### Chapter 4: Awakening Sparks

  The training field felt different after Sky's little "incident." The air hung heavier, like the whole campus was holding its breath. Mr. Joe didn't call it quits—he just regrouped everyone, his thermos of coffee steaming in the July heat as he paced the dry grass. The awakened kids—Sky, Max, Frosty, Mira, Jefferson, Het, and Hiro—stood in a loose circle, pads still on, bokkens and gloves dangling from sweaty hands. The Room 105 crew watched from their side of the fence, drills paused, eyes wide like they were at a fireworks show that might explode in their faces.

  "Alright," Mr. Joe said, voice rough from years of yelling at rookies. "What you just saw with Sky? That's the start. Will energy ain't some video game perk—it bubbles up when you're pushed. Names? You name 'em yourselves. Makes it personal. Stick. Now get back at it. Feel that hum inside. Chase it."

  They paired off again, but this time with intent. No more play-fighting. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning shirts dark with sweat, the ground kicking up dust clouds with every step. Sky hung back for a minute, still staring at where his crack had been, that ozone tang lingering in his nose like burnt toast. Max clapped him on the back—harder than needed, but that's Max for you. "You good, bro? That was wild."

  "Yeah," Sky muttered, flexing his fingers. The hum was back, quieter but insistent, like a bass line thrumming in his chest. "Let's see if the others can top it."

  Frosty went first. She'd been sparring with Mira, bokken whipping through the air with that faint frost trail she'd noticed earlier. Mira dodged a swing, but Frosty pressed, frustration from the party boiling over—the way she'd smashed that vase over a demon's head, desperate and raw. The hum spiked. She jabbed her thumb into her palm, drawing a bead of blood without thinking, and flung it forward like a dart.

  The blood froze mid-air, sharpening into a nail-like spike that hammered into Mira's padded glove. It stuck, vibrating, and Mira yelped as a chill shot up her arm, numbing her fingers like she'd plunged them into ice water.

  "Whoa—stop!" Mira shook it off, but Frosty was grinning, eyes lit up.

  "That felt... right." Frosty wiped the blood on her pants. "Frost Nail. Yeah. That's it."

  Mira rubbed her arm, laughing through the cold. "Bitch, warn a girl next time."

  Next was Max. He'd been trading punches with Jefferson, his blue shimmers getting brighter, like static on an old TV. Jefferson swapped positions mid-swing—his Switch Rush kicking in for the first time, a clap that flipped them around and left Max stumbling. Max growled, that loyal fire from tackling the demon last night flaring up. The hum turned into a roar inside him. Shadows peeled off the ground near his feet, twisting into vague shapes—echoes of the demons he'd seen die.

  One solidified: a smoky duplicate of Max himself, lunging forward to block Jefferson's next hit. It took the punch, absorbed the impact, then echoed it back twofold.

  Jefferson flew back three feet, landing on his ass with a grunt. "What the—?"

  Max stared at his hands, then at the fading shade. "Echo Bind... and that thing? Loyal Shade. Holy shit."

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  Jefferson got up, dusting off. "Not bad. But watch this."

  He'd felt it building during the swap— that competitive rush from beer pong nights, amplified. He clapped again, but this time channeled it into his fist, building momentum like a coiled spring. "Switch Rush!" The punch landed on a practice dummy, swapping its position with a rock ten feet away while the fist exploded forward in a rock-paper-scissors burst, splintering the dummy clean in half.

  The group cheered—ragged, tired, but real.

  Het was quieter about it. The oldest, he'd grabbed a spare crowbar from the rack—reminded him of the one from the basement during the party. He muttered under his breath, "Pact with me," and the metal glowed faintly, sharpening to a cursed edge. He swung at a target; it sliced clean through like butter. "Pact Blade," he said simply, nodding like it was no big deal. But his eyes said otherwise—relief, maybe. Power to protect the younger ones.

  Hiro unlocked hers during a heal drill Mr. Joe set up—touching Cam's bandaged arm from across the fence. The hum flowed, reversing the lingering pain in a warm shift. "Heal Shift," she whispered, pulling him a step closer without moving. Cam's eyes widened. "Thanks... feels better already."

  Mira's came last in the group. She'd been eyeing Frosty's nail trick, jealousy sparking. During a dodge with Hiro, she locked gazes and barked, "Freeze." Hiro stiffened for a second, confused. Mira blinked, then summoned a spectral mirror-bird that reflected a practice strike back at the sender. "Gaze Bind," she said, smirking. "Guess I'm the boss now."

  Over on the Room 105 side, things were sparking too—slower, more utility-focused, but no less intense. Cam's shadows finally coalesced into full guards during a defensive drill, wolf and bear forms switching cores. "Shadow Guard," he grunted, the beasts tanking hits like champs.

  Juno whispered "Trap" during a spar, and sticky webs shot from his words, binding Jessica's foot briefly. "Whisper Trap," he mumbled, blushing as she laughed it off.

  Jessica broke free with a spark-edged kick, electricity crackling along her sneaker. "Spark Edge!" she yelled, zipping forward in a godspeed burst.

  Abel, pale and shocked as ever, reshaped his arm into a fleshy chain during a desperate block—whipping it out like a saw. "Flesh Chain," he said flatly, wincing at the pain.

  Taro, the kid, burst forward in innocent rage during tag—pure strength exploding out. "Pure Burst!" he cheered, tackling John playfully.

  Rita marked Lola with a glance during strategy talk, commanding "Jump" later—Lola hopped without thinking. "Dominion Mark," Rita noted, filming it on her phone for notes.

  Lola retaliated with a blood drop that shifted her position, buffing her speed. "Blood Shift!"

  John absorbed Taro's burst into a card, throwing it back stretched and explosive. "Trick Absorb," he said quietly, smirking for the first time.

  By noon, the fields were quiet—everyone collapsed on the grass, water bottles empty, powers named and buzzing under their skin. Mr. Joe nodded approval. "Good start. Rest up. Real missions soon."

  But twenty minutes away, at the abandoned high school, things weren't quiet at all.

  The villains had converged—Yuka with his creepy smile, Reiji leading like always, Ray bored in the back. The full crew: Aijo puffing a cigarette, Jaylee twirling invisible threads, Jason cracking his neck, the twins Jeff and John mirroring grins, Rony floating a rock with gravity, Ron dissolving into smoke, Lana towering in half-giant form, Jone clapping to shred a wall with sound, Jeremiah branding the doors with curses, James touching a stray cat and erasing its memory, Rei spawning shadow clones, Jack summoning his blade storm, Leo fusing with a bat-demon for wings.

  They'd followed the rift signature—Mr. Joy's car was parked out front, doors ajar.

  Reiji smirked. "Teacher's here. Let's give him a show."

  Yuka veiled the whole building in illusion—making it look intact from outside while inside warped into a nightmare maze. Reiji flared crimson, dismantling walls with gestures. Ray opened a full rift, summoning death demons that growled and charged.

  Mr. Joy fought hard—his own technique a barrier of joy-infused will that repelled attacks—but they overwhelmed. Jason regenerated through punches, Lana crushed barriers, the twins synced pain to double it back.

  The school crumbled—roofs caving, bricks exploding under gravity crushes and sound shreds. Joy went down swinging, but they left him broken, not dead. A message.

  As the dust settled, something shifted in the sky.

  It started as a speck—falling from space like a meteor, but slowing, expanding. Gooey, red mushy mass with streaks of green, blue, yellow swirling in like infected veins. It stopped mid-descent, hovering, then spread—thin, translucent, merging with the clouds until the whole sky tinted wrong. Pulsing. Alive.

  The villains stared up, awe mixed with grins.

  Reiji laughed. "The Upper World. It's awakening."

  Ray yawned, but his eyes gleamed. "Fragment's call. If we don't crush those academy brats by New Year's, it'll fully descend. Stop us. End the rifts. No new world for us."

  Yuka touched his healed head wound from Sky's shot. "We won't let it. The Demon Heart's close. I can feel it."

  Jason stepped forward through the rubble, cracking his knuckles, regen knitting a fresh cut on his cheek. He spread his arms wide, voice booming over the destruction.

  "Welcome to the end of this world."

  The sky pulsed redder, like it heard him.

  Back at the academy, no one knew yet. But Sky felt a twinge—that second heartbeat in his chest thumping harder.

  Something big was coming.

  And New Year's was only months away.