The world didn't rest long after Typhoon joined them.
The storm that once ripped across the plains had carried whispers of something darker. Villages nearby spoke of shadows moving at night, beasts too twisted to be natural, creatures with eyes like voids and claws that tore through stone. Wherever they went, they left silence — not death, but erasure. Like the land itself was being unmade.
The group moved fast. They weren't five strangers anymore. They were beginning to feel like something greater. A Shell waiting to burst.
---
They arrived at the village before dusk.
Huts built from wood and stone stood silent. Doors swung open on broken hinges. The smell of ash lingered though nothing burned. And scattered across the earth were marks — deep gashes, circular patterns, lines carved like an artist etching destruction into the soil.
Stream knelt, brushing his fingers across one of the markings. The shard in his armor pulsed uneasily. "Water recoils from this…" he muttered. "As if it doesn't belong here."
"Because it doesn't," Volcan said, heat radiating faintly from his gauntlets. "This isn't destruction. It's erasure."
Typhoon cracked his neck, impatient. "Then let's find whatever erased it, and blow it back into existence."
Omega raised a hand. "Steady. We move together."
Prime said nothing, but his mask tilted upward. His eye slits gleamed faintly purple in the darkening light. He was listening to the silence itself, and it told him something was wrong.
The wind died. The village grew still.
And then — they came.
---
From the cracks in the earth, shadows rose. They weren't beasts or soldiers. They were shapes without true form, figures that flickered between outlines of claws, horns, wings, teeth. Each blink showed a new silhouette, as if they were the very concept of monsters, wearing every possible shape.
Dozens of them.
The five stood ready.
Volcan's flames ignited, his stance wide and steady. "Finally. Something to burn."
Stream rose, his armor reshaping with flowing liquid into sharp fins and edges. "Stay close to me. If you get lost in this, you'll drown."
Typhoon grinned, winds beginning to whip around him, his shell-armor clattering like storm drums. "Try not to get blown away."
Omega slammed his fist into the ground, shield expanding into a full radiant wall. "Form up. With me."
Prime opened a dark portal beside him, the hum of another dimension vibrating faintly. His voice was low, sharp, final. "Strike."
---
The battle began.
Volcan met the first wave with raw force, flames punching through shadows, searing them into nothingness. Stream flowed behind him, his water forming blades that cut through the figures like tides smashing jagged rocks.
Stream moved through the battlefield as if he is swimming upon the surface of the sea, his Sharp armor cuts through them with elegance. But no matter how much he strikes, more would come.
Typhoon was a storm unleashed — darting between enemies, winds exploding outward with each strike, tearing apart multiple shadows at once. His laughter echoed in the chaos, feral and free.
Omega held the line. Shadows slammed against his shield, claws scraping, fangs sinking in — but they broke like waves against stone. Each time he pushed forward, the others surged with him, their attacks synchronized, their movements flowing into one another.
Prime moved differently. Silent. Precise. Portals flickered open, redirecting enemy strikes into each other, warping shadows into nothingness, and occasionally pulling one apart with ruthless efficiency. He said little, but his presence was like a conductor of the fight itself.
Together, they weren't just individuals. They were one.
Fire met water. Wind met void. Shield anchored all. Every strike, every defense, every movement, connected.
For the first time, they felt it — the bond of five, moving as a single will.
---
But the shadows weren't endless. And as the last one fell, its form unraveling into dust, the silence returned.
Prime lowered his mask slightly, looking over the village. His voice was soft, but it carried weight. "…This is only the beginning."
Stream's water-formed armor collapsed back into liquid, dripping away as he exhaled. "If this spreads beyond villages…"
Volcan clenched his fists, fire still crackling in his gauntlets. "Then we'll burn it out, root and stem."
Typhoon kicked apart the last pile of fading dust, grinning with wild eyes. "Tch. Then let it spread. Gives me more to smash."
Omega planted his shield into the ground, standing firm as always. "Then we stand. Together."
The five of them turned toward the horizon. The sun was sinking, and the darkness that erased land itself seemed to grow bolder with every passing night.
But now the world had its answer.
Five warriors.
Five wills.
One storm, one flame, one tide, one shield, one void.
And for the first time… their legend began to truly breathe.
---