Paris, though scarred, had begun to breathe again. The fires had been extinguished, the broken corpses cleared, and the streets slowly reclaimed by the living. Cranes stood tall like mechanical guardians, lifting debris as workers struggled to restore the city once drenched in blood. Soldiers guarded the perimeter, wary of another demonic resurgence, while aura wielders patrolled the skies with sharp eyes.
Inside a temporary recovery center, Ethan lay on a hospital bed, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages. His eyes, though weary, carried a stubborn fire that even near-death couldn't extinguish. Beside him, Akira leaned against the wall, arms folded, his presence like an unshakable pillar.
"Rest, idiot," Akira muttered, though his voice was softer than his words.
Ethan chuckled weakly. "Says the guy who nearly tore the sky apart with his aura. You looked like a devil out there."
Akira didn't reply. He simply stared at Ethan, his jaw tightening. Memories threatened to resurface—their past, their first meeting, the moment everything had changed ten years ago.
---
Flashback – Ten Years Ago
The stadium roared with the sound of a hundred nations colliding. Flags waved, drums thundered, and lights bathed the arena in dazzling brilliance. It was the International Martial Arts World Finals, the stage where the greatest young warriors of the world clashed for glory.
At just seventeen, Ethan Carter had risen through the ranks like wildfire, defeating opponents with a ferocity that shocked the audience. His golden hair was tied back, sweat dripping from his forehead, but his grin never wavered. Across the ring stood another prodigy—calm, cold, and terrifying in his precision.
Akira Tanma.
The crowd erupted as their names were announced. It was East versus West, fire versus steel.
From the very first strike, sparks flew. Ethan's fists were wild, feral, imbued with raw instinct and power. Akira, in contrast, moved with surgical precision, every motion sharp as a blade, his katana resting at his side though the rules barred weapon use. It was as if even unarmed, his spirit wielded a sword.
Round after round, they exchanged blows that rattled the stadium. Ethan's body screamed with pain, but his grin only widened.
"You're strong," he spat through blood.
Akira narrowed his eyes. "You're reckless."
The final round came—and it was brutal. Ethan unleashed everything, fists tearing through the air, each strike cracking against Akira's guard. But then it happened.
A blinding crimson light burst from Ethan's body. The crowd gasped. His aura—unknown, untamed—had awakened.
"W-What is that?!" spectators screamed as Ethan's blows became faster, sharper, inhuman. Akira staggered for the first time.
But Akira wasn't shaken. He saw it—the truth. This wasn't just strength. This was Aura, a power hidden within humanity, sleeping for centuries.
"Interesting…" Akira muttered, his lips curling into the faintest smirk.
And then he struck back.
For the briefest instant, his own aura flared—blue, sharp, unyielding. His final counter sliced through Ethan's reckless charge, bringing him to his knees. The referee declared Akira the victor.
But the real battle had only just begun.
---
Present – Paris Recovery Center
"Back then," Ethan said with a faint laugh, staring at the ceiling, "I thought I had beaten destiny itself. But you… you stopped me."
Akira looked away. "No. That was the moment I knew you were meant for more. I saw it in your aura. You weren't just a fighter, Ethan. You were a wielder."
Ethan's eyes softened. "And you stayed with me after that. No rivals, no borders. Just… brothers."
For the first time in days, Akira's lips curved into the faintest, rarest smile.
---
Meanwhile – Ishita's Training
Far from the hospital, in a secluded courtyard provided by the French defense council, Ishita stood drenched in sweat. Her crimson aura flickered and sputtered around her like a restless flame, sometimes burning too bright, other times vanishing altogether.
Opposite her stood Li Wei, the Chinese Soul Wielder, observing her with calm but critical eyes. His arms were folded behind his back, and his voice carried a cutting sharpness.
"Control," he said firmly. "Your aura is like wildfire—it burns everything, even you. Until you learn to temper it, you're a danger not only to yourself but to everyone beside you."
Ishita gritted her teeth, frustration boiling within her. Images of her parents flashed in her mind, of the bunker she still dreamed of, though it hadn't happened yet. She clenched her fists.
"I'll master it. I won't let it control me."
Li Wei's expression didn't soften, but his tone did. "Good. Then begin again. Breathe. Feel your heartbeat. Make your aura follow—not lead."
As Ishita closed her eyes, sweat dripping, a flicker of scarlet light danced from her chest, slowly shaping into a steady flame. For the first time, it didn't sputter. It burned with rhythm, following her pulse.
Li Wei nodded faintly. "Better. You have potential… but potential is meaningless without resolve."
---
Visitors from the World
By evening, Paris grew louder once more—not with screams, but with voices from across the globe. Representatives of aura wielders from Japan, Russia, Egypt, Brazil, and Korea had arrived. Each carried themselves with an aura of pride, strength, and suspicion.
The council hall buzzed with tension as they gathered. Some exchanged polite nods, others glared with hostility. For the first time in history, wielders from rival nations stood in the same room—not as enemies, but as allies against a greater darkness.
Rehan stood near the back, watching them all, feeling the weight of something greater than himself. He could sense it—the storm wasn't over. Paris was just the beginning.
---
Ending Scene – Bonds Forged
Night fell over Paris.
Ethan sat by the window of his recovery ward, gazing at the city lights as Akira remained silent beside him. Across the courtyard, Ishita continued her training until her knees gave way, scarlet light fading into the night, Li Wei watching with a calculating gaze. And in the distant council chamber, voices rose and fell as wielders debated strategy, none realizing how fragile their unity truly was.
But in that fragile moment, bonds were being forged—through blood, fire, and pain. Bonds that would either save the world… or shatter with it.