The heavy workshop door closed, leaving Jonah in a silence that was somehow louder than the chaos of a few moments before. The air still buzzed with residual energy, an echo of the power he had unleashed.

He stared at the spot where Thanos and the other Ascended rank seniors had stood. Their gazes, a mixture of awe, calculation, and challenge, were burned into his memory.

A new player in the game.

Jonah let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He wasn't just the weird kid with the unidentified class anymore. He was on the radar. He was a piece on the board, whether he liked it or not.

He heard a hum. It was faint, almost too soft to hear. He turned and re-summoned his new creation. The Phantom Weaver appeared before him, its insect-like eyes watching him with a cold intelligence.

He needed a name for it. Not just a label, but a real name. He thought of its abilities – fading from sight, phasing through reality, a ghost in the machine.

"Specter," he whispered, and the name felt right.

He reached out, and this time, he focused on the link between them. It was different from his other Progeny. With Rook and Nyx, the bond was one of primal loyalty, a master and his creations. But with Specter, it was more complex. Jonah could feel the echoes of the Artificer's knowledge humming within it, the logical precision of its design. This Progeny wasn't just a part of his will; it felt like a part of his very mind, an extension of his soul given form.

He dismissed Specter and the exhaustion hit him like a physical blow. But sleep felt a million miles away. His mind was racing, buzzing with the events of the day.

________________________________________

That night, Jonah found himself standing on the highest rooftop of the Academy. The wind was cool and sharp, whipping at his uniform. Below, the large campus was a mix of soft lights and deep shadows. In the distance, a tiny glow marked the line of the Great Wall.

He had come a long way from the soot-stained window of his room in Cinderfall.

"i had a feeling I'd find you up here."

Jonah turned. Vanessa was walking towards him, her own uniform collar turned up against the wind. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were soft with understanding.

"I haven't been able to sleep," Jonah said quietly.

"Neither could I," she said softly, moving to stand beside him at the ledge. "That energy wave from your workshop… it felt like the whole world held its breath for a second. I can't even imagine what it was like at the center of it."

Jonah just nodded, not knowing how to describe the feeling of conducting a symphony of creation.

Vanessa looked at him, her gaze direct. "I want to see it. Properly." Her lips curved into a small, curious smile. "Show me."

Jonah returned her smile, a genuine one this time. He closed his eyes and focused. In the space between them, Specter appeared from nothing. It hovered silently, its camouflaged skin shifting to match the dark stone of the rooftop and the starry sky.

Vanessa gasped softly, her academic curiosity warring with pure wonder. She took a step closer, her eyes tracing its sleek, insectoid form and the terrifyingly sharp talons. "It's… perfect."

Jonah felt a surge of pride. He gave Specter a simple mental command, a single word:

Fly.

Specter's delicate wings beat, but made no sound. It rose into the air, a silent predator against the moonlit clouds. Then, with a flash, it turned on its camouflage. It didn't just turn invisible; it simply ceased to be there, vanishing from sight completely. Even Jonah, connected to it by a tether of soul, had to focus to sense its location.

"I've never seen anything like this," Vanessa said under her breath.

But Jonah wasn't done. He gave another command. Strike.

There was a quick flash of spatial energy, a blink and you'll miss it distortion in the air. Specter reappeared for a fraction of a second on the far side of the rooftop, its talons extended, before vanishing again. It had crossed the entire length of the roof in the time it took to blink.

It was smooth, quiet, and very dangerous.

Jonah watched his masterpiece dance among the spires of the Academy, a blur of silent movement and spatial magic. He watched, and he thought back.

He thought of himself as a skinny fourteen-year-old, his hands raw from scrubbing soot, staring out at the hopeless, smoke-choked sky of Cinderfall. He remembered the bone-deep terror of being cornered by those Ant soldiers in the dark, the desperation that fueled his escape.

He remembered the agonizing pain of the Awakening, the confusion of his strange, three-clawed mark, and the isolating fear that he was a defect. He remembered the arrogance of Draven, the weight of Seraph's expectations, and the quiet, steady belief of the girl standing beside him.

He had walked a long, difficult path.

But he had escaped the mines. He was no longer a victim of his world, but a shaper of it. He wasn't just a boy with a strange power; he was a Black-Badge Elite, a creator who had engineered something legendary.

He had a powerful, brilliant ally in Vanessa. His peers had to respect him, even if they didn't like it. He had the backing of the most powerful man in the Academy. And he had a creature of myth and shadow at his command.

He had won.

Specter returned, appearing silently beside him. Jonah reached out and rested a hand on its shifting skin, feeling the steady, complex hum of its existence.

He looked out over the Academy, past the clean grounds and the glowing towers, towards the distant, unwavering light of the Great Wall. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that this wasn't the end.

This was the end of the beginning.