The shattered ground still echoed from Velmorith's arrival. Rubble crackled beneath the children's feet as they scrambled to find stability. Dust swirled in the sanctuary halls, thick and choking, lit by the eerie crimson glow of the shattered glyph ceiling. For a few heartbeats, there was only silence—the kind of silence that follows after something ancient stirs.
Tom stood, breathless, sword raised, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. His sword trembled, not out of fear, but because the air itself felt too heavy, too thick with whatever force Velmorith had brought with him. Behind him, Kitty steadied Lucy, who was still dazed from the shockwave. Zane, crouched beside a shattered pillar, whispered a silent curse. Marcus's glyph burned on his arm like a brand, and Peter clenched his fists, his own glyph pulsing without rhythm.
Frank stepped forward, slowly. His voice was tight. "Why now? Why show yourself?"
Velmorith's faceless head tilted. Shadows coiled where eyes should have been, and his voice came like threads unraveling inside their minds. "Because the boy who defeated Kazakare has torn the seal that bound us. The first lock is undone. I am free."
With a flick of his hand, symbols began swirling in the air—dark glyphs, angular and writhing, drawn in shades of obsidian and blood. These glyphs didn't shimmer like Neolin's. They devoured light, drew the glow out of the walls, and turned warmth to cold.
Zane launched a blade at him. It never reached. It turned to ash in midair.
Neolin stepped between the children and the monster, arms raised, glyphs burning down both forearms. "You're not complete, Velmorith. The other two haven't awakened. Your power isn't whole."
Velmorith's shadowy cloak rippled. "True. But even a third of infinity is enough to undo your Sanctuary."
He took a single step. The marble beneath him shattered. Marcus and Peter staggered back. Tom gritted his teeth and held his stance, remembering what Neolin had told them: draw from within. Not just the glyph—the heart.
Tom closed his eyes and saw it again: the flames that devoured his childhood village, the cries, the ash, the guilt. Then the voice, buried deep in memory. Palecto. The word echoed in his soul. He whispered it, and his sword burst into violet-blue flame. The light clashed against Velmorith's shadows like two storms meeting.
Velmorith stilled, watching. "So the heir of Palecto survives."
Tom didn't wait. He charged.
He wasn't fast enough.
Velmorith flowed like smoke, his form bending and spinning. A tendril of shadow lashed out and flung Tom across the chamber, through a glyph-marked wall. Kitty screamed and ran to him.
Frank stood now, fists clenched. His glyph mark blazed so brightly that even Velmorith paused. Something deep inside Frank had begun to stir.
"The spark has found its kindling," Velmorith whispered. "You carry the soul of the one who once dared to stand against Renex. The Flame of the Forgotten Guardian."
Neolin stepped forward, stunned. "Frank... you're... you're the heir. The reborn protector. The one the legends spoke of."
Frank blinked. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"
Velmorith answered before Neolin could. "It means that when the end comes, you will either lead them into the light... or burn first in the darkness."
Before anyone could react, the chamber pulsed. The glyphs on the floor cracked. Marcus clutched his side and yelled in pain, and Peter pulled him back. Lucy's eyes were wide, reflecting the fractured glyphs.
Then Velmorith stepped back into the shadows. But not before speaking once more.
"You are not ready. But when you are, I will return. And when I do, you will either kneel... or shatter."
He vanished.
In his place, silence reigned again. The Sanctuary groaned and flickered. The children stood in ruins, not just of stone, but of what they thought they knew.
Tom coughed, emerging from the rubble, bruised but standing. Kitty helped him up.
"He didn't even try," Tom muttered. "He could have killed us all."
Neolin nodded grimly. "He didn't come to kill. He came to measure. To test your hearts. And now he knows what you are."
Frank stared at his hands, still glowing faintly. "What am I?"
Neolin looked at him, eyes filled with a strange sadness. "You are the last spark of an ancient flame. The one who once defied Renex. The guardian who gave his life to protect the demon cities... and whose soul was born again."
Zane paced near the glyph wall. "So what now? We just wait for the other two monsters to show up? And then what, we die in order?"
Marcus, still breathing heavy, gave a weak grin. "At least we'll go out dramatically."
Kitty smacked his arm lightly. "Don't joke. This is serious."
Neolin raised a hand. "No. This is our turning point. From now on, we train harder than ever. Not just to survive. But to win."
The children exchanged glances. Even in the chaos, something new stirred among them—resolve. Painful, fresh, but growing.
"The Monster Trio are not like Kazakare," Neolin warned. "They do not fight with rage. They fight with ruin. Velmorith plays with minds, Aestra Voxis bends truth, and Obruhn Saren... destroys from within."
Frank inhaled deeply. "Then we learn how to resist them. And we start now."
And so, beneath the broken glyphs and collapsing ceiling, the heirs of flame, glyph, and shadow began their next chapter. The war wasn't coming. It had already begun.