The quiet hum of the boat engine was the only sound Kael could hear. The room was small — barely enough to stretch out in — with a rusting metal desk, a creaky bed bolted to the floor, and a single round window that rattled when the wind picked up. It was cold, but Kael didn't mind. He sat on the bed, arms resting on his legs, his cane leaning against the wall beside him. Sleep tugged at his eyes, but his mind refused to shut off.
Still… the exhaustion finally caught up to him.
His eyes closed.
A dull thud echoed across the training mat.
Kael grunted as he hit the ground for the fifth time in a row. He scrambled to his feet, breathing hard, clenching his fists. Across from him, Voidflare stood with his arms crossed — calm, composed, unimpressed.
"You're getting sloppy," Voidflare said flatly, his tone sharper than the strike that had just sent Kael flying. "You keep relying on instinct, not strategy."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe we should stop wasting time with this and start using our Quirks instead. Hand to hand combat serves no purpose when someones telepathically throwing a car at me."
Voidflare's gaze didn't waver. "That's exactly why you need this."
"That doesn't even make sense man."
Kael turned away, sweat dripping from his temple. "It's pointless," he muttered, walking toward the locker room. "I'm not learning anything."
Voidflare let out a soft sigh, waited a few seconds, and followed him.
Inside the locker room, Kael sat on the bench, his fists trembling slightly. He didn't turn when Voidflare entered. "Why do we keep doing this? Every fight out there is life or death for Heroes. I'm not some street boxer who needs to prioritize immobilizing subduing. I take Quirks. That's my strength."
Voidflare walked slowly over, leaning against the lockers beside him. "And what happens when a Quirk you've taken is too slow to activate? Or when someone's quirkless? Or when your Quirks are neutralized?"
Kael didn't answer.
"Quirks are tools," Voidflare continued, voice calmer now. "But your body — your instincts, your discipline — they're your foundation. Without that, every Quirk you take is just borrowed power with no balance. You have to be better than them — not just stronger. Smarter. Sharper."
Kael's breathing slowed. His anger cooled into quiet understanding. "I just… I don't want to lose," he said quietly.
Voidflare placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then stop being afraid of your own limits. You push past them every day, Kael. That's why I train you so hard. That's why I believe in you. Because I know you can be better. You have to be strong enough to be gentle. That's what I always believed in and that's what I want to pass on to you."
Kael turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I-I see. Sorry, for snapping on you like that I mean. I understand what you mean now, thank you."
"It's all good kid. And besides, I like hearing you express yourself," Voidflare said with a small smirk. "Shows me that you're listening and learning, trying to improve upon yourself. Don't ever be afraid to speak up for what you think is right.."
The room faded.
Kael's eyes fluttered open.
The sea outside his window was calm now. The stars were reflected in the ripples below, glowing gently. In the distance, just barely visible, stood the silhouette of a massive structure — cold, lifeless, and long forgotten.
The decommissioned Hero Support Facility.
Kael sat up, the remnants of the dream lingering in his chest like embers. His hands clenched. Voidflare was out there, possibly dying. Tortured, broken… but not gone.
Not yet.
And Kael would make sure it stays that way.
…
The metallic creak of rusted hinges echoed faintly as Kael pried open a maintenance hatch beneath the broken overhang of the decommissioned hero support facility. Wind howled through shattered window frames, moaning like ghosts of a forgotten era. Faint salt and smoke still hung in the air. The entire place reeked of abandonment, but Kael knew better.
He was being watched.
The dark corridors beneath the coastal ruins stretched like veins, each leading deeper into a once-thriving research base meant for collaboration between Japan's top Pro Heroes and international scientists. In the distant past, Kael imagined this place had been filled with invention, laughter, discipline. Now, it was a graveyard—and a trap.
"Makoto said this place shut down five years ago after some incident during a joint hero experiment… something about a failed containment protocol," Kael remembered. The flashback was short—Makoto hunched over blueprints beneath the hum of subway lights, tapping his finger against a red-circled zone marked LAB CORE. "No satellite can scan through it anymore. Signals get jammed. If they've got Voidflare… this is where."
Kael pressed forward, fingers lightly resting on the hilt of a captured combat knife. His Quirks were at the ready—DarkBind, Flashstep, Silent Sole—but he didn't use them just yet. The last thing he wanted was to give away his position too soon.
A soft clink echoed underfoot. He stopped cold, eyes narrowing. A floor panel had shifted—barely.
Then came the hiss.
Gas hissed from above. Hidden vents opened without warning, expelling a dense fog. A second later, motion sensors embedded in the walls activated with a click-click-click rhythm. Kael bolted left, Flashstep firing in bursts as he dodged down a corridor—only to find himself face-to-face with a group of figures emerging from the smoke.
Villains.
At least a dozen, all shapes and sizes. Some were spliced with beast-like traits—reptilian eyes, bone protrusions, wings twitching from too-small backs. Others looked entirely human, until their Quirks flared to life in bursts of electricity, flames, or sickly green energy.
Kael's body moved before thought. DarkBind lashed out, slamming two of the mutants into opposite walls. He slid under a fireball, twisted, then let out a pulse from Sound Spike, disorienting half the group. One lunged at him with claws outstretched—but Kael parried with his knife and struck a tendon with a sharp knee, dropping the man.
He fought like he'd trained for this moment his entire life.
But then—he saw him.
Near the back, trembling, was a boy. No older than Hana. Maybe even younger. Dirty brown hair. Gaunt face. His eyes were glowing with unstable red energy, crackling unnaturally around his pupils. And in those eyes—
Was a scared little boy begging for help.
The kid made no move at first, just watched the chaos unfold, paralyzed. A villain barked an order from behind him—"Go! NOW!"—and the boy flinched before rushing toward Kael with a wild, desperate swing.
Kael stepped back, easily dodging. "What the hell is a kid doing here?" he whispered to himself.
The boy launched a flurry of attacks, his hands shaking with each punch. Kael could tell—every movement was clumsy, forced. The kid had no intent to kill. He was scared. This wasn't a fighter. This was someone being used.
Kael caught the boy's wrist mid-swing.
Their eyes met.
"You don't want to do this," Kael said, his voice calm, steady despite the chaos behind them. "Do you?"
The boy blinked rapidly. His body was quivering. "I—I can't… they'll hurt me."
Kael's jaw clenched. In that moment, the fighting around them almost disappeared. All he saw was a terrified child forced to play villain in someone else's twisted game.
"You're not my enemy," Kael said, loosening his grip. "Get out of here. Hide."
The boy hesitated, as if waiting for permission to believe him. Then he turned and bolted into the shadows, slipping through a panel in the wall barely large enough to crawl through.
That moment cost Kael.
A sharp pain tore across his ribs. A villain with serrated bone-blades had closed in and slashed him while his attention had drifted. Kael spun, using Kinetic Forge to absorb the impact and launch a brutal counter-kick, knocking the assailant out cold.
He was bleeding—but more than that, he was furious.
'Children. They're using children.' His hands trembled—not with fear, but with rage.
He glanced around. Three were down. Five stunned. The rest retreated into deeper hallways—but the damage had been done.
'They know I'm here.'
Kael pressed a hand to his side, blood leaking through his hospital wraps. He needed to move fast. His eyes trailed back to the panel the boy had disappeared through, committing it to memory.
'If they're forcing kids to fight for them, this is bigger than just Voidflare.'
This wasn't just a rescue mission anymore.
This was war.
…