Evening sun.
Orange light.
School playground still warm from the day.
Axell dribbled the football lazily across the grass, a smirk on his face.
Childe charged him.
Ember cut from the side.
Den… stood politely near the goal praying not to be involved.
"Try harder, peasants," Axell taunted, flicking a beige kick.
Childe intercepted instantly. "You're wide open."
Ember smirked. "Too predictable."
Den whispered, "Can't we just… play normally?"
Axell: "In MY presence?! Never."
They kept playing until the sky dimmed and one by one, students left.
Soon only the four of them remained.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
Normal.
Until the world broke.
SHRRRRAAAAAAAAAAK!
The field dissolved.
The sky folded.
The grass pixelated into white static.
The four kids blinked—
And suddenly stood inside a giant cosmic cube, each wall a shifting galaxy.
Colors rippled like broken glass.
Sound tore the air apart in vibrating rings.
Ember tightened her stance.
Childe widened his aura.
Den screamed.
Axell blinked. "Huh. New DLC just dropped."
BEEEEEEAM!
A hyper-laser of pure sound shredded through the cube floor.
"MOVE!" Ember shouted.
Axell grabbed Den by the collar like a cat and leapt sideways as another beam sliced inches from his legs.
Childe dodged with frightening elegance.
Ember did a full roll, grey sparks trailing behind.
More beams fired—
From above.
From below.
From behind.
Axell yelled, "WHO TURNED ON HARD MODE?!"
A distortion expanded in front of them.
A voice.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Monotone.
AXELL JAYDEN.
Ember: "Why YOU?!"
Childe: "What did you do THIS time?!"
Den: "I didn't mean to summon anything—!!"
Axell shrugged mid-jump. "Bro, I was literally playing football."
The cube cracked.
Fractured.
Shattered—
And everything snapped back to normal.
The football field returned.
The sky was calm.
The grass was untouched.
But a man now stood in front of them.
A man who hadn't been there before.
Barefoot.
Robes dusted with old symbols.
Hair grey and tied behind his head.
Beads wrapped around his wrist.
Eyes calm like someone who has seen a thousand storms and yawned through them.
He clapped slowly.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
"Excellent," the old monk said.
"You children did not die. A very promising start."
Axell pointed. "BRO WHO—"
The man raised a hand. "Names later. For now… you four have officially stepped onto a path far older than this planet. The path of Color Benders."
Childe frowned. "Color… what?"
The monk turned to Axell.
"You," he said, voice sharp. "Axell Jayden. You have recreated an ancient, forbidden technique. Something not seen since the Age of the Crusades ."
Axell squinted. "Is it because I look cool?"
"No," the monk said. "It is because you accidentally control water using your Birth Color."
Ember's eyes widened. "When he turned the rain…?"
The monk nodded.
"The Crusaders, a vast army of elite Color Benders across our earth… are now searching for you. Some to learn from you. Some to kill you. Some to capture you."
Axell blinked.
"Me?? Why ME?! I was just bleeding IN THE RAIN."
"Exactly," the monk said. "You did by instinct what took masters a lifetime."
He tapped the ground with his staff.
A ripple of cosmic dust spread around his feet.
"And so, Axell… you must prepare."
Axell: "Nah I'm good."
Childe stepped forward.
"If Axell's dragged into this, so am I."
Ember smirked.
"Obviously I'm coming. And I need answers… especially about that sound construct."
Den stood behind Axell, trembling.
"I—I don't think I'm… uuh… made for this…"
Axell wrapped an arm around Den's neck.
"Too late, bro. You're part of the party."
Den: "WAIT NO—"
The monk smiled.
"Good. All four of you… chosen by fate or stupidity… it matters not."
He pointed at the sky.
> "Your training begins… now."
The monk's staff tapped the ground once.
A ripple of sound spread under their feet—
sharp, cold, humming like a tuning fork dipped into the universe.
"Listen carefully," the old man said.
Not one of the four kids listened carefully.
Axell stared at a squirrel on a tree.
Childe dusted dirt off his uniform.
Den adjusted his glasses like they were slipping off (they weren't).
Only Ember's eyes were sharp, focused, absorbing every word.
The monk sighed.
"A hopeless generation…"
Then his gaze sharpened.
"You four, hear me now.
Your Birth Colors alone will NOT protect you from the Crusaders."
Childe's head turned slightly.
Axell blinked.
Den froze.
The monk raised his palm.
A faint ring of sound—perfect, circular, silver—spread from his hand like a ripple in still water.
"I am a Resonator," he said.
"One who controls sound and frequencies.
And the Crusaders… the army hunting Axell… They bend more than colors.
They bend the very vibrations of existence."
The kids stared blankly.
The monk ignored their lack of concern and continued.
"I lost my companions to them," he said quietly.
"My friends. My students. My brothers.
I have defeated Crusaders my entire life…
But without new successors, their dominion will swallow entire dimensions."
He looked at the four children.
"You are my last hope."
Axell scratched his cheek.
Childe shrugged.
Den whispered, "C-can I go home…?"
Ember bowed her head slightly.
"We'll help."
Only then did the monk smile.
"Good. At least one of you is sane."
He lifted his staff.
"You must learn to control sound before dawn.
If you cannot…
The Crusaders may arrive tomorrow, or the next day, or even tonight.
And you will die unprepared."
Now they all paid attention.
The monk raised his hand.
A glyph of vibrating circles formed in the air—
concentric rings shivering like struck metal.
"To control sound, you must control your focus.
And to control your focus, you must wield a medium."
Weapons—literal and otherwise—appeared around him.
Floating.
Spinning.
Humming.
a bow
a sword
an axe
a mace
chains
scrolls
a flute
a staff
"Choose," he said.
"Your Resonance must anchor itself to an object.
Do not choose lightly."
Axell pointed at the weapons.
"Do you have anything… cooler? Like a dragon?"
"No."
Axell didn't move toward the weapons.
He simply raised his right arm.
Wrapped around his hand already was his white cloth bandage —
the same one he has been wearing since forever.
Axell:
"Already got mine."
The monk blinked.
"That is… old. Worn. Not reinforced. Why use that?"
Axell shrugged.
"It's MY thing."
The monk stared at the cloth.
It vibrated once.
Just once.
Enough for the monk's eyes to widen slightly.
"…Interesting. That cloth has history."
Axell: "Or maybe I just look cool."
The monk did not laugh.
Childe stepped forward.
He grabbed the battle axe without hesitation.
It vibrated faintly.
"That suits you," the monk said.
Childe smirked.
"Obviously."
Ember raised her left arm.
Stone weight shifted under her sleeve.
"I already have my medium," she said.
The monk immediately noticed.
His eyes widened.
"A living gauntlet… formed from your own blood?
Child… what have you survived…?"
Ember looked away.
"It's enough."
The monk nodded softly.
"Indeed. More than enough."
Den stepped forward timidly.
He looked at every weapon.
Bow? Too hard.
Sword? Too scary.
Axe? Too heavy.
Flute? Too embarrassing.
He slowly removed his round glasses.
"…I'll use these," he whispered.
Silence.
Axell wheezed.
Childe held his face in disbelief.
Ember blinked once.
The monk crouched down, looking Den dead in the eyes.
"…Interesting."
"Huh?" Den squeaked.
"There is power in seeing the world differently," the monk whispered.
"A Resonance through clarity… or fear.
Your glasses will do."
Den had no idea what that meant, but he nodded anyway.
The monk struck the ground.
BOOM.
A wave of vibration expanded outward.
"Focus!
A Resonator must strike the world without touching it!"
He pointed to the hill.
"Send a wave strong enough to shake that tree."
All four tried.
Axell swung his bandaged fist.
fwip.
20 Hz. Weak. Embarrassing.
The tree didn't even blink.
Childe swung the axe.
A sharper ripple—
whummm.
Still too soft.
Ember punched the air.
thunk.
A 40 Hz vibration.
The leaves rustled slightly.
Den tapped his glasses nervously.
plink.
A pathetic 4 Hz tremble came out.
The monk placed his palm over his face.
"In all my years…"
He exhaled.
"…I've never seen harmony fail this beautifully."
The kids trained harder.
Minutes became an hour.
An hour became two.
Sweat.
Heavy breathing.
Shaking arms.
Raw throats.
Small sparks of sound.
Nothing more.
They were exhausted.
But still standing.
Finally, the monk said:
"Enough.
You have all produced frequencies…
weak, but real."
He looked toward the dark sky.
"Tomorrow…
the Crusaders may come."
The four kids stood together—
Axell with his bandaged hand,
Ember with her stone gauntlet,
Childe gripping the axe,
Den holding his glasses like a lifeline.
The monk pointed at them.
"Tonight, children…
you stop being colors—
and become sound."