The transition from mortal to elemental was not a silent one. For days, the five friends felt the hum of the universe vibrating in their marrow. They needed a place to understand this new language of power, away from the prying eyes of the Technoking's surveillance drones.
"The old park," Robert suggested, his voice echoing in the metallic silence of his private laboratory. "The basketball court near the Sector 7 ruins. No one has gone there since the Great Blackout."
It was the perfect crucible. Under the shadow of rusted hoops and cracked asphalt, the testing began. They did not just practice; they created.
Donald, feeling the heartbeat of the earth, knelt and pressed his palms to the ground. With a low grunt of concentration, the tectonic plates seemed to obey. The asphalt groaned as a perfect stone mould rose from the dirt, shaped like a heavy sphere.
"Erif, now!" Donald shouted.
Erif stepped forward, his eyes burning with a controlled crimson light. He didn't need a forge. He gathered the scattered metal wastes—discarded girders and rusted beams—and held them between his hands. A roar of white-hot flame erupted, melting the iron into a glowing liquid in seconds. He poured the molten metal into Donald's stone mould.
As the liquid iron hissed, Micheal and Robert moved in tandem. Micheal swirled his arms, summoning a localized vortex of chilling wind, while Robert drew moisture from the very air, turning it into a flash-freeze mist. The red-hot ball turned gray, then black, steam billowing into the sky.
Finally, Tom stepped in. He raised a finger, and a jagged bolt of blue lightning arced from the heavens, striking the ball with surgical precision. The electric force didn't break the metal; it shaped it, smoothing the jagged edges until a perfect, indestructible elemental sphere sat in the center of the court.
They played a game then—a high-stakes match where the ball moved at the speed of sound, propelled by fire and wind. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the reality of the Supreme God's second precaution hit them.
Don't expose your face.
"We need more than just powers," Robert said, looking at his singed clothing. "We need a second skin."
For three months, Robert's lab became a fortress of innovation. He worked tirelessly, weaving the very essence of their elements into fabric and plate. When he finally unveiled the suits, they were masterpieces of functional art—each themed after the hero's specific domain.
Donald, however, was skeptical. He picked up a gauntlet, weighing the light, shimmering metal. "Robert, why did you use these waste metals? You should have asked Erif to bring magma from the mantle. It would be a hundred times stronger."
Robert didn't argue. He simply pointed to a nearby rock, the size of a boulder. "Hit the suit, Donald. Full force."
Donald shrugged, encased his arm in a layer of reinforced granite, and delivered a blow that would have leveled a building. The laboratory rang with the sound of a titan's hammer. When the dust cleared, the suit remained pristine, hanging on its rack without a single scratch. The granite on Donald's arm, however, had shattered into fine powder.
"It's not just metal," Robert explained quietly. "It's molecularly bonded with the Aqua-Ice frequency. It absorbs kinetic energy."
Donald stared at his trembling hand, then at the suit. "I... I see. My apologies, Robert."
The victory was short-lived. To celebrate the completion of their gear, they headed to the artificial beach of Technopia, seeking a moment of peace. But as they rested on the synthetic dunes, the air suddenly tore open. A jagged black portal hissed into existence, and a dark, winged creature spiraled out, dropping a heavy, metallic gift box onto the sand before vanishing back into the void.
Erif's AI, Tetramax, immediately cast a red scanning beam over the box.
"Warning," the AI's mechanical voice crackled in Erif's ear. "A living signature is detected within the vessel. High thermal readings. Danger imminent."
The peace of the beach was gone. The shadows had finally found them.