SEPTASPHERE: The Last Rebellion of Fallen Justice

As they returned to the PNHS Academy, the group couldn't help but worry about Mandaue and the civilians who could no longer return to their homes in the city after what had happened. The weight of the mission still lingered heavily on their minds.

When they entered the classroom, Akashi turned to Akira with a serious expression.

"Akira," he said firmly, "I don't want you included in the next mission. We're not in the same section."

Akira looked at him with concern, her brows furrowed.

"Akashi… we're in Section A, and you're in Section F," she replied quietly. "Why?"

Akashi hesitated for a moment before answering.

"It's dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

Just then, Akuma walked into the classroom alongside Zane. The room was buzzing with chatter—everyone discussing the events that had just unfolded.

At the front of the class, Mr. Shawn sat at his desk, visibly troubled. His mind drifted into a memory—a flashback to a time when he was still an elite warrior.

He and his best friend had once been sent on a mission to investigate a massive alien threat—a creature larger than a dump truck. They were dispatched to the location with little backup.

They fought hard, but the alien was too massive and powerful to handle alone. As they struggled, battered and exhausted, his best friend turned to him and said:

"Let's keep fighting, Shawn—just hold on until the pro warriors arrive."

Shawn had nodded silently, gripping his weapon tighter.

They continued to fight with everything they had, even as their strength waned. When the pro warriors finally arrived, both Shawn and his friend were already severely injured. But even with the reinforcements, the alien stood its ground.

Unscathed.

Even the pro warriors were overwhelmed.

The memory burned vivid in Mr. Shawn's mind, as if it had happened just yesterday.

The battlefield was a twisted mess of scorched earth and shattered buildings. The massive alien—a grotesque beast of sinew and armor-like scales—towered over them, roaring with a sound that cracked glass and sent tremors through the ground. Its movements were eerily swift for something so large, and every swing of its jagged limbs sent shockwaves through the air.

Shawn and his best friend, Kael, stood side by side, bleeding and barely able to lift their weapons.

All around them, the pro warriors fought desperately—their movements quick, but ineffective against the towering alien. One was pinned under a massive piece of debris, struggling to free himself. Another was slashing wildly at the creature, but the alien barely flinched. The battle was more desperate by the second. The warriors were powerful, but they weren't enough. This thing was too strong.

Kael's breathing was ragged, one arm hanging limp, burned from a direct blast. But he still wore that same fearless grin—the one that told Shawn he wasn't ready to give up.

The alien lunged again, its claws crashing down toward them with terrifying force.

"Get back, Shawn!" Kael shouted.

He slammed his shoulder into Shawn, knocking him out of the creature's path just in time. The beast's massive limb struck where Shawn had been standing, sending debris scattering in all directions.

"No!" Shawn yelled, scrambling to get back up.

Kael rolled to his feet, his expression hardened, but his eyes filled with something else—pain, understanding, but also something deeper.

He pulled out his last energy grenade, the device glowing with a deadly light. He looked back at Shawn, his smile tinged with sorrow.

"This thing isn't going down easy," Kael said, voice tight with resolve. "But maybe I can give you a chance."

Shawn's eyes widened in panic. "Don't you dare—!"

But Kael had already turned, sprinting toward the alien with a fierce roar, moving faster than he had any right to in his condition. His body was barely holding together, but his will was unstoppable.

He leapt, climbing the alien's massive arm with a raw, frantic determination. He was nearly at its head when a warrior near them shouted desperately.

"Don't—! You'll—!"

But it was too late. Kael was already past them, too fast, too focused on his mission. The alien lashed out, but Kael was already on its head, gripping the thick, armored scales with everything he had left.

Kael looked back toward Shawn, his eyes locking with his friend through the smoke and flames.

"Live, Shawn. Make it worth something."

And with that, he jammed the energy grenade deep into the alien's eye socket.

The explosion was deafening—a massive, searing flash of light that consumed everything. The shockwave tore through the battlefield, knocking the pro warriors off their feet and hurling Shawn backward into a pile of rubble.

Everything went still. The ringing in his ears drowned out the world.

When the dust settled, all that remained was the alien, its head split wide open, its body twitching, but now lifeless.

And Kael—he was gone.

No trace remained but a scorched crater where he had stood, his sacrifice the only thing that had stopped the beast.

The pro warriors stood frozen, their faces filled with shock and disbelief. The fight had been won—but not in the way any of them had expected. They hadn't been able to save him.

Shawn lay in the wreckage, his body battered, his heart shattered. Kael had saved them all—but at a cost no one could ever repay. 

Zane noticed Mr. Shawn standing at the front of the classroom, his expression distant and troubled.

"What's wrong, sir?" Zane asked, tilting his head with concern.

Mr. Shawn blinked, the memory fading from his eyes. He shook his head slowly.

"Nothing," he said quietly. Then he straightened up, his voice more composed. "Let's continue our lesson."

The classroom gradually settled. Students who had been chatting moments ago fell silent, sensing the change in his tone. Akashi looked forward, arms crossed, still tense from earlier—but attentive.

Mr. Shawn walked over to the board and tapped it with a digital pen. The screen lit up with a tactical map—marked with heat zones, threat levels, and alien migration paths.

"Today," he began, "we're going to study combat pattern deviations. The incident in Mandaue wasn't a one-time event. It's part of something larger. Something evolving."

A few students leaned in, interest piqued.

Akuma narrowed his eyes. "You think we'll see another wave soon?"

Mr. Shawn didn't answer right away. He looked around the room, at all the young faces staring back—eager, uncertain, and unaware of the full weight of what was coming.

"I hope not," he said finally. "But we prepare as if we will."

He let that sink in before continuing. "Because sometimes… even with pro warriors on the field, it still comes down to the decisions you make in the moment."

Silence followed, heavier than before.

"Alright," he said, his voice firm again. "Open your simulators. We're running the Type-7 engagement sequence. This time, you'll operate in pairs. No solo runs. You don't survive alone."

Chairs scraped the floor as students shifted into position, the hum of simulators coming online filling the room. The lesson continued, but the weight of the past lingered quietly behind Mr. Shawn's eyes.