Divergence
The Flicker in the Sky
Scene: The Grand Amphitheater of Avialon, Airious. King Centron's Court. The sky itself dims... not from clouds, but from doubt.
---
The chamber buzzed—not with energy, but with questions.
Floating scrolls of shifting affinity records glowed dimly.
Avian banners fluttered uneasily.
The Free Abyss... was calling too many.
Even the wind whispered of Traxis.
A knight with silver wings landed in the center. His voice echoed.
Ractor (Speed Affinity, shaking his head):
> "This can't go on...
We've lost over 300 initiates to Devia this moon alone."
Aminator stood nearby, arms folded, eyes dim with concern. His Magic Output affinity was pulsating faintly like a flickering pulse.
Aminator:
> "Jack's team was supposed to show the next generation the path.
And yet the strugglers they faced… walked into the Abyss willingly."
> "Traxis isn't corrupting them with lies.
He's weaponizing their pain with permission."
---
Kate the Fox (Illusion Affinity):
> "You mean he's not giving them power… he's giving them a way out."
> "And honestly… part of me gets it."
Gasps filled the room. Some glared. Others nodded.
Cration (Air Affinity, frowning):
> "Kate—don't start sounding like a sympathizer."
Kate:
> "I'm not.
I'm just saying… for those who feel like Avia never saw them…
Devia feels like a mirror."
---
Victoria (Fire Affinity), eyes burning.
Victoria:
> "Avia isn't perfect.
But we grew through it.
Are we supposed to just let them opt out of the struggle?"
Vericane (Ice Swordsman):
> "And what if the struggle itself is the problem?"
A silence dropped.
---
Suddenly, Kainen walked in, cape flowing, one eye glowing with Insight.
The hall stood still.
Kainen:
> "Enough."
"We are Champions of Clarity. Not Denial."
> "Devia is real. And so is its pull."
He turned to the crystal display floating above them, showing the growing portal to the Free Abyss and the influx of wanderers entering.
Kainen:
> "Look at them.
They are not evil.
They are exhausted.
Avia asks for authenticity.
But they don't even know who they are yet."
> "Traxis offered them comfort before we offered them clarity."
---
Aprexion (Arrow Affinity), calmly:
> "Then what do we do?"
Kainen:
> "We remember who we are."
> "We don't win people back by shaming them.
We win them back by shining so clearly, they remember their spark too."
> "This isn't war. Not yet.
This is a test of essence."
---
Centron, appearing high on the celestial platform, golden robes rippling.
King Centron:
> "Let them go.
The Free Abyss will teach them... what freedom without form really is."
> "But prepare, my Knights...
Because one day, they will return.
Not as enemies…
But as questions."
> "And on that day...
Avia must answer."
---
Scene fades. The sky above flickers again... not in fear… but in preparation.
"The Divergent March"
Location: The Descent Path to the Divergent Portal — on the edges of reality, where Airious thins and Devia whispers in colors the eye shouldn't see. A slow-moving crowd heads toward the Free Abyss…
---
Kranor walks ahead, arms folded, eyes sharp. His footsteps heavy—not with power, but with pressure. Behind him: Tarren, Jero, Ulok, Meilo, Nicia, Gullia, and Marneth. All once students of Avia. All once told to be whole.
---
Jero (Warrior Affinity, tense):
> "…I still don't know if we should do this."
Tarren (Panic Valor Affinity, anxious):
> "He's right. Jack… what he said about being in pain but choosing to rise anyway… it still echoes, man."
Kranor stops mid-step.
Kranor (not turning):
> "Echoes don't change reality."
"They're just leftover noise from people who don't know what silence feels like."
---
Tarren (quietly):
> "You think Jack doesn't know silence?"
Kranor (whipping around):
> "Jack was raised by a hero.
He had lightning in his blood and clarity in his cradle.
You think he understands what it's like waking up every day unsure if you even deserve to exist?"
Kranor (snarling):
> "They walk around with their perfect Avia signatures, talking about pushing through—
while WE are told to wait for healing like it's some pending delivery!"
---
Meilo (voice like broken glass):
> "And maybe they're right.
Maybe we just needed more time—"
Kranor (shouting):
> "Time?! How much more time do you need to realize Avia isn't designed for us?!"
"It demands clarity before you've even seen the mirror!"
---
Ulok (muttering):
> "Still… it feels wrong to just walk away. Like we're quitting."
Kranor (pauses, then softly):
> "We're not quitting…
We're choosing.
And that's something Avia never gave us.
Not without prerequisites.
Not without proof we were worth believing in."
---
Marneth glances ahead — the portal to Devia looms like a breathing fracture in the world. Neon hues swirling in impossible patterns. The whispers of Traxis like gentle sermons in the wind.
---
Gullia (calm, but cold):
> "We gave them everything we had…
and they gave us tests."
Nicia (arms folded, ink dripping):
> "At least in Devia… my mess is my masterpiece."
---
Tarren (still hesitant):
> "…But what if Devia does take something from us too?"
Kranor (eyes narrowing):
> "Then let it take.
I'm tired of giving myself away for free."
---
They move forward. The light behind dims, the color in front grows richer, louder, more… inviting.
And still—
in both Tarren and Jero's hearts—
Jack's words flicker like a fading star refusing to die.
---
Fade out with Traxis' voice echoing faintly through the mist:
> "Come.
Not to be fixed…
But to be felt."
"The Threshold of Devia"
Location: Just outside the Divergent Portal — mist spirals upward in chaotic patterns. The colors shift like moods, and gravity hums with uncertainty. The portal is alive. And lounging on a throne of cracked reflections is... a snake.
---
[Enter: Lunio, the Lazy Whisper]
He's a slick, long-bodied serpent-like being with humanoid arms, lounging in a coiled chair made of melted glass and warped logic.
His tongue flicks. His fangs are ornamental. His eyes? Forever sleepy.
---
Lunio (grinning with a yawn):
> "Heeeyy… look who's crawling through the cracks of existence."
"Kranorrrr, Meilo, Niciaaa… Tarren, my panicked valorant… glad to see you all made it through the breakup with Avia."
He stretches his back like a lazy cat, the sound of vertebrae snapping into place in reverse order.
Lunio:
> "So… you gonna think about it again? Or finally just let it go?
Avia doesn't love you. It loves your potential."
flicks tongue "Devia? She loves your mess."
---
Kranor (growling, suspicious):
> "Who even are you?"
Lunio (bows like a drunk noble):
> "Lunio, darling. Devia's first napper. Patron saint of 'meh'.
You might say I was born to chill… and Devia is the perfect sauce to dip my lazy truths in."
---
Meilo (watching him cautiously):
> "You don't look like someone who… cares about truth or clarity."
Lunio (smirking):
> "Exactly. Truth is exhausting.
Clarity is a scam.
You ever tried to 'find yourself'? Ugh. Takes forever."
"Devia's not asking you to find anything. Just… be whatever leaks out."
---
Tarren (still unsure):
> "But… is this right? I mean… Devia didn't even exist before Traxis twisted things—"
---
[Enter: Felac, the Gleeful Heretic]
A jittery, excitable individual, half-dissolved into glitchy colors and wearing a trench coat made of metaphors. His voice sounds like it's trying to harmonize with itself.
Felac (popping in mid-sentence):
> "TwiSTed? Nooo no no—Traxis UNtwisted the knot!"
"You ever pull a thread from a tangled sweater and suddenly feel air on your chest? That's Devia!"
---
Felac (giggling):
> "And by the way, chill your Avia-loyal boots:
Devia ain't the Corruption Force... unless you want that one!"
"It's like seasoning. Want your freedom spicy or sweet?"
"Devia lets you choose the flavor of your self-destruction!"
---
Lunio (lazily nodding):
> "I like mine lukewarm with mild cynicism and a dash of existential dread."
---
Nicia (muttering):
> "...So Devia's not evil, but it doesn't care about good either."
Felac (grinning):
> "Bingo! It doesn't care. And that's what makes it fair."
"Avia? Avia made humans chosen—while Airien strugglers rot under expectation.
Why? Cuz they believed harder? Pfft…"
---
Lunio (slithers closer, whispering):
> "Devia doesn't make you earn anything.
You exist? Congrats. You're enough."
"You feel like quitting? That's valid."
"You want to rewrite your meaning every Tuesday? Go ahead."
---
Kranor (closing his eyes, exhaling):
> "…That actually… doesn't sound like weakness."
Lunio (smiling wide):
> "Of course not.
It sounds like you.
And isn't that what you were screaming for this whole time?"
---
The portal pulses brighter. One step away. The voices of the Free Abyss calling.
Felac (offering a hand):
> "So… are you ready to meet Traxis?"
"He's not waiting to test you.
He's waiting to accept you."
---
Tarren and Jero exchange glances...
"Welcome to the Free Abyss"
Location: The Divergent Portal has been crossed. Behind them lies the logic of realms. Ahead… is pure interpretive chaos.
Colors swirl like liquid thought. The sky doesn't exist—it shifts between memories, art, and dreams. The ground hums with acceptance. Trees have poetry for bark, and the rivers run sideways. A world where nothing is forced to make sense unless it wants to.
---
[The Squad Enters: Kranor, Meilo, Nicia, Ulok, Tarren, Jero, Gullia, Marneth, and the rest of the outcasts]
Their eyes widen. Their souls breathe. Their wounds… stop screaming.
---
Meilo (voice cracking):
> "What... is this place…? It's—it's not even real, and yet…"
He lifts his hand. The glass around his body starts glowing in tune with his thoughts.
"It understands me."
---
Nicia (eyes slowly shifting into gothic ink):
> "Look at them…"
She points toward a cliffside, where several Deviant disciples are meditating upside-down in floating chairs.
"They're learning how to manipulate Devia… without breaking apart. Without being called 'wrong.'"
---
Kranor (grits his teeth, but can't hide the awe):
> "This can't be real. This is... paradise for the broken."
"...For us."
---
Tarren (gently):
> "I don't feel ashamed here."
Ulok (wiping a tear before locking it back in a box):
> "No one's asking me to 'fix' myself before I unlock anything."
---
Jero (looking into a reflection that shifts into every version of him that ever doubted):
> "They're not fighting their flaws… they're harmonizing with them."
---
Felac appears behind them—spinning on his heels like he's made of improv and paradoxes.
Felac:
> "Welcome to the Free Abyss, my delightful deviants!"
"Where your traumas get a tan and your flaws get upgraded to features!"
---
Lunio lounges again, this time on a bench made of melted expectations.
Lunio:
> "A world without rubrics. Without 'worthy.' Without trauma-taxing ascension."
"This is where you become what you already are."
---
They look around. Individuals training with Devia:
A girl painting fear into blades.
A man laughing while crying, summoning storms of contradictory emotions.
A former Champion meditating, dissolving their own name to become a concept instead.
---
Gullia (murmuring):
> "They're not… better than us.
They're just them. And here… that's enough."
---
Marneth points at the far horizon
Where the environment shifts into a colossal spiral—a literal staircase of broken rules. Floating above it all... a massive domain, shaped like a cathedral made of rewritten philosophies.
---
Marneth (with reverence):
> "There... That's where he lives... Traxis."
---
Felac (grinning):
> "The Former Struggler. The Unforgiven Philosopher.
The Sympathizer of Broken Systems."
Lunio (nodding solemnly):
> "And the man who made Devia into a home."
---
Kranor steps forward. His aura flickers. Momentum and Release still flows, but not with restraint. This time, it's free.
Kranor:
> "Then let's meet him.
Let's meet the man who gave failure a future."
---
The group marches forward—into the domain of Traxis.
Not to fight. Not to prove themselves.
But to become something no other realm ever let them be.
---
The Traxian Auditorium
A metaphysical amphitheater at the heart of the Free Abyss. Its walls pulse like veins of potential. The seats shift based on your mood. The sky above is a canvas of shifting symbols—some ancient, some not even invented yet. The stage is circular… because here, hierarchy is an illusion.
Those who enter... don't sit.
They stand still, waiting.
And then…
AVIA VANISHES.
Just like that.
Like a mother turning her back on a child she no longer recognizes.
Their bodies shudder—not from pain, but disorientation.
From being disconnected from something that once made them feel real.
---
Ulok (clutching his chest):
> "I... I can't feel my lock anymore…"
---
Nicia (falling to her knees):
> "The ink won't listen. It's... dead. It died in me..."
---
Meilo (holding a shard of himself):
> "Why does it feel like I betrayed someone I love?"
---
Jero (angrily):
> "We came here to be free! Why does it hurt like hell?!"
---
Suddenly... silence.
Not absence.
Expectancy.
A hum.
A pull.
A shift.
Then...
⚫ A black neon spiral opens at the center of the stage.
It bends nothing... because here, everything bends already.
And from it… a man steps out. Not radiant. Not terrifying. But present.
Wearing a calm robe made of contradiction, stitched with flaws turned to flowers, and shoes laced with irony. His eyes… carry decades of knowing.
He is not smiling.
He is understood.
Traxis.
The Sympathizer of Failure.
The Liberator of the Overlooked.
---
Traxis (his voice doesn't echo—it harmonizes):
> "So… you feel it now."
> "That sting in your chest?
It's not punishment.
It's mourning."
> "You are grieving the version of you that lived for someone else's version of truth."
---
He slowly walks toward the center of them. His presence doesn't demand silence—it inspires it.
---
Traxis:
> "Avia is beautiful.
It is honest.
But it is inflexible.
It wants you to become what you truly are—
But only through its lens."
> "What happens… when your truth isn't symmetrical?
When your soul stutters before it speaks?"
"What if… you want to be whole, without being 'fixed' first?"
---
Kranor clenches his jaw:
> "But why does it feel like we're betraying it...?"
---
Traxis:
> "Because you were taught that love equals obedience.
But love also means… letting go."
---
Marneth (whispering):
> "So this place… this Auditorium…"
---
Traxis (smiling slightly now):
> "It is not a factory.
It is a womb.
Devia doesn't demand alignment.
It accepts your contradiction.
It grows with you."
> "It doesn't care if you feel lost.
It cares that you're honest about it."
---
He waves a hand.
Suddenly, their flickering powers begin to stabilize—not return, but evolve.
No more glass shattering uncontrollably.
No more locked affinities.
Their powers now flow with the same doubt they've always carried…
But the doubt is part of the power now.
---
Traxis (softly):
> "You are not betrayers.
You are choosers.
And this?
This is your new Avia."
> "Flexible Reasoning."
> "It is flawed.
It is tangled.
It is real."
---
He raises his arms—without pride. Just invitation.
> "If you're ready to stop fighting yourself…
Step forward.
Be registered.
And write your new story."
---
And across the Auditorium...
One by one...
They step forward.
Some with guilt.
Some with tears.
Some with peace.
But all with choice.
The Traxian Auditorium – Moments After Acceptance
The kaleidoscope lights of Devia calm into a rhythmic hum, not mechanical—but biological. The atmosphere pulses with empathy, breathing with the insecurities of every soul inside. No alarms. No judgment. Just resonance.
Kranor stood tall—his body relaxed for the first time in years.
The sharp pulses of Momentum and Release flowed through him like jazz, smooth and unpredictable.
He felt seen, like the power didn't just respond to who he was—it understood who he had been.
---
Kranor (whispering to himself):
> "I don't need to justify myself anymore...
I'm not a failure needing fixing.
I'm just... me."
---
Beside him, Meilo's Glass Affinity restructured. No longer fragile. Now reflective in a deeper sense—his shards reflected pieces of himself that he once hated.
But now, they shimmered with self-acceptance.
Nicia's Gothic Ink melted into emotional expression, no longer defensive—just expressive. Her sorrow wrote poetry through her fists.
Ulok opened and closed locks not as defenses, but as invitations. He unlocked himself.
Gullia summoned weapons of trauma with pride, not shame. Each blade was a story she finally owned.
Marneth moved between dimensions with fluid grace—no longer trying to escape, just... exploring.
---
But Tarren…
He stood with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
His Panic Valor Affinity—once surging when fear hit—now hovered awkwardly.
It tried to mold into Devia. It really did.
But it flickered.
Not violently.
Just... inconsistently. Like a skipped heartbeat.
---
Jero, standing beside him, noticed.
He said nothing.
But his newly stabilized Warrior Affinity pulsed—slower than before.
Not because of fear.
But because something felt off.
Like Devia worked… but was wearing the wrong shoes.
---
They stood together, saying nothing.
Until Tarren finally cracked.
---
Tarren (muttering):
> "I'm pathetic... even in Devia, I'm still out of sync…"
Jero (quietly, not looking at him):
> "It's not pathetic to flicker. It's honest."
Tarren (shaking):
> "But this system is supposed to accept me, right?
And I still feel like I'm faking.
Like I'm forcing the acceptance..."
Jero (eyes lowered):
> "Yeah. I feel it too… it's like… it works.
But something in me misses… something."
Tarren:
> "You think it's Avia?"
Jero (shrugs):
> "Maybe it's not Avia or Devia.
Maybe it's us.
We haven't chosen anything. We just ran."
---
There was silence.
Devia wasn't punishing them.
That was the scary part.
Devia was just… watching.
Waiting for a real answer.
Not obedience.
Not rebellion.
Choice.
---
Tarren (voice trembling):
> "What if I'm just not meant to belong anywhere…?"
---
Suddenly, Devia pulsed.
But it wasn't a rejection.
It was a... question.
---
"What is belonging to someone who hasn't yet chosen themselves?"
---
The words weren't audible, but they hit like thunder.
Jero and Tarren stood still.
For the first time…
They weren't flickering because something was wrong.
They were flickering because…
They were on the edge of something real.
The Domain of Traxis – Welcome to Flex City
They step out of the Traxian Auditorium and into a realm that breathes contradiction like oxygen.
The skies here swirl with color that doesn't exist on any color wheel—neon paradox.
Buildings curve into themselves, reshape at will, and people float, walk, or slide across dimensions—freely.
Flex City.
Where acceptance is currency and identity is fluid.
---
Traxis (with a calm smirk):
> "This is the City of Choice.
Every corner bends. Every law negotiates.
Here, there are no gods. Only truths... in progress."
Kranor squints, eyes narrow.
The beauty doesn't distract him. He's on edge.
His team walks behind him, equally stunned, some awed… some skeptical.
And then…
Boom. Boom.
The ground shakes with rhythmic impacts—like a heartbeat with iron boots.
Two massive warhammers drag across the floor, sparking flex-light trails.
Klexis.
—
Klexis (grinning wildly):
> "Well well…
If it isn't the reform school rejects.
Welcome to the Unacademy of Freedom, kiddos."
---
Kranor steps forward, arms crossed.
Kranor (dryly):
> "Didn't know Traxis was running a circus.
Thought he was raising warriors."
Klexis (chuckles):
> "We are warriors.
Just not the type that cries when daddy Avia doesn't clap for our trauma."
—
Behind Klexis steps a whole line of the Originals.
🔥 Jason, fire flickering in hues of relevance. The very air warps around him.
💀 Jairak, eyes glowing with Pain Clarity, every nerve in his body an open story.
🌫️ Androsha, in a dress of fog, unreadable and everywhere.
⚡ Eugene, already vanished before you noticed.
🎴 Banjo, flipping glowing cards with words like "Accept," "Rewrite," and "Erase."
🌙 Eve Maid, her touch calms muscles, numbs intentions, kills resistance softly.
---
Tarren (nervously):
> "These are the first…?"
Jero (low voice):
> "Yeah. The ones who chose Devia over Corruption… and didn't flinch."
---
Kranor (to Klexis):
> "So you're the prince, huh?
Son of the so-called liberator?"
Klexis (shrugging):
> "Nah. I'm just a guy who got tired of systems demanding my soul in return for 'growth.'
Devia lets me be broken, loud, quiet, aggressive, soft...
and never once asks me to pick one."
Jairak (softly):
> "We didn't join Devia because we were strong.
We joined it because truth has stages, and not everyone heals clean."
—
Jason steps forward, flames roaring with every step.
Jason:
> "I watched my relevance burn in Avia.
In Devia, it's a weapon.
Every time someone tries to forget me—I burn brighter."
---
Banjo (tossing a card to Jero):
> "Here.
A card called 'Maybe I'm Wrong'.
Most Avia people can't even hold it.
Try not to flinch."
Jero grabs the card—his arm flickers.
He grips it tighter.
Jero (to himself):
> "Maybe I'm wrong...
But maybe I'm finally asking the right questions."
---
Tarren, still flickering… watched Eve Maid in silence.
She noticed him too.
Eve Maid (softly):
> "You're scared of not being sure.
Devia's okay with that.
You don't need to be fixed, Tarren.
Just… allowed."
Tarren's lip trembled.
No retort.
No flex.
Just a soul… unraveling gently.
---
Klexis (grinning):
> "So… are the Nepo Knight Kids ready to meet reality?
Or you wanna run back to your emotionally regulated legacy powers?"
Kranor's grip tightens.
Kranor:
> "You think we're weak?"
Klexis (leans in):
> "No, bro.
I think you're scared.
That's why you came here."
The Palace of Possibility – Traxis' Domain in the Free Abyss
The palace isn't a structure—it's a mood.
A place woven from paradox and principle, where the walls are made of decisions not taken, and the throne changes shape depending on who's looking at it.
Traxis walks in.
His Devia cloak flowing behind him like an idea no one can quite pin down. At the center chamber, under a chandelier made of former beliefs, they wait.
The Ghouls.
Not in monstrous form, but in elegance—corrupted elegance.
---
🟣 Bhine, slouching on a chair made of ambition, a whisper-voiced speaker.
🔵 Vun, sharpening logic blades on the spine of a philosophy book.
🟢 Redan, juggling illusion cubes in patterns that predict fate.
💋 Lis, lounging on a velvet chaise, radiating desire and disdain.
🔥 Igna, standing behind a veil of temptation that smells like nostalgia.
💄 Lok, beauty personified, weaponized femininity with eyes like mirrors.
They nod as Traxis enters.
---
Bhine (with a slow smile):
> "Ah... The Philosopher-King of Collapse returns.
How's the soul migration project?"
Traxis (arms behind his back):
> "Flawless.
Even the faithful are flickering.
Avia's grip is slipping—not through force, but… empathy."
Vun (tapping his blade):
> "They always assumed logic was heartless.
You proved it could be kind.
Dangerously kind."
---
Lis (chuckling):
> "And you're doing it without seduction.
I'm almost insulted."
Traxis (grins):
> "You paved the way, my dear.
Your seduction taught them to ask why they repress.
I simply gave them the freedom to answer."
---
Redan (flips a cube):
> "Game's getting exciting.
Traxis, your side is winning.
Jack's team are stuck in moral buffering."
---
Traxis (turning to them all):
> "Because I didn't promise power.
I promised understanding.
The moment a system requires perfection to function—it has already failed."
Igna (smirks):
> "Tell that to the stone-chained hearts in Avia.
They called us twisted... but they twist themselves daily just to 'fit.'"
---
Lok (slowly applying makeup):
> "They always praised beauty…
Until it reflected something uncomfortable.
Then it became vanity."
Traxis (nods solemnly):
> "That's why your presence is crucial.
Each of you...
You're not just ghouls.
You're archetypes of neglected truths."
---
Bhine (leans forward, his voice curling):
> "And now, even the other realms?
Amet, Pilla, Terra, Verion?
They were Airian dependencies—and they're shifting too."
Traxis (eyes narrow with pride):
> "They remembered what I did.
I gave them language.
I gave them alternatives.
I gave them a question when Airious only gave commandments."
---
Vun (coolly):
> "So what now, 'Savior'?
They've chosen.
Is it enough?"
Traxis (steps to his throne—sits; it melts and reforms):
> "Choice was the beginning.
But belief…
That's the next frontier."
He smirks.
> "And soon, even the ones clinging to Avia will start asking themselves—
'Why am I fighting so hard to stay the same?'"
Bhine, Vun, Lis, Redan, Igna, Lok... all grin.
They don't serve him.
They walk beside him.
Because Traxis didn't create evil.
He just stopped apologizing for being human.