Inside the endless dusky haze of the Shadow Realm, where fractured light never quite touched the ground and the air hummed with ancient energy, the three Catalysts trained—Caspian Grey, Kiyomasa Saito, and Jahanox Nova.
The terrain was constantly shifting, crafted and controlled by Jahanox himself. The landscape was barren but responsive to power; it rose, cracked, and bent under elemental will. Fire danced, wind howled, and earth trembled.
Caspian stood on a jagged cliffside, flames swirling in both palms. He tossed one like a baseball up into the air and caught it again. "Tell me again why we can't have a pool here? Feels like hell's waiting room."
Kiyomasa stood nearby, hands outstretched as he tried to lift a slab of earth while simultaneously maintaining a swirl of wind around his shoulders. He glanced at Caspian and laughed. "I don't think we should install leisure in the Shadow Realm."
"Speak for yourself," Caspian replied with a grin, launching a fireball high into the void. It exploded in a harmless shower of sparks. "We could at least get snacks."
"Focus," came the cold voice of Jahanox from the center of the training field. He stood still, arms crossed, his dark coat flaring slightly with each pulse of power that rippled through the realm.
Caspian sighed. "Yes, drill sergeant."
Jahanox narrowed his eyes. "If you're done joking, try not burning your own eyebrows off this time."
Kiyomasa chuckled, though his brow was furrowed in concentration. He moved his arms gently, directing a stream of wind around a floating boulder, trying to lift it and control its shape.
Sweat rolled down his temple. "Still can't control wind and earth at the same time... it's harder than I thought."
"You'll get there," Jahanox said, stepping forward. With a sweep of his arm, a spear of shadow shot up in front of Kiyomasa. "React."
Kiyomasa instinctively dodged, his footwork clumsy but reactive. A current of wind pushed the stone away just before it reached him.
"Better," Jahanox admitted.
Caspian was watching with arms behind his head. "So serious all the time, Nova. One day you're gonna train us into the ground."
Jahanox smirked. "That's the idea."
Jahanox lifted his hand and ground beneath Caspian dissappered, Caspian quickly covered his feet in wind and jumped directly next to Kiyomasa.
He carefully landed and turned around to Kiyomasa, "I'm telling you, he's gonna kill us in the name of training someday."
"Well you gotta work hard." Kiyomasa spoke with determined eyes.
"You guys say we are not superheroes, even though that's what we are? Trying to save multiverse and all."
"Because we aren't superheros," Jahanox's serious voice pierced through them, "We only do this for ourselves and no one else."
"We are Catalysts and that means we're tools for change--nothing more." Jahanox finished and looked at the surprised face of Caspian.
Kiyomasa, catching his breath, tilted his head. "You make it sound like we're weapons."
Jahanox nodded slowly. "We are. But we choose how we're used."
There was a silence then, broken only by the shifting wind and the quiet rumble of the earth beneath them.
Caspian looked off into the dark distance. "We're tools huh?"
Kiyomasa swallowed hard but didn't argue. He resumed his stance, gathering wind again. The shadows shifted above him like storm clouds gathering.
Caspian threw another fireball into the air and let it burst. This time he layered it with a twist of wind that made the fire spiral higher.
"You're learning," Jahanox said plainly.
"I always learn fast when death is the alternative," Caspian said, half-joking but breathless.
Hours passed like that. Sweat poured. Muscles screamed. And still they trained—dodging, focusing, bending the elements like strings on an unseen instrument.
At last, Jahanox called a stop. "That's enough for now."
The landscape shimmered and the realm dimmed slightly, a signal that the session had ended.
Caspian collapsed dramatically onto a low rock. "If this is the warm-up, I don't want to see the final exam."
"We survived yet another session," Kiyomasa said with a tired grin.
"Barely," Caspian said. "Come on, let's get out of here. I need something to eat that doesn't taste like sulfur."
They exited the realm into the outside world. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city.
"Let's crash at Kiyomasa's place," Caspian suggested. "Zazm's house always has that fancy tea."
Kiyomasa nodded. "I could go for that."
Jahanox followed without comment.
As they walked, a small group of high school girls passed by. One of them gasped loudly and pointed. "Oh my God! It's Caspian Grey!"
Caspian threw on a quick smile. "Guilty."
The girls rushed over, squealing and holding out phones and notebooks. "Can we take pictures? Please?"
He laughed. "Of course. Line up, ladies. No pushing, I'm fragile."
While Caspian entertained his fans, Jahanox leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed. Kiyomasa stood quietly nearby, slightly overwhelmed.
"He really is famous," Kiyomasa said, watching.
"He'll milk that forever," Jahanox replied in a straight tone.
Caspian came back with a smirk across his face, "Oh apologies," he shrugged his hands, "What can I do I'm just too famous."
Jahanox pushed himself, "Well I don't mind since that's the only thing you got."
Soon enough, the three made it to Zazm's place—still quiet, a little too quiet.
After chilling for a while, sprawled across the living room and sipping the aforementioned tea, Caspian finally said it aloud.
"Should we give him a call?"
Jahanox looked toward the hallway, unreadable. "We can try."
Kiyomasa nodded. "I hope he's okay..."
Caspian spoke, "Yeah, the guy disspapered into thin air 2 weeks ago and hasn't contacted ever since."
None of them said it, but all three were thinking the same thing.
Where was Zazm? And what was happening to him?
"Want me to call him?" Jahanox asked, already reaching for his phone.
They all nodded. The room fell silent as Jahanox dialed.
Ringing
No answer.
He frowned, hit redial. Still nothing.
Caspian raised an eyebrow. "Try again." Jahanox did. And again. Voicemail.
Kiyomasa leaned forward, his expression concerned. "That's not like him..."
Jahanox crossed his arms, but didn't speak.
"I'm sure he's fine," Caspian said with a shrug. "Maybe he's just passed out somewhere after a dramatic display of powers."
"Still…" Kiyomasa murmured. "What if something's wrong?"
He's strong," Jahanox finally spoke. "If something was wrong, we'd feel it."
But there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. One he didn't voice.
---
Zazm woke with a slow inhale, blinking at the ceiling like it was the first time he'd seen it in years. The pain was gone. Not just dulled—but gone. His body no longer felt like a collapsing building. He lay still for a moment, listening to the silence, before finally pushing himself upright with one steady motion.
He rolled his shoulders, then stretched his arms over his head, testing every inch of muscle. No tightness. No searing agony in his marked hand. He curled his fingers into a fist, then slowly opened them. "Feels… good," he muttered.
His eyes shimmered black once again as he activated the mark's sight. The swirling pattern enveloped his pupils, coating the whites in the same dark hue. The pain was faint—like a distant echo now—but it didn't slow him. Threads glided gently in the air around his arm, visible to only him, stable and still.
He bent space casually, hopping from one end of the room to the other in a blink, a trail of violet light marking his movements. Three jumps later, he stood near the window, lips quirking into a satisfied smirk.
Then his stomach let out a growl so loud it startled him.
"Right," he chuckled dryly. "Food exists."
He glanced over at the clock. 5:20 PM.
"Two days without eating… and I didn't even notice?" He scratched the back of his neck. "Either I've ascended, or I'm an idiot."
After that, it was time to clean himself up. The coat came off first—stiff with dried snow and the faint metallic scent of blood. "Ugh… smells like a corpse." He sniffed his shoulder and grimaced. "Yeah, no way I'm eating like this."
He walked into the shower, water warming fast as steam coated the mirror. He scrubbed everything—his arms, his face, his neck, even behind the ears—grime and dried blood swirling down the drain like melted ink. Some of it had hardened against his skin, clinging like dried glue, but he scraped it off with grit.
The steam soaked into his bones, and he stood there for a while, letting it all drain away—pain, exhaustion, everything.
Afterward, he pulled on fresh clothes: a long black shirt with thin silver accents at the sleeves, tucked into fitted charcoal pants, and over that a dark grey trench coat with matte black buttons and a high collar that brushed his jawline. He ran his fingers through his slightly long black hair, slicking it back loosely, then left the building into the fading light of early evening.
The air was cool, crisp with the scent of melting snow and fried food in the distance. Streetlights flickered on above as he strolled down the street, hands in his coat pockets, scarf drifting slightly with each step. The city buzzed in the way it always did—busy, warm, and loud.
Zazm's stomach growled again. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "Where's a place that won't kill me?"
He passed a restaurant called Fish & Philosophy. He squinted at the sign. "What do they serve, existential dread sushi?"
Next was Thyme Travelers, a bistro with clocks all over its windows. "Cute pun. But I'm not eating food made by someone who thinks basil is a time machine."
Buns & Roses had an aesthetic so over-the-top romantic that he didn't dare make eye contact with the heart-shaped chairs. "Nope."
*Korrupt Fried Chicken*
The name itself was wierd but Zazm decided to ignore it.
The smell hit first. Crispy, golden oil. That perfect spicy breading. The soft, almost holy scent of hot fries.
"Oh. My. God," Zazm whispered, actual joy forming in his expression. "This… This is salvation."
The restaurant was alive with the sound of laughter, conversations, and clinking trays. Inside, the walls were warm red and orange, with posters of cartoon chickens doing absurd things like kickboxing or riding motorcycles. It was cozy chaos, and Zazm loved it.
He slid into a booth in the back corner—away from the busiest tables but with a good view of the entire space. A waiter appeared, clipboard in hand.
"Hey there, welcome to Korrupt Fried Chicken! What can I get you?"
Zazm barely glanced at the menu. "Two buckets. Extra crispy. Extra spicy. And a mountain of fries."
The waiter blinked. "Uh… you alone?"
"Yeah." Zazm cracked his neck and smirked. "It's a long story."
The waiter just nodded and disappeared into the back. Zazm leaned back against the booth, eyes scanning the place—kids laughing over wings, a couple sharing fries, a guy spilling hot sauce on his shirt.
Normal. It felt almost surreal.
He pulled out his phone, flipped it between his fingers, and stared at it. A lot of missed calls and even text notifications from his friends.
He opened the phone and a nostalgic wave hit him, all his highschool friends constantly texted and called him but he barely replied now and hang out with him.
He scrolled through the messages when he found a group, he smiled a little reading the group's name, it was the group of sports team he was in.
He remembered the days when he used to hang out with different people and had alot of friends but now.....
He was just in his thoughts when his gaze fell upon the missed calls from Jahanox and Kiyomasa. He quickly remembered he haven't contacted them in a while too.
His smile softened. "They were probably worried," he muttered. "Sorry, guys. I was kind of busy dying."
A few minutes later, his food arrived—and Zazm dug in like he hadn't eaten in years. Because honestly? He hadn't.
And it had never tasted so good.
Zazm leaned back in the booth, eyes half-lidded, the last remnants of fried chicken wiped clean from his fingers. He took a final sip of his soda, the fizzy chill rolling down his throat, and let out a satisfied breath. That… had been a meal worth remembering.
He stood slowly, rolling his shoulders. It had taken a while, but he had savored every bite. It wasn't just hunger he was feeding—it was something deeper, something that reminded him of the small pleasures still left in a life that was anything but ordinary.
He stepped out into the evening air, his breath faint in the cool mist. Lights glimmered against the damp street, casting reflections like a river of stars under his feet. He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, scarf fluttering slightly as a breeze swept past.
Then he turned, feet automatically guiding him through the winding streets—taking him back. Back to that path. The familiar one. The one beneath the streetlamp where reality had first shifted. He didn't know why he was going there again, but his body moved with purpose. Maybe part of him… was hoping for something.
At the same time, across the city, Jennie stepped out of the gallery, clutching her coat tightly around her. She had tried everything in her head—distraction, denial, even silent prayer—but none of it had calmed the storm of thoughts inside her since that strange night. Since he took her away and showed her things that defied logic.
That strange boy.
That stranger… Zazm.
Her footsteps echoed on the sidewalk as she walked, fighting the twist in her gut. "I'll go a different way," she whispered to herself. "There's no need to see him again."
But her legs didn't listen.
As she walked, the pull toward the streetlamp grew stronger. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, jaw clenched, eyes cold. "I just need answers," she muttered, and then she turned the corner.
The lamp buzzed softly above the intersection, casting its familiar pale glow over the quiet street.
And he was there.
Standing beneath the lamp like nothing had happened. Calm, composed, dressed in a long coat that fluttered lightly in the wind. His dark hair brushed gently over his forehead, and his eyes—though distant—glimmered with that same unknowable depth.
Jennie stopped a few steps away.
No smile. No expression. Just silence.
Zazm didn't move. He simply looked at her with that stillness that felt like it could crack the earth.
And then she spoke, her voice low but sharp with tension.
"When are you going to answer?" she asked. No greeting, no buildup—just a demand. "You said you'd explain. You said you'd tell me what that was. What happened to me. What you are."
"I will," he said calmly. "But only if you give me an answer first."
Jennie's brow furrowed. "What kind of answer?"
He stepped forward, slowly, until they were just a few feet apart. His eyes narrowed slightly, the streetlamp light catching the faint shimmer of the mark just barely visible on his hand beneath the sleeve.
"You saw what I showed you," he said softly. "You felt the truth of it. It's not something you can unsee."
She didn't respond, but the slight tremble of her fingers told him she hadn't forgotten any of it.
Zazm tilted his head slightly. "So tell me, Jennie… do you want to know the truth, or do you want to stay where you are?"
Jennie nodded.
Zazm didn't move. But in that second, his expression changed—barely, but noticeably. A quiet shift from distant caution to something unreadable. He had seen that kind of nod before. The kind that wasn't impulsive, not born out of curiosity alone. It was the nod of someone who had already lived through enough storms to face one more.
Jennie took a small breath, about to speak.
But before a single word escaped her lips, Zazm raised a hand.
"Wait," he said quietly, voice low and sharp under the streetlamp's hum.
She froze, blinking.
Zazm's gaze fixed onto her with sudden intensity, and he stepped forward just once—just enough to make his presence feel like a tide slowly rising around her.
"Think again," he said, his tone serious—far heavier than anything he'd spoken before. "Make sure this is the right decision… not the easiest one. The truth comes at a cost. And once you know it, you can't return to not knowing. You can't unsee it."
Jennie looked at him for a long second. Not with fear—but with clarity. And then, quietly, she stepped back.
Zazm's brow furrowed slightly, unsure what to make of it. But she didn't leave. Instead, she turned and leaned against the metal pole across from him. The soft wind toyed with the ends of her coat and brushed her hair back gently as she crossed her arms and stared up into the pale sky.
Then she spoke, voice softer now—more natural.
"My life…" she began, "was never easy to begin with."
Her lips curved into a faint smile, not a happy one, but one of acceptance. The kind of smile people wear when they're used to disappointment.
"I used to think maybe something was wrong with me. Or maybe the world just didn't have a place for people like me. But if there is something more—something you're hiding—then I want to see it. Maybe that's how I find it… a place I belong to."
She turned her head and met his gaze.
Her smile faded. Her eyes, though soft, held a storm behind them.
"I want to know the truth," she said, clear and certain. "Everything."
Zazm looked at her for a long moment. The lamp above buzzed faintly, and in that stillness between them, something shifted. It was a silence heavy with unspoken promises, unexplainable truths, and a path they both knew would change everything.
Finally, Zazm gave a slow nod.
"Alright," he murmured. "Then I'll show you."
Zazm turned away from the lamp and began walking.
"But let's go somewhere else to talk," he said calmly, raising his hand.
A soft crack split the air—subtle yet forceful—as a glowing rift twisted open in front of them, light spilling out like woven threads unraveling space itself. Jennie's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen it once before, but even now, it looked… unreal. The edges shimmered like liquid glass, humming with energy too foreign to describe.
Zazm looked over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You afraid?" he asked, tone laced with amusement.
Jennie's face turned a faint red, her brows tightening. "A little, yes!"
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna throw you somewhere,"
Zazm chuckled under his breath and stepped into the portal. Without hesitation this time, Jennie followed him.
The air changed instantly.
She blinked once—twice—and the world around her shifted. The buzz of city life was gone, replaced by a silence so pure it rang in her ears.
Towering trees surrounded them, their leaves rustling faintly in the cool mountain breeze. The sky stretched wide and endless above them, with stars beginning to faintly flicker into existence along the distant horizon.
Below, far below, clouds rolled like a lazy sea, barely revealing the outlines of forested slopes and jagged cliffside ridges.
She turned around slowly, eyes wide in awe. "Where… are we?"
"Somewhere quiet," Zazm said simply, his coat brushing softly against his legs as he walked ahead. "High up. I like high places."
Jennie watched him for a second, then asked, "Why? What is it with you and heights?"
Zazm stopped and tilted his head up to the sky, where the wind moved slow and free. His eyes reflected the fading sunlight.
"Perhaps..…I'll answer that some other day," he replied with a faint smirk.
Jennie opened her mouth to press again, but before she could, he snapped his fingers with a gentle click.
"So," Zazm said, his expression sobering. "Where should I start from?"
He looked at her, and for the first time, the air around him felt weightier. More real. No longer just the mysterious boy who leaned under lamplights and teased her with riddles.
He was something else entirely now. And he was about to show her.
Jennie stepped closer, her arms folded but her posture attentive. She was ready.
Zazm exhaled.
"It started about a year ago," he began. "I wasn't always like this. None of us were. The four of us… we were just people. Until we weren't. Until something changed us."
Jennie's eyes widened slightly. "There are others?"
"Three others," Zazm nodded. "Each one different. But all of them… Catalysts."
He raised his hand and gestured toward the sky, where, for a fleeting moment, thin glowing lines shimmered—threads—dancing like veins across the atmosphere.
"That's what we are. Catalysts. Not heroes. Not chosen ones. Just variables. Agents of change. And sometimes, change comes at a price."
Jennie felt something tighten in her chest. She didn't know why—but the way he spoke, the look in his eyes… he'd paid that price.
---
Zazm finally finished speaking.
The wind brushed through the trees again, soft and unbothered, as if the world hadn't just shifted for her.
Jennie sat there, eyes wide but unfocused, her body still. Then, slowly, she lowered herself onto the grass, her knees folding beneath her as she held her head in both hands.
Her mind was racing.
Catalysts. Powers. The fabric of time and space. A world hidden beneath the surface of reality. A truth so vast it made her entire life up until this point feel like a prologue.
And yet… not a single word he said sounded like a lie.
She didn't have a reason to deny it. The things she'd seen, the feeling inside her, the strange familiarity.
Her voice didn't come. Her mouth was dry. Her heart thumped too loud in her ears as questions she didn't even know how to phrase circled her brain like a storm. She clenched her jaw, trying to keep steady, but her hands trembled slightly as they pressed to her temples.
Zazm watched her silently for a moment before stepping closer. His coat billowed slightly with the high mountain breeze, the ends brushing over the grass.
He walked a little Infront of her and finished, "And I'm Zazm Mystic the Catalyst that controls Time and Space and....."
He paused for a second, "Also the person responsible for finding and helping you with your powers."
Jennie got up and brushed her clothes and she shook Zazm's hand with a smile, "I'm Jennie Aurelia the Catalyst..."
And at those words she froze not knowing what to say and seeing her confused like that, Zazm couldn't help but laugh.
"We'll figure that out now," He told Jennie as he lifted his hand with the mark on it.
Alright then," he said with a small, almost excited smirk, "let's figure out what you've got hiding inside you."
Jennie slowly took a step back brushing off her jeans, still uncertain but no longer backing away. She could feel the weight of what was about to happen—even if she didn't know the details. Her chest tightened a little, but she held her ground.
Zazm lifted his left hand, the one with the black mark carved into his skin. Jennie's eyes were drawn to it immediately, and before she could speak, something started to change.
His eyes turned black—completely. Not just the pupils, but the whites too. Deep, swirling darkness like an abyss opened where his gaze once was. The mark on his hand began to glow with faint pulses of energy, and shadow-like threads started to unfurl from it, dancing and coiling in the air with unnatural grace.
Jennie instinctively took a half-step back. Her breath caught in her throat.
Zazm caught the hesitation and looked up at her, those black eyes somehow calm even in their intensity. "Don't move," he said gently. "It might feel a little weird, but I promise—it won't hurt."
Jennie gave a small nod, even though her fingers were curled tightly at her sides. There was something terrifying about the way his powers manifested—like watching a force of nature wrapped in the form of a human. But deep down, something told her she could trust him.
The threads floated forward, like snakes of pure energy, glowing with a subtle shimmer as they reached toward her. Zazm's expression changed, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration.
He was analyzing her—reading the space around her, the energy woven into her very being. The threads didn't just sense the outside—they dove deeper, brushing against her core, her essence, searching for the echo of her power.
Jennie felt it like a wave of static washing over her skin—tingly, warm, and cold at the same time. Her heartbeat quickened.
Zazm muttered to himself, almost too low for her to hear. "Come on… show me what you're hiding…"
The threads coiled tighter, mapping the invisible pathways around Jennie, unraveling the dormant energy she hadn't even known existed.
His expression shifted slightly. The mark on his hand pulsed stronger now.
"My my now isn't that interesting...," for Zazm he was looking at the threads and carefully observing them but to Jennie who couldn't see them it looked as is he was looking here and there in the air.
She felt quiet weird but decided not to ask and just silently stood there, and just then Zazm spoke, "Illusion...."
"What?" Jennie asked almost instantly.
"Well, you can create illusions." Zazm pointed at Jennie saying that.
"I-Illusions? Li-like?" She asked still in shock and surprise.
Zazm rubbed his hand on the back of his head, "Well imagine creating something."
Jennie tilted her head in confusion but lifted both her palms, "Like this?"
A little blue light started forming in it as she looks at it in a surprised and shocked way.
The light dissappered and Zazm looked at what she had created, a small bird rested in her palms.
"Wow so I can create illusions like these!", Jennie exclaimed as she dropped the bird but it started flying.
"Wh-what?" She took a step back shocked at what she was seeing, "Wait isn't this supposed to be an illusion? Why is it flying?"
A smirk appeared across Zazm's lips, "Sure that's an illusion but it'll obey your commands and do whatever you want, in future you would be able to create illusions that are no different from reality."
Jennie's eyes widened in surprise but before she could say anything Zazm pointed at the bird, "Imagine the bird is sitting on your shoulder."
Jennie did what he said and the bird quickly came down on her shoulder, she tried to touch the bird but instead of her hand going through it, it touched and felt like a completely real thing.
"No way....." She spoke as she continued to touch the bird that felt completely real.
"Huh? Already surprised, how about you try to make it speak something?" Zazm spoke clearly amused by the scene.
"Make it speak how?" She looked at Zazm in confusion and Zazm just pointed to her head.
"Hello!" The bird spoke and Jennie jumped back in confusion.
"Well welcome to the team, new Catalyst."
"This power is too amazing....." Jennie exclaimed playing with her bird and talking to it.
"Well now can you hear me out for a second?" Zazm said and Jennie quickly stopped at a distance.
"Jennie you have another power." Zazm spoke his tone stern and serious.
Jennie once again looked confused, "Is that something to be so shocked about? I mean every catalyst has multiple powers..."
Zazm shook his head, "Sure we all have more than one power but it's connected to the same base, like my own powers: time and space are both connected and also the other Catalyst's powers."
They both went quiet for a second before Zazm walked a little closer, "But your second power is completely different and it's making no sense, it's like you killed and stole someone else's power." He put his hand on his chin trying to think the reason.
Jennie stood there frozen at the mention of killing, her eyes turned slightly darker as she tried to avoid his gaze but Zazm didn't notice this.
"Well what's my other power then?" Jennie spoke trying to lighten the atmosphere bringing Zazm back from his thoughts.
"Oh yeah and after that let's go meet others too."
Jennie nodded as Zazm told her about her second power and she was even more shocked but Zazm failed to noticed that sudden change in her attitude back when the topic was mentioned.
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