Ethan's breath hitched, then steadied. The solar energy still pulsed through his arm—hot, alive, demanding to be used. But this time, he didn't let it explode uncontrolled. He let it build.
His shoulders relaxed an inch. His stance adjusted.
Then he moved.
A sharp exhale left him as he drove his foot forward and punched—not at a target, but into the heart of the air itself. The golden charge surged through his arm like a comet's tail and detonated a burst of solar force just beyond his knuckles. The room lit in a brief, blinding flare as the solar blast cracked the air with focused precision.
Not chaos. Control.
The echo of the blow rolled across the chamber before being swallowed entirely by the shimmering dome.
Welt didn't flinch. He studied the aftermath in thoughtful silence, arms folded behind his back.
"That," he said after a moment, "was cleaner. Focused release. Efficient energy use. You're starting to understand the rhythm of it."
Ethan turned his wrist, flexing his fingers as the remaining warmth faded. "It felt like... less effort. Like my body knew what I wanted."
Welt nodded, then tapped his cane once against the ground. "Tell me—have you tried channeling that energy into your legs?"
Ethan blinked. "No. Why?"
"Mobility. If it can reinforce a strike, it can likely reinforce movement. Balance, leaps... maybe even augment your teleportation. But more importantly—it could allow you to keep up when pure speed isn't enough."
Ethan looked down at his legs, thoughtful. "You think it would work?"
Welt's glasses caught the last flickers of fading gold. "Only one way to find out."
Ethan's shoulders relaxed by an inch. His stance adjusted—balanced, deliberate. He stopped bracing against the heat and started carrying it.
Then, he moved.
With a sharp exhale, he channeled the energy downward. The golden glow snaked through his arm and surged into his legs. He kicked off the ground with explosive force, the charge bursting from his soles like a miniature sun detonating mid-step. The floor cracked under the strain as Ethan launched himself upward—and with a twist of instinct, he slammed his heel into the air, releasing a burst mid-spin. Light rippled from the impact like a flare breaking through fog.
Welt folded his arms as Ethan landed from the blazing kick, boots skidding slightly against the energy-drenched floor. The boy's shoulders rose and fell, breath steady but tight, his golden veins beginning to dim back beneath the skin.
He flexed his fingers, watching golden wisps fade off them. "A hybrid... between the kick and that solar melee I used before. Ember... Ember Strike."
He looked at Welt, a grin flickering to life. "Let's call that one Ember Strike too. Guess it fits the whole solar combustion theme."
Welt adjusted his glasses. "It does. And I was watching earlier—when you used your teleportation technique."
Ethan blinked. "You saw that?"
"I sensed it," Welt clarified. "Three flickers. And on the third… the nausea faded after just a few minutes."
Ethan stiffened slightly. Welt continued, voice low but intent.
"I was going to intervene. Help stabilize your body—but it was stabilizing on its own. The pulses in your arms were fading. Your veins were dimming. That healing… it's instinctive, isn't it?"
Ethan glanced down at his hand, then gave a small nod.
Welt stood with his hands calmly resting atop his cane, watching Ethan closely. "Is that the extent of what you've discovered so far? Any other abilities?"
Ethan paused, flipping his golden coin without thinking. The faint metallic clink echoed in the quiet chamber. "…There's one more I remember. When I panicked during the fight, I—shielded everyone. A barrier."
"Show me."
Ethan nodded, stepping back. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with focus. A warm light coiled around his arms, then fanned outward in a radiant half-dome—translucent, golden, and humming gently. The air shimmered inside the dome like heatwaves off sunbaked asphalt.
Welt walked forward and gently tapped the barrier with his cane. The point of contact flared but held steady. Then he struck it harder. The shield rippled but didn't fracture.
"Impressive," he murmured. "It holds shape under pressure, and the energy stabilizes across the surface. A proper bastion… would you care to name it?"
Ethan's brows knit together, sweat beading on his temple again. "Yeah. Let's call it... Solar Bastion."
Welt stepped back as Ethan lowered the shield, releasing the energy in a long, slow breath. He staggered slightly as the exhaustion caught up, but already the golden shimmer beneath his skin pulsed—slower now, steadier. Healing.
"I saw that flare again," Welt noted. "Your regenerative response is activating on its own. Whatever strain these powers put on you, your body is starting to catch up."
Ethan nodded, eyes half-lidded. "It hurts, but… less than before."
Welt studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Then we build on that."
"Build?"
Welt gave a slow nod, clearly impressed by the boy's resolve. "Listen closely."
He tapped his cane once against the ground. The reddish energy dome pulsed gently in response—still holding strong.
"You'll start by conditioning your body to handle strain at varying thresholds. No more relying purely on instinct. We'll push the output in phases—start small, then climb." His gaze flicked to Ethan's legs. "You'll pair every teleportation burst with physical reinforcement. The golden energy—your Ember Strikes—can help absorb the recoil if it's distributed properly."
"Right," Ethan muttered. "Like padding the landing gear."
"Exactly." Welt stepped closer. "And we'll rotate your focus. Strength days. Precision days. Endurance days. You'll log the duration of every strain, every flare, and every moment your regeneration kicks in. Once we know the exact limits—how long you can go before the first burn, and how quickly you heal from it—we can map your improvement."
Ethan raised his brows. "You're serious about this."
Welt gave a dry smile. "I've mentored a few living weapons before."
That made Ethan blink.
Welt turned away briefly, pacing to the edge of the dome. "You'll train here, at night. When the Express sleeps, you'll burn. And each morning, you'll show up at breakfast with fewer scars than the night before."
Ethan let out a breath—half-laugh, half-awe. "So… break myself until I stop breaking."
"Refine yourself," Welt corrected. "Until you stop shattering."
He met Ethan's gaze one last time. "You have the will. You have the fire. Now it's time to earn control."
Ethan's hand closed slowly over his golden coin.
"Then let's earn it."
A brief silence settled before Welt added, "There's still one more ability we need to discuss."
Ethan's expression darkened slightly. "The one I used against the Doomsday Beast…"
"You remember it clearly?"
"I do. A miniature sun. I charged everything into one strike." He held up his hand, now faintly glowing at the fingertips. "Nearly killed me."
Welt nodded slowly. "Then you're right to be cautious. That kind of power demands absolute control. But I believe—with the proper conditions—I could help stabilize the energy. Long enough for you to wield it safely. One day."
Ethan looked down at the coin in his hand. It gleamed quietly in the red-purple light of the sealed chamber.
"…Then I'll name it now. For what it is, and what it nearly did."
He raised his eyes, voice steady:
"Supernova Requiem."
Welt didn't smile, but there was something proud in the way he inclined his head. "Fitting."
Welt gave a final nod, letting the silence linger between them. The shimmering dome began to dissolve with a soft, whispering sound—like embers fading in the wind. The cargo bay dimmed again, returning to its usual quiet stillness.
"That's enough for tonight," Welt said, stepping back and resting both hands atop his cane. "You've pushed your limits. Any more, and even that healing of yours won't keep pace."
Ethan swayed slightly but caught himself. His skin still faintly glowed beneath his sleeves, golden traces ebbing with every slow breath.
"I'll schedule the next session after dinner tomorrow," Welt continued. "But be ready. Hellish training starts then. No shortcuts."
Ethan let out a tired laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't exactly sugarcoat things, do you?"
Welt raised an eyebrow. "You'll thank me later."
He turned to go, pausing at the doorway. "Rest well, Ethan. You'll need it."
The door slid closed behind him, leaving Ethan alone once more.
For a while, the silence returned—only broken by the soft hum of distant machinery and the lingering warmth in his bones. Ethan slowly dropped to a seated position in the center of the room, tilting his head back.
"…Hellish training, huh?"
He stared at the ceiling, then smiled faintly, tiredly.
"Alright. Bring it."
Astral Express – Dining Car, Afternoon
The faint hum of the train mixed with the soft clatter of utensils and low laughter. Plates clinked gently as the crew gathered around the long table in the dining car, a warm, golden glow spilling from antique-style hanging lights.
The door hissed open.
Ethan stepped in, hair tousled, hoodie half-zipped, and eyes still adjusting to the light. The conversation died for a beat—and then came the chorus.
"Well, well, look who finally decided to join the living," Himeko teased, raising her cup with a smirk. "Good morning, sleeping sun."
Dan Heng glanced up from his tea, lips twitching. "It's past noon."
"Did the bed fight back?" March grinned, elbows on the table. "Because you clearly lost the first few rounds."
Stelle appeared behind him, walking in with a tray and a knowing look. "I was going to wake you," she said innocently. "But Uncle Welt said to let you rest. Apparently, someone nearly melted a cargo bay last night."
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. "Right… that."
March gasped. "You were up training? I knew it! I told Pom-Pom you had that 'mysterious nighttime protagonist' vibe!"
"Did you at least win the fight against your pillow?" Himeko added, laughing as she passed him a full plate. "Because you look like you lost a staring contest with the ceiling."
Pom-Pom peeked in from the next car. "I did put a mint on your pillow, you know. Hospitality standards must be upheld!"
Ethan finally managed a sheepish smile as he sat down. "The bed was… honestly? Best sleep I've had in weeks."
A round of approving nods and scattered chuckles followed. Stelle slid into the seat next to him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own.
"Well then," Welt said from across the table, calmly slicing a piece of bread, "you'll need it. Because starting tonight—your real training begins."
Ethan raised his brow, eyes narrowing slightly. "Define 'real.'"
Welt merely sipped his tea. "You'll see."