Three months passed like water through an open hand.
The Lumacite, once extinct, now numbered over four hundred. What had begun as a revival became a structured civilization within the sanctuary. Their bodies matured quickly, shaped by Kai's Urja guidance and the internal memory structures embedded in the Omnitrix's genetic design.
Kai, with help from Lira and the elder Maelin, built a curriculum around energy flow, strategic defense, and resonant harmonics. Not all were fighters, nor were they required to be. The sanctuary would not trade extinction for militarization.
But it would never again be defenseless.
Combat units formed in rotating triads. Each triad learned to synchronize Urja pulses, to anticipate enemy void-signature movements, and to maintain spiritual grounding under pressure.
Kai led the practical sessions personally. The Lumacite responded to him with reverence, not because he demanded it—but because, to them, he was the first light after endless dark.
He didn't play the part of a leader.
He simply was one.
By the end of the third month, Lira made a quiet observation as they watched a sparring session from above the training cliffs.
"At full strength, one of these Lumacite is already close to you. Some will exceed you in time."
Kai nodded.
"Good. That's the point."
"Four hundred of them…" Lira murmured. "If they ever fought together…"
"They won't need to," Kai said. "Because we'll make sure they never have to."
That night, the sanctuary was unusually silent.
Kai sat beneath the constellation dome, alone. No meditation this time—just breath, and thought.
Then the Omnitrix chirped.
Once.
Twice.
He looked down.
"Haven't heard from you in a while."
Suddenly, the dial pulsed violently.
FLASH.
In an instant, the glow intensified into something searing.
The air around Kai warped, collapsing inward with a sudden hum.
There was no choice to accept. No warning.
Just a single system prompt echoing in his thoughts:
[Cross-World Priority: Activated.]
Then the world cracked.
Kai's body was surrounded in geometric light.
The sanctuary vanished in a blink.
The impact was subtle.
Kai landed on solid ground—barely staggering, as if the system cushioned the transition.
A low rumble of distant traffic greeted him. The air was heavier. Oxygen richer. The scent was unmistakable.
Earth.
He was back.
He stood on the edge of a city, the skyline stretching in every direction—lit by artificial stars and silent satellites.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he exhaled, brushing off crystal dust from his coat.
"Guess the vacation's over."
He didn't look back.
Because there was nothing to look back toward.
Only what lay ahead.