Rain fell relentlessly that evening, streaking against the massive glass panels of the Eternal Era facility. The rhythmic hum of drops on the roof mixed with the soft thuds of boots on wet grass. Training had resumed, but the mood in the camp was far from normal.

Jason stood by the edge of the pitch, arms folded, eyes narrowed. His whistle dangled unused around his neck. Every player on the field was going through the motions, but one stood out or rather, didn't. Blaze.

Once a storm of movement, his strikes precise and fierce, now he moved with haunted restraint. He missed passes, lost footing, and sometimes simply stared at the ball as though it no longer mattered.

Jason exhaled, rubbing his temples. "He's here, but his heart isn't," he muttered under his breath.

When training ended, the players dispersed toward the locker rooms. Diego lingered behind, scanning the shadows near the stadium wall. A cloaked figure stood waiting beyond the fence just visible beneath a flickering light. The figure nodded once, and Diego's expression tightened.

Jason caught it.

His instincts had been honed through years of strategy and survival. You didn't coach teams across galaxies without learning to recognize when someone was being squeezed.

"Diego!" Jason barked. The younger man spun, startled. "Yeah, Coach?"

Jason's voice softened, though his gaze didn't. "Whatever's eating you, deal with it clean. You've been distant since before Blaze came back. Don't make me bench you again."

Diego forced a laugh, the kind that didn't touch his eyes. "All good, Coach. Just clearing my head."

"Uh-huh," Jason replied, unconvinced. His attention drifted toward Blaze, who sat alone on a bench, rain dripping from his hair.

Jason walked over and crouched beside him. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" Blaze asked quietly.

"The one your father had before a storm. Listen, kid… grief doesn't vanish. It just hardens into something you can fight with or something that breaks you. Which one's it gonna be?"

Blaze didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the soaked pitch.

Jason sighed and stood. "You're not starting next match. I want you watching from the bench. Study. Feel the rhythm again before you explode."

Blaze nodded faintly. "Got it."

Jason started to walk away but paused halfway. "And Blaze be careful who you trust. The world hasn't changed as much as you think."

That night, the rain didn't stop. It came down heavier, a constant hiss against the dorm windows. Blaze lay awake, watching droplets race each other down the glass. His chest felt heavy like something pressing him from inside.

He thought about his mother, about her soft voice whispering "I'm proud of you" before the illness claimed her. He thought about the funeral, about teammates bowing silently in the rain. And he thought about the silence that followed the kind that never really ends.

A message pinged on his holo-band.

The next day, training resumed with a strange calm. The storm had broken overnight, leaving the air heavy with mist. Jason drilled the team through tactical simulations, fine-tuning the midfield transitions for their next match against the second-ranked Giants.

Scarlet sparred with Blaze during warmups, her red hair whipping around like burning silk.

"You're back, but you're not here," she teased, throwing a sharp kick that he barely blocked.

He smirked faintly. "Trying to break my ribs?"

"Trying to wake you up," she countered.

Anastasia joined in, taking her stance beside Scarlet. "If you keep spacing out like that, we'll have to bench you permanently."

Blaze rolled his shoulders, the faint crackle of crimson lightning running along his arms. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

He darted forward faster than either expected. His movements blurred as he combined Elemental Speed with Vanishing Steps, slipping between their defenses. But instead of striking, he stopped just short, letting the air burst outward in a controlled gust.

Scarlet grinned. "Now that's the Blaze I know."

Jason watched from the sidelines, hiding his satisfaction. Maybe the kid still had fire left.

When training ended, Blaze returned to his room. Diego was waiting outside, wearing a clean jacket, his expression oddly tight.

"You ready?" Diego asked.

Blaze nodded, tossing on a hooded coat. "Where are we going?"

"Not far. Just outside the city dome."

They walked through the quiet streets. The neon skyline of City X shimmered in the distance, reflecting off puddles. For a while, neither spoke. Then Diego broke the silence.

"You ever think about the past? Like… what's really been erased?"

Blaze's brow furrowed. "You mean before I got shot?"

Diego hesitated. "Before everything. Before the League turned into this… galaxy-wide circus. Before people like us became weapons."

Blaze glanced at him. "You sound like you hate it."

"Maybe I do," Diego said quietly. "Maybe I miss when football was just a game."

They stopped at the edge of an abandoned air lot, the old structure half-swallowed by vines. A single vehicle waited near the gate black, sleek, and humming faintly.

"Who's this person you wanted me to meet?" Blaze asked, eyes narrowing.

The vehicle door opened. A tall man stepped out, face obscured by a mask that shimmered faintly. His voice was smooth, practiced the kind used by people who never wasted words.

"Dante Anderson," the man said, using his real name.

Blaze froze.

"You shouldn't exist," the man continued. "And yet here you are alive, stronger, and more dangerous than before."

Diego shifted uneasily. "Hey, I just brought him like you asked. That's it."

Blaze's crimson eyes flared faintly. Lightning rippled over his shoulders. "Who are you?"

The man tilted his head. "Someone who's been watching the stars burn for a long time. You were supposed to stay dead, Dante. But the universe… it has a cruel sense of humor."

He reached into his coat and held up a small object a cracked Titan Core, pulsing with dim light.

Blaze's heartbeat quickened. He knew that core. It was from his old uniform the one he wore the night he was shot.

"Where did you get that?" Blaze demanded, voice low.

The masked man smiled faintly. "You could say it was retrieved… from history."

Diego took a nervous step back. "This isn't what we agreed—"

"Quiet," the man snapped. His voice turned cold. "You've done your part. Leave."

But Blaze wasn't listening anymore. His mind was spinning, memories flickering like broken film flashes of the night he fell, the betrayal, the shot that ended it all.

Lightning surged, cracking across the ground in red veins.

"Answer me," Blaze growled.

The masked man chuckled softly. "Patience, Titan. You'll have your answers soon. But first… we need to see what kind of monster time has made you."

Before Blaze could move, a sharp hum filled the air and a tranquilizer dart grazed his neck. His vision blurred instantly, the world tilting sideways.

Through the haze, he saw Diego's terrified face, then the masked man's calm silhouette leaning over him.

"Don't worry," the voice whispered. "You'll wake up… just not the same."

The rain began again as Blaze's consciousness faded cold and relentless, washing over the empty lot.

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