Avian City, Market District — a paradise of vibrant affinity threads, vendors glowing with honest intent, families levitating gently through shopping aisles of metaphysical produce. The scent of roasted Skyfruit lingers…]
Then—
BOOOOM!
A flash of jagged crimson erupts through a line of shops.
Reality distorts. Geometry screams. The peace shatters like glass under a scream.
Civilians vanish with Hollow Step reflexes, rippling the air.
But stalls are crushed. Skylights collapse. Dreams flicker.
From the smoke…
Lawcrack — bare chest wrapped in scribbled laws, hair like burned parchment, one eye glowing off-balance, the other flickering wildly.
He grins like chaos wearing a courtroom wig.
---
Lawcrack (laughing, spinning his tilted balance scale like a yo-yo):
"HAH! Did you feel that, Airious?!
That's what happens when you stop trying to be fair!
Power ain't about balance! It's about winning!"
(He launches another pulse of jagged Avian laser, tilting the ground itself like a drunk map. A monument bends in midair, citizens scream in distance.)
---
Out of a nearby sky-breach...
Miro appears—cloaked in quiet calm, a shimmering mathematical aura forming fractal diagrams around his arms. His eyes glow with calculated stillness. He floats gently down, steps precise.
---
Miro (softly, scanning Lawcrack):
"Lawcrack, right?
Power imbalance. Identity core: Chaos through dominance.
Predictable."
---
Lawcrack (grinning with cracked teeth):
"Predictable?! Boy, I tip scales so hard, the universe hiccups!
Come on, Little Strategist...
Let me show you what unfair looks like."
---
Miro (his Avian aura shifting to reflect Lawcrack's pressure perfectly):
"I don't need to overpower you.
I just need to understand you.
Then your weight becomes mine... and your chaos becomes my strategy."
(He snaps his fingers. The ground realigns itself. A ripple of balanced pressure floods the air. Miro's affinity, Equalization Theory, wraps him in adaptive armor of mirrored stats.)
---
Lawcrack (eyes narrowing, chuckling):
"Ohhh... you're one of them.
The 'let-me-learn-you-so-I-can-break-you' types.
I like you already."
---
Miro (voice calm, one foot sliding into stance):
"I'm not here to break you.
I'm here to remind Airious what real strength is.
Measured. Understood. Channeled."
(He activates his technique: Reflected Escalation — the stronger Lawcrack gets, the more Miro adapts—until the pressure is flipped back.)
---
Lawcrack:
"LET'S DANCE THEN, SCALE-BOY!"
Miro:
"Very well.
Let's equalize the equation."
The battle-torn plaza of Avian City. Craters still sizzling with Avian sparks. Lawcrack's chaotic aura distorts reality in pockets. Miro, bruised but focused, tightens his stance. Cration and Vericane stand on a rooftop, observing like old sages watching the stars clash.]
---
Lawcrack (grinning through cracked teeth):
"You're still standing? Hah! You must love pain, strategist boy.
My Affinity don't play fair—The Unbalanced tips all scales in my favor.
Strength, speed, pain thresholds—I'm the glitch in your truth!"
---
Miro (rolling his shoulder, calm):
"You think the scale is your weapon?
No... it's your mirror.
And all mirrors do is show you what you avoid."
(He steps forward, eyes glowing with quiet calculation.)
"You pull weight because you're scared to carry meaning.
And that's what makes you hollow."
---
Lawcrack (snaps):
"SCALES DON'T LIE!!
If I hit harder, I am stronger! If you bleed more, I am better!
I tilt the rules—I tilt the universe!"
---
Miro (dodging, reappearing behind):
"And yet… you fall every time someone fights you on equal ground.
You're not tilting scales…
You're just running from balance."
(He delivers a precise strike to Lawcrack's ribs—Avian compression amplifies the truth behind it, not the power.)
---
[Up on the rooftop]
Vericane (arms crossed):
"He's not just brawling...
He's mapping Lawcrack's rhythm like a winter storm watching for weak ice."
---
Cration (wind dancing around his cloak):
"And letting every strike be earned, not exaggerated.
This is what Traxis believed in…
Not holding back, but letting growth mean something."
---
Vericane:
"Exactly. Avian compression was never a cage.
It's a promise...
That true strength is felt, not flaunted."
---
Lawcrack (growling, unstable aura spiraling):
"You… You think this is your win?!
I'll break the compression—I'll rewrite the rules!"
---
Miro (raising his fists again):
"Go ahead.
But the more you fake the scale...
The harder it hits when it tips back."
---
[Cration smiles faintly. The air around him calms.]
"Traxis would've nodded right now."
[Vericane nods too, unsheathing his frost-forged blade just in case.]
"And whispered, 'Let the truth be their greatest blow.'"
The smoldering remains of the Avian City marketplace. Ash drifts like feathers. Lawcrack, bruised but standing, stares blankly at the cracked pavement beneath his feet. Miro walks slowly toward him, breathing calm, fists lowered, aura pulsing in steady waves like a mantra.]
---
Lawcrack:
(his voice shakes, not from pain—but disbelief)
"The scale said I was stronger... it still says I am... So why did I lose?"
Miro:
(wipes blood from his brow, eyes glowing with serene clarity)
"Because your scale... never measured meaning."
Lawcrack:
"You punched me with less power than a whisper... and it shattered something I didn't even know could break..."
(touches his forehead where Miro struck)
"What was that?"
Miro:
"Conviction."
(steps beside him)
"You built your whole world around being heavier than everyone else... tilting the scale like it was a game. But the weight you added... was empty."
Lawcrack:
"I—I was honest... I told the world what I wanted. I'm not fake!"
Miro:
"You were honest, yes. But only about the surface. Your truth lacked roots. It wasn't grounded.
You thought being stronger was the same as being real.
But reality isn't always loud... sometimes, it's quiet... sometimes, it just… listens."
---
[Cration watches from a rooftop, arms folded, wind gently swirling around him. He nods slowly. Beside him, Vericane's blade glows faintly with frost as she speaks.]
---
Vericane:
"He fought like he was trying to prove something… not express something."
Cration:
"Miro never aimed to win. He aimed to reveal. That's the essence of Sage combat—peel back the noise, strike the soul."
---
[Lawcrack drops to his knees, the aura around him flickering like a dying flame. His expression is one of deep confusion… and realization.]
---
Lawcrack:
"So that's what Avian Compression does… It doesn't just limit...
It listens… It filters power until what's left is real..."
Miro:
(kneels, placing a hand on Lawcrack's shoulder)
"You weren't beaten by someone stronger...
You were weighed down by your own truth...
And I just helped you see it."
---
[Silence. Then, the faint sound of a breeze as Avian City begins to breathe again. Authenticity, like healing light, pulses gently through the broken streets.]
---
Vericane:
(to Cration)
"Traxis would've liked that kid."
Cration:
(smirks)
"He would've said: 'Even a villain can bloom... if they're willing to prune their pride.'"
The wind hushes. All that's left is the silence after truth. Lawcrack kneels, tears dripping silently onto the cracked stone. His Avia flickers—first gold, then silver, then pale gray... like a candle unsure if it should keep burning.]
---
Lawcrack: (softly, eyes wide, voice hollow)
"I… I can't feel this. Not like this… not in front of you..."
(his body trembles)
"I said I was real… but all I've been is raw."
(glances up at Miro)
"You were quieter than me. Smaller…
And yet… you filled the space I kept trying to conquer."
[His aura twitches, sputters, then blinks out like a guilt-struck ghost. In a breath of wind, Lawcrack vanishes—gone not from defeat, but from rejection of vulnerability.]
---
Miro: (watching the spot where Lawcrack vanished)
"He couldn't bear being seen... not after finally being felt."
(closes his eyes)
"His pride mistook feeling for weakness... but even a stone can cry under enough pressure."
---
[A shadow lands nearby—Cration, blade slung across his back, his voice low and noble.]
Cration:
"You didn't just win that fight, Miro. You echoed through it."
(nods with respect)
"That was no strike. That was a revelation."
---
[One by one, the Champions appear. Victoria lands with a flash of feathers. Elitor appears through a rift of silver. Ronda, leaning on her staff of will, nods slowly. Aminator steps forward, eyes fierce—but approving.]
---
Aminator:
"You used Hollow Step like a whisper... and truth like a blade."
(extends a closed fist toward him)
"Few can break another without breaking their pride first. You've done both. Welcome, Champion."
Miro: (hesitant, overwhelmed)
"I'm not here for titles... I'm still learning what I even am."
Victoria: (smiling, arms crossed)
"Good. That means you're ready. A title means nothing if you think you deserve it. Only those still becoming can carry it well."
Ronda:
"And you carry it... like a truth trying to walk."
---
[As the sun sets behind the jagged skyline of Avian City, the Champions form a circle. Miro steps into it—not like a hero, but like a soul still in bloom.]
---
Elitor:
"Lawcrack chased power.
You... listened for meaning.
That's the real Compression."
Miro: (nods slowly)
"Yeah… I see it now.
Compression isn't holding back power...
It's revealing the part of you that no power could fake."
---
[They raise their hands in unity. And from their combined Avia, a pulse of light flashes into the sky, signaling not just a new Champion—but a new era of authenticity.]
The Throne of Centron — not just a seat, but a concept. High above the shifting clouds of Airious, time folds inward like a humbled servant. Around the throne, the metaphysical architecture glows with Avian constellations—each star a recorded moment of authentic growth. The Creation Stone floats beside Centron, pulsing gently in a spiral of blue, gold, and white.]
---
[Centron sits still—his form armored in Idea, robed in Intention. His crown, forged from the first burst of truth, hums softly with thought. His eyes, closed. Yet he sees all.]
---
Centron: (softly, like the mountain speaking to the sky)
"They're starting to hear it...
The silence between strikes.
The calm between breaths.
That pause...
That is where compression begins."
---
[The Creation Stone spins beside him, spiraling with a subtle song only the worthy can hear. A warm, proud hum—the sound of possibility harmonized.]
---
Creation Stone: (in radiant telepathy, its voice neither male nor female, but full of all who've ever dared to create)
"The 3... 6... 9...
The divine ratios are aligning, Centron.
The pulse of restraint now echoes in their instincts.
They finally see: power withheld... can be louder than power released."
---
Centron: (smiles faintly, his voice a paradox—distant and intimate)
"When Valitor first tasted Compression, it was a rebellion against chaos.
Now it becomes an instinct...
Like blinking.
Like grieving.
Like knowing who you are without screaming it."
---
Creation Stone:
"And what of the outliers? The ones who still burn recklessly?
The Uncompressed Souls?"
---
Centron: (opens his eyes slowly—galaxies reflecting in his pupils)
"They are still sacred.
For even a scream can echo into stillness.
Let them clash. Let them fall.
Every outburst brings us closer to the day when Compression isn't a technique...
But a way of being."
---
[He rises, the throne unfolding behind him like ancient wings.]
---
Centron: (to no one, to everyone)
"There will come a time when a child, unaware of their own greatness,
will instinctively choose stillness before striking.
And in that moment...
the Forgerverse will be complete."
---
[The winds of destiny blow through the clouds as if bowing to a prophecy already blooming. And from the Creation Stone, the 3-6-9 curve stabilizes... reality purrs, and somewhere far away—Miro smiles without knowing why.]