Elius stood motionless in the silent street.
The communicator had long since gone dead, but the weight of the conversation still crushed his chest like an anvil.
Villain.
The word echoed like a curse.
A scar carved across fate.
Keith Northrim, the golden flame of the original storyline.
The unshakable light that had led humanity against titanic threats.
In the comic, Keith had stood as the one unbending pillar against despair—a beacon in the endless dark. He was never supposed to fall.
Never.
And yet now—now he had fallen further than Elius could imagine.
Elius's gaze dropped to the cracked pavement beneath his feet.
His fists still trembled, and his mind was storming, violently, spinning thoughts into a whirlwind of dread and denial.
Three Esper abilities. Illusion. Telekinesis. Lightning Manipulation.
Those weren't Keith's powers in the comic. Not even close.
In the comic, Keith had been a pugilist as a Solarion descendant.
