The sky above the Space Exploring Officer Academy was ablaze. A roaring pillar of fire, red and gold like the heart of a newborn star, erupted from the center of the combat arena, splitting the reinforced dome ceiling as if it were paper. The inferno rose high into the darkness, its radiant light scattering across the metallic structures of the academy's upper decks, casting long, trembling shadows across the training grounds. It was as if the world itself was momentarily plunged into a second dawn—harsh, magnificent, and unstoppable.
The spectators—cadets in navy-blue uniforms and seasoned instructors clad in white coats and combat gear—were thrown into a frenzy. Some shielded their faces from the heat, others stumbled back as shockwaves of hot air rolled through the stands. The arena's environmental control systems strained against the inferno, vents opening wide, turbines howling as they tried to compensate, but the pillar of fire overwhelmed everything.
At the center of this blazing maelstrom stood Ignis.
His body was wreathed in embers and tongues of flame that flickered like living serpents, crawling along his arms, shoulders, and back. His boots melted faint grooves into the tiled floor beneath him, and his breathing came out in visible waves of scorching heat. The air shimmered around him like a desert mirage, distorting the view of anyone who dared look too long. His eyes burned with a ferocity that reflected both the present and the echoes of the past.
Memories surged through his mind—fragmented, blazing, relentless. He remembered the battles they had fought together as parts of one greater whole, fragments of Boboiboy's elemental force. He remembered standing shoulder to shoulder with Tempest, Crystal,..., and others against overwhelming odds. He remembered the day they were separated, flung into this new world where the rules were different, the enemies were new, and the bonds that once defined their existence were severed.
Blaze. That was the name of his old self. A loyal flame, one of many, part of a whole. But that name no longer held him. In this world, amidst this storm of change, he had become Ignis—a fire unbound, no longer flickering under another's will. He was his own inferno, and right , under the shattered dome of the academy, that truth would burn into reality.
Across the arena, Flamme stood like a mirror of his fiery defiance. She was surrounded by the serpentine fire construct she had conjured earlier: a massive serpent made of liquid flames, its scales flickering like magma, its maw dripping sparks. It coiled protectively around her as she stared at Ignis through the shimmering heat haze. Her expression was unreadable—a mixture of challenge and something that felt eerily like recognition.
The arena floor between them was cracked and glowing. Pools of molten metal collected where their earlier exchanges had already heated the reinforced tiles to a breaking point. Above them, shards of the shattered dome continued to rain down like meteor fragments, some of which were instantly vaporized when they touched the pillar of fire.
Ignis lowered his head slightly, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. A low growl escaped his throat—not of rage, but of awakening. Then, with a sudden explosive breath, he threw his head back and roared, his voice tearing through the night like a blazing cannon.
"Break all limits, pierce the sky and straight to the space… Appear, Lavaslasher!"
The flames that encircled him responded to the cry like a living legion. They contracted violently, drawn inward toward his right arm, swirling in chaotic yet purposeful spirals. The fire twisted, condensed, and flattened into shape. Sparks flew like molten petals as the inferno obeyed his will.
Before him, a weapon emerged.
It was a knife, forged entirely from compressed flame, red-orange and radiant, about as long as his forearm. The blade was sleek but deadly, its edges flickering with unstable heat that made the air ripple. Faint flame patterns ran along its surface, glowing brighter with every pulse of Ignis's energy. The handle was wrapped in ember-light, forming perfectly to his grip. This was [Lavaslasher]—a weapon not of the past, but of his chosen path. It was his declaration to the world that Ignis, once Blaze, no longer followed anyone's trail. He carved his own through fire and fury.
He gripped the knife in reverse, holding it like a predator ready to strike. The flames on his back flared as he bent his knees, his body lowering into a stance honed through countless battles but reborn through newfound conviction. Across the arena, Flamme raised her arms. The fire serpent reacted immediately, opening its maw and letting out a hiss that was more like a volcanic eruption than any animal sound.
The two forces gathered. The air between them became thick and distorted, as if space itself were trembling at the imminent clash. Even the instructors at the perimeter began retreating to the safety zones, their faces grim. This was no ordinary testing duel. This was the collision of two paths of fire that had diverged long ago.
Ignis struck first.
With a swift motion, he swung the Lavaslasher in a diagonal upward arc, and from its blade burst forth an attack unlike any ordinary slash. A fiery crescent took shape, then expanded, transforming into the shape of a majestic bird composed entirely of flames. Its wings spread wide, its beak opened in a silent cry, and its body burned with a deep crimson light. This was [Phoenix Pulse], his new created technique.
The fiery bird shot forward, tearing through the air with a sonic boom that cracked the remaining parts of the arena ceiling. Its trail left behind a blazing wake that lingered like molten feathers scattered across the battlefield.
At the same time, Flamme thrust both hands forward. The serpent of fire coiled back like a spring, then lunged with terrifying speed. Its body twisted midair, creating spirals of heated air, and its maw opened to meet the incoming bird slash head-on.
The collision was inevitable.
When the Phoenix Pulse met the fire serpent, the world turned white-hot.
The explosion that followed was cataclysmic. A burst of incandescent light illuminated the academy grounds as if a miniature sun had ignited between them. The shockwave that followed shattered the arena walls outward, hurling debris and molten fragments in all directions. The sound was deafening—a roaring inferno combined with the deep rumble of an erupting volcano.
Heat waves rolled out in concentric circles, blistering the air, bending metal fences, and forcing the nearest spectators to retreat. The instructors threw up barriers and activated thermal shields, but even then, many of them stumbled backward from the sheer intensity.
The Phoenix's wings clashed against the serpent's coiling body, each struggling to dominate the other. Flame devoured flame, then birthed more flame in a chain reaction that seemed endless. For a moment, the bird's blazing beak pierced through the serpent's neck, causing a shock of sparks to erupt like volcanic ash. The serpent retaliated by wrapping its coils around the bird's fiery form, constricting and compressing, its heat rising to a blinding yellow.
The arena had become a furnace, and neither Ignis nor Flamme had backed down yet