Jack walked the school corridors like he always did—hands buried in his pockets, mind lost somewhere between ordinary math problems and the extraordinary encounter with the strange map, the old man, and that shadowy ghoul from days past.
Henry cracked a joke beside him. They laughed.
For a moment—a moment—it felt like peace.
It was not.
Lawrence stood in the hallway like a summoned curse. His eyes were venom. His pride still scorched.
"Yo," he sneered, striding up with his two goons. "Remember what you did to me, trash-boy? Yeah. I do."
Before Jack could blink, a fist met his gut.
Then another.
And another.
The pain didn't even register yet.
They dragged him, flipping him upside down like a ragdoll, and shoved him headfirst into a trash bin.
Bang.
The sound echoed down the corridor like a punchline to a joke only cruel people would laugh at.
And laugh they did.
Phones out. Flashing lights.
Snickers. Hashtags.
Pity glances that meant nothing.
No one stopped them.
No one could.
But then…
Snap.
It wasn't loud.
It was quiet.
Inside him, something broke and something opened.
The seed, as Bhine had whispered before, had already been planted.
Now—it grew.
Jack slowly stood up. His body trembling, but not from pain. Not from fear.
From power.
Lawrence chuckled. "Aw, the little bin-rat's mad?"
Jack turned to him, eyes no longer brown—but white. Pure. Blinding.
His voice thundered.
"Enough."
Lawrence barely had time to laugh before Jack's hand gripped his throat—like a clamp forged in divine wrath—and slammed him into the lockers.
The walls cracked.
Electricity sparked across Jack's arms, blue lightning dancing like wild serpents.
His whole body flickered.
Reality warped.
Then—
BOOOOM.
A white-hot shockwave exploded from Jack like a god's tantrum.
Windows shattered.
Ceilings collapsed.
And everyone burned.
Ash.
Just… ash.
Henry.
Gone.
Students. Teachers. The walls themselves.
Gone.
Only Jack stood there, in the smoke and ruin.
His hands still crackling.
His breathing rapid.
His soul—shaking.
"What... what have I done?"
His knees buckled.
Then, through the rubble… a figure walked. Calm. Collected. Almost proud.
It was Bhine.
A silhouette cloaked in silence, but eyes like stars too old to forget.
He stepped over the cinders of the school, looked at Jack, and simply said:
"You woke up too soon… But not too late."
Jack couldn't speak. Couldn't cry. Could only breathe.
Bhine extended his hand.
"Come. You're not broken. You're becoming. And this world... it wasn't ready
Jack collapsed to his knees, the air around him still humming with burnt particles and echoes of his fury.
His hands…
His hands did this.
They had unleashed death like it was nothing.
He stared at the ash-scattered ruin where his friends had once stood—where Henry used to laugh. The guilt crashed on him like tidal waves from the abyss.
He had feared this. All his life.
He knew he was different.
He knew something inside him wasn't like the others.
So, he dimmed his light. Made himself small. Allowed them to mock him, push him, hurt him.
Because he believed that was safer—for everyone.
But now…
"I'm a monster," he whispered. "I knew it… and I still… I still let it happen."
And then—
Bhine appeared, gliding through smoke like a poet through pages.
"You're not a monster," he said, voice smooth as oil on water. "You are divine wrath incarnate. A god. And gods don't apologize for burning ants who try to crush them."
Jack blinked up, eyes trembling.
"You don't owe this world restraint," Bhine continued. "You don't have to hide for their comfort. Embrace yourself, boy. Rise. You are what they fear—and what they need."
Bhine's words coiled around Jack's broken heart, seductive, dark, and understanding.
More than anyone else ever had.
Bhine didn't just see Jack.
He knew him.
And if he could win Jack—Valitor's own son—the Corruption Force would rise to legendary levels. Bhine would become an arch-ghoul in the Free Abyss, his name spoken in dread and awe.
But fate wasn't done.
Suddenly—
A light cut through the darkness.
A glimmer.
A whisper of memory.
The Creation Stone.
It floated before Jack like a warm echo of the universe's heartbeat. It pulsed, not with control, but compassion.
A voice—gentle but resolute—came forth:
> "Being yourself doesn't mean destroying others. Freedom without purpose consumes itself, Jack. It becomes its own prison."
But the cloud of depression was thick. Jack could barely hear. He wanted to believe. But—
Then.
A figure stepped from the light.
Tall. Noble. Gentle and fierce.
Valitor.
His father.
Alive in spirit.
The man Jack had dreamed of, cried for, longed to meet... now stood in front of him.
Jack's lips quivered. "Dad…?"
Valitor smiled, eyes brimming.
He knelt beside his son, hand on his shoulder.
> "Authenticity isn't about doing whatever you want, my boy. It's about choosing who you are, without losing your soul."
Jack wept again—but this time, with joy, sorrow, and the raw release of long-caged identity.
They embraced, and the storm inside Jack aligned.
Valitor vanished with a blessing.
Jack rose.
He touched the Creation Stone.
And everything changed.
His Affinity—awakened.
Divine lightning crackled up his arms, pure, celestial, and intelligent.
His eyes gleamed with fractal rings—the Analysis Eyes—gifting him the power to read energies, minds, movements, truth itself.
He had become...
The Lightning Mind.
The Heir of Valitor.
The boy who once hid in trash...
Now stood as a storm wearing skin.
never meant to hold
BOOM—
Everything went white.
Then black.
Then… normal?
Jack blinked. One second he was a god grieving over the ashes of his mistake, and the next—
He was back in school.
No scorch marks. No screams. Just lockers. Bell rings. Kids walking. Life humming like nothing had happened.
Jack gasped.
"Henry!?" he cried, running over and hugging him like a long-lost brother at the edge of a war.
Henry, wide-eyed and startled, blinked twice. "Bro, you okay? You on dream mode again?"
Jack didn't care. He didn't need Henry to understand yet. Not until they were alone.
Lawrence was nowhere in sight. He had his little victory, thought he'd won the war.
But Jack… had evolved past needing revenge.
He was beyond all that now.
---
Secret Spot: Rooftop.
Jack told Henry everything.
The lightning. The deaths. The undoing. Bhine. The Creation Stone. His dad.
All of it.
Henry just sat there, silent for a moment.
Then looked down at his body.
"Okay, cool cool… not burned. That's a win."
They both laughed—hard. It was needed. That laugh was healing.
Then—
The Creation Stone shimmered into existence before them again, like destiny pulling back a curtain.
This time… it faced Henry.
It pulsed.
Inviting.
Calling.
Jack stepped back. "Henry… this ain't no Chosen One thing. This is about you. We're in this together."
Henry's fingers trembled as they reached toward it.
And then—he remembered.
> "One day, your good deeds will grow into something powerful," his grandfather used to say.
"Might even be electric. Heh."
A dumb joke… or a prophecy in disguise?
Henry touched the stone.
The sky rippled.
Electricity surged through him—but it didn't burn. It belonged. It was like the universe finally said:
> "Yes. This is who you are."
Sparks danced around him, orbiting like loyal stars. His affinity wasn't just about power…
It was about being seen.
And Henry was content.
---
Then—a portal tore open.
Not violently, but like a hand opening a curtain of light.
Airious called.
Jack and Henry stepped through—together—ready.
And on the other side?
The Earthlings.
Yyvone, Kennedy, Ian, Charles…
All changed. All evolved.
And waiting at the gate…
Kainen.
His eyes scanned them like a general and a guardian.
"You've both awakened," he said with a proud grin.
"Now the real journey begins."
The Earthbound Guardians stood in a semi-circle, eyes wide, energy simmering, jaws either dropped or smirking.
"So… the 'supposed' Chosen One finally graces us," Kennedy said, arms crossed, voice laced with play.
"And he brought a sidekick with matching drip."
Henry rolled his eyes. "Sidekick? I'm the support system. Don't confuse that with second-best."
Jack laughed, but then paused.
He looked at his hands—crackling white lightning like living truth.
Henry's? Violet streaks, elegant and tempered like royalty and rainstorms.
Same essence. Different soul.
Then Jack's Analysis Eyes flared.
Boom.
Names. Affinities. Patterns. Weaknesses. Potential. It all downloaded like he was Neo with a better haircut.
> Kennedy — Framework Manipulation. Controls how reality's rules apply.
Charles — Inscription Manipulation. Wields sigils like software, rewriting space itself.
Ian — Slash Manipulation. Cuts through more than flesh—he slices through intent.
Sonia — Emotional Spectrum Affinity. Her moods fuel her might. Sadness? Shields. Joy? Explosions.
Yyvone — Healing Threads and Barrier Weaving. The team's heart, stitching wounds and walls alike.
Merina — Water Affinity. Fluid, wild, and intuitive. A tidal wave in a teacup.
Jack blinked, stunned by their raw potential.
Kainen raised a brow, clearly impressed.
"So this is what Valitor's bloodline births. You Forger kids really don't come standard, do you?"
Everyone laughed. Even Jack cracked a real one—his first in what felt like a lifetime.
---
Training Begins
"Alright!" Kainen bellowed.
"First test—Meditation."
A chorus of groans. Even Henry muttered, "Seriously? First step's napping?"
"Not napping," Kainen corrected.
"Dismantling the illusions you carry about yourselves. The lies. The fears. The masks."
They sat in a circle, closed their eyes.
The wind around them quieted.
Avia pulsed gently like a heartbeat shared by stars.
---
Inside Jack's Mind
He didn't slip into calm.
He crashed into it.
The moment his mind tried to find stillness, the shadows swarmed.
The bin.
The screams.
Henry turning to ash.
"Monster…" he heard himself whisper.
But then—his breath deepened.
The Avia within flickered... then flowed.
A calm current, like lightning choosing not to strike.
He remembered his father's voice:
> "Authenticity isn't doing what you feel.
It's doing what's true. Even when you feel broken."
Jack exhaled, long and slow.
The shadows began to shatter like glass over white fire.
---
When he opened his eyes…
His aura had quieted.
His Avia was clearer.
His mind? Lighter.
And for the first time…
He wasn't running from his power.