The safehouse had been a place of quiet, hollow grief. In the weeks following the Colosseum's destruction, Brakus, Daniel, Haru, and Matthew sat in the dim light of a kitchen that felt too large for four broken men. They had watched the news in silence—the docks were a crater, and Brock was still missing.
"We're lab rats in her maze," Haru had said, his voice a jagged rasp as he cleaned his rifle.
"She's watching the grid," Matthew added, his fingers hovering over a laptop with a cracked screen. "Every time I try to ping her servers, she collects more of our data. We aren't fighting; we're providing her with a performance review."
"Then we vanish," Daniel decided, his eyes reflecting the violet flickering of the city's neon lights. "We go underground. Brakus, you have to go back. Live the life she thinks she stole. We wait until the noise dies down."
[The Shadows of the Under-City]
Two months after the blast, in the dripping, sulfur-choked tunnels beneath the Neon District, a hooded figure leaned against a rusted pipe. Her skin was sallow, and a streak of premature grey ran through her once-vibrant purple hair.
Hades stepped out of the steam, his presence cold and imposing. He looked at the wreckage of the woman before him.
"You're supposed to be ash, Glint."
"She tried," Glint hissed, her voice a dry rattle. She clutched a charred, shriveled remnant of her Grimoire. "Eris didn't just target the boys. She locked the grid. She harvested Argon and Blitz like cattle to fuel her prototype. She'll do the same to you, Hades. She doesn't want partners; she wants a world of obedient biological machines."
Hades remained silent, his eyes unreadable.
"Be wary of her," Glint warned, her body beginning to shimmer with a fading, translucent light. "She thinks she's won. But I'm going to find the cracks in her foundation. I'm going back into the dark... and when I return, I'm bringing hell with me."
With a jagged flash of green light, she vanished, leaving only the scent of scorched parchment.
[One Year Later: The Shadow Spire]
High above the city, Eris sat in a high-backed obsidian throne in her private quarters. She looked smug, her legs crossed elegantly as she stared at a panoramic view of Ironwell.
The door hissed open. Hades walked in, his footsteps heavy. Eris didn't turn around; a wicked, satisfied smile played on her lips.
"The world is shifting, Hades," she purred. "The government is doing our work for us. Registration, training... they are preparing the soil for our harvest."
"Ironwell is rebuilding," Hades said, his voice flat. "But the boy—Brakus—is still a civilian. The younger one, Brock... his resonance is cleaner. He adapts to the frequency without the volatility of his brother. He shows more promise."
Eris let out a soft, chilling laugh. "Brock is a mirror, Hades. But Brakus is a forge. He needs that volatility to hammer his power into something that can reshape reality. Brock is the lure, but Brakus is—"
"A waste of time."
The air in the room underwent a violent pressure shift. The temperature plummeted. The holographic displays flickered and died as a presence stepped from the shadows. We don't see his face; we only see the void where light should be, and the way the shadows of the spire stretch toward him in worship.
The room fell into a suffocating silence. Eris's smug smile vanished into a mask of pure terror.
"My Lord," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Project Awakening was a failure," Brucite said. His voice carried the weight of a dying star. "I did not fund this endeavor to watch you obsess over two children. I wanted to overthrow Ironwell, to crush its foundation and leave its leaders begging for mercy. Instead, you have empowered them. You gave them the frequency they needed to stabilize their own 'Heroes.' You have given my enemies a standing army."
He stepped closer, the darkness around him swirling like a predatory storm. "Molding these boys is a sentimental distraction. We should be building an indestructible legion, not chasing the 'potential' of a broken family. You have squandered my resources on a masterpiece that has only served to reinforce the walls I sent you to tear down."
He turned toward the window, the glass cracking under his mere presence. "This was a massive failure. If I see one more year of 'research' without a decapitated government, I will harvest your life-forces myself to fuel the soldiers you were too weak to build."
He paused, the silence ringing in their ears. "I will give you one last chance. Bring me the result I was promised, or become the scrap for the next machine."
"Yes, My Lord," Eris and Hades whispered in unison, their heads bowed low.
[Eighteen Months Later]
The Grand City of Ironwell had transformed. Under the iron-fisted leadership of Mayor Emerald, the city had been reborn. Laws were passed, registration teams were deployed, and the wild power of the "Awakened" was funneled into elite training academies. Superheroes were the new social order.
Deep within a private training estate, Brakus stood in the center of a grove. His frame had widened into a powerful, sturdy V-taper. His dark hair now flowed in a heavy, obsidian mane down to his waist.
With a sharp exhale, he flicked his fingers. Thin, razor-sharp ribbons of crystallized blood lashed out, shredding forty stalks of bamboo into thousands of tiny pieces that drifted to the earth like green confetti.
He retracted the blood, his skin sealing instantly. As he turned to grab his gear, he stopped.
His mother, Sylvis, stood at the edge of the training grounds. Beside her stood the man the world knew as Mayor Emerald.
"We have a lot of catching up to do," the man said, his voice carrying a resonant authority.
Brakus stared, his heart hammering. "Who... who are you? Why is the Mayor here, Mom?"
Sylvis stepped forward, her eyes bright. "Now that the chaos is under control, I decided that now would be a good time, Brakus."
She reached out, resting her hand on the leader's arm. "Brakus... this isn't Mayor Emerald. Not to us."
Brakus looked past the suit and into the eyes—the amber fire that only one man had ever possessed.
"Dad?" Brakus's voice broke.
The sturdy warrior collapsed to his knees, reaching out to touch his father's coat. He threw his arms around him, sobbing with raw relief, clutching the living warmth of the man he thought had been ash. Only Sylvis had known the truth—that Diamond Bronze had survived and taken a new identity to seize control of the city from the shadows.
The man the world called Emerald held his son, his expression hard and focused.
"We'll explain everything, son," Diamond whispered. "The survival, the fake identity... how I became the man running this city to protect what's left of us."
He pulled back, his amber eyes locking onto his son's with a cold, professional intensity.
"But first," he continued, "I need everything. Every scrap of intel, every code, and every location you, Daniel, and the others have gathered on Eris and the Shade Group."
He looked toward the distant spires, his jaw set. "The era of hiding is over. We're going to burn her world down."