Chapter 1: The Forgotten Thread
Floating Veil wasn't a planet; it was a phenomenon.
Once every thirteen years, the heart of Apex Terra became visible across the lesser galaxies, shrouded in ancient mist and system-level encryption. Then, like a secret whispered too loud, it would finally open.
The last time, it nearly sparked a war.
This time, it opened for a selection.
A lone academy, drifting silently on the edge of the veil, began its summons. It called to prodigies, nobles, and Heaven Sons and Daughters—scions of shattered dynasties and keepers of forgotten legacies. Each was drawn to this altar of mythic advancement.
And among them all, there was a name that never appeared. A face that wouldn't register. A myth that refused to begin.
He arrived in smoke. Not literally, of course.
The voidship logs showed no passenger name, and his presence didn't even register on the landing matrix. Yet, there he was.
Kairo Vale.
A man in a simple gray coat, his age impossible to place, with eyes that were always a little too steady. He wasn't the kind of face you'd notice in a crowd; he was the kind that would vanish just before you realized he'd been watching.
He carried no lineage seal, no family crest, nothing to tie him to a name or a past. But something followed him.
It wasn't an aura. It wasn't an artifact. It wasn't belief.
It was absence.
The moment he passed the registration column, the System seemed to flinch.
Somewhere deep within the unseen layers of script that governed the world, everything stirred. Not in warning, but in confusion. It was an echo without a name, a weight unbound by blood or prophecy. Something had arrived that simply shouldn't exist.
The Entry Courtyard of Floating Veil Academy was a whirlwind of noise and energy. Highborn students, draped in formal regalia, arrived with their minders and entourages. Spirit beasts soared overhead, their roars shaking the air and casting illusions of dominance as young prodigies tested each other with spiritual pressure.
A Heaven Son from the Scorch-Soul dynasty erupted into the air, a magnificent bloodline dragon coiling behind him in a translucent red.
"Make way! The Flame Oath Lineage arrives!"
Applause and hushed admiration followed.
Nearby, Kairo Vale sat on a bench, calmly sipping tea from a paper cup. Someone bumped his shoulder and didn't even notice. His presence didn't resist; it simply redirected, flowing around them.
A cluster of instructors met in the shadows.
Instructor Lorien, her robes adorned with patterns like woven moonlight, frowned. "Someone triggered a belief echo, but no myth-seed activated."
"Coordinates?" another instructor asked.
"Cross-referencing now," she replied, her eyes scanning the data feed.
Kairo stood up and walked away before the search protocols could finish. He passed through the edge of their sensor grid and left no trace. All that remained was a whisper in the back of their minds.
"There was someone on that bench."
Most new students were assigned dorms based on their bloodline prestige or recommendation letters.
Dorm 0 was an exception; it received no visitors. Structurally incomplete, built from rejected spatial frames, and prone to collapsing into minor dimensions, it was a place of last resort.
Which is precisely why Kairo claimed it.
He didn't ask for it. He simply walked in, swept the dust from the window, and stared out into the swirling clouds.
"They built this place to shape gods," he murmured to himself, his voice like a stone smoothed by a long rain. "But even gods forget who they were before their name meant something."
His reflection in the window didn't match his expression. It smiled a moment before he did. He ignored it.
From his travel case, he unpacked a single item: a saber hilt wrapped in black leather. It had no blade, no power signature—just silence.
That Evening on Observation Deck East, the instructors gathered again for the announcement rites.
Head Instructor Kael began to read the list of recognized entrants.
"Selan Myris, Heaven Daughter of the Frost Lineage." "Vaik Talon, Ember Crucible Holder." "Yulan of Seven Wills."
As each name echoed, a sigil glowed in the sky, etched into the world's belief script. The crowd cheered, their applause shaking the grounds.
And yet—
In the far east, a silent myth-thread stirred. A presence shimmered at the very edge of the world's awareness. It had no name, no lineage, just a quiet weight, like a myth refusing to be born. Belief twisted, recognition failed. Something had moved beyond the veil.
Someone tried to trace it. They failed.
"The node corrupted," one said, his voice laced with disbelief. "Impossible."
Night fell, blanketing the grounds in a silent mist.
Kairo Vale sat alone on the edge of the roof. Below him, myths were being born, rivalries staged, and factions formed. He hadn't joined any. He hadn't introduced himself.
"Because the moment I do," he said aloud, speaking to no one, "the story begins without me."
He reached into his coat and drew out a folded note. He carefully unfolded it.
A single sentence was written in sharp red ink:
"Don't let them remember you. Not yet."
He burned it.
Far above, in a myth observatory, a woman in black gloves sat before a bank of screens that showed nothing.
But her instincts screamed.
"Find me the myth without an origin," she said. "He's here."
Her aide blinked in confusion. "Ma'am, the myth-net is clean. There are no anomalies."
She didn't respond. She simply stared into the darkness and smiled.
"Then he's already writing it himself."