Xander awoke to the scent of smoke and ash.
Valenreach — once the beating heart of the Hero Order's North Division — was now a skeleton of molten steel and fractured crystal.
The wind howled through hollow corridors where laughter once filled the air.
He rose slowly, pain lancing through every joint. His resonance felt different — alive, breathing under his skin, like a caged storm.
"Selra?" he whispered.
No answer. Only the whisper of snow sliding from ruined towers.
He stumbled toward what had been the training yard. Half the courtyard was gone; the rest floated in broken slabs of stone suspended by lingering resonance fields.
The storm above had faded into a faint blue scar — the Resonance Rift, still spinning slowly in the sky, as if watching him.
He clenched his fists.
Lightning flickered. Water rippled.
But the fusion no longer obeyed him. It pulsed — unpredictable, raw.
It's like it's alive… feeding off me.
A sound broke through the silence — footsteps.
He turned sharply, ready to fight — until he saw Rina, limping, a bloody bandage around her arm.
"Xander," she breathed, relief flickering in her eyes. "You're… alive."
He exhaled, tension easing. "You too."
She looked at the ruins behind him, her face tightening. "Mira's gone. Renn's missing. Selra—"
She stopped.
Xander's voice was barely a whisper. "What about Selra?"
Rina looked down. "We found her sword near the breach. Nothing else."
The silence between them stretched — heavy, fragile.
Xander looked up at the sky, his voice quiet but edged.
"She said we'd fix it… even if the world didn't want to be fixed."
Rina looked at him, uncertain. "And do you still believe that?"
He turned to her — his eyes glowing faintly blue and silver.
"Now I believe it even more."
Far above the ruins, in the floating capital of Aureon, the Grand Hero Council gathered in the Chamber of Radiance.
Twelve seats formed a circle around the central dais, each occupied by a high-ranking hero — the paragons of the modern world.
At the center stood Director Varell, leader of the Hero Order and overseer of all elemental nations.
His gaze was cold, sharp as steel.
A hologram flickered before him, showing Valenreach's crater — and in its center, faint readings of living resonance.
"Casualties?" Varell asked.
An analyst answered quietly. "Over 3,000 confirmed. Fifty-seven high-ranked heroes. The fortress is lost."
The room was silent.
Varell folded his hands. "And the cause?"
A projection of Xander appeared — blurred, standing amid the ruins. His dual-element resonance flaring wildly.
"Xander Valois," said a councilor. "Age sixteen. North Division recruit. Dual resonance classification: Hydrovolt. Mutation confirmed during the battle."
Another councilor — an older man with scars down his face — leaned forward.
"Mutation? That's not mutation. That's fusion. We're looking at a Resonant-tier anomaly."
A murmur spread through the chamber.
Varell raised his hand.
"Enough. What's important is what he represents. A destabilizing factor. A symbol that could fracture public trust in the Hero Order."
A woman in crimson armor frowned. "He's just a boy. He fought to protect Valenreach."
"And destroyed it," Varell said. "Intent doesn't erase outcome."
He turned toward the chamber's central crystal.
"Effective immediately, Xander Valois is to be classified as a Level Black Resonant Threat. Capture on sight. Termination authorized if resistance is met."
The chamber dimmed as the decree sealed.
When the councilors left, one man stayed behind.
He stood in the shadows, watching the lingering image of Xander's profile on the screen.
"Level Black…" he murmured. "How convenient."
A voice replied from the darkness — calm, almost amused.
"You disapprove?"
The man didn't turn. "Varell wants control. Not balance. He fears what he can't regulate."
"And what do you want?" the voice asked.
He smiled faintly. "Change. The kind the boy might bring — if he survives."
The voice was silent for a moment. Then, softly:
"Then we make sure he does."
Back in the ruins, Xander stood on the shattered balcony where the Academy's banner once hung.
He could see the distant lights of villages untouched by the war, people living their quiet lives under the illusion of peace.
Rina approached, wrapping a scarf around her shoulders.
"What now?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He reached into the rubble and pulled out a fragment of the Academy's insignia — the symbol of the Hero Order. It was cracked, split down the center.
He turned it over in his hand.
"We rebuild," he said finally. "Not the Order. Not the Council."
He looked up, eyes cold and clear.
"Something better."
Rina frowned. "And if they come for you?"
Xander smiled faintly.
"Then they'll learn what happens when you corner a storm."