Chapter 2 – The Reset
Morning Scene
Jack woke with a jolt, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon in his sleep. Sweat clung to his skin, soaking the collar of his uniform shirt. For a moment, he lay there in silence, staring at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom, trying to separate dream from reality. The memory was too sharp, too vivid to be dismissed as some nightmare.
The red portal.
The girl who stepped out of it.
The clash of flame and blue light in the night sky.
Ghost's sword flashing with those glowing, mystic carvings.
The way the air had smelled—ozone and scorched brick, as if lightning and fire had collided in the same breath.
And her voice. Ghost's voice. Calm but sharp, carrying secrets he couldn't understand, speaking words in English and Japanese that sounded like both a threat and a promise.
Jack sat up slowly. The morning light trickled in through his curtains, a pale gold that touched everything with its warmth. Birds chirped outside. The faint rumble of a bus moving down the street hummed through his window. He rubbed his eyes, but when he opened them again, the world still looked… normal.
Too normal.
Last night, that alley had been scorched and torn apart. The battle had left buildings cracked and glass shattered across the pavement. But when he dared sneak out after escaping Ghost and Iris, he saw… nothing. By the time he had stumbled back toward his apartment, shaking and barely able to breathe, the city looked untouched.
And now, in the bright clarity of morning, it felt like a bad joke.
Except for the bangle.
Jack's eyes slid to his desk. It wasn't there last night—at least, not until she gave it to him. Now it lay on the wooden surface, gleaming faintly, as if its silver edges had been polished under starlight.
He reached for it. The thing was light, surprisingly so, though it hummed faintly in his hand. A thin chain of inscriptions ran around the band's edge—characters he didn't recognize, glowing faintly whenever his thumb brushed them.
Jack turned it over, remembering the words Ghost had said as she pressed it into his palm:
"It will protect you."
Protect him? From Iris? From assassins? From whatever the hell that world was?
He stood, moving toward his window. The neighborhood outside stretched in its usual monotony. The bakery across the street already had its doors open. An old man on a bicycle pedaled past with a basket full of newspapers. Kids in uniforms gathered at the corner for the morning walk to school.
Normal. Every damn thing looked normal.
Jack clenched the bangle. His stomach twisted.
"Am I losing my mind?" he muttered to himself.
The door creaked.
"Talking to yourself again?"
Jack spun. His cousin Theo leaned against the doorframe, his tie half-done, shirt untucked. Same age, same school, same mess of bed hair. Theo smirked, then jabbed his chin toward the bangle.
"New accessory? Doesn't look like your style."
Jack hesitated. "It's… nothing." He slipped the bangle into his pocket.
Theo raised a brow. "That so? You were muttering like you just saw a ghost."
Jack stiffened at the word. Ghost. Blue Phoenix. The memory slammed into him again, so vivid he had to grip the desk to steady himself.
Theo studied him for a moment, then shrugged and started fixing his tie in the mirror. "Well, hurry up. If we're late again, Mr. Kenzou's gonna roast us alive."
Jack's lips twitched. The world could collapse, assassins could duel above their heads, portals could open in alleys, but school still demanded punctuality.
As they walked together down the street, Theo's chatter filled the silence—soccer tryouts, rumors about a new transfer student, complaints about homework. Jack answered in half-hearted murmurs, his attention stuck on every detail of the morning.
The cracked pavement by the old alley? Fixed.
The shattered glass from last night's windows? Gone.
The scorch marks on the walls? Nonexistent.
It was as if the world had pressed a reset button.
Jack's grip on the bangle tightened in his pocket.
He almost wanted to blurt everything out to Theo—about the red dragon assassin, the blue phoenix, the portal—but the words wouldn't come. How could he explain it without sounding insane? And deep down, something in his gut warned him: don't talk.
When they reached the school gates, Jack paused. Dozens of students swarmed the courtyard, the usual mix of morning laughter, greetings, and yawns. But today he noticed something strange. Something he hadn't before.
On a few wrists, faint marks glowed—subtle designs hidden beneath bracelets or half-covered tattoos. Some shimmered red, others green, blue, or gold. At first he thought it was a trick of the sun, but the longer he stared, the clearer they became.
The assassin clans.
Jack's stomach dropped. He counted at least ten different kinds of faintly glowing marks as his classmates milled about, laughing and joking as if nothing was wrong. His blood ran cold.
And then, his eyes froze on her.
Standing near the entrance, sunlight tangled in her dark hair, was Ghost.
Except… she wasn't Ghost. She was just a girl.
Or at least, that's how she looked.
Her uniform was crisp, her expression calm, her bag slung neatly over one shoulder. But Jack knew those eyes. The same sharp, calculating blue that had glared at him in the alley.
The same lips that had spoken those cryptic words before clashing with Iris.
She wasn't just some random transfer student. She was Ghost. The Blue Phoenix.
And she was standing here in his school.
Jack stumbled back, his throat going dry.
Theo frowned. "What's wrong?"
Jack opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Ghost's gaze flicked toward him for the briefest second. Not long enough for anyone else to notice, but long enough for Jack to feel his knees weaken. Her expression didn't change. She turned back to the teacher who was welcoming her, calm and collected, as if last night had never happened.
But Jack knew better.
The School Courtyard
The school courtyard was alive with the usual morning chaos—dozens of students moving in all directions, the sound of laughter and arguments mingling with the shrill ring of the homeroom bell. But to Jack, the courtyard felt different now.
No, not different. Exposed.
He couldn't unsee it anymore.
The faint glowing marks. The strange accessories. The subtle exchanges between certain students. It was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Where before he saw nothing but classmates, now he saw predators disguised as teenagers.
A boy from the basketball team brushed past, his wristband slipping just enough to reveal the faint outline of a crimson scale burned into his skin—Dragon Clan. Another girl near the vending machines fiddled with a necklace that gleamed faintly like a shard of emerald—Green Griffin. And on the far steps, a tall senior leaned against the railing with a smirk, his leather bracelet glowing faintly with storm-gray sparks—Thunder Wolf.
Jack's stomach tightened. They were everywhere.
And none of them looked the least bit ordinary anymore.
"Yo, Jack," Theo's voice snapped him out of his trance. "You're staring like you just found out half the school's secretly royalty or something."
Jack forced a laugh. "Y-yeah. Something like that."
Theo squinted at him. "You sure you're okay?"
Jack opened his mouth to reply, but then froze.
She was walking toward him.
Ghost—or whatever her name was here—was crossing the courtyard with calm, deliberate steps. She blended perfectly with the uniform crowd, but Jack knew her too well now. The way her gaze flicked across every corner of the courtyard, measuring exits and threats, was nothing like the relaxed expressions of the other students. She was studying. Assessing. Just like she had in battle.
And then her eyes landed on him.
For the briefest moment, time froze.
Her gaze locked with his, and Jack's breath caught in his throat. She didn't blink, didn't flinch, didn't betray even a flicker of recognition to anyone watching. But Jack felt it—the silent acknowledgment, the unspoken warning: Say nothing.
Then she passed by as though he were a stranger.
Jack's heart hammered against his ribs.
"Damn," Theo muttered beside him, grinning. "New transfer's a total knockout. You think she's single?"
Jack swallowed hard. "Don't."
Theo laughed. "Don't what? Dude, I'm not asking her out for you. Unless…" He smirked, nudging Jack's shoulder. "You like her?"
Jack turned sharply, glaring at him. "Theo. Drop it."
Theo blinked at his tone, then raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Chill, man."
But Jack couldn't chill. Not when he felt eyes on him.
Not just hers.
From the far corner of the courtyard, a group of students stood slightly apart from the crowd, their uniforms crisp, their posture sharper than most. They didn't laugh or mingle—they watched. Their eyes weren't on the teachers, or on the new girl, or on the morning announcements. They were on him.
Jack shifted uncomfortably, his hand brushing the bangle in his pocket. The air felt heavier around those students. Predatory. Their gazes weren't curious—they were calculating, as if they were waiting for something to slip.
The Green Griffin Clan.
He remembered them from last night—the way they had perched above the alley, watching, silent as statues. Their leader's aura had reminded him of something wild, something dangerous. Like Sanemi, from those anime Theo always binged, but real.
And now, here they were, just standing by the courtyard fountain as if they were normal classmates.
Jack looked away quickly, trying to calm his breathing. Don't stand out. Don't attract attention.
The morning assembly began, and the principal droned about grades, behavior, and upcoming exams. But Jack barely heard a word. He kept glancing around, mapping the courtyard in his mind. Every clan was here—he was sure of it now. Each one marked in subtle ways: a colored streak in the hair, a faintly glowing tattoo, an earring shaped like a fang, a bracelet humming with strange light.
Ten clans. Ten factions. All under one roof, pretending to be students.
Jack's thoughts churned. How long has this been going on? Have they been fighting every night while we all slept, then erasing it by morning? And why me? Why did Ghost give me this?
His fingers tightened around the bangle again.
"Oi, Jack," Theo whispered, elbowing him. "You're sweating bullets, man. Chill out. It's just morning assembly."
"Yeah," Jack muttered. But his eyes betrayed him, flicking once more toward Ghost.
She didn't look back this time. She stood calmly with the other students, hands folded neatly in front of her, as if she had never drawn a glowing blade in her life. But the faint shimmer of blue around her wrist told him otherwise.
She was waiting.
And Jack had no idea whether she was waiting to protect him… or to kill him.
The morning assembly droned on, but Jack's mind was elsewhere. His eyes scanned the crowd with growing paranoia, noticing things he shouldn't have been able to notice.
On the far side of the courtyard, near the gym doors, a group of boys jostled each other with too much force to be normal. Their laughter was edged with menace, their movements sharp, like coiled springs ready to snap. The tallest among them—a wiry figure with silver-dyed hair and a fang-shaped earring—grinned as he shoved another boy so hard he skidded a few feet back without stumbling. The crowd around them didn't even react, as if it were just boys being boys.
But Jack saw the faint crackle of electricity that ran along the silver-haired boy's knuckles.
Thunder Wolf Clan.
Closer to the vending machines, two girls whispered to each other. Their voices were low, conspiratorial. When one leaned in to laugh, Jack caught a glimpse of her eyes—they glowed faintly purple for the briefest moment, like an echo of stars. Her friend wore an odd ring, etched with markings that seemed to shift like moving sand. He felt a strange weight pressing at his temples when he looked at them too long.
Mirror Clan… maybe?
Near the back, lounging against the staircase, were two students who stood apart even though they weren't trying. Both wore their uniforms loose, ties hanging, sleeves rolled up. One flicked a lighter open and shut in his hand, though no flame ever appeared. The other had a thin chain wrapped twice around his wrist, the links humming faintly like they carried an unseen current.
Jack swallowed. Blaze Fangs. He didn't know how he knew the name, but it felt right.
The courtyard wasn't a school anymore. It was an arena, disguised in daylight. A fragile peace in pressed uniforms.
Theo nudged him again, whispering, "Seriously, what are you staring at? You look like you're waiting for someone to throw a grenade."
Jack forced a laugh. "Something like that."
But his eyes kept darting toward the new girl—Ghost.
She didn't fidget like other transfer students usually did. She didn't smile awkwardly or glance nervously at the teachers. Instead, she stood perfectly composed, posture relaxed yet alert, eyes occasionally flicking across the crowd like a hawk. She wasn't looking for friends. She was looking for enemies.
Jack's grip tightened around the bangle in his pocket.
The Transfer Student
When assembly ended, the students dispersed in a rush, heading toward classrooms. Jack tried to blend with the crowd, but fate had other plans.
As he slipped toward the west corridor, someone blocked his path.
"Morning," a calm, unfamiliar voice said.
Jack froze.
She was standing right in front of him. Ghost—though here, she wasn't Ghost. She was just the new girl.
Her uniform was immaculate, skirt length exact to regulation, shirt pressed with no crease. But it was her eyes that unsettled him most. Up close, they were sharper, brighter, than he remembered. Not the glowing blaze of a phoenix mid-battle, but something restrained—like fire caged behind glass.
Jack opened his mouth, but words caught in his throat.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're Jack, aren't you?"
His heart skipped. "Uh—yeah. How do you—"
"Names travel fast," she said simply, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I'm Reika."
Reika. So that was her cover.
Theo appeared at Jack's side at the worst possible moment, grinning wide. "Hey, new girl. I'm Theo. If you need a guide around here, I'm your guy." He winked.
Reika's gaze flicked to Theo, impassive. "Noted."
Then her eyes returned to Jack. Piercing. Silent.
Jack felt like she was burning a warning into his mind without saying a word: Do not speak of last night.
"W-we should get to class," Jack stammered, stepping quickly past her.
But as he brushed by, Reika whispered so softly only he could hear:
"You shouldn't have been there."
Jack froze mid-step.
When he turned to look at her, she was already walking away, blending into the crowd of students as if she'd never spoken at all.
Theo gave Jack a puzzled look. "Dude, what was that? You look like you just saw a ghost."
Jack swallowed hard. "Yeah… something like that."
But deep inside, he knew the truth.
He had seen a ghost. And now she was in his class.
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and disinfectant, a comforting mix Jack had grown used to. Usually, he took the seat near the back, close enough to the window to zone out during long lectures. Today, though, there was no zoning out.
Because she was here.
Reika—the girl who was Ghost, the girl who had fought with wings of fire and a blade of light—walked in behind the teacher, a quiet hush following her. Even the usual chatter of students dipped into whispers.
"Class," the teacher announced, "this is Reika Hanamura. She transferred here from… abroad. I expect you to make her feel welcome."
Her voice was calm, but Jack caught the hesitation in the teacher's tone. Abroad? That wasn't a country. That was a smokescreen.
Reika bowed slightly. "It's nice to meet you all."
Jack's skin prickled. He remembered her voice shouting in Japanese as sparks flew from her blade, her battle cry echoing through the alley. Hearing it now—so gentle, so polite—felt surreal.
"Seat her anywhere," the teacher said, scanning the room. Her gaze landed near the back. "Next to Jack. There's space."
Jack's heart stopped.
Students turned to look at him, smirking, whispering, nudging. A few shot him knowing grins, as if the universe had just gifted him the jackpot. Jack wished the floor would open and swallow him whole.
Reika walked down the aisle without hesitation, her footsteps quiet but deliberate. When she reached his desk, she slid into the empty chair beside him with grace that was almost inhuman.
Jack kept his eyes on the board, but every nerve in his body screamed. He could feel her presence radiating beside him, the faintest heat, like sitting next to a fire that didn't burn.
As the teacher launched into the lesson, Jack dared a sideways glance.
Reika wasn't taking notes. She wasn't even pretending to pay attention. Her eyes scanned the room with precision, lingering a fraction longer on certain students—ones Jack had noticed earlier in the courtyard. Thunder Wolf. Mirror Clan. Blaze Fang.
It wasn't random. She was mapping the battlefield.
Suddenly, her gaze flicked to him. Their eyes met.
Jack jerked his attention back to his notebook, scribbling nonsense just to look busy. His ears burned.
But then, so faintly he almost thought he imagined it, he heard her whisper:
"You kept the bangle."
Jack's hand instinctively brushed his pocket.
"Yes," he murmured under his breath, lips barely moving.
Her voice was low, but firm. "Good. Don't take it off. Ever."
Jack swallowed. He didn't ask why. He already knew.
A paper ball smacked the back of his head. "Yo, lover boy," someone snickered from the other side of the room. "Don't hog the transfer student."
Laughter rippled. The teacher scolded, order restored. But the damage was done. Jack's face flushed crimson.
Reika didn't react. She kept her eyes forward, posture unshaken. But under the desk, Jack swore he saw her hand twitch slightly, as if resisting the urge to draw a weapon that wasn't there.
Jack's thoughts spun. She's here. In my school. In my class. Sitting right next to me.
And if the other clans noticed too… then things were about to get dangerous.
Urban Legends & Police Eyes
Lunch break was always noisy, but today it felt louder, almost overwhelming. Jack and Theo sat by the window, trays balanced on their laps. Reika sat across the room, surrounded by curious classmates. She answered their questions politely, but her smile never quite reached her eyes.
Theo leaned in, whispering. "So, did you notice? People are acting like it's normal, but the courtyard's crawling with… you know. Weirdos."
Jack blinked. "What do you mean?"
Theo lowered his voice even more. "Don't play dumb. You've heard the rumors, right? About the city resetting?"
Jack's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Resetting?"
Theo nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah. Like, every night there's chaos—explosions, fires, screams. People swear they see monsters, even students fighting like superheroes. But then, poof. Next morning, it's all gone. Streets fixed. Windows unbroken. Like nothing ever happened."
Jack's stomach turned. Theo wasn't joking. He'd seen it firsthand now.
"And get this," Theo added. "They say there's a special police unit that knows the truth. They've got… talismans, gadgets, whatever. Stuff that lets them remember while everyone else forgets."
Jack glanced across the cafeteria, and that's when he noticed them.
Two teachers, sitting together at the far end. Their conversation was casual, but their wrists gleamed with faint metal bangles—different from watches or jewelry. Subtle, but Jack recognized the design. Not identical to his own, but close.
His chest tightened.
Theo followed his gaze. "Yeah. Those two. People say they're not really teachers. More like undercover cops. Watching. Waiting for… whatever the hell's going on."
Jack forced himself to look away, stabbing at his food. His thoughts spiraled. If they know… if the clans know… then I'm stuck in the middle of all of this.
Across the cafeteria, Reika's eyes met his again. Sharp. Unwavering. Almost as if to remind him: You're not imagining this. And now, you can't run.
The cafeteria smelled of fried food and steam, voices rising in a chaotic orchestra of clattering trays and laughter. Jack sat by the far window with Theo, trying to eat, but every bite felt heavy in his mouth. His thoughts swirled around the morning—Reika, the classroom whispers, the bangle pulsing faintly in his pocket.
Theo slurped his juice noisily, oblivious to Jack's unease. "So, you're sitting next to her, huh? The transfer student? Dude, jackpot. Half the class is jealous."
Jack groaned. "She's just… new."
Theo grinned. "Uh-huh. And I'm just a normal student who hasn't seen her glare straight through people like she's measuring how fast she could stab them."
Jack froze. "…You noticed that?"
"Of course I noticed! Everyone noticed. She's like… perfect on the outside, but something about her screams 'don't mess with me.' And you—" Theo jabbed his fork at Jack "—are sitting next to her like it's no big deal."
Jack muttered, "It's a very big deal."
Theo leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen, man. You've heard the stories, right? About the city?"
Jack hesitated. "Stories?"
Theo's grin faded. "Come on. Don't play dumb. Every week, people swear they hear explosions, see flashes of light, whole streets getting wrecked. Some say it's gangs, others say… monsters. But when morning comes? Everything's fixed. No damage, no proof. Like it never happened."
Jack's throat tightened. He remembered the heat of Iris's blade, the blinding blue fire of Ghost's wings. He remembered almost dying.
Theo didn't stop. His voice dropped lower, a little shaky. "And the worst part? Some people remember. Just fragments, like nightmares. Others? Nothing at all. But there's this rumor… there's a unit. Special cops or agents or something. They know the truth. They've been fighting it for years."
Jack frowned. "Cops?"
Theo pointed subtly with his fork toward the far end of the cafeteria. "See them?"
Two "teachers" sat at a corner table. One pretended to grade papers, the other skimmed through his phone. They blended in perfectly—too perfectly. But on their wrists gleamed metal bands, faintly pulsing with soft blue light.
Jack's heart dropped. The bangles. Not identical to the one Reika had given him, but close enough to be kin.
Theo whispered, "Word is, those aren't teachers. They're undercover. Watching. Protecting the school. Or maybe spying. Who knows?"
Jack's hand brushed against his pocket, feeling the cool curve of his bangle. He looked back at the men, and one of them—just for a second—lifted his head. Their eyes met.
Jack jerked his gaze away, heart hammering.
Theo, oblivious, kept talking. "So yeah. Resetting city. Secret cops. Weird transfer students. I'm telling you, man, something's going on."
Before Jack could reply, a shadow fell over their table.
"Something is going on."
Jack looked up. A boy stood there—tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform messy but deliberate, like he didn't care about school rules. A scar traced down his cheek, and his eyes gleamed a fierce, predatory green.
Theo paled. "Oh, crap…"
Jack recognized him. Not from class, not exactly, but from whispers. A senior. A fighter. The kind people avoided in the halls. And on his wrist, almost hidden beneath his sleeve, was a band of emerald metal, engraved with talons.
Green Griffin.
The boy smirked. "You're sitting with her. The Phoenix." His voice was low, but it carried weight, making Jack's skin crawl. "That makes you interesting."
Reika, across the cafeteria, turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing. For a moment, the world felt like a battlefield again, tension coiled and ready to snap.
The boy leaned closer to Jack. "Careful who you hang around with, newbie. You might end up dead without even knowing why."
He tapped the table once, then walked away, leaving the air heavy behind him.
Theo muttered, "We're screwed. Totally screwed."
Jack swallowed hard, his hand tightening on the bangle in his pocket. He knew Theo was right. But worse than that—he knew the boy was right too.
The Mark of Green Griffin
The final bell rang, scattering students like birds freed from a cage. Jack tried to slip out unnoticed, but the halls felt different. Heavy. Watching. Every face, every laugh, every step echoed louder than usual.
Reika walked ahead, her expression calm, but Jack noticed her hand brushing the strap of her bag, always ready. She didn't look back at him, but somehow, he felt tethered to her.
Theo peeled off toward the bus stop, muttering about homework. Jack envied him. He envied anyone who could pretend this was just another day.
But as he turned down the side street toward home, he knew he wasn't alone.
The sound came first—a low rustle, like wings brushing against stone. Then a shadow flickered across the rooftops.
Jack froze.
From the alley ahead, three figures stepped out. Students. Older, stronger, each wearing the same emerald band. Their eyes glowed faintly, predatory like hawks.
Green Griffin.
The one in front—the boy from the cafeteria—smirked. "Told you we'd be watching, Jack. The Phoenix's little pet."
Jack's heart pounded. "I'm not—"
"Doesn't matter what you are." The boy cracked his knuckles, and for a moment, Jack swore he saw wings—massive, spectral griffin wings—flare behind him, shimmering green before vanishing. "What matters is what you've seen. What you're carrying."
Jack's hand tightened around the bangle.
Another Griffin member chuckled. "Boss wants to test him. See if he survives the hunt."
The leader grinned. "Don't worry, kid. We won't kill you. Not yet. But by the time we're done, you'll wish you were dead."
The air shimmered, the world around them suddenly darker, sharper—like the boundary between reality and the battlefield was tearing.
Jack realized with a jolt of terror: the reset was beginning. And this time, he was the target.
The air felt wrong. Too heavy for an ordinary evening, too sharp for an empty street. Jack could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears as the three Green Griffin students closed in. Their emerald bangles pulsed faintly, synchronizing like drums before war.
The leader stepped forward, his grin all teeth. The fading sunlight caught on the scar across his cheek, making it look like a claw mark.
"You feel it, don't you?" he asked. His voice was calm, too calm. "The shift. The tearing. That's the boundary breaking. Soon, everything around us will be different. Cleaner. Sharper. Like the world's skin peeled back to show its true bones."
And then it happened.
The street lights above flickered, then blew out with a hiss. Shadows thickened unnaturally, wrapping around the walls. The world shuddered, and in the blink of an eye, the street was gone.
Jack gasped. They were still in the city—but not. The pavement glowed faintly beneath his feet, runes etched in light stretching into infinity. The buildings around them warped, their edges jagged, their windows black voids. Above, the sky boiled with storm clouds split by emerald lightning.
The Reset.
Jack stumbled backward. "What the hell—"
"Welcome to the true stage," the leader said. His grin widened, and with a pulse of green light, spectral griffin wings flared behind him—vast, powerful, feathers sharp as blades. The other two mirrored him, their own wings unfurling in shades of glowing emerald.
Jack's knees went weak.
"You don't belong here," the leader said, drawing a curved blade etched with talon-like runes. "But since the Phoenix gave you her bangle… you're part of the game now."
The other two moved in, circling him like predators.
Jack's hand gripped the bangle in his pocket so hard it dug into his skin. His breath came fast. He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't trained. He was just a kid.
"Don't worry," one of them sneered, summoning a spear that shimmered with green fire. "We won't kill you. We'll just… clip your wings before they even grow."
The leader lunged.
Jack barely moved in time. The blade slashed past his chest, sparks flying as it grazed the edge of his school bag. He stumbled, panic flooding his veins, and sprinted down the glowing street.
Laughter followed him.
"Run, little prey! Run!"
The world blurred. His legs pumped, his lungs burned, but the Green Griffins were faster. One leapt from a warped lamppost, wings spread wide, landing in front of him with a crash.
Jack skidded to a halt, his heart screaming in his chest. The bangle in his hand pulsed—once, twice, harder now, as though it knew he was in danger.
The leader approached slowly, blade resting on his shoulder. "Do you feel it? The bangle wants to wake. Wants to protect you. But you don't know how to call it."
Jack raised it instinctively, though his hands trembled. "Stay back!"
The leader chuckled. "Pathetic."
He raised his blade—
—and fire exploded between them.
Blue fire.
Jack shielded his eyes from the blast of light. When he looked again, Ghost stood there, her assassin form gleaming, her sword ignited with runes. Her wings of azure flame unfurled behind her, feathers drifting like burning snow.
Her voice cut like steel. "Back away from him."
The Green Griffins hissed, their smiles fading.
"Phoenix," the leader said, narrowing his eyes. "Protecting a weakling? He's dead weight. You'll drag yourself down."
Ghost's eyes never left him. "Touch him, and I'll burn your wings to ash."
The leader snarled, his griffin wings flaring wider. The other two spread out, surrounding them both.
Jack's breath hitched. He could feel it again—the tension, the weight of the battlefield. Only this time, he wasn't a bystander. He was in the center of it.
Ghost shifted slightly, keeping him behind her. But her stance was strained; three against one wasn't fair, even for her.
The leader smirked. "Fine. Let's see if your fire can outlast our storm."
And with a roar, the battle began.
The Reset world pulsed around them—streets glowing with runes, skyscrapers warped into jagged silhouettes, the sky boiling with emerald lightning. Jack could feel it pressing down on him, the way a storm presses before it breaks.
The Green Griffin assassins moved as one, emerald wings slicing through the air, eyes glowing like predators locked on prey. Their leader—scarred cheek, curved blade—was the first to strike. His sword came down in a green arc, the weight of thunder behind it.
But Ghost was already moving.
Blue flames exploded outward as her phoenix wings unfurled, shielding Jack in a dome of fire. Sparks hissed against the green blade, and the clash sent shockwaves rippling through the warped city.
Jack stumbled back, his ears ringing. His heart screamed in his chest. Every clash of steel was deafening, every blast of light blinding.
"Stay behind me!" Ghost snapped, her voice low but sharp. She met the leader's blade with her own, their swords locked, sparks raining. The runes on her sword pulsed like a heartbeat, pushing against the emerald glow.
The other two Griffins dove in. One hurled a spear crackling with green fire; Ghost spun, deflecting it midair, feathers of azure flame scattering like embers. The second circled above, wings slashing through the warped sky as he rained down shards of green light like arrows.
Jack dropped to his knees, covering his head as shards peppered the ground, searing through the glowing runes beneath his feet. The bangle in his hand pulsed—hotter now, brighter, burning against his skin.
He looked at it. It wasn't just glowing. It was alive.
The leader lunged again, blade aimed straight for Ghost's chest. She twisted, parried, then shoved Jack aside just as a second spear slammed into the ground where he had been standing. The shockwave hurled him against a wall, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Through blurred vision, he saw Ghost fighting all three at once. Blue fire whirled, her sword a streak of light. But the Griffins pressed harder, their wings slashing, their weapons flashing. For every strike she blocked, two more came.
Jack's breath came ragged. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. The fear was too heavy.
But the bangle kept burning.
It pulsed harder. Harder. His veins lit faintly blue, like rivers of light beneath his skin. He gasped, clutching his arm, his vision swimming.
"What—what's happening—"
Ghost's eyes flicked toward him, just for an instant. And in that instant, the leader's blade slipped past her guard.
Steel sliced her shoulder. She staggered back, blood burning blue against her skin.
Jack screamed. The bangle blazed in response.
A shockwave erupted from him—blue fire and raw light blasting outward in a circle. The ground cracked, runes flaring brighter. The Griffins were hurled back, wings thrashing as they caught themselves midair. Even Ghost stumbled, shielding her eyes.
When the light dimmed, Jack was on his knees, gasping, the bangle still glowing but calmer now. Wisps of blue flame curled around his body, fading slowly.
The leader wiped blood from his lip where the blast had struck him. His grin was wider than ever.
"Well, well," he said, voice rough with excitement. "The prey has teeth."
Ghost staggered to her feet, clutching her wound, sword still burning in her hand. She moved to stand between Jack and the Griffins again.
But the air shifted. A deep hum rolled through the Reset world. The sky rippled, and with a thunderous crack, the world around them began to unravel—streets peeling away into light, shadows retreating into nothing.
The Reset was ending.
The leader snarled, wings folding back. "Another time, Phoenix. The boy is marked now." His eyes lingered on Jack, burning with promise. "He belongs to the hunt."
And with that, the Griffins dissolved into green sparks, vanishing into the unraveling sky.
Ghost turned, kneeling beside Jack. Her hand, bloodied, pressed against his shoulder. Her voice was tight but urgent.
"Listen to me. Don't tell anyone. Don't take that bangle off. And no matter what happens… trust me."
Jack's vision blurred. His breath came shallow, his body trembling. The last thing he saw before collapsing into darkness was Ghost's burning blue eyes.
And then the Reset folded back into silence.
Chapter 3 – The Hunt
The Morning After
The alarm clock screamed at him again, the same shrill tone it had used every morning for years, but this time it didn't sound ordinary. It sounded too normal. Like a false note in a song he'd only just realized was off-key.
Jack silenced it with a heavy hand, then sat up, breath already shallow. His head swam. His throat was dry. Every muscle ached, as though he'd been thrown down a flight of stairs.
He blinked into the dim light filtering through his curtains. Posters of old video games and sci-fi movies hung crooked on his walls. His desk overflowed with papers, homework he hadn't touched. His school uniform draped over the chair in a crumpled mess.
Ordinary. Completely, painfully ordinary.
Except…
He turned his wrist.
The bangle was still there.
Jack's breath hitched. The thing clung to him like it had grown roots under his skin, faint blue filaments pulsing outward like veins of light. He tugged at it once, twice—three times, desperate enough to dig his nails into his own arm. It didn't budge. The skin around it prickled, not painful but alive, as though it recognized his touch and resisted.
He stumbled across the room to his mirror. His reflection stared back, bleary-eyed and pale. He expected to look the same—ordinary Jack, the boy nobody really noticed at school. But his arm betrayed him. Even under the morning gloom, faint glowing threads traced from the bangle, branching like lightning frozen under the skin.
"No…" Jack whispered. His voice cracked. "It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real."
He remembered everything anyway.
The red dragon and the blue phoenix tearing the night apart.
The portal that split reality open.
The clash of swords that sounded like thunder.
And the way Ghost had shoved him aside, blade burning, just before Iris's strike could've ended him.
The chase. The rooftop. The fire.
It wasn't a dream.
Jack braced both palms against the mirror, staring himself down. He wanted his reflection to laugh at him, to prove him crazy. But the boy in the glass didn't laugh. He only looked afraid.
"Damn it…" Jack muttered, covering the bangle with his sleeve.
A knock jolted him. "Jack? You awake?" his aunt called from the hallway. "Breakfast is on the table. You'll be late if you don't hurry."
His heart jumped to his throat. He yanked his sleeve down tighter. "Y-Yeah! I'm coming!"
Silence. Then footsteps faded.
Jack sagged against the mirror, the bangle pulsing faintly in sync with his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and whispered: "What the hell did you do to me, Ghost?"
Breakfast was awkward. His aunt fussed about his messy hair, his uniform, his grades. Jack mumbled answers, eyes darting to the TV in the corner. The news showed nothing about last night. No destroyed streets, no firestorms, no glowing feathers littering the asphalt. Just traffic updates, weather, and an ad for some new energy drink.
The Reset had worked. The world had been rewritten again.
Only the bangle remained.
At school, everything looked maddeningly normal. The front gate stood tall, unmarred by flame or feathers. Students streamed in, gossiping, laughing, shoving each other around. Jack kept his hands shoved in his pockets, his sleeve pulled down as far as it would go. Every sound grated against him.
Then he noticed it.
A boy from his math class walked by, laughing with his friends. On his wrist—just for a second—Jack saw it: the faint outline of a silver hawk etched into his skin, glowing when the sunlight hit it. Another student had a green ribbon tied loosely to her bag strap, shimmering with a shade too bright to be natural. And one of the soccer captains turned his head and for a flicker of a heartbeat, his shadow wasn't his own—it stretched long and clawed, then snapped back.
Jack stopped in the middle of the walkway, stomach dropping.
They were here. Everywhere.
Every clan. Every assassin. They were students—his classmates, his rivals on the field, the ones he'd shared lunch with or passed in the hallway for years. Only now he could see them, their marks betraying their allegiance.
The bangle pulsed again, faint but insistent.
For the first time in his life, Jack realized he wasn't invisible anymore.
The Longest Day
Jack Reed had never hated a school day more in his life.
From the moment he walked through the gates, he felt the world pressing in. It wasn't the usual dread of a pop quiz or the heaviness of homework piling up. It was sharper, stranger—like stepping into a room where everyone knew a secret and he was the only one who didn't.
Except he did know.
He knew too much.
The bangle beneath his sleeve thrummed steadily, an unwanted heartbeat he couldn't quiet. Every pulse made him hyperaware of the students around him, their laughter, their chatter, their casual touches. He watched their wrists, their shadows, their movements. And the more he looked, the more he saw.
A boy balancing a soccer ball on his knee—the faint outline of a crimson dragon coiled across his arm before it blinked out. A girl adjusting her hair—the glimmer of scales just under her skin, like a trick of light. Another student opened his locker, and for half a second Jack swore the hinges bled shadows instead of squeaking.
It was everywhere.
The school wasn't just a school. It was a battlefield disguised in concrete and fluorescent lights.
Jack gripped the strap of his backpack tighter. His mind screamed: Act normal. Act normal.
But normal felt impossible when you could see the monsters under the masks.
By second period, Jack was sweating through his uniform. His pen tapped nervously against the desk while Mr. Takeda droned about algebra. The other students seemed calm enough, scribbling notes or slumping half-asleep. But Jack's eyes kept darting across the classroom.
Third row: a boy with hair too white to be natural, sketching idly in his notebook. The drawing wasn't doodles—it was schematics. Weapons, etched with runes, sharp enough to cut the page.
Near the window: a girl with gold-rimmed glasses humming under her breath. Each note left a faint shimmer in the air, visible only for an instant before vanishing.
And in the very back—
Her.
The transfer student.
Ghost.
She sat straight-backed, hair tied in a neat braid, uniform perfectly crisp. To anyone else, she was just another shy new arrival. But Jack couldn't forget the way her sword had caught the moonlight, couldn't unsee the blue fire in her eyes when she faced Iris.
And now she was scribbling notes like everyone else, as though she hadn't tried to carve through a dragon's throat less than 24 hours ago.
Jack tore his gaze away, pulse quickening. If she looked up and caught him staring, he was dead.
But curiosity clawed at him.
Why was she here? Why pretend to be normal? Did she know he was watching? Did she know he remembered?
The bangle buzzed faintly, as if answering for her.
Lunchtime didn't help.
The cafeteria was loud, crowded, chaotic—but Jack only felt more exposed. Every corner of the room hummed with energy he couldn't ignore. A group of seniors laughed too hard, their shadows stretching unnaturally against the floor. The debate club president ate calmly at the center table, his fork glowing faintly green each time he raised it.
Jack shoved food into his mouth without tasting it, trying to blend in.
Across the room, Ghost sat alone.
Not isolated—students drifted toward her, curious about the transfer, but she gave polite, short answers that discouraged further questions. She was building a wall around herself, brick by brick. And still, her eyes scanned the room every few seconds, sharp and precise, like a soldier on patrol.
Their gazes almost met once. Jack dropped his spoon and bent over his tray until his face nearly touched the food. His ears burned.
"Smooth," he muttered.
When he finally risked a glance up, Ghost was already looking elsewhere.
The rest of the day stretched endlessly. Jack forced himself through classes, taking notes he wouldn't remember, pretending to laugh when his friends joked. But his mind kept circling back to the same realization:
The Reset wasn't perfect.
He could see too much.
And the clans weren't asleep. They were waiting.
By the final bell, Jack's nerves were raw. He lingered at his locker, shoving books into his bag with shaking hands. The hallway emptied slowly, footsteps echoing down the tiled corridor.
That's when the bangle pulsed harder.
He froze.
The light overhead flickered. His reflection in the locker warped, the edges bending as though the metal were water. A cold draft swept through the hall, carrying the faint scent of smoke.
Jack's throat tightened.
Not yet. Not again.
But the sun was dipping outside, and as the last rays slipped below the horizon, the silence he hated most returned. The silence that lied.
The barrier was thinning.
He wasn't ready.
And the night was coming.
The First Clash at Night
The first thing Jack noticed was not the darkness.
It was the sound.
A low, vibrating hum that started in the pit of his stomach and rose into his ears until it was all he could hear. At first he thought it was the school generator giving out again—those rusted machines behind the gym always made weird noises at night. But when the lights began to stutter, when the air turned thick and dry in his lungs, when the floor itself seemed to shift beneath his sneakers—he knew it wasn't the generator.
Something had arrived.
Glass burst above him in a spray of sharp glitter. Jack threw his arms up, stumbling back as the corridor lamps went black. The only illumination came from the thin crescent moon through the windows, and even that seemed dimmer than it should have been, like the night was swallowing it whole.
The hum deepened. The bangle on his wrist grew hot, branding his skin.
Not again. Please not again.
But his body already knew.
He sprinted.
The school twisted around him as he ran. Lockers bulged as though hands pressed out from inside them. Classrooms groaned, their windows fogging over with spiderwebs of frost. The very walls seemed alive—breathing in, exhaling smoke.
He cut through the stairwell two at a time, sneakers slamming against the steps. His pulse drummed so loud it blurred with the hum. His chest was already tight, lungs gasping like he'd swallowed smoke.
When he burst out into the courtyard, the world had changed.
The sky was broken.
A jagged red tear split across the horizon, wide enough to reveal another sky beneath it: a furious storm of fire and shadow, lightning crawling like veins across endless black. The air smelled of brimstone, sulfur, blood. The ground trembled with every pulse from above.
The soccer field warped into blackened glass. The flagpole screeched as it bent sideways, metal screaming until it resembled a pike driven into the earth. The world Jack knew was… gone.
And from the tear, she descended.
Iris.
The Red Dragon assassin landed soundlessly on the cracked turf, her coat snapping like a banner in the dead wind. Her blade gleamed, red as molten iron, runes glowing faintly against its surface. Each step she took left a smear of heat on the ground.
Her gaze cut straight to him.
"There you are."
Jack staggered back until his shoulders hit the concrete edge of the bleachers. His throat locked. His heart kicked wildly, like it wanted to punch out of his ribs.
Not again. Not again.
Her eyes softened—not with kindness, but with certainty. "Don't be afraid. It'll be quick."
She raised her sword.
The ground erupted in blue fire.
Ghost fell from the roof in a blaze of sparks, kneeling with one palm to the ground, her silver blade glowing like captured lightning. The aura around her was so bright, so alive, it pushed Iris's flames back an inch.
Her voice was soft but sharp enough to cut steel. "Step away."
Iris tilted her head, lips curling. "Still guarding him? Even after last night?"
"He is not yours to kill."
"Oh?" Iris's tone dripped with mockery. "He saw us. He saw everything. You know the rules."
The temperature spiked as Iris's sword lifted higher, flames dripping from its edge. Ghost's blade answered with a pulse of blue light, silver etchings flaring across its surface like veins.
And Jack—Jack stood frozen in between, his pulse caught in his throat.
They moved.
Too fast for his eyes to follow.
One second Iris was twenty feet away; the next she was in Ghost's face, blade cutting a line of fire through the air. Ghost blocked, the clash ringing out like a thunderclap. Sparks exploded, burning holes in the grass. The shockwave flung Jack to his knees.
Ghost spun low, her blade catching Iris's ankle. Iris leapt back, retaliating with a downward strike so heavy the earth itself cracked. Blue fire countered red. They blurred across the field, vanishing and reappearing mid-strike, their movements fluid yet violent.
Jack ducked as a fiery slash ripped through the bleachers, metal shrieking as it melted. Another strike hissed just inches above his head, the heat licking his hair.
"Move, Jack!" Ghost's voice ripped through the chaos, sharp, desperate.
It was the first time she had spoken his name.
His body jolted into motion before his brain caught up. He bolted across the field, chest on fire with every breath.
But Iris wasn't letting him go.
She slammed her palm to the ground. Cracks raced outward like veins of lava, the grass splitting open as molten fire erupted, forming a wall in front of him.
Jack skidded to a halt, nearly slipping into the flames. The heat clawed at his skin, making his eyes water.
When he turned, Iris was there—her silhouette framed by the fire, sword raised.
"Witnesses," she said softly, almost tenderly, "don't live long."
The sword came down.
Jack threw his arms over his face. His whole body screamed no, no, no—
The bangle detonated.
Light burst outward in a dome around him, shimmering like glass. Iris's blade slammed against it with a metallic clang, sparks exploding across the shield. The impact knocked Jack backward onto the dirt, ears ringing.
But he was alive.
He stared at his wrist in shock. The bangle glowed so brightly it seemed part of his skin, veins of light crawling up his arm.
"What—?" Iris hissed, stumbling back.
Ghost seized the chance. Her blade cut across Iris's armor, blue fire sizzling. Iris snarled, leaping away, crimson plates of dragon-scale armor crawling up her arms in response.
"You gave him a bangle?" she spat, eyes blazing.
Ghost said nothing, only stepped forward again, blade raised. But Jack swore he saw it—that tiny flicker of guilt in her eyes.
And then the others arrived.
Shadows detached from the rooftops, sliding down the walls like liquid. Five figures landed in unison, emerald armor glinting beneath the fractured sky. Each bore a weapon—spear, axe, twin daggers, bow, glaive—and each moved with perfect discipline.
The Green Griffin assassin squad.
Jack's stomach plummeted.
The leader stepped forward, his glaive balanced easily over one shoulder. His helmet's griffin crest shimmered faintly, eyes glowing green beneath. His voice was low, clipped, precise.
"The Mirror Clan's experiment awakens," he said, tilting his head toward Jack. "Secure the boy."
Jack froze. Experiment? What the hell does that mean?
Iris rounded on them, fury in her voice. "He's mine."
Ghost shifted, blade glowing brighter. "He's under my protection."
The Griffins didn't falter. They spread, circling, their shadows stretching like wings across the ground. Jack felt boxed in—prey waiting to be carved apart.
The first struck.
The spear lunged, faster than thought. Jack barely flinched before the bangle reacted—light flaring into a shield that deflected the strike. The impact rattled his bones, hurling him backward across the field. He coughed dirt from his throat, heart screaming.
Another Griffin followed up with twin daggers, the blades singing through the air where his head had been. Ghost intercepted, her sword meeting the daggers in a shower of sparks. Iris attacked simultaneously, fire spiraling against emerald steel.
The field became chaos.
Flames. Sparks. Shadows. Wings.
Jack scrambled for cover, diving behind the half-melted bleachers. His arms burned where the shield had flared, veins glowing faintly with blue-white light.
The bangle pulsed harder. Stronger.
Something in it… something inside him… was awake.
Jack clutched his wrist, teeth grinding. "Not now… please, not now…"
But deep in his chest, he felt it. Not just light. Not just defense.
Power.
Ancient. Heavy. Endless.
And it was hungry.
He dared to peek out from the bleachers.
Three clans clashed across the field, blades screaming against one another, fire and blue flame tearing craters into the earth. The Griffins moved like a single machine, every strike coordinated. Ghost countered with impossible speed, Iris with raw ferocity.
And through it all—every strike, every lunge—Jack felt their eyes flick toward him.
Not prey.
Not witness.
Something else.
Something they feared.
Or wanted.
The battlefield roared on.
Jack curled his fists until his knuckles bled, the bangle pulsing brighter.
He didn't know it yet, but tonight was the first step.
The first step toward unleashing everything.
The Unleashing
The courtyard was a graveyard of sound.
Steel on steel. Flame against flame. Shattered brick falling like rain. The once-familiar campus bled shadows and light as if reality itself had cracked.
And Jack Rivers was at the center of it.
His wrist bangle seared like molten iron, flooding his veins with power. His body wasn't burning, though—it was changing. Every heartbeat made the air around him vibrate. Every breath came out in clouds of blue light. His hands trembled, unsure whether to cover his ears or unleash more of the fire that now lived inside him.
"Stop," he whispered to no one. "Please… stop."
But the bangle only pulsed brighter, answering not to his words but to his fear.
The Griffin archer loomed. Bow drawn, her green crystal arrow hummed with static. She squinted, as if Jack were prey she'd been stalking for years. The silence of her breathing unnerved him most—it was calm, rehearsed, the silence of someone who killed without hesitation.
She released.
The arrow screeched. Jack flinched—
—and a dome of shimmering blue swallowed him. The arrow fragmented like glass against diamond, bursting in a rain of sparks. The dome quivered as if alive, then smoothed itself, humming with a rhythm that matched his racing pulse.
The archer froze, her mouth parting. "That's… impossible."
Her disbelief was the gap.
Light snapped from Jack's wrist like a whip. He didn't think, didn't decide—the power decided for him. It lashed across the courtyard, striking her square in the chest. She was ripped off her feet, flung against the bleachers, the metal twisting beneath her like it had been punched by a god.
Jack stumbled back, horrified. "I—I did that?"
His hand still glowed, alive with light. His breathing was ragged, like someone else had taken over his lungs.
The fight stilled. Even Ghost, locked in combat with Iris, faltered for a fraction of a second. The Griffins shifted uneasily, their predatory confidence cracking.
All eyes fell on Jack.
And in that moment, he realized: he wasn't just a bystander anymore.
He was the storm.
"Restrain him!" the Griffin leader bellowed. His glaive hissed with emerald runes, carving arcs that scorched the air. "He's awakened—NOW!"
Two assassins surged forward.
Jack raised his hands in panic. "Wait, I didn't—"
The bangle didn't wait.
Energy speared from his palm, crystalline shards of blue that shot forward in perfect formation. They struck the assassins mid-step, flattening them against the school wall so hard the brick cracked like brittle bone.
The courtyard froze again.
The Griffins' confidence fractured. Ghost's eyes widened ever so slightly. Even Iris's cruel smirk flickered into something else—wonder.
The bangle wasn't protecting Jack anymore.
It was obeying him.
Jack's body shook. His heart thundered like a drum. He wasn't a victim anymore, wasn't prey. But neither was he in control. His own skin crawled like he was wearing something alive that wasn't his.
"What am I?" he whispered, staring at his glowing hands.
Ghost broke the silence. Her voice was low, tight, like a wire pulled to breaking.
"You're awakening."
Jack snapped his gaze to her. "Awakening what?"
But before Ghost could answer, Iris laughed.
It wasn't her mocking laugh from before. No, this one was lower. Hungrier. The kind of laugh that made Jack's skin prickle.
"Ohhh," she purred. "Now I understand."
Her crimson eyes gleamed like furnaces. "So this is what you've been hiding, Ghost. All this time."
Ghost stiffened. Her sword tilted downward, not toward Iris, but slightly closer to Jack. Protective.
Jack's breath hitched. "Hiding what?"
Iris tilted her head, her smile widening like a wolf's. "You poor thing. You don't even know." She licked her lips as if savoring the thought. "You're the Mirror Clan's vessel."
The words slammed into him like a physical blow. Mirror Clan? Vessel? His stomach flipped. The air seemed to grow heavier. He had no idea what the words meant—yet his body reacted with a cold shiver of recognition. Like a memory he had never lived was buried deep in his bones.
Ghost cut her off, blade ringing as it locked with Iris's once more. "Enough."
But Iris only laughed harder, sparks flying between their blades. "Enough? Admit it—you're scared."
Jack's knees buckled. He could barely process what they were saying. His thoughts spiraled: Mirror Clan? Vessel? Me? Why me?
The Griffin leader roared again, unwilling to play riddles. He spun his glaive, green energy igniting around him. Emerald constructs erupted into the air, griffins formed of raw light, wings spread wide. Their screeches pierced Jack's skull as they dove toward him.
The bangle flared one last time.
Jack screamed as blue light burst from his chest, not just his wrist. It shaped itself, wild yet perfect—into a phoenix. Towering, radiant, wings of sapphire fire spreading wide. It cried out, a sound so sharp it split stone. The emerald constructs shattered like glass on contact.
Silence.
No one moved. Even Iris faltered.
Ghost's sword lowered a fraction.
Jack dropped to one knee, gasping. The phoenix folded back into him, vanishing like a breath of flame sucked into his lungs. His eyes glowed faintly blue. His heart pounded like thunder.
"I… I can't… control it…"
Then came the sirens.
First faint. Then closer.
Red and blue lights flashed against cracked walls. Tires screeched. Doors slammed.
Jack turned his head slowly, disbelief flooding him. "Cops?"
No. Not ordinary cops.
Ghost tensed. "They shouldn't be here…"
Black armored vans skidded into the courtyard, crushing debris beneath their wheels. Tactical soldiers in matte-black armor fanned out, rifles gleaming with strange attachments. Their boots hit the ground with precision—not the chaos of ordinary law enforcement.
And each of them wore a glowing bangle.
Jack's stomach lurched. The same as mine.
At their front strode a tall man in a dark coat. He moved with weight, like someone gravity itself deferred to. His face was half in shadow, but his eyes gleamed with unnatural clarity under the flashing sirens.
He raised one gloved hand. His voice, low and commanding, cracked the battlefield like a whip:
"Enough."
Even the assassins stilled. The Griffins lowered their weapons a fraction. Ghost's grip tightened on her sword. Iris smirked, but her fire dimmed.
The man's gaze swept the courtyard, then fixed on Jack.
"Jack Rivers," he said. His voice was calm, final. "You're coming with us."
Jack's heart dropped.
The bangle on his wrist pulsed once, almost in warning.
The First Choice
The courtyard had gone still, but not silent.
The wreckage groaned with the memory of battle—cracked beams creaked, sparks hissed from shattered lamps, and the last of the Griffin conjurations dissipated in smoke. The air was thick with heat and ozone.
Jack stood at the epicenter, trembling, his wrist bangle glowing like a living brand. His breaths came ragged, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm not entirely his own. Every second, the memory of the phoenix clawed at him—its fire still lingering under his skin, begging to break free again.
The eyes of three worlds were locked on him.
Ghost – The Protector
Ghost stepped closer, her sword lowered now, though its edge still shimmered with faint azure fire. She moved differently when she looked at Jack—less like a predator, more like a shield. Her voice, when it reached him, was stripped of the cryptic taunts she used against Iris. It was softer. Sharper. Human.
"Jack," she said. His name on her lips carried a weight he hadn't felt before. "Don't listen to them. Don't listen to her." She flicked her eyes toward Iris without breaking her focus on him.
"You're not safe with them. You're not safe with anyone but me."
Her words vibrated in his chest. There was no mockery, no arrogance—just urgency. But it wasn't enough.
Jack shook his head, whispering through dry lips, "Safe? You call this safe?" He gestured around—the destroyed bleachers, the unconscious assassins pinned to walls, the air that still smelled of fire and ash.
Her jaw tightened, guilt flickering across her features. "I can explain. But not here. Not tonight." She lowered her sword entirely and reached out—not touching, but open-palmed, inches from his wrist. "Trust me."
For a second, Jack almost did.
But then Iris laughed.
Iris – The Temptress
The sound was honey over broken glass—seductive, dangerous, intoxicating.
"Oh, Ghost," Iris crooned, stepping closer. Her crimson armor shimmered under the broken courtyard lights, her eyes burning like lanterns in the night. "Always pretending you're the savior. Always pretending you care."
Her gaze slid to Jack, and her smirk curved like a blade. "But I see him more clearly than you ever will."
Jack's pulse jumped as her eyes bored into him. She didn't look at him like prey anymore. She looked at him like destiny.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she whispered, her voice weaving between the cracks of his fear. "The fire. The storm. That… thing inside you. The phoenix."
Jack swallowed, his throat dry. His hands shook. She was saying the words he didn't want to hear—but couldn't deny.
"It terrified you," Iris continued, stepping closer, her sword sliding back into its sheath with a hiss. "But it also thrilled you. Didn't it?"
Her smile widened. "Don't lie to yourself, Vessel. You belong with me. With us. With the Red Dragon."
She reached out her hand, the crimson glow of her bangle sparking faintly. Unlike Ghost's outstretched palm, Iris's was not hesitant. It was demanding. Claiming.
Jack's chest constricted. A voice inside whispered, Take it. Take it and you'll never be powerless again.
The Man in Black – Authority
And then there was the third presence.
The bangle-cops moved in perfect formation, their rifles raised but steady, not a tremor among them. Their bangles glowed faint green, faint blue, faint gold—each one unique, yet harmonized, as though tuned to the same frequency.
They were soldiers, but not ordinary ones. Their movements were too precise, their silence too heavy. They weren't here to fight. They were here to claim.
At their head, the man in black advanced a step. His coat swept against the ground, boots clicking like the strike of a metronome. His eyes locked on Jack—calm, unreadable, inexorable.
"Jack Rivers," he repeated, his voice even but sharp enough to cut through the courtyard. "Come with us."
Not a request. A command.
Jack felt the weight of that voice in his bones. It wasn't just a man speaking. It was an institution. A system. An unmovable wall disguised as flesh.
Ghost tensed, turning slightly to put herself between Jack and him. "You have no right."
The man's gaze flicked to her, then back to Jack, dismissing her like smoke.
"We have every right," he said. "And more than that—we have responsibility. You are a threat. You are an asset. And you are ours."
He raised his hand. The soldiers moved in unison, bangles flaring, rifles humming with unseen power. The air thrummed.
Jack's heart lurched.
The Fork in Destiny
Three hands reached for him in three different ways.
Ghost's, trembling but honest, offering protection.
Iris's, firm and burning, offering power.
And the man in black's, invisible but absolute, offering control.
Jack's pulse pounded against his temples. The bangle on his wrist vibrated, pulsing brighter and brighter with each second. It wasn't calm anymore—it was agitated. Almost angry.
Choose.
That whisper wasn't in his head anymore. It came from the bangle itself. From the phoenix still alive under his skin.
Choose.
Jack staggered, clutching his wrist. The three presences closed in, the night shrinking around him.
Ghost whispered again, urgency bleeding into desperation. "Jack, trust me."
Iris's voice slid over his mind like silk. "Jack, embrace me."
The man in black's voice was a verdict. "Jack, obey."
His vision blurred. The courtyard tilted. Every muscle screamed. His lungs burned.
Choose.
Jack's lips parted, a single word escaping in a trembling whisper—
The Consequence
The courtyard held its breath.
Ghost. Iris. The man in black.
Three destinies. Three prisons. Three freedoms.
And Jack—heart racing, skin burning, the phoenix roaring inside him—balanced on the edge of the abyss.
The bangle pulsed violently. Light seared up his arm, licking across his veins, turning his skin translucent in the moonlight. His voice broke from his lips—not steady, not planned, but raw and instinctive.
"...Ghost."
The word came like a thunderclap.
Ghost's eyes widened. Relief—shocked, fragile, radiant—flickered across her face. She surged forward, as though the name itself had pulled her to him.
But that was when everything shattered.
The Twist – Iris's Rage
Iris's laughter curdled into a snarl. For the first time, her mask of amusement fractured, her crimson aura flaring like an inferno.
"You chose her?" Her voice rang like a blade dragged across glass. "Her?!"
The ground quaked as her energy spiked. The red dragon insignia on her armor burned brighter, scales of fire manifesting across her arms. The courtyard walls splintered under the sheer force of her rage.
"You think she'll save you?" Iris's voice dripped venom as she drew her sword again, the blade igniting in scarlet flame. "She'll kill you before I ever get the chance. And you'll beg me to end you."
Her fury wasn't just against Jack. It was against Ghost. A hatred that went deeper than tonight, deeper than the war itself. And now, Jack was at the center of it.
The Man in Black – Interruption
But before Iris could strike, the air shifted.
The man in black lifted his hand, and the world seemed to tilt. The soldiers' bangles flared as one, casting a barrier of prismatic light between Iris and Jack. The ground shuddered with the force of it—technology and mysticism woven into something unearthly.
"Enough," he commanded. His voice was not raised, yet it thundered louder than Iris's rage.
His gaze locked on Jack, burning with cold authority. "You made your choice, boy. But choices mean nothing without consequence. Remember that."
The soldiers closed in, rifles humming, the green light of their bangles flickering like a storm.
Jack's Collapse
The energy surging from his wrist had reached its breaking point. Jack gasped as pain ripped through him—searing, boiling, unstoppable. His knees buckled.
Ghost caught him before he hit the ground, her arms strong but trembling as the phoenix aura flared around him like a second skin. His body was no longer his own—it was fire, lightning, and storm crammed into fragile flesh.
"Stay with me," Ghost whispered, her face close, eyes locked on his. But her voice sounded far away, muffled under the roar of the phoenix.
Jack tried to answer, but his vision shattered into fragments of light and darkness. For a moment, he thought he saw a city burning. A tower collapsing. A dragon screaming. A phoenix dying.
And then—
Black.
The Deferred Mystery
When Jack opened his eyes, it was morning.
The courtyard was pristine. No shattered walls, no scorch marks, no unconscious assassins. Students moved casually through the halls nearby, laughing, unaware that hours ago it had been a battlefield.
Jack sat alone on the bleachers, his wrist throbbing where the bangle pulsed faintly, as though nothing had happened.
No Ghost.
No Iris.
No man in black.
Only silence.
He lifted his wrist, staring at the bangle. "Did I… really choose?" he whispered to himself.
The bangle flickered once, faintly blue… and then, disturbingly, faintly red.
Jack's stomach dropped.
Had he chosen Ghost? Had he chosen Iris? Or… had something else chosen for him?