger, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, saw him meditating at the Hanging Mountains. He's probably—"
Footsteps echoed.
Henry grinned, pointing over his shoulder. "Oh. There he is."
Jack jogged into view, hair tousled by wind, sparks trailing faintly from his hands.
"Sorry, guys! Got… distracted."
Kainen didn't reply immediately — because another presence had joined him.
A ripple in the air shimmered, and from it emerged Aprexion, the Ruth-Bomb Knight. His aura was razor-sharp, his uniform layered with metallic feathers that caught light like forged wings. The bow slung across his back glowed faintly — not as a weapon, but as an extension of his being. His Affinity — Arrows. Precision incarnate.
The students straightened automatically. Even Henry stopped fidgeting.
Sonia's aura flared uncontrollably — her colors darting between anxious orange and wary violet.
Yyvone's golden threads curled tighter, as if protective.
Kennedy's smirk faltered slightly.
Charles pretended not to care.
Osei subtly shifted behind Ian — who didn't move an inch, though his jaw clenched tightly. Something about Aprexion's poise reminded him of his father.
Aprexion's tone was calm but cut through the air like a blade.
"Still the same messy bunch as before… hmph."
Kainen chuckled quietly beside him. "Of course they are. They've been through more than most Airiens their age. Their Avia reflects that."
Jack swallowed hard, feeling the collective unease ripple through the group. He caught glimpses — Sonia's restless hues, Kennedy's forced nonchalance, Charles's eerie composure, Henry's nervous chuckle, Osei's instinctive alertness, Ian's cold focus.
For a moment, he wondered what they looked like through Aprexion's eyes — seven souls stitched together by chaos.
Aprexion's voice broke the silence again.
"I assume you've each identified your Avian tiers?"
They nodded almost in unison — like children caught pretending they'd already done their homework.
"Good," Aprexion continued. "Then you understand the risk that comes with it?"
The question was not rhetorical.
Jack stepped forward.
His tone trembled, but not from fear — from effort.
"Yes, sir. We've touched the wonders of the Ascended state — the ability to perceive and act across multiple universes at once. But…"
He scratched his head nervously, forcing a crooked grin.
"…we've barely started learning how to handle it. Still growing, apparently. Heh."
The laugh was thin, almost apologetic. The kind that bounced off Aprexion's armor and vanished into the void.
Sonia winced from the tension. Her aura flashed violet — dizziness creeping up her spine.
Even the air around them seemed to tighten.
Kainen's chuckle sliced through the weight — soft but grounding. "Don't mock him, Aprexion. They're still young. Growth doesn't come without friction."
Aprexion's gaze didn't soften, but his nod was measured.
"Perhaps. Then consider this your friction."
He turned slightly, addressing all of them at once — his voice like thunder through stone.
"The announcement is simple. Prepare yourselves for Universal Avian Art Integration Training."
The students stiffened, focus snapping into place. Even Henry's grin faded into a thoughtful stare.
Kainen stepped forward beside him, his tone less severe, but no less serious.
"You've unlocked the existence of your inner realms. Now, you'll learn to use them — not just to defend yourselves, but to protect others. Remember this: while you're learning preservation, your enemies are mastering manipulation. Do the opposite of whatever they're doing."
His eyes flicked between them, one by one.
"The Flex City candidates are not playing games anymore. Neither are we."
Aprexion's final words struck like the draw of a bowstring.
"Training begins later today. Be on time."
And with that, his body dissolved into a shimmer of light — gone in an instant.
Kainen sighed faintly, watching him vanish.
"You heard the man," he said, flashing a rare wink before disappearing in a hollow step — leaving a swirl of gold feathers in his wake.
The group exhaled collectively, the tension snapping like overstretched wire.
Sonia's colors burst into bright yellow — joy and relief flooding her aura.
Yyvone giggled softly. "Well, that was something. We're back, baby."
Kennedy slumped his shoulders dramatically. "Man, I don't know what's worse — surviving our own inner realms or dealing with that guy."
Henry tapped his shoulder, laughing. "Yeah, I know, right? I couldn't even look him in the eyes for two seconds."
Ian crossed his arms, his tone cool. "Both are necessary. My father was stricter. And louder. I'm used to it."
Charles adjusted his glasses. "I'll prepare a backup code in case we suffer an Avian meltdown during training—"
"Please don't," Jack interrupted quickly, eyes widening. "We just survived last time."
Osei chuckled under his breath. "My instincts don't lie. I'll move ahead of all of you."
Sonia rolled her eyes, aura flashing green with teasing amusement. "Yeah, we already know, Mr. 'Trust My Gut.'"
Their laughter echoed through the academy terraces, rising into the bright Airien sky — laughter threaded with nervous energy, yes, but also something truer. Hope.
Because even when the universe called them to war…
they were still, in their hearts, the same chaotic group of Earthbound kids trying to figure it all out.