The night after his Quirk awakened, Auron barely slept.
Each time he closed his eyes, he saw the flash of blue light, the twisted alley, and the lifeless gaze of the man who had tried to kill them.
He sat against a wall of broken bricks, Lyra curled up beside him, sleeping soundly for the first time in days. The faint glow of her purple eyes flickered under her lids, peaceful — unaware of how close they had come to death.
Auron's hand trembled slightly as he stared at his palm.
The memory replayed again: the light, the way space itself had bent, how his body had moved without thinking.
"Aetherion…" he whispered.
"If this power can protect her… then it's mine to master."
He focused, breathing slowly. A faint blue shimmer sparked between his fingers — unstable, wild. It burned his skin slightly before vanishing.
He grit his teeth. "Again."
Hour after hour, he tried to recreate the portal. Sometimes it opened for half a second — a glimpse of a swirling blue void — before collapsing. But every failure taught him something. Every flicker brought him closer to control.
By sunrise, his hands were bruised and bleeding. But his golden eyes gleamed with determination.
Days passed. Auron learned to summon aetheric blades — short-lived, weightless weapons made of the same energy that had saved them. They flickered like translucent shards of crystal, humming with raw power.
He used them to hunt rats and defend Lyra from thugs. Word began to spread among the slum dwellers — rumors of a "ghost boy with eyes of gold and light made of stars."
But survival never came easy. Food was scarce, and danger was everywhere.
Then, one stormy afternoon, the ground trembled. A powerful villain — a massive man covered in metallic plates — rampaged through the outskirts of the slums, chased by heroes.
Auron held Lyra close inside an abandoned building. "Stay here. Don't move."
"But—"
"I'll come back," he promised, eyes sharp. "I swear it."
He darted outside — and saw chaos. Buildings crumbling, people screaming. The villain towered over the wreckage, roaring as a Pro Hero tried to fight him — Eraser Head, his scarf snapping through the air.
Auron's instincts took over. He sprinted forward, gathering energy in his hands. Blue rings formed — Aether Gates — and he hurled them under the villain's feet.
The air shimmered — and in an instant, the villain's leg disappeared through a portal, reappearing above him. The force made him stumble, just long enough for Eraser Head's scarf to bind his arms.
The hero blinked in shock, scanning the ruined street — then saw Auron standing there, panting, his hands glowing faintly blue.
"Kid…" Eraser Head muttered, narrowing his eyes. "That wasn't luck, was it?"
Auron said nothing, simply nodded.
Eraser Head sighed. "You've got control. Too much for your age. What's your name?"
"Auron."
"And the girl?"
"My sister. Lyra."
He paused, assessing the boy's cold, sharp gaze — the kind of eyes that had already seen too much. "You two have nowhere to go, do you?"
Auron shook his head silently.
The hero straightened his scarf. "Come with me. I'll see what I can do. There's a school — U.A. High. You've got potential."
Lyra peeked from behind the wall, eyes wide with hope.
For the first time, Auron allowed himself to breathe. The storm passed, leaving behind the faint glow of a new beginning.
That day marked the end of the slums — and the beginning of Auron's path toward becoming a hero.
But deep inside, the same vow echoed through his mind:
"I'll rise to the top. Not for glory… but so she'll never cry again."