Carlos' scream ripped through the air, raw and filled with something Bolt had never heard from him before— terror.
The Black Squad members froze, their faces paling as they watched their leader thrash on the ground, clutching his head.
Bolt stood rigid, his breath uneven.
The shadow loomed before him, its glowing red eyes locked onto Carlos.
Carlos' body convulsed violently. Black flames flickered and died out around him, his own power turning against him. He let out a strangled gasp, his hands digging into the scorched earth as if trying to hold himself together.
"What… the hell… is that?" one of the Black Squad members whispered.
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
The Presence of the Unknown
Bolt tried to step forward—tried to move, to help, to do something.
But his body refused.
The air around him grew dense, suffocating, heavy with something ancient. Something primal.
It was like staring into the void itself—and the void stared back.
The shadow tilted its head slightly, as if examining Carlos.
Then—
It raised a hand.
Carlos' body lifted into the air, an unseen force gripping him by the throat. His eyes bulged, veins darkening across his skin.
Bolt's heart slammed against his ribs.
Carlos choked, clawing at his throat.
Aether, Akane, and the rest of Bolt's faction weren't here. He was alone with members of the Black Squad, and all of them were too paralyzed to react.
Bolt clenched his fists.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't how this fight was supposed to end.
"STOP!"
The word tore from his throat before he even realized it.
The shadow froze.
Then, Carlos dropped.
A sickening thud followed as he hit the ground, motionless.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
The shadow turned to Bolt.
A voice echoed within his mind.
"You are progressing…"
Bolt's breath caught in his throat.
That voice.
It wasn't human. It wasn't anything he had ever heard before.
But deep down, something in him recognized it.
"But you are not ready."
A sudden wave of pressure slammed into Bolt's mind, an overwhelming force crushing against his thoughts. His knees buckled.
Visions flashed before his eyes—
A battlefield, soaked in blood and fire.
Mountains split in two, as elemental forces clashed in an ancient war.
A towering city, once magnificent, now reduced to rubble.
A storm, swirling in the heavens, crackling with every element Bolt had ever known.
And amidst it all—
A throne.
A lone figure sat upon it.
Their face hidden in darkness.
But their eyes…
Glowing. Red.
Just like the shadow standing before him now.
Bolt's vision snapped back to reality.
The shadow… was fading.
Its form receded into the darkness, its glowing red eyes the last thing to disappear.
Then—
The air returned to normal.
The suffocating weight vanished.
Bolt gasped, staggering as he finally regained control of his body.
Carlos lay unconscious, his body still twitching slightly.
The Black Squad members remained frozen in fear.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Because no one knew what had just happened.
The Aftermath
Bolt forced himself to his feet. His entire body trembled, but he clenched his fists, steadying himself.
He looked at Carlos.
The once-arrogant leader of the Black Squad was completely still. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but something felt different.
His aura was weaker.
Almost like something had been taken from him.
Bolt turned his gaze to the Black Squad members, who immediately flinched as if expecting the same fate.
He took a slow step forward.
They took a step back.
Bolt wasn't sure if it was fear, respect, or something else entirely, but he knew one thing—things would never be the same after this.
"Take him," Bolt finally said, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. "He needs help."
The Black Squad members hesitated, then hurriedly rushed forward to lift Carlos' limp body. They carried him away, stealing fearful glances at Bolt as they left.
Bolt was alone now.
He exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair.
What the hell was that thing?
And why… did it speak to him?
The voice—it didn't sound like an enemy.
It sounded like it was watching him.
Judging him.
Testing him.
"You are progressing… but you are not ready."
Bolt gritted his teeth.
Then what would it take for him to be ready?
How much more did he have to grow?
He glanced down at his hands. He had gained 5% control of his power today, but it still felt like he was standing on the edge of something far greater.
Something he didn't understand yet.
He clenched his fists.
But he would.
Because he had to.
As Bolt turned to leave the battlefield, he suddenly felt something.
A presence.
A chill ran down his spine as he turned—
And froze.
A figure stood at the edge of the clearing.
Completely still.
Their face obscured by shadows, but their stance familiar.
Watching him.
Not an enemy.
Not a friend.
Just… watching.
The air grew colder.
And then—
The figure vanished.
Like it had never been there at all.
Bolt stood rooted to the spot, heart pounding.
That… wasn't the shadow from before.
That was someone else.
And deep in his gut, Bolt knew—
Whoever it was… they had been waiting for him to awaken.
And now, they had seen it happen.