Crimson Sky Academy's central amphitheater was unusually crowded today. The enormous dome—an architectural marvel of fused spirit metal and transparent arcane alloys—hummed with anticipation. Rows of cadets lined the curved benches, whispering with curiosity. A hush fell as the illumination dimmed, and the central platform began to rise, revealing a lone figure flanked by glowing projection runes.
Professor Zhong Haoran stepped into the sphere of focus, his silhouette tall and commanding. His robes, a seamless blend of ancient tradition and futuristic fabrication, shimmered with the arcanic emblem of the Grand Cartography Division. His eyes, deep and ancient, carried the burden of knowledge few could grasp. When he finally spoke, the very air in the dome seemed to vibrate.
"Silence," his voice rang like tempered steel. "Today's lesson is not one of combat, nor of elemental resonance. Today, you will understand your world—Terra-Vita Prime—not as students of power, but as inheritors of its legacy."
A sphere hovered from the center dais, rotating slowly—a globe etched with dimensional markings, glowing breach scars, and atmospheric anomaly trails. It was not merely a projection. This was the Living Map, directly interfaced with astral satellites, dimensional recorders, and ancient geomantic nodes buried across continents.
The sphere expanded and split, revealing six massive landmasses, each with its own chaotic soul. The cadets leaned forward, their eyes catching a glimpse of names that felt both alien and familiar. Zhong's cane tapped again, and the images zoomed into Astraea—the heart of human civilization.
"Your world was once Earth," Zhong began. "A cradle of unawakened potential. That world died the day the first Rift cracked the sky."
He gestured, and the continents flared.
"Astraea—civilized and ruled by federated high clans, supported by the Crimson Sky Federation. Cities here defy gravity and fuse millennia-old cultivation doctrine with crystalline technology. This is where your academy resides, atop a leylink crossing."
The projection shifted. Towers of glass and jade sprouted from mountain ranges. Students could see megacities suspended above waterfalls, bloodline academies that rose like pagodas into the stratosphere, and fortified clan compounds larger than entire old-world countries.
Kael'Sur spun into focus, an unstable continent with floating tectonic plates and massive breach zones. Rift storms swept through the air like howling ghosts. Skybound trade ships dodged between beast-gliders, their sails powered by energy drawn from raw dimensional seams.
"Kael'Sur," Zhong said, "where gravity has forgotten its purpose. Rogue cultivators reside here, along with dimensional cults and beast-hybrids whose very bodies hum with rift energy."
Next, Tharonis loomed—jagged, sharp, brutal. Fortresses scarred the land, and black banners flew above martial towers.
"Tharonis. A martial continent. Ruled by strength. Bloodline purity is law. Here, combat determines one's status, and the weak are not merely shunned—they are culled. The Iron Dominion governs with ritual combat, not diplomacy."
Virellum was next, bathed in eerie twilight. Cities flickered like fireflies within bioluminescent jungles. Giant flora pulsed with internal light, and glowing rivers carved their way through ghostly terrain.
"Virellum," Zhong spoke, more softly now. "A continent cursed and blessed. Its lands are rich in crystallized aether, but few return unchanged. The environment speaks. And sometimes, it listens back."
Osiraka followed, a vast ocean of sand and wind. Towering sandstorms moved like sentient barriers. Beneath its dunes, relics of ancient cultivators—some called gods—remained buried, waiting.
"Osiraka. A desert with memory. Nomadic clans traverse these shifting lands, carrying old rites and forbidden bloodline paths. It's said that its very sands remember the steps of the divine."
Frostveil finished the circuit—a frozen land untouched by mercy. Ice beasts thundered through frost valleys. Great glacial peaks glowed with aurora energy.
"Frostveil," Zhong's voice now a murmur. "Where breath freezes in the lungs. Tribes endure here—tethered to forgotten lineages. It is also where ancient temples lie buried, sealed since before the first dimensional rift."
The sphere now focused on water, illuminating massive bodies.
"The Verdant Expanse—a lifeline connecting Astraea to the island cities of the east. Kelp forests teem with spirit-fish. Naval cultivators defend it from sea predators."
The globe darkened. A black mass churned.
"Blackmaw Sea—where ships vanish mid-sentence. Mana storms here cause hallucinations. No sane admiral charts this path."
The Cradle Ocean shimmered in contrast, gentle and warm.
"Here lie the Tranquil Isles, bastion of water-elemental clans. They farm aether pearls and practice harmony cultivation."
Then the Nether Ocean came. The projection rippled violently. Even standing near it unnerved the cadets.
"No communication survives within the Nether. Its mana density corrodes spirit threads. It is... alive, some believe."
Su Mengtian watched, his gaze unblinking. To others, this was a history lesson. To him—it was a war map. The instability of Kael'Sur could be harnessed to build resistance bases. The hidden relics in Osiraka might awaken techniques no longer taught. The isolation of Frostveil made it the perfect region to develop forbidden arts in secret.
Then came the rift zones. Scar Abyss. Howling Ranges. Soul Maw Rift. Frozen Rift Cradle. Each name heavier than the last. Each one humming with dimensional threat.
"These are not places you visit. They are places that come for you," Zhong said solemnly. "Even silence within these zones is a scream. The beasts there are not of flesh, but of paradox."
A student dared to ask, "Why live so close to such danger?"
Zhong turned to the young voice.
"Because danger holds the key to advancement. And humanity? Humanity has always reached toward chaos."
A second student asked, "Professor, are there lands hidden beyond this map?"
Zhong's eyes flicked to the far edge of the globe. He smiled—but it wasn't comfort. It was caution.
"Some maps do not reveal all things. And some things are left unmapped for your safety."
Su Mengtian was already recording it all in his mind. The dimensions, the leyline interactions, the instability thresholds. With time, this fractured world would not be feared—it would be mastered.
His Nine Halls would not simply rise. They would command.
And one day, when the truth behind his dormant power awakened alongside the rest of his peers, the world would finally witness the return of a commander—not from this world, but forged in fire, reborn in storm.
A storm called Mengtian.