The world healed —
but it did not forget.
And not everything that hid in the ashes of the old world
was willing to accept the light of a new dawn.
Beneath the rebuilt cities,
in the hidden folds of ancient mountains,
in the sunken ruins of forgotten kingdoms,
the Storm gathered.
Not of nature.
Not of gods.
But of hatred.
Hatred for the new world Kai Arashi had inspired.
Hatred for freedom.
Hatred for choice.
They called themselves The Purifiers.
A cult of fanatics — remnants of the old bloodlines, the ancient Systems, and the forgotten tyrants.
Their creed was simple:
"The world must be pure."
"The strong must rule."
"Freedom is an illusion."
And they had waited.
Patiently.
Silently.
Now, they moved in the shadows, gathering weapons, forbidden Systems, lost artifacts.
Preparing to reclaim what they believed was stolen from them.
Preparing to erase the legacy of the Abyss once and for all.
At the New Academy, Arin stood before a map of the world.
Red markers flared across it — sightings of rogue System wielders, collapsed villages, rumors of an army rising beyond the Northern Expanse.
She pressed her hand to her chest.
She could feel it.
The same sensation she felt before the Abyss Wars.
The same breathless pressure.
The Storm was coming.
And this time, the world wouldn't be saved by Kai Arashi alone.
It would need new heroes.
Across the Academy Grounds
Lena's heir, a young girl named Sira, wielded a Healing System fused with Abyssal shadows — able to heal not only wounds, but corrupted Systems.
Soren's son, Kael, had inherited a Tactical Mind System — capable of seeing outcomes and weaving future probabilities into battle plans.
Brianna's nephew, Drayce, trained with wild strength, fusing elemental attacks with pure physical domination.
They — and others — were preparing.
Training harder than any generation before them.
Because they knew:
They would not be fighting petty wars.
They would be fighting for the right to even dream freely.
And far above, in the swirling clouds that never fully cleared after the Catalyst's fall,
whispers drifted.
Ancient, hungry whispers.
A new enemy had awakened — not from the Abyss,
but from the deepest fears of humanity itself.
A figure stood among the Purifiers.
Clad in shattered golden armor.
Carrying a blackened Heroic Sigil twisted into something monstrous.
A voice like a blade slicing through bone rasped from their hood:
"We will erase the Abyss."
"We will purify the world."
"We will finish what the Catalyst could not."
In the Academy, standing on the tallest tower,
Arin looked toward the horizon, where dark clouds churned endlessly.
She closed her eyes and whispered:
"Kai…
Send them your strength.
They'll need it."
And in the wind, for a fleeting moment,
she heard a familiar, warm voice:
"They won't be alone."
The Gathering Storm had begun.
The new era of battle was coming.
And the world would once again be tested.