The final bell at Insane Middle School screeched through the halls—long, tired, and warped, like it knew it was ringing in the wrong era. Like history itself was clocking out early.
Room 101 was empty.
Desks pushed in. Chairs still. The windows rattled faintly as wind scraped against the glass, carrying something cold with it. Not weather. Memory.
Mr. Bassi stood at the front of the room, unmoving.
In the dim light, he barely looked like a teacher anymore. His massive frame filled the space—horns curved like sharpened question marks, arms thick with old scars, eyes hardened by centuries of war, leadership, and pretending middle schoolers didn't test his patience daily. This wasn't a classroom.
This was a war room pretending to be one.
He tapped the communicator on his wrist.
Low. Firm.
"Power. Room 101. Now."
The sky outside cracked.
FWOOOOOOOSH—
Energy split the air as Power landed just outside the school like a falling star, the impact rattling lockers down the hall. A few alarms chirped and immediately gave up.
Moments later, Power shoved the classroom door open.
"Alright, Bassi," he said, crossing his arms, cosmic glow faint but present, "this better not be another emergency about cafeteria mystery meat, 'cause I left my smoothie half-blended."
Mr. Bassi didn't react.
No smirk.
No sigh.
No patience.
"This is real," he said.
Power stopped smiling.
"…Talk to me."
Mr. Bassi reached into his desk and pulled out a thick file, sealed in black and silver. The Lunaranite insignia stared back at them—a cracked moon dripping shadow like it was bleeding.
He tossed it onto the desk.
"The Lunaranites are reviving someone."
Power frowned. "Reviving who?"
Mr. Bassi opened the file.
Old images. Ancient texts. Burned pages rewritten a dozen times. One name repeated again and again, scratched deeper each time like history itself was afraid to forget it.
King Dominator.
Power's breath caught.
"…That's not possible."
"He ruled before Dreadixz," Mr. Bassi said quietly. "Before the wars, before hatred was subtle."
He turned another page.
"King Dominator led the Lunaranites until his death in 1000 B.C. And he hated Celestianites long before his son ever learned how."
Power scanned the pages.
The violence reports were worse than anything tied to Dreadixz. Entire regions erased. Not conquered. Erased.
"He wasn't just cruel," Bassi continued. "He was relentless. And whatever they've done to bring him back…"
He paused.
"…he's angrier now."
Power clenched his fists.
"That's why the movement's been accelerating."
"Yes," Bassi said. "But he didn't come back alone."
He slid forward another file. This one was different—no emblem. No seal. Just dense black ink and corrupted readings.
"King Dominator has allied himself with someone else."
Power looked up. "Who?"
"Someone who can wield dark energy."
The lights flickered.
"…And dark matter itself."
Silence swallowed the room.
"They're searching for an artifact," Mr. Bassi continued. "Something older than any crown. Older than the Power Gems. Something nobody even believed existed."
Power whispered, "…What kind of artifact?"
Mr. Bassi didn't answer.
Instead—
THUD.
A heavy step echoed behind them.
Then another.
Both of them turned.
At the doorway of Room 101 stood a massive red figure, skin glowing faintly like magma under stone. Every breath he took pulsed energy through his muscles. His eyes burned crimson. His presence bent the air around him.
He wore dark cargo pants.
Brass knuckle gauntlets forged from deep-lunar alloy.
Nothing else.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, casual—like he hadn't just walked into the most dangerous revelation in Avangard history.
A half-smirk formed.
"It's been a long time," he said, eyes locked on Power.
"But I think he's ready now."
Power's eyes widened.
"…You."
***
10,000 Years Later into the Future (Time Travel)
I tore through the ash-choked sky of Celestia, neon cannons humming beneath my armor like a caged animal begging to be unleashed. Every beat of my heart sent a pulse through the suit—too fast, too strong. Not just adrenaline.
Something deeper.
Below me, the city was dead.
The Enchanted Kingdom—once light, once wonder—was nothing but a burned-out shell. Streets cracked open like broken bones. Towers collapsed into themselves. Smoke spiraled upward, swallowing the stars, while flickers of fire chewed through what little history remained.
This wasn't a battlefield anymore.
It was a graveyard.
A screech tore through the sky.
I snapped my head up just in time to see it—
a grotesque bird, massive and twisted, feathers jagged like shattered glass, eyes glowing red with something that should not exist. It dove straight at me, talons spread wide, a living missile fueled by hate.
No thinking. No fear.
My cannon roared.
Neon green light split the sky, ripping straight through its body. The creature screamed—then shattered—sparks, smoke, and broken mass raining downward as it hit the ruins below.
Gone.
I slowed, hovering over the destruction. The silence hit harder than the fight.
No voices.
No movement.
No hope.
The circuits in my armor pulsed, synced to my heart—my real heart—the one buried beneath metal and regret. The same heart that didn't just keep me alive…
…but dragged me through time.
I could feel it again. That pull. That pressure in my chest. Every time my heart surged, reality bent. Timelines cracked. Futures overlapped. My own existence felt unstable—like I didn't belong to any single moment anymore.
My heart wasn't normal.
It never was.
It could tear me through alternate timelines—through futures that shouldn't exist yet, through worlds already doomed. I didn't choose to be here.
My heart chose for me.
I'm Duke. Fifteen years old. A fallen Celestianite.
I looked down at the ruins.
Now stranded ten thousand years into the future.
The words tasted wrong. No kid should ever have to say that.
I scanned the land, searching for signs of life—anything—but all I found were scars. This future wasn't a warning.
It was a consequence.
"Not a great sight," I muttered. But I'm here… helping the Pre-Heroes. Because if I don't—Avangard falls.
My chest tightened. The memory of the Power Gems burned behind my eyes.
"If I could just get those Gems… if I could hold them again—this future wouldn't exist."
I clenched my fists.
"I've had a rough start. I know that. I've done damage. Real damage." My voice cracked for half a second before I forced it steady. "I was destructive. Reckless."
Images flashed through my mind—Kingdom of Hearts in ruins. The words I'd spoken back then, sharp and wrong.
The future will die in my hands.
"That wasn't me," I whispered. "Not fully."
I felt it now—the truth I'd been avoiding.
"I was under his spell. Forced to drop the Gems. Forced to leave. Forced to destroy an innocent world." My jaw tightened. "Even my own words weren't mine."
A puppet.
Used.
And discarded.
The glow from my suit intensified as anger ignited beneath the guilt.
"This world is broken," I said, staring at the shattered horizon. "But it's not over."
My heart surged—reality shuddered around me for just a moment, like time itself flinched.
"Not while I'm still breathing."
I looked up. The stars were barely visible through the smoke—but they were there.
And as long as my heart kept pulling me through timelines…
as long as I could still fight fate instead of running from it…
"For the future," I said, voice hardening, "I will fight."
No matter what timeline it throws me into next.
TO BE CONTINUED…