The mountain did not exist on any map.
To satellites, it was a natural rise in the earth—dense granite, heavy tree cover, nothing remarkable. To hikers, it was fenced off by government warning signs about unstable rock formations. To demons, it was silent. Quiet. Empty.
It was none of those things.
Deep beneath the mountain, phase-locked between layers of reinforced stone and spatial distortion fields, Aaron Clarke stood alone in the central chamber of his base.
He was seventeen.
And he was tired of pretending the world was safe.
The chamber lights glowed in soft bands across curved metallic walls. Symbols—some ancient, some digital—pulsed faintly along the floor. At the center of the room hovered a circular platform, dormant for now. Behind him, mounted within a crystalline frame, rested the sword.
White.
Still.
Watching.
The Phoenix blade had not moved in hours, but Aaron could feel it thinking. Ever since he forged it—ever since he used it to split Tzeentch into a thousand shrieking fragments—it had developed something close to a personality. Not fully alive. Not fully weapon.
Guardian.
"You're staring again," Aaron muttered.
The sword shimmered, briefly shifting into the small form it preferred within the base—a floating, childlike angel with soft wings of pale flame.
You're brooding, it replied inside his mind.
"I'm planning."
Same thing.
Aaron exhaled slowly.
He wore no miraculous at the moment, but the backpack rested against a nearby console—the Miraculous Vault. With a thought and a gesture, he could scroll through its contained jewels like a dial. Wolf. Lion. Bat. Deer. Phoenix. Oxlore. Monkey. More.
He had gathered them over five years.
Five years of fighting in the dark.
No press. No hero name. No teams.
Just him and the demons.
From twelve to seventeen, he had hunted what slipped through cracks—minor spawn, scouts, wandering horrors trying to root themselves in Earth's soil. Most died quickly. Some required strategy. A few required miracles.
And one had required everything.
He still remembered the sky that night.
Purple lightning.
Reality bending.
Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, had forced a partial manifestation into the solar system—vast, screaming, layered in impossible geometry. A multiversal Chaos God reduced but still catastrophic.
Aaron had worn six Miraculouses that night.
He nearly died.
But he had won.
Not by destroying Tzeentch.
By shattering him.
A thousand fragments scattered across dimensions. Each fragment weaker. Each fragment plotting.
He knew that wasn't the end.
It was an opening move.
And now the board was shifting again.
A soft pulse echoed through the chamber.
Aaron turned toward the central console.
"Report."
The AI responded in a calm, neutral tone.
"Anomalous energy spike detected. Northern Atlantic region. Output consistent with minor Chaos entity. Classification: Deep-water variant."
Aaron's eyes narrowed.
Darkness and Ocean.
The two Chaos Goddesses had begun aligning more openly in recent months. Rare. Dangerous.
"If it's deep-water, why is it surfacing?"
"Energy release threshold exceeded concealment parameters."
He allowed himself a faint smile.
So they were getting sloppy.
Or desperate.
"Tag it," he said. "Track fluctuations."
The artifact embedded beneath the base activated—sending out an invisible wave across Earth's magnetic field. It did not reveal demons immediately. It measured distortion. Pressure. Corruption.
Weak demons barely registered.
Strong ones screamed.
This one was whispering.
"Keep it on monitor," he ordered.
He stepped back and looked at the dormant training platform.
Today wasn't about hunting.
Today was about something else.
He reached for the backpack and slung it over one shoulder.
Time to stop working alone.
The boxing gym smelled like sweat and iron.
Marcus Alvarez adjusted his gloves and threw another combination into the heavy bag. Fast. Clean. Controlled.
Lion.
Aaron leaned casually against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets.
"You're distracted," Aaron said.
Marcus didn't stop punching. "You're the one who texted me ten times."
"Because something's coming."
"Something's always coming with you."
Marcus finally stepped back, breathing hard.
He had no idea yet.
About demons. About Chaos Gods. About the mountain.
But he had instincts. He had courage. And he had stepped between a stranger and a knife two months ago without hesitation.
Aaron had watched that night from a rooftop.
That was when he chose him.
"I need to show you something," Aaron said quietly.
Marcus studied him.
"…This isn't about the NCA thing, is it?"
Aaron shook his head.
"No."
It was about war.
The first time Marcus saw the base, he didn't speak for a full minute.
The walls phased open. The mountain peeled back like mist. The platform lights glowed alive.
"This is insane," Marcus breathed.
Aaron watched him carefully.
"If you walk away now," Aaron said evenly, "you'll forget this place ever existed."
Marcus looked at him.
"You think I'd run?"
"No," Aaron replied. "I think you'd stay."
He reached into the backpack.
The Lion Miraculous glimmered gold in his palm.
"Empowerment," Aaron said. "Strength. Durability. Speed when you need it. But it won't make you a hero."
Marcus met his gaze.
"What does?"
"Choice."
Marcus didn't hesitate.
"Then give it to me."
The first demon they fought together wasn't large.
It didn't need to be.
It burst from the Atlantic shoreline like a mass of writhing black kelp and teeth—fishermen screaming, boats capsizing.
Aaron activated the Wolf.
Armor of controlled silver and midnight wrapped around him. Gauntlets formed along his arms. The orb manifested in his hand.
Marcus transformed beside him—gold energy flaring outward, muscles tightening as the Lion Miraculous responded to his will.
"Remember," Aaron said calmly as waves crashed around them, "don't let it drag you under."
"You've got healing, right?"
"Not equipped."
Marcus blinked. "What?"
Aaron smiled faintly.
"Adapt."
The demon lunged.
Marcus met it head-on.
The battle was messy.
Water and shadow collided. Marcus learned quickly—adjusting strength output, bracing against impact. Aaron shifted the orb into a spear, then into twin blades, then into a hammer when the creature split into tendrils.
They worked without speaking much.
Instinct.
Trust.
When Marcus finally pinned the creature long enough, Aaron pressed a sealing charm against its core.
The demon screamed and imploded into black mist.
Not dead.
Dormant.
"For now," Aaron murmured.
They stood there in the shallow surf as emergency sirens wailed in the distance.
Marcus looked at him.
"How many of those have you fought?"
Aaron stared at the horizon.
"Enough."
He didn't mention the sky splitting open.
He didn't mention Tzeentch laughing in fractal echoes.
That story would come later.
Not today.
Today was about building something new.
As they walked back toward the city lights, Aaron felt it again.
Far away.
Beyond the solar system.
Two presences stirring.
Darkness.
Ocean.
Watching Earth.
Watching him.
The game had begun.
And this time—
He wouldn't fight alone.