The morning sun bathed Mystic Town in golden warmth. Streets buzzed with routine life—commuters hustled through crosswalks, vendors barked prices at the market square, and children played under the watchful gaze of weary mothers. The town was alive, unaware of the invisible darkness that had brushed it just a week ago.
At Mystic Town High School, the usual rhythm of class resumed—but for George, it was his first time back since the incident. As he stepped into the hallway, heads turned. Whispers followed—not mockery or gossip, but concern… and curiosity.
Inside homeroom, his usual seat by the window remained unchanged. The sun poured in lazily, casting soft shadows across his desk. Before he could settle, familiar voices called out.
"We heard what happened," Ami said gently, adjusting her glasses. "I'm just glad you're okay… and back in class."
Dane leaned over his desk, nodding. "Yeah, man. We even tried visiting the hospital, but the nurses wouldn't let anyone in. Whole place was locked down."
Wolf chimed in from behind, arms crossed. "The sheriff's office said it was an animal attack. A bear, supposedly. Again."
A silence hung in the air. Then Ami asked the question they'd all been circling.
"Do you… remember what happened that night?"
George hesitated.
Every detail was burned into his memory—the distorted shrieks of the Phantom, the green-tinted Lixar, his own fear clawing at his throat. But none of that could be said aloud. Not yet.
He forced a shrug. "Barely. But yeah… sounded like a bear, I guess."
A lie smooth enough to avoid suspicion. They bought it.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, the weight of secrecy pressing gently against George's chest. After classes, the four of them—George, Ami, Dane, and Wolf—headed toward the riverbank at the edge of the city park. The sun dipped low, casting a fiery glow over the water, reflecting off the slow current in molten ripples.
They laughed. Talked nonsense. George found himself smiling. The normalcy was a strange comfort.
"So," Wolf groaned dramatically, "Mrs. Keller basically gave me a stack of homework thicker than a brick. Said I had to catch up for you too, George."
George chuckled. "Remind me to thank her personally."
Just as they were about to wrap up and head home, a chill brushed through the air.
George blinked. The temperature dropped almost instantly, his breath beginning to mist. Then—fog. Thick, unnatural fog creeping between the trees, rolling silently across the grass like smoke from a dying fire.
"Yo, what's going on?" Dane asked, voice uneasy.
Before anyone could respond, the others began collapsing one by one. Ami crumpled to the grass, eyes shut. Dane followed, then Wolf—each slumping over as if pulled into a dreamless sleep.
"Guys?! Wake up!" George shouted, panic rising.
A sharp presence struck his senses like a blade. Lixar.
Out of the mist, a shape emerged—hovering. Female. Or rather, a twisted parody of one. Pale-skinned, with long jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes glowing crimson, framed by sharp red markings carved across her face like demonic paint. Her smile revealed elongated fangs.
"Ah," she cooed, voice like silk laced with venom. "So many fresh souls. I'll enjoy feasting on these."
Not today.
George stepped forward, fists clenched. With a focused breath, he activated Ko. Lixar surged around his feet, compressing and condensing. He launched into the air, forming invisible footholds of energy beneath him, rising to face her on equal ground.
"I don't know who you are," George said, voice steady, "but messing with my friends was your first mistake."
Before the Phantom could respond, he blitzed forward—crack—a sonic pop as he closed the distance with a Ko-powered strike. His fist connected with her midsection, sending her skidding backward through the air. She hissed, regaining footing on her own Lixar-formed platform.
"You insolent little—!"
With a screech, she hurled sharp Lixar discs toward him. They spun like buzzsaws, slicing through branches and carving into tree trunks. George twisted mid-air, dodging two, then smashed the third with a well-timed punch. Splinters and mist scattered as he surged forward again.
Each disc she fired was broken.
Each attack answered with raw speed.
He landed a direct punch across her face, then spun mid-air and drove his foot into her chest. She plummeted to the ground, a crater erupting beneath her on impact.
Dust and mist exploded outward.
She rose slowly, blood trailing from her mouth. Her hands trembled—not with fear, but rage.
"You will pay for that, brat…"
Dark Lixar swirled around her, forming a crackling sphere—the beginnings of a Phantom Bomb. George narrowed his eyes. He could feel the energy boiling off it. One misstep, and it could level half the park.
But this time, something inside him burned hotter.
As the bomb launched, George's Lixar flared again—stronger, sharper. It coiled around his fists like ethereal chains, surging with purpose. He met the bomb head-on, punching straight through the unstable energy. It cracked, split—and imploded.
Smoke and shockwaves erupted in a storm of branches and wind.
He didn't stop.
His body tore through debris. His voice cut through chaos.
"Don't ever mess with me or my friends."
In that instant, his right fist ignited—not with mere Lixar, but something else.
Dark blue flames.
They danced along his arm, cool and furious, flickering like embers of a dormant volcano awakened. The Phantom's eyes widened in fear—for the first time—just before George's punch connected with her chest.
She let out a shriek—cut short. Her body was consumed in a violent burst of blue fire, her form disintegrating into ash, scattered to the wind.
Silence fell.
The mist cleared.
Slowly, the people in the park began to stir.
Ami rubbed her eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"
Dane yawned. "Weirdest nap ever."
Wolf blinked and looked around. "Was it just me, or did the temperature drop?"
George didn't answer. He watched them with quiet relief.
No memory of the Phantom.
Whatever illusion or spell it used must have masked everything.
They gathered their things and started heading home, joking about sleeping under the trees like idiots. George followed, glancing at his right hand.
The blue flames had vanished.
But the heat still lingered beneath his skin.
"Was that… my affinity?"
He didn't have the answer yet. But one thing was certain—he was changing.
And fast.