The sky dimmed, not with storm—but reverence. The kind of calm only the cosmos could hush into being.
Kainen stepped forward, every footfall precise, balanced, like gravity bowed a little to let him move. His voice carried—not loud, but resonant, like it had been aged in wisdom.
Kainen:
"Welcome…
to the threshold of true expression.
This isn't just about power anymore.
It's about restraint.
About understanding.
About mastery."
The elite students leaned against sky pillars and floating platforms, arms folded, smirks dancing on their faces like fireworks waiting to pop.
Klexis, twirling his dual hammers lazily, muttered with a grin,
"Let's see if the Earthlings know how to hold back before they break themselves."
Kainen raised a hand, and a ripple passed through the training field—setting each student's Avian energy into compression mode.
Kainen:
"You all feel it now…
Your power—reduced.
Welcome to Avian Compression Level 5.
Street-level output.
The art of controlled grace.
The finest flow of Avia.
No unnecessary force. No dramatic destruction. Just you… and intent."
He turned, voice sharpening like a sword sheathed in silence.
Kainen:
"Level 4… opens you to stronger opponents. Still contained. Still focused."
He snapped his fingers—nearby training dummies activated, their bodies forged in cosmic alloy, now humming with anticipation.
Kainen:
"Level 3?
That's where the real show begins.
Where your personality fuses with your flow."
A few elite students flared their energy subtly, teasing a glimpse of their L3 signatures—mirages of wild, personal Avian forms dancing behind them.
Kainen:
"Level 2…
Means the gloves are off.
You don't have to hold back anymore—
but you choose to."
The plaza trembled faintly, just once. Everyone felt it.
Kainen (low and heavy):
"Level 1?
You're fine with breaking stuff.
You know the risk…
and you're willing."
Even the sky blinked.
Kainen (last):
"Level 0…
That's you.
Unfiltered.
Uncaged.
Pure Avian output.
You are no longer negotiating with reality.
You're rewriting it."
Silence.
Even the wind didn't dare whisper.
Kainen walked among them now, gaze piercing, words calm but thunderous in weight.
Kainen:
"Being an Airien isn't about power display.
It's not about being flashy.
It's about knowing.
Knowing when to whisper your will…
and when to scream it."
Jack felt the compression hugging his energy like a weighted hug.
Kennedy tapped his frame—trying to adjust to the slowness.
Henry's electricity crackled in frustration, looking for room to stretch.
Ian stared at his sword—it looked quieter, but somehow more ready than ever.
Sonia blinked into her emotional palette, colors more subtle now, but deeper… richer.
Kainen finally faced them.
Kainen:
"Now.
Show me what you can do at Level 5.
Let your limits inspire your creativity.
If you can impress me at your weakest...
Then I know you've begun to understand Avia."
He challenged them to save a planet from a ghoul attack... Planet Nicron, a place full of evergreen nature, once a peaceful place now twisted with ghoul essence..
They should use nothing but their skills ...no brute force, just
Restraint over power
Planet Nicron was stained in twilight, where the sun looked like it had forgotten how to rise or set. Shadows stretched like whispers, and nothing was what it seemed—not even you.
The wind carried doubt. The trees rustled lies. The people—once vibrant—now moved like marionettes whose strings were tangled in gaslight.
Kainen's final words echoed in their minds:
> "The Ghouls here don't just fight with claws or corruption…
They fight with narratives.
If you punch too hard—they'll say you were the villain.
If you shout too loud—they'll call you unstable.
But if you use skill, restraint, and truth wrapped in kindness…
You disarm the lies.
Level 5 is the art of influence without force."
---
Jack stepped forward first—his Divine Lightning barely more than sparks dancing on his palm. He looked around—people afraid, unsure who to trust.
A Ghoul hissed from the shadows—Bhine, the Tongue of "Not Everything Is As It Seems."
It whispered:
> "Jack... show them power… they'll listen then."
But Jack smiled, leaned in, and used Analysis Eyes to reveal that Bhine was using emotional mimicry.
Instead of fighting, Jack told the people how it works—subtly, calmly.
He asked questions.
He listened.
He helped one woman remember her son's real voice—not Bhine's illusion.
The people began doubting Bhine instead.
---
Henry hovered over a cracked square, his electricity twitching to break free—but he restrained it.
A Ghoul disguised as a philosopher strolled up.
> "Freedom is doing whatever you want, right, Henry? That's all that matters…"
Henry chuckled.
Henry:
> "Freedom without purpose is a wild spark with no outlet. You'll burn the house and the heart."
He summoned a Lightning Thread, weaving it into a visual metaphor, showing how electricity needs grounding to be useful.
The people watched in awe, understanding.
---
Sonia walked through a square full of gloom—emotions painted gray.
A Ghoul had numbed the city. No sadness. No joy. No empathy. Just neutral "efficiency."
Sonia whispered:
> "They made you forget how to feel."
She released a gentle spectrum—Emotional Prism Shift, muted colors dancing like a heartbeat.
She sat with one girl crying, just held her hand, let the girl feel everything at once—anger, fear, hope.
A tear turned into a sunbeam. The sky above flickered orange.
---
Kennedy stood near a building where people were building a wall they didn't understand.
The Ghoul whispered,
> "This framework keeps them safe."
But Kennedy smirked. "Nah… it traps them."
He reprogrammed the Avian framework—tapping into the constructs and recoding the very definition of "safety."
Now the wall became a bridge.
The people crossed, and the Ghoul's illusion shattered.
---
Osei Jerry tapped into Instinct Manipulation, feeling which direction to go, but chose to walk the opposite.
Why?
Because the Ghoul was trying to guide him into a false heroic scenario—designed to trap his ego.
Instead, Jerry helped a child quietly, away from the crowd. No cheers. No drama.
Truth whispered, "That was real."
---
Charles used Inscription Manipulation, but at Level 5, he had to draw the glyphs with words.
He began writing stories on the walls—messages, memories, ideas that slowly rewrote the crowd's beliefs. Graffiti of truth bombs.
No explosion. Just awareness.
---
Ian faced a Ghoul who mocked his sword.
> "A weapon of hope? Don't make me laugh."
Ian didn't speak. He placed the blade in the ground like a flag.
He sat beside it, let children gather around it.
They placed their wishes on it.
The sword glowed—not in power, but in purpose.
The Ghoul couldn't touch it.
---
Yyvone weaved her Healing Threads and Barriers, but not to protect from attacks.
She created safe zones of conversation.
Spaces where truth couldn't be twisted.
She turned public silence into communal speech.
A woman said, "I forgot who I was…"
Yyvone whispered, "Let's remember together."
---
And in all of this... none of them fought with brute strength.
Not once.
But the Ghouls... began to fade.
Not from battle wounds—
But from being understood…
From being seen through…
From people choosing truth.
Planet Nicron exhaled for the first time in years.
---
Kainen, watching from a distance, smirked.
Kainen (to Ractor):
> "Looks like they've begun to understand…
That the strongest warriors don't need applause.
They just need clarity."
The twilight of Nicron began to quake. The tension had graduated from silent illusions to raw intent. The Ghouls were done playing games—they came to provoke, not conquer.
Redan the one who killed Ian's father
Redan, with a grin carved from cruelty, clashed swords with Ian in a dance of fury and memory.
Every strike of Ian's Slash Manipulation peeled the air like paper, his blade singing with grief, slicing open old wounds.
> "You fight just like your father…
Full of emotion.
No discipline.
No legacy."
Redan whispered with venom.
Ian snapped.
His form surged toward Level 3 compression, an unstable bloom of power cracking through his restraint.
> "He died because of YOU!"
Ian screamed, unleashing a double slash spiral that nearly tore a mountain's shadow clean off.
But Redan smiled. That was the trap.
Behind his mask of cruelty was a strategy:
Break the soul to bend the warrior.
---
Virj and Rix, twin ghouls of chaos and mimicry, charged the others, spreading confusion and psychic static.
But Jack and Osei Jerry stood firm.
Osei closed his eyes. Instinct Manipulation surged through him like a current.
He sidestepped a blade before it was swung.
He dodged lies before they were spoken.
He placed a protective barrier around Sonia and Kennedy before they even knew they needed it.
Jack, meanwhile, was in cold, surgical mode.
His Analysis Eyes lit up like constellations—tracking Redan's motive, Ian's trajectory, and the ghouls' entire orchestrated trap.
> "This isn't just about pain," Jack muttered. "They want Ian to lose control… to upgrade to Level 1 and destroy public trust."
---
Meanwhile, Charles gritted his teeth, crafting a glyph of stabilization using his foot like a brush on dirt.
Yyvone wove healing threads mid-battle, subtly calming emotions through Avian resonance.
> "Ian... don't let them narrate your story," she whispered through the wind.
---
But Ian was teetering.
Redan's blade locked with his, and for a brief moment, they were face to face.
> "You know your father begged. Not for his life. For yours. He said you were never ready. That you'd never be enough."
The words weren't just knives.
They were curses.
Ian roared, crimson Avia flaring—Level 2 now, dangerously close to unleashing.
Then—
A voice. Not loud. But clear.
> "Ian... your father didn't die disappointed."
It was Jack.
Walking toward the battle with eyes glowing like reason incarnate.
> "He died protecting hope—
That one day, you'd be better than vengeance.
That you'd learn restraint.
That you'd forgive yourself."
Ian froze.
The sword trembled. His aura crackled.
He fell to one knee—but didn't attack again.
He compressed his power back to Level 5.
> "Redan… you're not my justice.
You're just a test."
Then he performed a reverse slash—not toward Redan, but into the ground, carving a mirror symbol.
It caught Redan's next move and reflected it back—symbolically and literally.
The ground split. Redan stumbled. Ian stood, breathing steady.
---
The Ghouls' plan cracked.
They had failed.
They used trauma as bait, but Ian chose legacy over wrath.
---
The battlefield fell into stillness—
not the calm of peace,
but the choking silence of inner war.
The Ghouls didn't need blades.
They used memories. Regret. Unspoken pain.
---
Kennedy stood frozen, the ink of his imagination twitching in his fingers.
He could rewrite the framework of this fight—draw a sword made of language, twist time like a storyboard.
But he hesitated.
> "They always laughed," he muttered.
"Cartoon boy. Animator freak. Doodler."
His gifts, once his joy, became mockery.
The world never saw his power—only his eccentricity.
And now? He stood in front of blank panels in his mind, afraid the story he'd draw… wouldn't be enough.
---
Sonia was not bleeding, but she was drowning.
A thousand echoes screamed in her mind, all with familiar voices:
> "Why are you so sensitive?"
"You always want attention."
"You're just making things up."
Her Avia flickered like a dying candle, caught between the truth she knew and the lies she was taught to accept.
Even now, she caught herself thinking—
> "Will they finally notice me if I save everyone?"
Validation... still a leash.
---
Osei dropped to his knees. His breathing shallow.
He saw her again—his mother—smiling through tears.
> "Why did you lie to me, Osei?"
"Why didn't you just say you didn't want to stay?"
He did leave.
She did die.
And now the Ghouls twisted that truth into a noose.
> "You abandoned her and called it freedom."
His Instinct Manipulation shut down.
Because his instincts screamed one word: Guilty.
---
Charles floated in a suspended mental dimension—a self-coded stasis.
He knew how to bend reality, rewrite vectors, hack the very Avian structure...
And yet, he stood motionless.
> "If I can change everything, why didn't I fix him?"
"Why didn't I save my father from his darkness?"
Even with power, he felt useless.
Because knowing how doesn't heal the why.
---
Yyvone was 8 years old again.
Her knees were scraped.
The hospital was cold.
And no one came.
> "You're too much."
"No one can love you, not really."
Her Avia turned brittle.
Hope cracked like glass.
She'd saved so many, carried so much…
But in this memory, she was just a child, abandoned in the dark.
> "Are they really worth saving?"
---
Henry stood in shadows, where dreams go to die quietly.
He'd always followed Jack—his best friend, his idol.
But his hands buzzed with electrical potential, ideas for inventions that could change lives.
> "Why doesn't anyone see me?"
"Am I just the background spark to someone else's lightning?"
His Avia sparked and died in flickers, indecisive, jealous, ashamed.
---
And then—
Jack.
He stood face to face with Bhine, the Ghoul of Twisted Identity.
> "You're strong, Jack.
So damn strong.
Why keep caging yourself in humility and strategy?
Unleash your inner god.
Become the monster they'll never forget."
The voice was like a velvet knife.
Jack's eyes turned silver with thought.
He wasn't afraid of power.
He was afraid of losing his reason.
Of becoming something like Bhine.
---
They all were breaking.
Every one of them, in silence.
Shattered in their own minds.
But in that stillness—
One heartbeat.
Then another.
And another.
A spark.
A whisper.
A flicker of Avia.
---
Sonia's tear hit the ground.
But she smiled.
> "I don't need to be seen. I just need to be me."
Her Avia stabilized.
She turned sorrow into a shield of pure empathy.
---
Kennedy snapped his fingers.
The void canvas exploded into life.
Animated glyphs burst from the air—monsters, symbols, justice.
> "If they won't see my story…
I'll draw it on their soul."
---
Osei exhaled.
He stepped forward, fists glowing.
> "She died… yes.
But she loved me.
And I will honor that… by fighting for life, not against it."
---
Charles whispered code under his breath.
The ground lit with Reality Runes.
> "I may not fix the past…
But I'll shape the future."
---
Yyvone stood in the burning image of that orphanage.
> "No one saved me.
So I became the one who saves."
Her Avia surged—a warm torrent of compassion that burned like justice.
---
Henry, with lightning in his eyes, stepped beside Jack.
> "I'm not your sidekick.
I'm the storm."
---
And finally—Jack looked Bhine in the eyes.
> "You're right. I am a god...
But I am a god who chooses to stay human.
That's what makes me more."
He activated a reverse flow Avian technique—his own thoughts turned into spectral weapons.
---
They rose.
Not as heroes.
But as warriors who had faced themselves.
> And now... they were ready to face the world.