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The battle was over.
Smoke drifted. Buildings lay folded and broken. Cars burned. Bodies everywhere—crushed, ripped apart, incinerated—victims of the Leviathan's arrival.
The army arrived hours later— Guns raised.
Search teams combing through ruins.
They found destruction. Dead civilians. Collapsed buildings.
But no bodies belonging to Tempestia or Moon Light.
They were gone.
Listed as Missing. Presumed dead.
Heroes lost to the greatest battle Ember ever saw.
A statue of Megalodon now stands in the center of the ruins—untouched, heavily guarded.
A silent warning:
Never break it. Never wake what sleeps inside.
The legend of Tempestia and Moon Light became a story whispered in schools, cities, hero academies—
A tale of sacrifice.
A reminder that saving the world always comes with a cost.
Present day…
Morning sunlight bled through the tall windows of Crestfield Academy, slicing through the hallway in thin gold beams. Students flooded every corner—laughing, shoving, flirting, half awake. Lockers slammed. Shoes squeaked. A couple made out near the stairwell. Someone spilled their iced coffee and cursed. Phones were out everywhere.
The usual morning chaos.
Alan Winchester slipped through it quietly, shoulders slightly hunched, backpack hanging low. He moved like someone used to staying unnoticed. Kids parted around him without even realizing it—like he wasn't really part of the same world.
He didn't stop to talk nor smile at them, all he was doing was just surviving by staying quiet.
Then—
A shoulder slammed into him, sharp and deliberate.
"Watch it, Winchester," Jason Harper said without even looking back, his buddies laughing behind him.
"C'mon, Jason, don't waste your time on a damn loner."
Alan's jaw flexed. But he didn't turn. Didn't rise to it. He just twisted the lock on his locker, forcing himself to breathe slow.
Under his breath, barely audible:
"…fucking assholes…"
Click.
The locker door swung open to a chaotic mess of notebooks, folded blueprints, scraps of tech ideas. A few loose papers slid out and hit the floor. Alan caught one mid-fall, his movements clean and precise—reflexes sharper than anyone would guess for a powerless kid.
He flipped a page.
Exosuit schematics. Energy routings. Encryption drafts.
Science was his battlefield. Knowledge was the only thing he could fight with.
"Morning, Alan."
He looked up.
Anna stood there, shifting her weight, smiling softly. Her books hugged to her chest, hair bouncing slightly when she moved.
"H-Hey," he said, closing the locker halfway.
"Thanks for helping me with the physics assignment yesterday," she said, brushing hair behind her ear. "I actually understood it for once."
Alan Shrugged. "It's just patterns. Anyone can learn them if they look from the right angle."
She giggled. "Maybe for you. Not everyone is a genius like you (Smiling)."
For the first time that morning, he smiled a little.
"Alright, see you in class then, Al."
She turned, then paused as his voice followed her:
"Hey—uh, have you seen Rose and Damian today?"
Anna pointed toward the hall. "Yeah, their teacher's holding them back thirty minutes or something."
"Ah… alright. Thanks." He tapped his chin lightly. "Guess I'll wait for them in the library."
"Yeah, no problem!" she replied with a warm smile before walking off.
A group of girls intercepted her instantly.
"Yo, giiiirl, come on, let's grab snacks before class starts!"
Anna laughed. "Hell yes, you can't have too many snacks during long-ass classes. Let's goooo!"
Her voice faded into the hallway noise.
Alan inhaled deeply. Peace returned for two seconds—
Then died.
Two figures leaned against the opposite lockers, arms crossed.
Mark and John.
A pair of walking headaches.
Mark nudged John with his elbow, eyes glued to Alan like he owned him.
"Look at this motherfucker," Mark muttered. "Nerd's all happy and shi. Let's go get some lunch money."
John cracked his knuckles—loud, intentional. "Thank fuck, bro. I'm starving. Let's teach his ass real quick."