CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

Scene: Ruined Highway – Dawn

The road ahead was cracked, overgrown, and shimmered in the morning fog. The ruins of the last battle still lingered in their scent—ash, burnt metal, and blood. After three days of waiting. Hoping. Praying. Mourning.

They had no body to bury.

Only a sky-borne bolt of black lightning—Max's final signal.

The beacon had faded long ago, but its echo still burned into their minds.

Shojiro tightened the strap on his gauntlet with silent dread.

Karl sat near the supply crates, visor off, trying to suppress any hope that could hurt him again.

Leone knelt on the edge of the crater where Max's lightning had flared. Her fingers brushed the charred gravel like she was trying to memorize it.

Morgz leaned against a broken statue, anchor in his lap, face pale. Enme drew a barrier glyph into the dirt—but never activated it. It was just something to do. Something to pretend mattered.

Even Zans, the one least prone to showing emotion, stared into the horizon as if expecting Max to just... walk back out of it.

But no one came.

Until—

BOOM.

A black bolt of lightning ripped across the sky.

Karl stood up instantly. "That signature—"

Shojiro froze. "No way…"

Another blast, then a low hum—a sound they hadn't heard since the day Max vanished.

A figure dropped from the heavens. Landing in front of them with a clap of thunder, black arcs of lightning crackling around his boots as if the storm itself was kneeling beside him.

His coat fluttered in the wind.

Lightning crossbows extended from his arms—sleek, lethal, alive with violent current.

A slow, cocky grin spread across his face.

"Yo."

Max Conrad stood in front of them—scarred, dirtied, exhausted—but breathing. Alive.

Shojiro's knees buckled.

Enme dropped the chalk and covered her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Morgz muttered, "No… freaking… way."

Karl couldn't move.

Zans didn't blink.

But Leone?

She screamed.

And then the group ran.

Shojiro got there first, throwing an arm around Max so hard it nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Karl crashed into him next, followed by Enme, who didn't even try to hide her sobs. Morgz tackled them all, nearly knocking Max over, anchor still in hand. Leone wept uncontrollably, fists pounding against his chest as if making sure he wasn't some lightning-born ghost.

Zans, standing a few steps back, looked down and whispered, "…You idiot."

Max just laughed.

A quiet, broken, victorious laugh.

"You guys miss me or something?"

"No!" Shojiro shouted into his shoulder. "We thought you were dead, dumbass!"

"I was," Max said. "Almost."

Karl pulled back slightly, scanning his vitals with his visor. "You're at 1.2% VYTHRA. Heart rate normal. Lightning signature… mutated?"

Max smirked and flexed his arms. "You're looking at the proud owner of Indra's Arrow—two lightning crossbows that fire supercharged black thunder bolts at 0.01% cost per shot."

He pointed at the clouds above. "Also, I can fly. Fast. I'm basically a storm now."

Zans raised an eyebrow. "So what—you're claiming you're the strongest Chosen now?"

Max folded his arms smugly. "Damn right I am."

Nobody answered.

They just looked at him.

Tears still running down their faces.

Then Enme muttered, "We don't give a shit if you're strong. We thought we lost you."

Shojiro nodded. "We mourned you, Max."

Leone's voice cracked. "You selfish jerk…"

Max's grin faltered.

He looked around the circle—this mismatched group of lunatics and warriors, killers and heroes. His friends. His family.

"…I'm sorry."

Silence.

Then Karl patted him on the back. "We'll forgive you... after you carry all the gear for the next 20 miles."

Morgz smirked. "And cook dinner."

"AND explain why you look like a thunder god who walked out of a music video," Enme added.

Shojiro laughed.

Max groaned. "Great. Back for ten seconds and already hazed."

But his smile never left.

For the first time in days, the team laughed again.

Max was back.

And the storm had returned.

"Overkill Is the New Black"

Scene: Just After the Reunion – Crater Clearing, Morning

The group was still reeling from the emotional whiplash. One minute they were mourning, the next they were sobbing in relief—and now?

Now Max was standing in the middle of the crater, arms out, soaking in the attention like he just descended from Olympus.

"Okay," he said, cracking his neck. "You've all cried. You've all hugged. Now it's time for the real show."

Shojiro wiped his eyes. "Max… what are you doing?"

Max rolled his shoulders. The lightning crossbows extended from his forearms with a sleek, sharp snap, arcs of volatile black electricity building along the chambered limbs. They pulsed—each one a miniature storm, howling silently.

"I'm going to show you what Indra's Arrow can do."

"Please don't," Karl said, already prepping a drone to record.

Morgz crossed his arms. "You just came back from the dead, man."

Max pointed his finger dramatically to the sky.

"I came back stronger. You're all gonna witness."

Enme sighed. "Oh no."

With no further warning, Max fired.

The first shot ripped through the sky like a missile, turning the clouds into superheated vapor. It left behind a glowing trail of static that lingered.

Then came the second shot.

And the third.

Fourth.

Fifth—

"Bro," Shojiro whispered. "He's not stopping."

Max spun on one heel, flipping backwards as he fired two more blasts over his shoulder—both of them bursting midair like supernovae.

"Six! Seven!" Morgz counted out loud, jaw slack. "Eight, nine—Max, STOP!"

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

The lightning echoed across the hills like distant war drums. A murder of crows abandoned the treeline in a panic. The air reeked of ozone.

"FOURTEEN!"

Max grinned like a maniac, black sparks streaming from his hair and coat. "I can do this all day!"

Enme: "No, you really can't!"

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

By eighteen, Max was wobbling slightly. His hands were shaking. The veins around his wrists glowed faintly.

"Dude," Karl said flatly. "You're literally glowing red. You're at VYTHRA burnout threshold."

Max ignored him.

Nineteen.

His knees dipped.

Twenty.

The last bolt pierced the heavens like a divine harpoon—ripping through a stray cloud and detonating with the force of a military railgun. Thunder roared across the valley.

Silence followed.

Max lowered his arms.

Then immediately collapsed to his knees, gasping.

"...I'm good," he wheezed. "Just... dramatic finish…"

Shojiro ran up. "You just burned down to 1% VYTHRA."

"I did it for the bit," Max muttered, face down in the dirt. "That was some prime flexing."

Zans gave him a flat look. "That was the most dangerous humblebrag I've ever seen."

Morgz offered Max a canteen. "Drink this before your organs fry."

Enme rubbed her temples. "You absolute moron."

Max raised a thumbs-up from the dirt. "Strongest Chosen, baby."

Leone crouched beside him, laughing through her exasperation. "You've been alive for five minutes and already need saving again."

Karl checked his readout. "Confirmed: he's got 1.0% VYTHRA left. Any less and we'd be using the defibrillator again."

Max looked up, cheeks smudged with ash and pride.

"I'm not dead yet. Just awesome."

Everyone groaned.

But even as they shook their heads, they were smiling again.

Because Max was back.

And somehow, he was exactly the same.