The Hanging Mountains—suspended monoliths that defy gravity and echo with ancient whispers.
Here, where the wind bends reality and the skies shimmer with raw Avian energy, the next phase of mastery was set to begin.
The students had proven their worth. They weren't just survivors anymore—they were Initiates.
50% Initiate Level.
Still fragile, still learning—but capable of greatness.
They had learned Avian Compression, the art of condensing overwhelming power into subtle restraint. It was the mark of warriors who could hold back mountains, or destroy them if necessary.
Now, it was time to learn what happens when you don't hold back.
---
Aprexion descended from the higher clouds like a myth given flesh.
Cloaked in flowing crimson and grey, arrows of golden light circled him as if orbiting a center of gravity far denser than flesh. His eyes pierced like iron tips. His presence demanded silence.
> "I am not here to praise," he said, voice like flint scraping steel.
"I am here to draw out what you're scared of showing."
Kainen and Ractor stood to the side, arms crossed—silent guardians, but no longer the leads in this dance. Today, the students would step into something rawer... and Aprexion would be their hammer.
> "Today, you learn the Avian Punch.
It is not a technique. It is a truth.
Your affinity does not power it.
It becomes your affinity. The more you unleash it, the more you reflect who you really are."
The sky crackled with expectancy.
Aprexion raised a single finger.
> "Charles. Step forward."
---
Charles exhaled. The world around him calmed. The mountain under him trembled, sensing what was coming.
He clenched his fists—and the sigils of his Inscription Manipulation Affinity danced across his arms. Ancient glyphs. Script-like scars of his soul, now glowing white-hot.
His eyes narrowed. Then—
BOOM!
His first Avian Punch landed—
—not on an enemy, but on the face of the mountain.
Reality folded. Code symbols exploded across the rock like shattered equations.
The mountain disintegrated, not in rubble—but in lines of rewritten energy. Inscribed ruins of his will.
Then he did it again.
This time the sigils reacted—evolved.
The second punch tripled in force, drawing new ancient codes from deep within his soul.
The mountain behind the first? Gone. Obliterated into an arcane ripple that warped the clouds into scrolls of light.
> Aprexion nodded. Barely.
A flicker of respect. In Aprexion terms? That was a standing ovation.
---
The wind howled louder.
The others watched, stunned. The Hanging Mountains felt smaller now. The skies? Closer. Their fears? Louder.
But this was just the beginning.
Because the Avian Punch isn't just about force—
—it's about self-revelation.
And every punch was a confession.
Kennedy strolled forward with that signature smirk—swagger louder than his footsteps.
"Alright, alright, y'all had your code and scrolls and ancient punchy-glowy stuff..." he cracked his knuckles, "but what happens when the punch is too smooth to compute?"
> "If the Avian Punch reflects who I am," he grinned, "then I hope y'all brought your Wi-Fi."
He launched himself forward, cocky and confident—his body already flickering like frames in a film reel.
BOOM.
The punch landed—and reality stuttered.
Not just a shockwave. Not just a crater.
The mountain broke in frames.
First into pixel blocks.
Then into sprite glitches.
Then into raw animation loops that folded into themselves like corrupted GIFs.
It was a glitchquake—
the terrain looped like a busted rendering engine.
One second, the mountain was there—next, it flickered, distorted, rewound, exploded, and finally reassembled into a new form entirely: a massive statue of Kennedy dabbing mid-air.
> "You see that?" Kennedy turned to the others.
"I'm the glitch in the system and the software update."
The students laughed and clapped. Even Charles whistled, impressed.
Aprexion's reaction?
The slightest—slightest—tilt of his head.
> "Hm," he muttered, just loud enough for Ractor to hear.
"Animation Affinity. Framework class... unstable but effective. Entertaining."
Ractor gave him a side glance. "You're smirking inside, aren't you?"
> "Don't be ridiculous," Aprexion said flatly.
But his next words had just a whisper of pride:
> "...Next."
Sonia stepped forward like a silent storm brewing in technicolor.
Her fists trembled not from fear, but from the tension of restrained passion—
a whole emotional kaleidoscope swirling in her veins.
She didn't say much. She didn't need to.
She cracked her knuckles, and her eyes lit up green—the color of pure Determination.
The spectrum in her Affinity surged outward like a heartbeat that echoed through existence.
She launched her Avian Punch at the nearest mountain.
Boom.
Not just destruction—emotionally charged obliteration.
The mountain didn't just collapse; it felt it before vanishing.
The force of her punch didn't stop there—it rippled into the nearby mountains, like a chain reaction of inspired fury, vaporizing them in a domino of green nuclear hope-bombs.
> "She's not just hitting," Kennedy muttered. "She's turning mountains into motivational speeches."
Sonia smiled—but that smile quickly evolved.
Her eyes shifted to Indigo—the hue of Enthusiasm.
Her aura flared like a comet, her body almost dancing with the momentum.
She turned toward a moon-sized mountain, inhaled deeply, then rocketed her fist forward with zero hesitation.
CRACK—BOOM.
The mountain shattered from its emotional core—imploding into stardust and glowing particles of violet euphoria.
> "That... was beautiful," Charles whispered, shielding his face from the radiant shockwave.
Aprexion's eyebrow lifted.
Just one.
And from him?
That was basically a standing ovation.
> "Her punch triggers chain-based spectrum outputs... that's extremely rare," he murmured. "And... dangerous. She'll have to learn control."
But even then—his lips twitched.
Approval.
One by one, they were rising.
> "Next," he called, his tone edged with curiosity now.
Henry stepped forward with a grin so calm, it was borderline cocky.
Jack clapped him on the back, saying, "You got this, buddy."
Henry just chuckled.
> "I don't got it," he said. "I own it."
His Electric Affinity began to glow—no, pulse—with pure voltage, arcs of lightning zipping up his arms like they were trying to keep up with his confidence.
Zoooop.
That was the sound before the storm.
He rocketed forward, fist cocked back, and launched an Avian Punch into the sky...
and the sky answered.
BOOM!
The mountain ahead didn't just explode, it supercharged, then detonated, like lightning had rewritten the laws of matter just to show off.
The punch looped, each strike coming faster, harder, and stronger than the last.
It was like the electricity was learning from itself, evolving with each blow.
The shockwaves laced with blue-white arcs stretched so far they jolted clouds into existence, then shattered them.
Thunder rolled back across the Hanging Mountains like applause from the gods.
Jack grinned wide, arms folded proudly.
> "That's my guy."
The rest of the team?
Speechless.
Kennedy literally dropped his gum.
Sonia nodded, impressed but slightly salty.
Yyvone just whispered, "He's an arc reactor in human form..."
But the real twist?
The elite students—the upper echelon—Klexis, Merina, Hersa, Lia, and a few others?
They stood up.
Not out of fear... but respect.
> "Did... did an Initiate just do that?" Hersa muttered, wide-eyed.
Aprexion didn't flinch.
He simply said,
> "Interesting. His punches... feedback. Electric affinity with recursive amplification. If he learns to chain that properly..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't have to.
Henry just smiled, sparks dancing off his fingertips.
> "Wanna see round two?"
But before Aprexion could answer...
Jack stepped forward.
The moment was heavy.
The others had delivered power, flash, spectacle.
Now the pressure sat on his shoulders—champion expectations, elite eyes watching, Henry's smirk, Sonia's confidence, Kennedy's competitive glance...
And his Avia... flickered.
Just for a moment. A stutter in the storm.
But then—
He closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Slowed everything down.
His heart synced with Airious.
And the flicker?
Became a blaze.
WHOOM.
He charged—hands lit with divine lightning, bolts dancing like prophecies fulfilled.
Every step left glowing footprints in the air, like the heavens themselves were recording him in real time.
> "Jack's not flashy," Aprexion murmured. "He's precise."
BOOOOOM!
One punch.
A storm was born.
Not just lightning— Divine lightning. The kind that judges, that measures, that executes.
Each punch exploded into the mountain, not just destroying it, but calculating the exact weight, density, angle—like a god of precision unleashing divine punishment.
His Analysis Eyes glowed blue-gold, data streaming like ancient runes:
> "45 tons. Granite. 76° strike vector. Adjust."
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The strikes got sharper.
More efficient.
More lethal.
Every punch recalculated the laws of impact.
The mountain wasn't just being broken—it was being perfectly unraveled.
His lightning danced with elegance, not rage.
His strikes?
They weren't wild.
They were inevitable.
The others stared in awe.
Kennedy: "Bro... he's like a walking cheat code."
Sonia: "That's terrifyingly surgical."
Henry? He just chuckled: "Told you he was next-level."
Even the elites whispered.
> "He's not just strong," Merina said. "He's... balanced. A storm with discipline."
Aprexion gave the highest praise possible in his style—
He nodded.
Twice.
Jack stepped back, steam rising from his fists, breath slow.
He looked at his hands.
> "Still not enough..." he muttered.
Because Eve Maid... was still out there.
And he'd need more than precision to bring her back.
Jack also wants to save eve maid, because he knew what it's like to be corrupted with twisted truth...
Ian stepped forward...
The wind was heavy. Not just with pressure—but with memory.
That forest…
Her eyes…
That silence between them that screamed louder than words ever could.
Eve Maid.
His Avia trembled again.
But then—
Yyvone's eyes met his.
A soft nod, firm as stone. You're not alone.
Jack? Gave him a thumbs-up, that kind of "You got this, bro" energy that only real ones know how to give.
Ian's aura settled.
Not calmed.
Sharpened.
He cracked his knuckles.
Didn't even reach for his sword.
Because this punch wasn't about blades.
It was about him.
He focused. His Slash Manipulation Affinity surged.
> "Who says a punch has to be blunt?"
"What if my nature is to cut, even with a fist?"
He charged—
Vwooooom!!
And punched.
But the result wasn't impact—
It was precision.
Clean. Beautiful. Deadly.
The mountain was sliced—
Like it had been cut by ten thousand blades wrapped inside one punch.
No rubble. No explosion. Just... separation.
Rock parted like silk under divine scissors.
Slash Punch.
Each strike was a punch that cuts.
Not one swing wasted.
He kept going—punch after punch, slicing through the terrain with surgical fury.
One punch curved mid-air, slicing a boulder behind him.
Another created shockwaves of slashes, invisible to the eye until the mountains bled.
> "He's weaponized the concept of edge itself," muttered Klexis.
Even Aprexion—stoic, solid, statuesque Aprexion—smiled.
> "Now that... is a fighter who refuses to be defined by the rules."
Ian stepped back.
Calm. Focused.
Not overwhelmed.
He looked at his hand.
> "Maybe I'm not her answer…"
"But I'll be strong enough to find out."
The sky above seemed to shimmer for a moment.
Because in that instant—
The blade didn't need to be drawn.
He had become the blade.
Osei stepped forward...
No flair.
No warm-up.
Just that lowkey swagger that says, "I don't need to explain myself—you'll see."
He inhaled.
Closed his eyes.
No glow. No drama.
He punched.
Nothing happened.
Jack blinked.
Kennedy leaned in, "Uhh…did he miss?"
Henry scratched his head. "Maybe he misfired?"
Then—
BOOM.
The mountain behind the first one?
Split in half.
> "Wait… the punch didn't land when it was thrown…"
"…It landed when it needed to."
Aprexion narrowed his eyes, then… squinted.
Even he hadn't seen that coming.
Then Osei moved again.
Another punch.
This one didn't hit forward—
It curved.
It looped midair like a predator sniffing out its prey.
BOOM.
A floating island above cracked from the side.
Osei's punch had instincts.
> "You're telling me his shockwaves think for themselves?"
Yes.
Osei's Instinct Manipulation Affinity didn't just enhance his reaction speed.
His Avian Punches had reflexes.
They waited.
They hunted.
They chose when and where to hit.
Each punch wasn't just force—it was a ghost fist with a purpose.
> Sonia: "Bro, your punch has a personality." Kennedy: "It's got better timing than I do."
Aprexion's head tilted again—but slower this time.
> "Rare... very rare. His punch bends timing and terrain to its own decisions."
Osei just dusted off his palms, gave a little nod like he just knocked on someone's front door and left a present.
No need to explain.
The punch speaks.
When it's ready.
Yyvone stepped forward, soft-spoken but sure.
She didn't wear her power loudly—she wove it.
Everyone expected something subtle. Graceful. Maybe a light ripple.
But nah.
She cracked her knuckles, then whispered to herself:
> "Healing doesn't mean I can't hit."
She threw her punch—
And instead of a shockwave…
A radiant fist-shaped barrier burst from her hand, shimmering like woven glass.
BOOM.
It didn't explode in destruction—it contained the blast, crushed the mountain inward, like space itself folded into a healing cocoon then caved in.
Everyone was silent.
> Henry: "Did she just heal-punch a mountain to death?"
Aprexion's eye twitched.
Her Affinity—Healing Threads and Barrier Creation— didn't stop her.
It redefined the attack.
> Her punch wasn't a cannon—it was a cage. A construct of fist-force, precision-sealed by care and control.
Then she did it again.
This time, she crafted two barriers with the punch:
One caught the debris…
The other redirected it into another mountain—like a rebound fist.
> Jack: "Okay that was poetic violence." Sonia: "She built a wall that punches back. I'm terrified."
Yyvone smiled sweetly and stepped back.
Even Aprexion, the Ruth Bomb himself, gave a tiny half-nod. The kind of nod that meant:
> "I will never underestimate her again."
Aprexion stood before them, arms folded, the Hanging Mountains still trembling from their Avian punches.
He gave them a rare thing: words. Not flattery. Assessment.
> "You've all done well," he said, voice like an arrow—straight, sharp, no fluff.
"But strength without refinement is a wild flame. I sharpen you, not just cheer you."
Then, his gaze cut across each of them like a precision blade:
Ian: "Your slash knows where it wants to go, but you hesitate. Precision needs presence. Feel her memory, don't let it blind your edge."
Charles: "Inscription is versatile. But power without adaptability is code that cracks. Evolve your structure, not just your strength."
Henry: "Confidence is good. But cockiness is control's cousin. Tame your storms, then unleash them."
Sonia: "Your emotions are your weapon—but every spectrum needs a dial. Don't just feel. Command."
Yyvone: "...Good."
(The team glanced at each other. That was the highest compliment he'd ever given.)
Osei Jerry: "I like your chaos. But unpredictability must obey you, not itself. If your instincts guide the punch, let your will guide your instincts."
Kennedy: "You got flash. But you need roots. Humor won't always anchor you in a real fight."
Then, his eyes met Jack.
The room felt like it shrank for a second.
"You've got the mind. The eyes. The lightning. But a storm that doubts itself dies before the thunder hits.
Clear your skies, boy. Your Avia needs room to breathe."
He stepped back, letting the words hang in the crisp air.
> "Grow from this. You've got more to learn. And the next trial… won't be as forgiving."
Then he turned and vanished into the mist—classic Ruth Bomb exit.