Chapter 9 – Realms and Revelations
The sky over the academy was unusually clear—no drifting clouds, no soft winds, no hint of rain. For once, the world itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Kael sat beside Joran on the sun-warmed stone of the amphitheater, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the center where Instructor Harn stood with hands clasped behind his back. Around them, the rest of Class C murmured in quiet anticipation. Karn sat three rows up, arms folded, his crimson crest already gleaming under the sun.
Without a word, Harn raised his hand. Mana rippled through the air.
A glowing map unfolded above him, vast and alive. It spun slowly, casting pale light over their faces. The world revealed itself in four colossal masses, each crackling with color and subtle movement.
"This," Harn said at last, "is the world you live in. Not the island you were born on. Not the village that raised you. This—" he pointed up, "—is the true shape of our realm. And if you ever hope to survive beyond these academy walls, you'd better start paying attention."
The murmuring stopped.
The Four Continents
He gestured, and the first landmass lit gold.
"Elyssar. Your home. The cradle of civilization, if the Tower's scholars are to be believed. Here, the Thirteen Noble Families reign. The System thrives. Cities rise from elemental ingenuity, and power is passed through blood and name."
Kael's jaw tightened. His name didn't pass through blood or title. It had passed through fire.
"Elyssar is structure. Control. Tradition. It is where most awakened are trained, and where most are broken."
The map rotated again.
"Drakoria," Harn continued, voice sharpening. "A continent of wild flame, dense jungles, and open plains. There are no noble families here. Only strength. Bloodlines here don't wield surnames. They wield claws."
A low chuckle from Karn.
"People born in Drakoria often bear bestial traits—horns, scales, talons. Not because of taming," Harn's eyes locked on a few whispering students. "There are no beast tamers. Only those born with bestial blood, fused to ancient creatures that once ruled the land. The strong survive. The weak become dust."
Another turn of the map.
"Sevethal. The Shrouded Realm."
A mist seemed to swirl within the projection itself, cloaking valleys, floating peaks, and winding rivers.
"This land is home to secluded monasteries, storm-worshippers, and mystic sects. Time flows oddly here. Some say the elements bleed into one another. There are records of individuals manipulating forms of mana the Tower refuses to classify. And yes," he added, glancing toward Kael without looking directly at him, "some still whisper the name of the dead god of storms."
Kael's breath caught.
Joran leaned slightly closer. "That sounds like something you'd dream about."
"I don't dream," Kael muttered.
The final continent flickered into view. Fractured. Cracked. Mutating.
"Kreloth. The Broken Continent."
Mana trembled around the edges of the display. Even the light seemed unstable.
"Once a land of marvels. Now a graveyard of forbidden magic. The Ascendants who warred here shattered the very threads of reality. Cities blink in and out of time. Storms rewrite memories. There are still people in Kreloth—but none who leave unchanged."
The map faded, replaced by silence.
Then, seven red marks appeared—blood-bright and seething with menace.
The Seven Forbidden Lands
"Some places," Harn said quietly, "do not belong to any nation. They belong to death."
He gestured at the pulsing marks.
"The Seven Forbidden Lands. You will not survive them. Not yet. Possibly not ever."
He spoke their names like curses:
• "The Abyssal Rift – A wound in the earth. No bottom. No light. It sings, and those who hear it don't return."
• "The Iron Spires – Towers made of storm-forged metal. The wind there slices bone. Machines walk. And they remember."
• "Crimson Wastes – A desert soaked in blood from an ancient war. The sands steal breath. The storms steal minds."
• "Mirror Glade – Still water. Perfect reflections. The moment you look too long… your reflection looks back."
• "Skyreach Ruins – Floating fragments of a vanished empire. Time runs backwards. Or sideways. Or not at all."
• "The Hollow Depths – Underground tunnels that whisper to the lonely. People have walked downward for weeks without finding bottom—or their way back."
• "Stormwake Mountains – Locked in eternal lightning. A dead god sleeps in its heart. Or stirs."
Kael's hand curled against his knee.
The Thirteen Noble Families
The seven red marks vanished. In their place, thirteen banners rose like flames.
"Power, in Elyssar, wears a name," Harn said. "There are Thirteen Noble Houses. You know some already."
He nodded to Karn.
"House Veylan. Born from beasts. Their scions are natural predators. The flaming eagles are not just symbols—they're bloodlines."
Karn lifted his chin proudly.
Another banner unfurled.
"House Nihil. Known as the Nulls. They bear no elemental affinity. No System path. Yet they forge weapons powered by beast crystals, wielding them with techniques only they understand. Their weapons reject anyone else who tries to lift them."
Several students stirred.
"They hate what you are," Harn said bluntly. "Awakeners. To them, your gifts are abominations."
"House wraith- people born into this family are natural assassins, all awakening abilities suitable for stealth and killing, they are a very shady noble house with deep undercurrents."
He didn't mention Shadow Slavery.
But Kael saw the flicker in his eyes. The memory buried in the wood of his stance.
Other houses followed—House Lune with frost-marked bloodlines, House Dareth with earthen strength, and so on. One banner—tattered, faded—appeared for just a moment.
House Caelum.
Kael didn't breathe.
Then it vanished.
The Tower and Others
"And above all," Harn intoned, raising his palm again, "stands The Tower."
A silver-white spire shimmered in the air, reaching past the clouds.
"They judge. Observe. Intervene. Sometimes they protect. Sometimes they cleanse."
His voice dropped.
"There are others too. Mercenary guilds like Fang, political arbiters who settle noble disputes, and the Seekers' Covenant—a group that hunts lost relics and forbidden knowledge."
The Announcement
Then, without flourish, Harn snapped his fingers.
Above the amphitheater, names began to glow, paired in dueling columns.
Kael saw his name appear.
So did Joran's.
Karn's name was bold and bright—at the very top.
"In seven days," Harn said, "in class Duels begin. No beast crystals. No Nullsteel. No outside help. Just you and what you've earned."
The wind finally stirred.
"You want power? Fight for it. You want to matter? Bleed for it. You want to survive?"
Harn's eyes sharpened.
"Then stand when the bleeding ends."
Kael looked up at the sky, now beginning to darken with clouds.
And somewhere deep inside, lightning stirred.