The western seas of the Spirit Continent were vast, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. For centuries, sailors had spoken of storms that rose without warning, of whirlpools that swallowed ships whole, and of strange lights flickering beneath the waves. Few took these stories seriously. Most dismissed them as drunken rambling.
But now, something had changed.
In the harbor city of Bluewater, a rumor had spread like wildfire. Sailors spoke of a dream—a golden city under the waves, shining with towers and statues, its streets paved in light. Some swore they had heard songs echoing through the ocean, songs that made their spirits tremble.
The Spirit Pagoda quickly sent envoys to investigate. Their scholars recorded every word, sketching maps of "possible ruins" and compiling theories. Some believed it was a new type of illusion beast. Others insisted it was the remnant of an ancient civilization. None knew the truth.
Bai Chen, sitting on a crate at the harbor, listened silently. He wore a plain brown cloak, his hair tied simply, his face lost in the crowd. To the sailors and workers around him, he was nothing more than another boy waiting for odd jobs.
But inside his mind, the loom sang. Threads of blue and gold twined together, deepening the story of Atlantis. He did not need people to believe. The moment the rumor spread, the loom gave it weight. The whispers grew into echoes, and the echoes became ripples in reality.
That night, a fisherman casting his net at sea pulled up something strange. Not a fish, but a shard of crystal glowing faintly in the dark. The shard pulsed with energy, like a fragment of a soul tool far beyond the current age. He sold it to a merchant, who in turn sold it to the Pagoda. Within a week, scholars declared it an "unidentified artifact."
The legend was no longer just a dream. Now it had evidence.
More sailors came forward with strange finds: corals shaped like carvings, stones etched with patterns that no one recognized, and pearls that gave off a faint spiritual light. Some believed the ocean itself was awakening. Others whispered that Atlantis was real.
Bai Chen never said a word. He simply walked through the streets, carrying crates for copper coins, blending into the noise of the city. No one looked twice at him. But every night, when he closed his eyes, he pulled the threads tighter, weaving Atlantis deeper into the world.
Soon, expeditions were launched. The Spirit Pagoda sent ships filled with spirit masters and researchers to explore the western seas. Nobles sponsored their own fleets, hoping to claim treasures first. Even commoners began to speak of Atlantis with awe, as if it had always been part of their history.
And then, the first awakening happened.
In a coastal town, a boy undergoing his spirit awakening ceremony collapsed, his body shaking violently. The Pagoda master guiding the ritual panicked, thinking the boy was rejecting the spirit. But then, light burst from the boy's body. A phantom appeared behind him—not a wolf, not a rabbit, not any soul spirit recorded before.
It was a tall figure, draped in armor of flowing water, holding a trident of crystal. Its eyes gleamed with the calm depth of the ocean. The master froze, unable to name it. The boy's martial soul was recorded as "Atlantean Warrior."
The Pagoda declared it a rare mutation. They could not explain why, but Bai Chen knew. Atlantis had taken its first breath.
That night, as the city celebrated the strange awakening, Bai Chen sat quietly by the docks. He watched the moonlight shimmer across the water and whispered to himself.
"The ocean remembers."
The loom thrummed, waves of power flowing outward. Atlantis was no longer just a whisper. It was a story carved into the bones of the world. And this was only the beginning.
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✅ Chapter 6 complete.