The ruins of the Academy lay quiet in the early dawn — broken towers, cracked walls, scorched grounds. Survivors moved slowly among the debris, gathering what they could, helping the wounded, salvaging what remained. The air was thick with sorrow, exhaustion … but also a fragile spark of hope.
Inside the makeshift command tent, senior members of student leadership and faculty spoke in hushed tones. Across from them stood the Headmaster, a stern figure draped in the Academy's dark robes, his face marked by fatigue but resolute determination.
Bolt and the members of Celestial Tempest — battered, bloodied, yet alive — stood before him with the other students and senior leaders.
The Headmaster cleared his throat. Silence fell.
"By the decree of the Higher Council," he began, voice echoing across the tent. "Due to the catastrophic breach, the structural collapse of our defenses, and the overwhelming power displayed by Bolt and his squad — which proved far beyond standard operational thresholds — the Academy can no longer guarantee the safety or proper training for Warborns of this caliber."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Therefore, effective immediately, Bolt Titan and all active members of Celestial Tempest are to be transferred to Aether Academy — a high-level institution governed directly by the Council, equipped to handle advanced Warborn training, rehabilitation, and strategic deployment."
A murmur ran through the assembled group. Bolt's stomach tightened. But the Headmaster held up a hand for silence.
"This is not a punishment," he continued softly. "It is a recognition — and a necessity. Their power is exceptional. Their potential, unprecedented. The Academy must rebuild, but the world remains unsafe. Aether Academy is better equipped: its barrier systems exceed ours by decades; its instructors include veteran Warborn capable of guiding beings of their caliber; its mission extends beyond training — to safeguarding humanity. Celestial Tempest's involvement there will serve both their growth and the protection of all."
Valen Cross, Student Council President, stepped forward. His gaze toward Bolt was firm, respectful.
"Bolt," he said plainly, "you saved all of us. The Council stands by this transfer. We'll rebuild; you go where you're needed most."
Liana Hearthvale nodded, silent but supportive.
Rei Tsukihara, head of the Disciplinary Committee, gave no speech. He simply approached Bolt, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't falter," he said quietly. "What you've shown today proves you belong where legends are forged."
Bolt exhaled slowly. Exhaustion pressed against him, not just physically, but emotionally. Grief for the fallen. Weight of lives saved. And now — a new unknown.
He looked at Celestial Tempest: friends, allies, survivors. Then up at the Headmaster. Then at the open horizon beyond the ruined walls.
"I understand," he said. "If this is where we go… we go together."
The Headmaster nodded once. A thin, sad smile touched his lips.
"May this transfer give you the strength to face what's coming. And may the Academy you leave behind rise again, stronger than ever."
Outside, the remaining students and survivors gathered. The air was heavy with grief, but also a trembling hope. When the word spread that Bolt and Celestial Tempest were being transferred, quiet cheers erupted. Some wept. Some clasped their friends. Some faced the ruins with silent determination.
Amid the rubble and ruin, two things stood clear:
The Academy would rebuild.
Bolt and Celestial Tempest were destined for something greater.
And as the first transport carriage — guarded by elite Warborn and Council guards — rolled toward the horizon, Bolt glanced back one last time at the scorched training grounds.
Not with sorrow.
With purpose.
Because the storm was not over.
It was just beginning anew at Aether Academy.