Earth's battle-scarred skies crackle with Avian energy. The corrupted zones materialize. Each young hero is cast into their own fractured dimension—echoes of their past, temptations of their future, and shadows of their possible demise. The Ghouls watch from above like twisted gods at play. Each corrupted self leads the infected. Let the mental war begin...]
---
JACK VS CORRUPTED JACK
(In a space of floating temples, godly relics and broken lightning—Jack's godhood chamber.)
Corrupted Jack:
"Look at you, shivering in power. You call that mercy? Or is it fear disguised as virtue?"
Jack (hands trembling, eyes glowing with lightning runes):
"I've seen what happens when gods forget their hearts. I'd rather tremble in kindness... than strike in arrogance."
Corrupted Jack (laughs):
"Then you'll always be prey. You shrink yourself because you're scared... not noble. Your power is a storm caged in guilt."
Jack (softly, stepping forward):
"Maybe. But even caged storms... can shake the sky when it matters."
(He touches one of the infected patients, reading their neural frequency.)
"You're not broken. You're burdened. And I'm not your god—I'm your echo. Let's unbreak it together."
(His lightning flows through the air, not to destroy, but to decode.)
---
SONIA VS CORRUPTED SONIA
(In a psychiatric hospital where every corridor is shaped by a past manipulation.)
Corrupted Sonia (twirling a scalpel made from emotional residue):
"They used you. Bent your feelings like glass in fire. And now you want to feel again? Pathetic."
Sonia (holding her heart with a burning red aura):
"No. I choose to feel again. Not for them... for me."
Corrupted Sonia:
"But you were stronger when numb. Remember? No one could touch you."
Sonia (walking toward her):
"That wasn't strength. That was survival."
(She opens her hand. Red, blue, yellow, violet—a spectrum of emotion flares into a barrier, shielding the infected around her. The scalpel melts.)
"I'm done surviving. I'm finally living… with all the colors I was told were too much."
---
IAN VS CORRUPTED IAN
(A war zone of expectations. Bullets are literal words from his father. Every strike a quote.)
Corrupted Ian (clad in steel formed from his father's voice):
"You'll never be enough. A man follows the path laid before him. He doesn't rebel."
Ian (blade in hand, breathing heavy):
"A sword sharpens through pressure… but I am not my father's mold. I am my own flame."
Corrupted Ian:
"You disrespect legacy."
Ian (raising Cleave of Ignition):
"No. I redefine it."
(He slices through a quote mid-air: "BE A MAN." The phrase breaks into flames and reforms into "BE YOURSELF.")
"My path isn't rebellion. It's reclamation."
---
YVYONE VS CORRUPTED YVYONE
(An orphanage twisted with dark threads and mocking lullabies.)
Corrupted Yvyone (floating above in cradled shadows):
"You were abandoned. Chosen by no one. And now you think these powers make you whole?"
Yvyone (thread dancing on her fingers):
"I wasn't chosen. I chose myself."
Corrupted Yvyone:
"But don't you still ache? Still yearn to be held?"
Yvyone (gently smiling):
"Yes. But now I hold others. And in that, I am not alone."
(She weaves a cocoon of threads around the infected orphans. A barrier of warmth, not separation.)
"My pain doesn't define me. My healing does."
---
CHARLES VS CORRUPTED CHARLES
(A library of knowledge gone wrong. Pages scream. Equations melt.)
Corrupted Charles (eyes glowing with forbidden code):
"Logic over morals. Code doesn't care about ethics. You hesitated when your father was dying. You almost chose fraud. Why not embrace it now?"
Charles (wearing his sigil suit, hands casting runes):
"I almost did. But almosts are the ghosts of the guilty. I faced mine."
Corrupted Charles:
"Knowledge is power. Truth is optional."
Charles (activating a sigil):
"But wisdom is the bridge between knowledge and truth. And I'd rather build than burn."
(He restructures the room. Books become alive with purpose, not just data.)
---
KENNEDY VS CORRUPTED KENNEDY
(An animated world where his creations mock him. His failures play on loop.)
Corrupted Kennedy (merged with one of his old failed animations):
"They rejected you. Said your art was too 'weird', too 'much'. You cried into your frames."
Kennedy (smirking):
"And I turned that pain into pixels. Every rejection... became my signature."
Corrupted Kennedy (screaming):
"Then why do I still hurt?!?"
Kennedy (holding his stylus like a sword):
"Because you're me. And we don't erase pain—we trace over it. Add layers. Animate it into something new."
(He draws mid-air, rewriting the corrupted animations into living frames of hope.)
---
OSEI JERRY VS CORRUPTED OSEI
(His endless home, silent, empty. Echoes of a mother who never came back.)
Corrupted Osei (sitting on the couch, emotionless):
"Hide it. Always hide it. Emotions are weakness. We do not cry."
Osei Jerry (tears welling):
"But I miss her. And I'm tired of pretending I don't."
Corrupted Osei:
"Then you'll fall. They'll call you broken."
Osei Jerry (finally crying):
"Then let me fall... so I can get up as me this time."
(His instincts awaken. The house begins to reshape—no longer endless, but focused. One door opens: light behind it.)
---
MEANWHILE: THE GHOULS...
(Watching as each student overcomes their corrupted self. Ji scowls. Noq stirs. Torchue snarls. Xo laughs but hesitates.)
Ji (grim):
"We underestimated them."
Torchue:
"Their minds should've shattered."
Rix (quietly):
"They didn't win by power... they won by remembering who they are."
Xo (grinning):
"Delicious. Let's make this even more... personal."
(The Ghouls merge into a collective nightmare, fusing corrupted reality into one battlefield.)
The battlefield floated above Earth, a surreal coliseum forged by corrupted intent—part ethereal plane, part dimensional glitch. Below, cities flickered beneath the clouds, unaware of the war echoing in their name. Within the dome, Jack and his team stood surrounded—infected humans they had once saved now growling, eyes void of soul, twitching like meat marionettes pulled by ghastly strings.
Jack, sweat trickling down his brow, clenched his fists.
"They were fine... we saved them..." he muttered.
Henry gritted his teeth, electric sparks licking off his fingers.
"Not anymore... now they're just corrupted programs in someone else's script."
On the opposite end, Rix, a mid-low level Ghoul with a mouth stitched sideways and fingers like conductor batons, grinned.
> Rix:
"It's poetic, don't you think? Your own compassion... turned into your cage.
Go on, little heroes. Save them again... without touching them."
His arms twisted unnaturally as if made of pliable brass, and the infected humans twitched, then surged forward—bloodlust painting their twisted faces.
Avian Compression Activated.
The team snapped into motion.
Ian sliced air with Slash Manipulation, creating directional vacuums to redirect some of the infected—but held back the fatal intent.
Sonia, glowing blue, whispered,
> "Hope... don't fail me now,"
and created radiant emotion-construct shields—tear-shaped domes that pulsated with calming frequencies.
The first wave hit like a meteor storm. Screams echoed. The sky cracked with psychic weight.
---
Jack's Analysis Eyes flickered, catching hundreds of micro-signals, nerve twitches, subtle patterns in corrupted flesh.
> "I can see it all... their movement vectors, weak spots... If I hit here... if I strike now—!"
But then he paused, sweat pooling in his eyes.
The Ghoul's voice echoed in his mind, like laughter in a well.
> Rix (telepathically whispering):
"Precision is permission. Find the flaw, then exploit it. Strike... and you become just like us."
Jack's hands trembled.
> Jack:
"Damn it... They want us to fight too well. To lose our purpose in the math of battle…"
---
Charles flicked his wrist, engraving a nearby broken pole into a glyph.
> Charles:
"Rune: Reverse Gravity."
The infected humans levitated momentarily, giving the team breathing room.
He turned to Jack:
> "We need a plan, not just hesitation!"
---
Suddenly, Kennedy, floating a few meters above, extended both arms.
The world shifted. His Syntax Shift Protocol activated. A reality-field opened like a blooming lotus:
> "Welcome to my framework, freaks."
Infected humans got caught in timeloops—repeating one motion endlessly, punching air or freezing mid-lunge.
> Kennedy:
"They'll run in circles... until we figure this out."
---
Osei, eyes glowing with Precog Punch, whispered to himself:
> "Past. Present. Future... no longer linear. Punch where it hurts the least... to stop the most."
He began flickering across time echoes, landing strategic taps that redirected rather than harmed.
---
But then—an explosion of barrier shatter sound.
Yyvone screamed from another dimension—her voice echoing like a forgotten lullaby through broken glass.
> Yyvone (disembodied):
"I'm... trapped!
They've kept me here... in the Mindstitch Vault... I'm healing broken psyches of the corrupted... but I'm not fast enough!"
In the healing realm, she sewed threads of clarity into screaming memories, her hands bleeding silver.
---
Back on the battlefield:
Henry, furious, shouted:
> "Jack! We can't keep this up! We need a workaround... something poetic. Something paradoxical!"
Jack's eyes snapped into focus.
> Jack (calmly):
"Then we stop thinking like warriors."
---
He closed his eyes.
> "We think like mirrors..."
Suddenly, Jack generated a harmless Aura Pulse, mimicking the infected's own frequencies, causing some to halt—confused by their own reflections.
> "Let's reflect them... not reject them."
---
The team began adapting:
Sonia's hope constructs now absorbed emotional pain rather than shielding.
Charles' sigils turned into Empathy Arrays, showing infected humans visual memories of their loved ones.
Ian's slashes carved shapes of their old identities—symbols only their souls remembered.
---
The Ghoul Rix hissed.
> Rix:
"No... no... this isn't how it's supposed to go...!"
---
A crack appeared in Rix's body. The infected humans began to pause—tremble. The Avian compression glowed brighter.
---
Jack, softly, to his team:
> "They're puppets. But we just reminded them... what it means to dance."
Traxis sits upon his throne — not of gold, not of stone — but of fractured certainty and legacy. The room is quiet, yet haunted by a thousand unspoken truths. His eyes are open, but they see not the present. They wander... back.
---
[Flashback: The Garden of Emotions]
Sunlight dappled through the canopy of conscious flora. Emotions bloomed here — literally — a sacred place in Airious where truths grew like flowers.
Elegia: (brushing Evexis's hair)
"The flowers bloom faster when you're calm, Trax... they reflect your inner voice."
Jorxis: (levitating small pebbles with invisible force)
"Look! The pebbles dance!"
Klexis: (focused, training with internalized compression)
"Avian Compression... why does it feel like a restraint and a liberation?"
Traxis doesn't answer. He stares at the petals of a red bloom — the "Ember Regret" — wilting despite the sun.
Then... Kainen and Aprexion appear, phasing through emotion itself like elder spirits of logic and loss.
Kainen:
"Avia isn't sad because of Devia..."
Aprexion: (echoing softly)
"It's sad because it evolved because of you. It listened to your scream for meaning... and when it came, you... destroyed the signal."
Traxis turns to his family. Elegia looks away. Jorxis plays. Evexis stays quiet. Klexis stares — the kind that sees too much.
Traxis:
"You all knew...?"
Elegia: (whispers)
"We didn't hide it to hurt you... we were waiting for you to see it."
Traxis turns away, lifting Klexis gently into his arms.
Traxis:
"Then maybe this garden isn't where truth grows... maybe it's just where it dies beautifully."
He leaves. The garden sighs.
---
[Back to Present: Throne Room]
The throne room pulses dimly, shadows dancing like old memories trying to reenact their trauma.
Narration:
Traxis's anger—was it righteous? Or just righteous to him? Was it defiance... or a tantrum cloaked in philosophy?
He once thought Avian Compression was his gift to Airious — a system of restraint forged from chaos, to help others grow through clarity.
Now? Now it feels like a Band-Aid slapped on a cosmic wound.
A pity system.
A ceremonial praise.
To him, it's all noise covering the echo of a darker truth...
Traxis: (clenching the throne arm)
"You all praised me... called me the Standard... the reason they advanced.
But if my signal caused evolution... and the system grew without me…
Then what am I?
A flare that burned bright...
Only to be forgotten once the sun rose?"
He stands slowly. His aura pulses violently — the echoes of Avian Compression around him, glitching.
Traxis:
"You don't get it, do you?
I forged pain into structure...
Chaos into clarity...
My very existence was compression —
tightening truth into something useful... digestible.
But if Avia evolved because of me...
And no one told me...
Then I wasn't the architect.
I was just the alarm.
The one that gets silenced once the building changes."
---
Closing Narration:
Traxis doesn't want revenge. Not really.
He wants relevance. He wants truth to still need him.
But Avia doesn't wait.
It evolves.
And in evolution... the past isn't always the blueprint.
Sometimes, it's just the first draft.
Traxis, still and statuesque, sits in his obsidian throne. His eyes burn with memory, his mind spiraling through truth, betrayal, and revelation. Suddenly—
Bhine the Deceiver materializes with a casual scoff, arms folded like a trickster who's already seen the ending.
> Bhine:
"So, you've found out…
The awaited plot twist of the century.
The truth you tried to bury now blooms like a weed—ugly, stubborn, and poetic."
Vun, tall and eerie like a walking paradox theorem, drifts beside him with an analytical gaze.
> Vun:
"Your vision still stands, Traxis.
The people love you.
You made them feel seen—
Better than Avia ever could."
Bhine smirks, tilting his head, letting words drip like venom-laced honey.
> Bhine:
"Or maybe that's not enough.
Maybe you're tired of sharing the stage.
Maybe you want to replace Avia itself.
And that, dear Traxis…
Is what I call the Endgame."
Traxis rises slowly—his presence enough to warp the emotional air in the room.
Traxis (calm, cold, cutting):
> "So you knew…
I see.
I've always been cautious about you two.
Guess I was right to be."
With the wave of a hand, the Deviant Stone hovers, rotating with chaotic grace in front of him.
Its energy pulses—like a heartbeat of rebellion, pain, and reformation.
> Traxis (smirking):
"The people will stand with Devia anyway.
It's…
the cooler system after all."
The two Ghouls share a grin—almost amused. Yet, they feel it too…
Something's wrong.
Traxis's calm was not arrogance. It was the stillness before a supernova.
His mind wasn't at peace—
It was rebuilding.
---
INNER MONOLOGUE (Traxis):
> They think I'm playing checkers…
But I'm constructing a new language of power.
Avia was authenticity?
Then Devia… will be freedom.
Unrestrained, unfiltered, uncontrollable.
They broke my belief.
Now I'll build one that can never be broken again.
---
Vun (tilting his head):
> "And what of the consequences? A system without truth is just another mask."
Traxis (stepping forward):
> "No… it's a mirror.
And I will force the world to look."
Bhine (eyes wide, smirking):
> "Ohh... now that…
That sounds like a villain arc I can root for."
Traxis (whispers, almost to himself):
> "I'm not a villain…
I'm just the aftershock of a broken promise."
Flex City — Inside the Drift Lounge, a graffiti-covered haven where Deviants gather to relax after training.
Neon lights flicker. Holograms shift and bend with each thought. The walls pulse with raw emotions, turned into art. The original team — Klexis, Jairak, Eve Maid, Eugene, Banjo, Androsha, Jason — sit around a hovering obsidian table while the second wave — Kranor, Nicia, Meilo, Tarren, Ulok, Jero, Gullia, Marneth — lean in or lounge around. Everyone feels it… something trembled in the core of Devia, just for a second.
---
Tarren (sweating slightly):
"You felt it too, right? That flicker? Like… Devia just glitched. My panic claw retracted by itself, mid-session. I haven't panicked like that since breakfast!"
---
Jero (arms crossed, trying to look brave):
"Yeah, well… I almost ran headfirst into my own rebellion chains. Again. Don't act like you're the only one who's cracked."
---
Gullia (leaning against the wall, her voice flat and ghostly):
"Dirge Armor locked up. Like my trauma went mute for a second. It was so quiet… it scared me more than the screams."
---
Meilo (swirling a shard of broken mirror in his palm):
"My mirrors… they didn't show anything. Just... blankness. No forced reflection. No twisted truths. Just... static fog."
---
Marneth (eyes glowing):
"Spatial surge... disconnected. Like Devia had to reconnect to existence."
---
Eugene (tilting his head):
"Yo, mine was wild though. I was on the track, mid sprint… and bam! reality said, 'Nah.' My sprint affinity literally stopped syncing. I fell face-first into a vending drone. Bro, embarrassing."
---
Androsha (narrowing her fog-swirled eyes):
"My perception thinned. Like I couldn't feel the mist of intentions anymore… for a moment, everyone looked clear. I hated it."
---
Jason (clenching fists with flickers of flame dancing):
"My relevance fire dimmed, like I wasn't important anymore. Just... regular. Forgotten. And it hurt, because I remembered how that felt before Devia found me."
---
Nicia (dragging her dark ink fingers along the table):
"My Gothic Choke turned to... just goo. Emotionless. It made me feel... normal. Like the darkness wasn't mine anymore."
---
Banjo (leaning back, arms behind his head):
"Mine flickered too. Rule-bending Affinity got frozen. Like someone suddenly started enforcing the old rules again… the Avian kind. Had me seeing red."
---
Ulok (quiet, serious):
"My door... wouldn't open. Not even for me. My own inner struggle was locked out."
---
Kranor (gritting his teeth, sword crackling faintly):
"My Nullthread Vortex failed. For a second, I felt logical. Rational. It terrified me."
---
Eve Maid (dreamy, half-whisper):
"My sedation... faded. The world felt sharp again. Too sharp. I didn't know how to numb it without Devia."
---
Jairak (calm but intense):
"Pain Clarity dulled. I wasn't hurt, even when I should've been. The discomfort paused. I felt... blank. Unanchored. Like I was floating in a void with no edges."
---
(All heads turn to Klexis, who's been silent, sipping a dark drink with tiny floating hammers inside.)
---
Klexis (finally speaking, voice low but deliberate):
"...It wasn't a glitch. Not really."
---
Tarren (eyes widening):
"You knew?"
---
Klexis (nods slowly):
"Yeah. I've been tracking it. I didn't tell anyone because... well, what's more Devian than keeping secrets till they explode in your face?"
---
Jason (fists still clenched):
"So what was it, then?"
---
Klexis (leans forward, hammers clinking in his glass):
"It was Traxis. He's syncing Devia with something new... something deeper. Not just emotional power, not just rebellion. He's trying to make Devia a self-replacing concept. A lifestyle that doesn't rely on 'power tiers' or 'mastery levels' like Avia. Devia flickered because it was evolving... shedding its reliance on belief. Becoming pure Flex."
---
Banjo (eyes narrowing):
"You mean... no longer a system... but a state of being?"
---
Eugene:
"Wait… wait… are you saying we don't need to believe in it anymore? Like... it'll believe in us?"
---
Klexis (smirking):
"Exactly."
---
Gullia (tone cold):
"But that means... it can be hijacked. It could twist into something worse."
---
Nicia (smirking darkly):
"Or something better. Edgier. Deeper. Messier. Delicious."
---
Ulok (murmuring):
"Or too unstable to trust..."
---
Tarren (clutching his chest):
"Man… you telling me I've been panicking over a metaphysical puberty?"
---
Meilo (laughing dryly):
"Flex City's going through its emo phase…"
---
Jason (voice firmer):
"No. This is real. This is the part where Devia stops being a tool... and becomes a mirror. A living one."
---
Klexis (standing up slowly, dual hammers glowing faintly):
"Whatever Devia becomes... it's up to us now. But we have to remember: Flexibility doesn't mean aimlessness. It means intentional inconsistency. We don't have to be perfect. We just have to be real. That's what Traxis is betting on."
---
(The table goes quiet. For the first time, the group feels something electric… not panic, not fear — but freedom.)
---
Banjo (grinning, cracking his knuckles):
"So... what now?"
---
Klexis (eyes blazing):
"Now? We flex harder."
---
EVERYONE:
"FLEX ON!"
(Lights flicker. Devia pulses. The lounge erupts with chaos, laughter, and new ideas.)