Aftermath & Echoes

The Return

When the light spat me back out, it felt like someone had ripped the floor out from under me.

I landed on the arena stone hard, knees bruising, lungs heaving like I’d run a thousand miles.

My hands still burned with echoes of fire, water, wind, earth, light… and that other thing.

The violet-gold ember thrummed inside my chest, steady and terrifying, like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

The roar hit me next.

The arena wasn’t silent anymore.

Thousands of voices crashed together into a single tidal wave — gasps, cheers, screams of awe.

Above me, the Divine Tree towered, its leaves blazing one by one:

Red — Fire. Blue — Water. Green — Wind. Brown — Earth. Violet-white — Lightning. Silver-blue — Ice. Gold — Divine Light.

Gasps rose when the rare colors flared — violet-white lightning and silver-blue ice, the kinds of affinities most priests only whispered about in bedtime myths.

The crowd erupted:

“He holds them all!”
“Impossible!”
“All elements and divine — he could be Stage 3, maybe even 4!”

Even the scholars in the stands scribbled furiously, muttering words like “resonance” and “overlap” — flimsy rationalizations to cage the impossible in language.

I almost laughed. Scholars inventing words like ‘flux inversion’ to make me fit their textbooks. Just admit I broke your syllabus and move on.

To them, seven powers wasn’t a Stage — it was blasphemy.

To me? It was only half the truth.

The real thing, the dangerous thing, was still caged inside my chest — waiting to burn me alive, or crown me as something more.

But nobody else knew. Nobody saw. Not yet.

Good. Let them stay blind.

Mother and Father

My eyes found my mother first.
Yumi stood at the edge of the royal stand, silver hair spilling forward, eyes wet but unwavering. She pressed her hand to her lips, then to her chest, like she was holding me with sheer will.

I knew those eyes. They said everything she couldn’t scream in front of the world:

That’s my son. My miracle. My Haise.

For once, my heart eased.

Then my gaze shifted to my father.

Tenjin — God King, the immovable storm. He didn’t smile, didn’t cry, didn’t even move. But his presence pressed on me like the weight of a thousand storms.

His vow to me — Ripple the world itself — echoed in the silence between our eyes.

He didn’t need to cheer. His look said it all:

Good. You survived. Now bear it.

No pressure, right?

Kael and Lyra

Kael’s fists clenched so tight I thought he’d bleed. His fire element had been hard-won, dragged out of phantom beast nightmares. He should’ve been glowing with pride.

Instead, his eyes locked on me — sharp, suspicious, smoldering. A soldier’s eyes. Measuring me not as a friend, but as a rival.

I gave him a crooked grin and mouthed: Don’t pout.

He didn’t smile back. Of course he didn’t.

Lyra, though… she was different.

She pushed through the crowd, her soft hands slipping into mine without hesitation.

“You did it,” she whispered, breathless but smiling.

Her eyes sparkled with a warmth you can’t fake.

Something in me cracked — not power, not pain. Just… relief.

I grinned, trying to smother my racing heart with sarcasm.

“Yeah, sure. Piece of cake. Totally didn’t almost get eaten by emotional trauma and nightmare monsters.”

She giggled, but her hand squeezed mine tighter.

For a moment, the noise of the world faded.

The Ministers’ Whispers

Of course, not everyone was clapping.

The ministers — vultures in silk robes — whispered sharp enough to cut glass. Their eyes darted between the glowing leaves and me like I was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

I caught scraps, even over the roar of the crowd:

“Impossible.”
“Unstable?”
“What did the Tree really see?”

Minister Arval didn’t even bother hiding his stare. He studied me like a man studies a blade he isn’t sure he can control.

His son Kael had fire — predictable, loyal fire.

And me? I was walking chaos in royal robes.

Yeah, no way that wasn’t going to bite me later.

The Mask

The applause thundered.

Children pointed.
Soldiers bowed.
Priests began spinning prayers before I’d even left the tree’s shadow.

And me?

I put on a smile. A perfect, rehearsed, royal smile. The kind that says:

Yes, I am your shining heir. Yes, I am Heaven’s answer. Yes, I am exactly what you want me to be.

It was a mask.

But masks are armor — and right now, I needed armor.

Because underneath the cheers, the ember inside me pulsed harder. Violet-gold. Cosmic.

Something no one had seen. Something no one was supposed to see.

The Celebration

By Heaven’s law, every heir’s awakening was followed by a feast — a ritual to honor the Tree’s blessing. Mine, of course, was louder, brighter, and heavier than any before.

The feast hall of Heaven looked less like a room and more like a god had said:
What if we made luxury a religion?

Golden banners cascaded down like rivers of sunlight. Chandeliers burned with cold fire, scattering starlight across marble floors.

Tables groaned with divine excess:

Fruits glowing like bottled dawn. Meats steaming with raw mana. Wines shimmering like galaxies poured into jeweled cups.

And at the center of it all — me.

The Son of the God King. The miracle boy who had walked into the Divine Tree and walked back out holding everything.

The cheering hadn’t stopped since I returned.

“All elements!”
“The heir of legends!”
“A true Son of Heaven!”

If I had a celestial coin for every time someone shouted blessed, I’d own the treasury — and maybe Heaven’s parking lots too.

I smiled. I waved. I nodded like the perfect heir. The crown wasn’t on my head yet, but it may as well have been.

On my left, Kael sulked like a storm cloud stuffed into silk. His fire element — hard-won, dragged from nightmares — should’ve made him glow.

Instead, he looked like a candle next to a sun.

I raised my goblet toward him, grinning.

“Nice flame, Kael. Don’t worry, I’ll let you toast marshmallows on my volcano.”

His jaw twitched. His knuckles whitened. Smile? Absent. Shocking, right?

Across from us, Lyra covered her mouth with a hand — but I caught the giggle anyway.

Her green hair shimmered under the chandeliers, her jade-bright eyes glowing.

“You’re terrible,” she whispered, leaning closer.

I smirked. “Terrible? I’m Heaven’s miracle, Lyra. Terrible is Kael’s poker face.”

Her laugh bubbled again, soft and genuine. For a moment, the weight in my chest eased.

But then… the ministers.

Silken robes. Jeweled collars. Smiles sharp as daggers.

“Unstable.”
“Impossible.”
“What did the Tree really see?”

Arval’s glare burned like a torch. He looked at me like I was a sword left lying on the floor — sharp, dangerous, waiting for the right hand to claim it.

I lifted my goblet higher, flashing a grin bright enough to blind.

“To stability!” I declared.

The ministers did not toast back. Figures.

Still, the applause thundered. Children pointed. Priests prayed.

My mother wept, proud and unashamed.
My father sat stone-faced, silent. But his presence pressed on me like a storm whispering:

Good. You survived. Now carry it.

So I smiled wider. Because if anyone looked too close, they’d see it — the ember still burning violet-gold in my chest.

Private Moments

Later, when the celebration scattered into processions and feasts, I slipped away into a marble corridor behind the arena.

The walls hummed faintly with leftover mana from the Divine Tree. My body still trembled. My mind? Racing faster than my feet.

Lyra

Lyra found me first.

“You’re trembling,” she said softly.

I barked a laugh. “Trembling? No, this is just… enthusiastic vibrating. Totally normal post-trial side effect.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to joke all the time, Haise.”

Her words cut sharper than a minister’s whisper. Because she was right. But if I didn’t laugh, I’d scream.

For a heartbeat, I almost told her. About the other power. About the ember.

But the words stuck. Not yet. Not even with her.

So instead, I forced a crooked smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll manage.”

Her gaze searched mine, patient and heavy. But she didn’t press. That’s Lyra — she waits.

Kael

Kael came later.

We crossed paths in a practice yard away from the noise. His sword was strapped across his back, his knuckles raw, fire still simmering under his skin.

“You survived,” he said flatly.

I smirked. “Wow, thanks for the glowing review, Captain Encouragement. Really warms the heart.”

His lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

Then his eyes sharpened.

“They’ll fear you now, Haise. All of them. Don’t let that fear decide who you become.”

For a moment, I almost dropped the sarcasm. Almost.

Instead, I clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep being annoying enough to balance it out.”

He snorted, shaking his head. But his gaze lingered, heavy. Our rivalry wasn’t gone. It had simply… shifted.

End of Chapter 7 — Aftermath & Echoes