The Art of Welcome
After weeks surviving on dust, muscle, and Fluxite efficiency, the team arrived at Jean's ancestral home. They were dust-covered, weapon-stained, and bone-weary.
Jean's mansion shimmered like another world—white towers, crimson banners, carved marble gates leading into radiant, impossibly green gardens. It was the absolute antithesis of the harsh wastelands.
Servants bowed low as the team entered, their eyes full of quiet respect for the young Pulsars, but also a hint of surprise at their disheveled state.
Jean's mother, Lady Elara Selvan, was the first to greet them. A gentle, radiant woman whose elegance barely masked an innate, profound strength, her eyes seemed to see straight into their weary souls. Her voice carried warmth and command in equal measure.
"Welcome, all of you," she said, stepping forward with outstretched hands. "You are heroes in my daughter's eyes, and guests in ours. You have fought well. Treat this place as your home and rest your minds."
Kira grinned awkwardly, still wiping smudges of Neutron marrow from her armor. Lyra immediately accepted a tray of sweet buns from Jean's younger sister, Lysa, a shy girl who peeked from behind her mother's flowing gown. "I choose this life," Lyra declared, already devouring a bun. "No more rations!"
Jean's little brother, Vin, a whirlwind of boundless energy, tugged enthusiastically on Roy's sleeve, his eyes wide with admiration. "You smell like smoke and thunder! Race you to the north garden!"
Roy blinked, caught completely off guard by the abrupt shift from life-or-death combat to a child's game. "Uh—sure? But I'm not allowed to use any of my Fluxite powers on you."
Vin dashed off laughing, Lyra chasing after him with a whoop of delight. Kira and Taro exchanged amused glances, their exhaustion momentarily fading into the sound of laughter echoing through the vast, marble-tiled halls.
A powerful shadow of authority suddenly filled the doorway, silencing the trailing laughter.
Jean's father, Lord Arcel Selvan, entered. Tall, stern, and impeccably dressed, his presence was commanding without the need for a single loud word. He was an established, powerful Pulsar in his own right. His gaze, sharp and analytical, locked onto Roy.
"So," Arcel said evenly, the silence amplifying his voice. "You're the Umbryon Pulsar who fought beside my daughter and led her team through the wastelands."
Roy immediately straightened, snapping to attention despite his dust-caked clothes. "Yes, sir. Roy Umbryon, at your service."
Arcel studied him, taking in the discipline, the barely contained Fluxite resonance. "You fought Neutrons of high rank. You value family and unit integrity. Good. Then you'll also understand a family's need for levity. You will join in the family's games. Prove your care—don't lose to my son, and keep up with the water girl."
Roy blinked, completely missing the faint twist of humor in the Lord's eyes. "Sir, I… I need to run a diagnostic on my core before relaxing. I—"
"Go," Arcel said simply, waving him away with a dismissive, yet kind, gesture. "A controlled mind works faster after a controlled rest. That is an order, Pulsar."
an intentional display of cultivated power. Winding paths led past crystalline fountains, and the ancient trees whispered with embedded Fluxite particles woven into the soil that shimmered like captured starlight at dusk.
Jean joined them, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated by her family. "Every Pulsar needs an anchor, Roy. This is mine."
Vin raised a triumphant hand near a hedge maze. "Obstacle race! No Puls powers, no Fluxite tricks! Strictly human agility!"
"Deal," Lyra said, stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles. "But if I trip, I'm blaming your hidden gravity fields, Vin."
Within minutes, laughter filled the estate as the elite A-rank Pulsar team darted through hedge mazes, tiptoed across slippery koi ponds, and stumbled through childish challenges:
* Balancing on slippery stepping stones over the pond, which was unexpectedly difficult after weeks of relying on elemental movement.
* Blindfolded taste-tests of Jean's prized, exotic strawberries, which Lyra failed spectacularly by guessing 'tree bark.'
* "Find the hidden Pulse Stone" riddles among the flowers, which required tedious, non-combat focus.
Taro surprised everyone by slowing down, patiently guiding the shy Lysa through the riddle, allowing her to win her round. Kira, despite her size, crossed each hedge with elegant, precise footwork. Lyra tripped mid-sprint and immediately accused Vin of "secret foot hacks." Roy, relying too heavily on instinctual shadow-drifting, ended up tangled and mortified in a massive rosebush.
Jean helped him up, plucking a thorn from his jacket, laughing softly—the sound gentler than any battle had ever allowed. "You were too focused on the shadows," she teased. "Sometimes, the straightest path is the right one, Umbryon."
Later that afternoon, Jean led Roy into her private greenhouse—a sanctuary of glass, perfect climate control, and vibrant color.
"Every bloom here was brought by my mother from her travels," Jean said, her usual combat stiffness relaxed. "She taught me how to weave tiny, stabilizing Fluxite particles into the soil—it strengthens their inherent pulse, keeps them alive, even here."
Roy traced a finger over a glowing, deep-red leaf, feeling the subtle, controlled energy signature. "You've grown life out of raw energy. Beauty from discipline."
Jean blushed faintly, turning away to adjust a vine. "When I was trapped in the wastelands, dealing with your reckless Fluxite spikes, I dreamed of this garden. It's my calm. It reminds me that I don't just have to burn things."
"It suits you," Roy said, his gaze lingering on her. "Strong. Alive. Always burning quietly, even when you try to hide it."
Lady Elara appeared then, bringing sweet herbal tea and kind conversation. She asked Roy about his family, his dreams, and the heavy responsibility of managing his SS-potential Fluxite core. She listened as though every word truly mattered. Her warmth reminded him of something long lost—and briefly found again.
That evening, Lord Arcel invited Roy to a game of chess in his massive study. The move was a clear test of intellect and control.
"My daughter trusts you," Arcel said, eyes never leaving the polished, Pulsarite-veined board. "She never brings her friends home. Do not betray that trust, Umbryon."
Roy moved a pawn deliberately. "She's saved me more times than I've helped her, sir. I owe her my life, not just my loyalty."
Arcel's expression softened almost imperceptibly, a flicker of paternal pride in his gaze. "Then learn from her. Raw strength means little without those worth protecting—and the stability to protect them."
They played until the lanterns dimmed—Arcel winning by a narrow, calculated margin, but with clear respect in his gaze. "Good fight, son. Rest well."
Elsewhere, Kira sparred playfully with Vin beneath the ancient peach trees, practicing non-lethal, controlled Terralith pushes. Lyra taught the shy Lysa how to shape intricate water illusions over the pond. Taro discussed ancient Pulsar texts and energy routing with Jean's mother in the library.
Five peaceful days passed in laughter, shared meals, and simple joy—a rare, vital reprieve before the impending war.
It was Lyra, the Water Pulsar, who was the first to sense the disturbance—an unnatural, corrosive tremor beneath the gentle, ambient hum of the estate's well-maintained Fluxite grid.
"Jean. Roy. Wake up. Now. Someone just bypassed the third-tier ward," Lyra hissed over their emergency comms, her voice tight with suppressed fear.
Footsteps. Five precise shadows moved through the mansion's west hall, cloaked and silent, their armbands marked with the crude, burning sigil—the Vanes of Despair.
Lyra, Roy, and Jean converged in silence, tracing the intruders toward Lord Selvan's study—the vault of rare artifacts and one hidden treasure: an S-rank Fluxite Core harvested from a legendary fallen hero.
Jean's siblings were ushered into the safest cellar by Elara; Jean's flames dimmed to a low, tactical blue as the team approached.
The cultists were swift, trained, and focused—but not enough for a fully synchronized A-rank team.
Lyra's water chains seized two cultists instantly by the legs, freezing them mid-step.
Kira's shield pulsed, absorbing and redirecting a poisoned Neutron blade mid-swing.
Jean unleashed a tight ring of silent, blue flame, protecting her family's position.
Roy and Taro moved like a single, cohesive unit, pinning the leader before he could reach the antique Fluxite safe hidden behind the painting.
Lord Selvan burst into the room, his voice thundering through the chaos. "My family will not be touched! Leave this place!"
His ancient, refined Puls energy flared, shaking the very structure of the walls. The intruders faltered—their formation broken—then the leader screamed in rage.
The leader hissed through his mask: "The S-class Fluxite Core belongs to Vanes! The dawn of Aetherion begins here! We will claim the power!"
Roy's team struck in unison, utilizing their newly honed wasteland tactics, ending the fight within seconds. The cultists scattered into the night, leaving only silence—and the faint, damning smell of burnt ozone—behind.
At sunrise, Lord Selvan gathered everyone in the grand hall. Despite the attack, his composure was perfect. A large, gold-trimmed case rested at his feet.
"Roy," he said, his voice calm but imbued with pride. "You defended my home and family without hesitation, just as my daughter would. For that, you have my gratitude—and my gift. This S-rank Fluxite Core and S-rank Pulsarite energy matrix belong to you. Use them to fight what is coming."
Roy hesitated, already feeling the potent, alien energy radiating from the gift. "Sir, I already have a Fluxite bonded to me. Assimilating a core of that rank is extremely dangerous, I can't—"
Before he could finish the logical, cautious statement, his nascent Fluxite core pulsed violently in his chest, ignoring his conscious restraint. It bypassed his gauntlet and absorbed both the S-rank Core and the Pulsarite matrix on its own, glowing white-hot beneath his skin before dimming into a deep, intense crimson-blue hue.
A faint, but distinct, sound of satisfied assimilation—a quiet, resonant burp—echoed through the quiet hall.
Roy froze, utterly mortified. "Uh… that wasn't me, sir. I apologize. My core… it has poor manners."
For a long heartbeat, silence reigned—then Lady Elara laughed, a clear, beautiful sound, followed by the children, the rest of the team, and finally, Lord Selvan himself.
Arcel wiped a tear from his eye, shaking his head. "Well, Roy, your Fluxite speaks louder than you do. It has ascended to SS-rank resonance—a feat unseen in generations, and one that just ignored every safety protocol I know. Welcome to the family, son."
Jean, her eyes shining with pride and a tiny bit of envy, beamed. "Only you could make a Fluxite eat dinner in front of my family, Roy."
Roy laughed, rubbing his neck, the SS-rank warmth spreading through his chest, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Five days of peace had reforged more than strength—it had deepened trust and elevated power.
Roy's Fluxite now pulsed at SS-rank, a vibrant crimson-blue, perfectly harmonized with his dual elements. Jean's family stood behind him, no longer strangers, but allies bound by fire, laughter, and survival.
As they prepared to return to the Academy, Roy looked toward the immediate horizon.
The Vanes of Despair had made their move—and he was now the single greatest target.
The storm within his Fluxite pulsed softly, whispering its incredible hunger.
This was only the beginning.
We are now ready for Chapter 10. The Vanes have been introduced, and Roy is SS-rank.