The evening sky over Olivia City swirled with heavy gray clouds. The horizon bled into a storm that seemed alive, flashing with streaks of blue lightning that forked like claws tearing through the heavens. To the citizens below, it was just an incoming storm. But Peterson felt something different. His chest tightened with unease, the kind of weight that told him this was not a natural storm.
He stood at the academy courtyard, his wooden practice sword still clutched in his hand from the day's grueling training. Sweat clung to his skin, his breaths ragged, but his mind was elsewhere.
"Why does it feel like the storm is… watching me?" he whispered under his breath.
"Because it is," a calm voice answered behind him.
Peterson turned sharply. It was his grandfather, Ezekiel Olivia, leaning on his cane. His white hair danced in the gust of wind, but his gaze was sharp as ever, like a man who could pierce through layers of reality with his eyes alone.
"This storm isn't weather," Ezekiel continued. "It's a Rift. A crack between our world and the Void. Something is trying to come through."
Peterson's grip tightened on his sword. "A Gate?"
"Worse," Ezekiel said gravely. "A premature Tear. And if it isn't sealed…" He didn't need to finish the sentence. Peterson's imagination filled in the rest — monsters spilling out, the city drowning in chaos, people screaming.
For a moment, Peterson's heart screamed at him to run. But then he remembered the bruises from training, the humiliation at Tom's hands, the promise he made to himself not to remain weak forever. He took a deep breath and steadied his trembling hands.
"What do you want me to do?" Peterson asked.
Ezekiel's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Face it. The storm is calling you, boy. Let's see if you're ready."
The Olivia family mansion roared with alarms. Bell-like tones echoed through the corridors as Hunters, Supporters, and even a few Jokers assembled at the gates, prepared to confront the disturbance. Everyone's eyes were turned skyward, toward the vortex spinning in the clouds.
Tom Olivia — Dark Toxin — stepped forward among them, clad in his dark combat gear. His arms pulsed faintly with poisonous energy, his arrogance radiating like heat.
"So the Void wants to test us tonight," Tom muttered, a grin stretching across his lips. "Fine. I'll show it who the strongest Olivia is."
Peterson stepped out from the crowd, earning a wave of whispers.
"Why is he here?"
"The weakling again?"
"He'll just slow us down…"
Tom smirked, meeting Peterson's gaze. "Don't tell me you plan to join this fight, little brother. You can barely hold a sword without shaking."
Peterson's jaw clenched, but before he could retort, Ezekiel's cane struck the ground with authority. The murmurs silenced.
"He goes," Ezekiel declared firmly. "If you doubt my word, then doubt the blood that runs through him. The Void doesn't call by accident."
Tom scoffed but didn't argue. The Hunters readied themselves, forming elemental circles — fire sparking, water swirling, wind gathering, earth hardening beneath their feet. Supporters stood behind them, hands glowing with healing light. A Joker stood at the center, tall and masked, their presence commanding.
"Tonight," the Joker's voice rang, "we seal the Tear. Whatever comes out, we close it before dawn."
The storm answered with a crack of lightning so violent that the ground quaked
The vortex split open, ripping reality like paper. Purple lightning cascaded downward, and from within the swirling chaos, something emerged.
At first, it was only a shadow, writhing like smoke. But as it touched the earth, the shadow solidified — a beast taller than the academy walls, with six glowing eyes and a body stitched from the blackness of the void.
The ground shook as it roared, a sound so deep it rattled bones.
"Formation!" the Joker commanded.
The Hunters surged forward, their elemental powers slamming into the creature. Fireballs exploded against its hide, ice spears shattered across its limbs, bolts of lightning crackled against its frame. But the creature only grew angrier, its massive arms swiping through the battlefield like scythes.
Peterson froze at first, his heart hammering in his throat. Every instinct screamed at him to run. But then he saw it — Tom, laughing as he hurled venomous blasts into the monster's wounds. He saw Supporters scrambling to keep Hunters alive. He saw fear in their eyes.
And suddenly, Peterson's fear turned into something else: rage. Rage at his helplessness. Rage at the Void itself.
He stepped forward, raising his practice sword.
"Peterson, fall back!" Ezekiel shouted from the sidelines. "You're not ready—"
But Peterson ignored him. He charged straight into the battlefield.
The beast's shadowy arm came crashing down, faster than his eyes could track. Instinctively, he thrust his sword upward.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
The wooden blade should have shattered instantly. But instead, an invisible force surged from Peterson's chest, wrapping around the sword. The air rippled. The monster's massive strike halted midair, as though an unseen barrier had stopped it.
Everyone stared in shock. Even Tom's grin faltered.
"What… was that?" a Hunter gasped.
Peterson's veins glowed faintly white. His eyes shimmered with a light he didn't understand. The force inside him — wild, raw, infinite — was clawing to get out.
"I… I can feel it," Peterson whispered, his voice trembling. "Something inside me wants to fight."
The beast roared again, and Peterson roared back, swinging his sword with all his might. The invisible energy exploded outward, a blast that sent the creature staggering backward, its shadowy body tearing apart at the seams.
The battlefield fell silent.
For a moment, victory seemed within reach. But then Tom stepped forward, his face twisted with fury.
"No," Tom hissed. "Not you. Never you."
He unleashed his venom, not at the beast — but at Peterson.
A surge of toxic energy slammed into the ground at Peterson's feet, exploding in a cloud of green smoke. Peterson stumbled, coughing, eyes burning. The sudden betrayal caught everyone off guard.
"Tom! What are you doing?!" a Hunter shouted.
"I'll kill him before the Void tricks us into crowning him something he isn't!" Tom roared. His venom lashed again, forcing Peterson to his knees.
Ezekiel's cane struck the ground, unleashing a pulse that blew the smoke away. "Enough, Tom!" his voice thundered. "If you raise your hand against your brother again, you will face me."
But the damage was done. Peterson's body ached, his vision blurred. The beast was rising again, its shadow re-forming, and Tom's betrayal left the formation broken.
Peterson clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand. Despite the pain, despite the betrayal, a new fire burned in his chest.
"This isn't over," he whispered. His glowing eyes locked onto the monster — and on Tom. "Not for me. Not for anyone."
The storm above rumbled in response, as if the Void itself had heard his vow.