GROUP 7: Eclipse Division: The Origin, page 11
We didn’t tell her the truth about me. Kai just said I’d gotten into a “nasty car accident while chasing a Pidgey in Pokémon GO.”
He said it before I could say anything.
This guy.
Arm Enhancement Arc:
Healing was one thing.
Learning to live with a metal arm was another.
Day one: broke a doorknob off clean.
Day two: bent a spoon in half trying to eat soup.
Day three: punched myself in the face brushing my teeth.
By day four, I’d cracked the shower handle and electrocuted myself trying to fix it.
But hey—at least petting Aura doesn’t make her shed as much now. That’s a win in my book.
Training Arc:
Once I could move again, Kai started what he called “The Akira Rehabilitation Initiative.” T.A.R.I.
Basically: make me regret being alive.
We trained twelve hours a day—testing strength, speed, endurance, and what Kai called “elemental adaptation tolerance.”
He kept a holographic chart tracking my “Pill Performance Metrics.”
The first time I saw it, my score was a solid 2/100.
Now I’m at 47. Progress.
We discovered that each pill’s effects last about an hour—give or take, depending on how hard I push. Then my body needs an hour to recharge. If I take another pill immediately after, that rest time doubles. Third pill? Triples.
After that, I start collapsing. Kai calls it “biochemical burnout.”
He prescribed me a strict limit: no more than one pill in a day, or 2, “Only if your life is in danger.”
“Because,” he said, “I don’t want to see you in another coma. Besides—testing you awake is way more fun!”
The White Pill Experiment:
Naturally, I didn’t listen.
I got this idea—what if I combined the White Pill with another one? It always boosted my healing and made my aura glow. So what if it could enhance other abilities too?
Kai told me it was stupid.
I told him I was right.
I was right.
…Sort of.
The moment I paired the White Pill with the Red one, it amplified my powers by a factor of a hundred.
Flames erupted from my veins, wrapping me like molten wings. For three glorious hours, I felt like a god.
And then—nothing.
Complete blackout for 24 hours. My entire body shut down.
So yeah—note to self: the White Pill is not a party trick.
The Speed Test:
When we tested the Yellow Pill, we discovered it also gave me super speed.
Aura, of course, wanted to race.
We sprinted through Kai’s lab, across the highway, through the outskirts of the city—and tied.
A tie. Between a human and a dog.
Kai nearly passed out watching the footage.
We realized that whenever I took a pill, Aura somehow manifested the same power.
Maybe it was all those years she spent licking my wounds after every test.
Maybe it’s the DNA imprinting.
Maybe it’s something deeper—like her soul synced with mine.
Either way… she’s my sidekick now. Always was.
Death Hollows:
After a month, Kai said, “We need tougher terrain.”
So we drove five hours to the most dangerous place on Earth, what used to be called Death Valley, now—Death Hollows.
Ten years ago, an Aetherborn’s awakening twisted its climate. Now it cycles through all four seasons in one day.
Morning—snow.
Noon—spring.
Afternoon—hellfire desert.
Evening—autumn wind and falling ash.
At night?
Nothing but darkness.
And Strays.
Thousands of them, crawling out from fissures in The Fault—mutated remnants of failed awakenings, divinals consumed by The Halo Below, and beast made of pure dark energy buried deep beneath Death Hollows.
Even Aetherborn never dared to enter.
The Strays of Death Hallows never had reason to leave the area.
They fed off each other and endless void energy consuming the place.
Chronos Academy students called it the “Cursed Paradise.”
We call it our training ground.
Kai took two months off from F.A.R.T. Labs after sending Cyrus a report—and a few “Flatulence Abolishing Reaction Tonics.”
Cyrus was so impressed (and so relieved) that he sent Kai one million dollars to reinvest into Research & Development.
Half went to the lab.
Half went to me.
Kai could’ve flown to Aezirath to see his girlfriend, but instead… he stayed.
Built me a portable lab.
Designed a mecha-exosuit with martial-arts combat protocols for him to fight me – and the Strays.
And we trained.
Every night felt like war.
Kai fought beside me, Aura tore through Strays, and I—well, I learned to fight gods.
He even coded simulations of famous heroes into his mecha-exosuit—combat data pulled from millions of online fan edits and battle feeds.
Not perfect, but close enough to hurt.
And hurt, it did.
Results:
After two months, my body transformed.
Veins like lightning.
Muscles sculpted from fire and willpower.
My Ecliptic arm felt like part of me now—reflex, instinct, extension. I could stir coffee one moment and crush a Stray into dust the next.
Through training, I learned to extend a single pill’s duration from one hour to nearly eight.
Paired with the White Pill? Twelve.
But at a cost—mental fog, loss of control, unpredictable surges.
Once, during a heat test, I took an Aquyra + White combo.
Within minutes, the summer sun turned to snow.
I froze the entire valley—and almost Kai and Aura with it.
After that, we agreed:
If I ever tested the White combos again…
I’d do it alone.
Or during the entrance exams.
—Until I get it under control of course.
Three months from now, I’ll stand before the gates of Chronos Academy.
Whether they see me as human, Aetherborn, or something in between—
I’ll prove that what I’ve become isn’t a mistake.
It’s evolution.
And this time, by my own hands.
Well – one’s metal, but you get the point.
40. VOID
That wasn’t even the scariest part, though.
We only tested the Black Pill once.
For good reason.
Something… terrifying took over Akira that night.
Something I can only describe as—well—Akuma.
(sorry, I had to ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵))
Okay no, seriously.
His eyes went completely dark.
Spider-veins of black spread outward, webbing across his face like cracks in glass.
Two white horns burst from his temples.
And from his back—six wings formed. Not feathered, not mechanical—pure void energy, each one rippling like shadow-fire, bending the air around him.
We were in the middle of Death Hollows, staring into the vast desert blanketed by night. The air roared with the screams of Strays—hundreds of them—tearing at each other for scraps.
Then everything went still.
Akira turned.
And every single Stray behind him turned with him.
Their eyes glowed the same blinding white as his.
They moved in perfect unison, crawling toward him like soldiers realizing who their leader really was.
And then—he smiled.
That same smile.
The one that said, “I’m not Akira anymore.”
Before I could even move, Aura bolted.
One heartbeat she was beside me—
the next, she was a streak of white and brown, head-butting him square in the temple.
He collapsed instantly.
The Strays froze mid-step.
Aura licked his face once—
and the darkness peeled away like smoke.
I didn’t even see her leave my side.
I’ve never seen anything move that fast.
Then she turned toward the Strays and—
gods—
she erased them.
Every one.
Gone in flashes of green light and dust.
It was one of the most terrifyingly beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
When Akira finally woke a few minutes later, I told him everything.
He blinked and said,
“Yeah, I saw it too. When I slipped through that portal. Except she was a woman—made of dark energy.”
Pause.
“Honestly thought she was kinda cute.”
“DO YOU STILL THINK SHE’S CUTE IF SHE MIGHT KILL US!?!?”
“Yeah, you’re right. We should probably, uh…”
He scratches his head, still coming to.
“Test that one in a safer environment next time.”
“OR NEVER TEST IT AT ALL!”
“Right, right… never testing it at all,” he said—
completely unconvincing—
While petting Aura and kissing her on the head.
She just wagged her tails and licked his face like nothing happened.
I guess we’re safe if we’ve got her. Gods, what is she?
Later that night, I rebuilt his Ecliptite arm, syncing the pill compartments to a self-regenerating fusion core that runs off his own life-force. Seven slots. One for each color.
I probably shouldn’t have put the black one back in there. But I did, just in case anything happens to him.
Because when he took that pill… something else moved through him.
Something that didn’t feel human, Divine, or even Aetherborn.
It felt ancient.
Like the night had reached through him and remembered its true name.
For the first time since my parents’ crash—since every moment I thought I’d lost someone I loved—
I was afraid again.
It was as if Nyx herself had projected her spirit through Akira Akuma.
And in that moment, I realized something I’ll never admit to him out loud—
He’s not just my best friend anymore.
He’s the beginning of something this world isn’t ready for.
41. THe application.
Two months.
That’s how long it’s been since the Night of the Black Pill.
Two months of bruises, breakthroughs, explosions, and near-death discoveries later… and somehow, it’s already time for the Chronos Academy Entrance Exams.
Three months ago, Akira could barely stand without breaking something—inside and outside his body.
Now he’s running through Death Hollows like he owns the place.
I’d say I’m proud—but mostly, I’m terrified.
I signed Akira up for the Entrance Exams while he was still in his coma.
I knew he’d try anyways after he woke. And technically, I’d been holding onto his degree since the day we met—don’t ask why, I just knew it’d come in handy someday. I guess his undying nerve convinced some part of me even back then.
Turns out, that degree was more useful than his powers themselves.
The Chronos Academy Admission Requirements are… intense.
I’ve memorized them at this point (because they kept emailing me about “missing documentations,” whatever that means).
Here’s the official list, straight from their site:
Verified Aetherborn Status.
Proof of Divinity manifestation recognized by the World Aetherborn Federation.
Registered Ability Classification.
Powers must demonstrate measurable potential to benefit society or support interplanetary rescue initiatives.
Accredited Formal Education.
Minimum four-year completion in Aetherborn Studies or an equivalent Divinity Proficiency Certification. Ahhh? See what I mean??
Exemplification in Divinity Use.
Applicants must present evidence of divinity stability through recorded manifestation or peer-verified performance.
Personal Submission Video.
A one-minute video essay articulating the applicant’s mission, moral alignment, and intended contribution to humanity.
Yeah. Totally doable.
For someone who wasn’t a lab experiment I might’ve accidentally made.
So, here’s what I did.
For Requirement One, I, uh… forged his registry.
Not technically forged—more like borrowed credentials from a dormant record in the Federation’s database and gave it a little refresh.
For Requirement Two, I… edited his medical data to look like his powers were classified as “Adaptive Molecular Transcendence.”
Which… technically isn’t wrong.
For Requirement Three, I just sent a photo of his degree in Aetherborn Studies and minor in Divinity Mastery. Dude’s actually goated in this realm.
For Requirement Four, I recorded him while he was still unconscious.
I made it look like he was lifting a 2,000-pound exoskeleton using telekinesis, then used particle simulations to make it seem like he was forming a Cryo Crystal in his palm.
Two manifested Divinities? Instant greenlight.
Half the top heroes in the world barely manage one.
And for Requirement Five—the video essay…
Well, let’s just say Akira’s public speaking skills aren’t exactly his strong suit.
So I deepfaked his face onto mine and recorded it myself.
“Hi, I’m Akira Akuma,” I said in my most heroic tone, “and I believe power without purpose is chaos. I want to use mine to heal a broken world, not rule it. Chronos Academy rocks! World Government, I love you!”
Honestly? Some of my best work to date.
And somehow—by some divine, Auralis-level miracle—
it worked.
He got accepted for the in-person interview.
The only problem?
Now he actually has to show up.
Because no matter how many documents I “accidentally improved,” or how many deepfake videos I “retroactively generated,” there’s no faking a live evaluation in front of Chronos Academy Officials.
If they find out the truth—
that Akira isn’t an Aetherborn, that his powers come from pure insanity and lab experiments, and that his DNA is now fused with Divinal energy—
it’s over.
He’ll be taken. Studied. Erased.
So yeah. The stakes are… cosmic.
Still, when I look at him now—
sparring with drones under the morning sun, Aura racing circles around him, that ridiculous grin on his face—
I can’t help but think…
If anyone can fool the gods, it’s Akira Akuma.
And maybe—just maybe—
he’s not fooling them at all.
Maybe—
he’s becoming one.
42. It’s complicated.
“YOU WANT ME TO—WHAT!???”
Kai blinked. “Tell them how great they are!”
“...Excuse me?”
“You know, the World Government!” he said, gesturing wildly. “The people who fund Chronos Academy, the ones keeping the entire planet from collapsing into chaos. Just tell them how much you appreciate their sacrifice and how they’re saving lives and building a better tomorrow!”
I looked at him like he’d grown a second head.
“YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID TO MY FATHER, RIGHT!? How they—RUINED—his life!?”
Kai hesitated. The smile fell.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
The air between us went still. Even Aura, lounging nearby with her twin tails curled neatly around her, lifted her head at the tension.
Kai sighed. “But do you want to get accepted and change the system from the inside out—or get rejected, branded a fraud, and hunted as a ‘rogue sympathizer’ for the rest of your life? IF they let you have one? Because they have an entire division for eradicating people just like you. The Null. Oh yeah! I don’t HAVE to remind you about them because YOU TOLD ME! ‘One hundred percent success rate.’ You won’t come back from that, Akira.”
He's got a point.
A terrifyingly good one.
I may have… accidentally told him about the Eclipse Division. But don’t worry—he signed an NDA. (A thirty-page one. I made sure.)
He leaned against the desk, hands in his lab coat pockets. For once, he didn’t look like my hyperactive mad scientist best friend. He looked… tired. Maybe even scared.
“The choice is yours, man.”
For a long moment, I didn’t say anything.
Just stared out the window at the night sky, where the faint golden arc of Chronos Academy shimmered high above the clouds. The campus floated like a small continent, encased in a protective fusion membrane and glowing banners from all seven Sectors.
In three days, I’d stand there.
Under the same banners as the world’s strongest heroes—the Aetherborn who defined what humanity could become.
But to get there, I had to lie.
Lie about my powers.
Lie about my origin.
Lie to the same people who destroyed my father, dismantled his mind, and erased him from the records of history.
He wasn’t just some veteran or a test subject.
He was a man who believed too much in justice.
And the system he fought for punished him for it.
I clenched my fist—the metal one. The soft hum of Ecliptite pulsed through my veins like a heartbeat. Kai said it was powered by fusion energy linked to my life force, but sometimes, it felt like it was powered by rage.
He was right, though. I can’t be selfish. Not now. Not ever.
I have a chance to alter the course of reality—to fix the mistakes the world keeps making.
To give meaning to every sacrifice, every scar, every night I thought I wouldn’t wake up.
“...You’re right,” I said finally. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
