Chapter 1 – The Orphan on Crestfall
The morning mist rolled across the jagged cliffs of Crestfall, curling around the spires of stone like the fingers of a sleeping giant. The Iron Mountain Sect's training grounds were quiet, save for the occasional clatter of wooden weapons and the muted chants of early disciples. It was here, perched on a narrow ledge above the valley, that Ethan Sixx began his day.
He was an orphan, a boy whose lineage was unknown, whose past had been swallowed by the cold corridors of Crestfall. Yet there was a quiet fire in him that the elders noticed from the first day he had arrived—a calm determination, a gaze that never wavered, and a body that seemed naturally attuned to the mountain's pulse.
The wind tugged at his tattered cloak, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and stone. He stretched, flexing his fingers and toes, feeling every muscle awaken to the day. Today, he had chosen to climb higher than he had ever dared before, seeking the solitude of the northern cliffs where the air was thin and the terrain unforgiving.
Most disciples feared those heights. The jagged rocks could slice a careless hand, and one misstep could send a body tumbling into the abyss below. But Ethan felt no fear. He thrived where others hesitated, where the mountain tested both body and mind.
He moved like water over stone, every footfall deliberate, every step measured. Loose gravel shifted beneath him, yet the rocks seemed to acknowledge his presence, subtly giving way under his touch. At times, he paused, closing his eyes, letting the mountain's rhythm flow into him. It was not magic, nor was it skill alone—it was a whisper of potential, something latent that he could feel awakening with each heartbeat.
Halfway up the cliff, he stumbled upon a small fissure. Inside, a faint red glow pulsed. His fingers brushed the stone, and warmth radiated into him, a subtle hum threading through his bones. It was strange, not like the energy he had practiced with during his training sessions in the main hall. This… this was something older, something alive.
Ethan straightened, curiosity igniting. He had heard of such things—the old stories whispered by elders, tales of relics hidden in the mountains, remnants of Forbidden Zones where cultivation techniques long forgotten could be found. Most dismissed them as myth. Yet here, the mountain itself seemed to be offering proof. A sudden sound broke his focus. A shadow flitted across the ledge above him, and a voice called sharply, tinged with annoyance.
"You're wandering too far, Sixx."
Kael Veylan emerged, his cloak billowing behind him, eyes narrowed. "Do you not understand that even the strongest Mortal Body cultivators can die here?"
Ethan turned slowly, calm. "I understand more than you know. The mountain is not here to kill me—it is here to teach."
Kael's lips curled into a sneer. "Teach? Or humiliate? You think the elders allow you to rise without consequences?"
Ethan made no reply. He only felt the faint pulse of the crystal fragment still resting against the stone in the fissure. Something about it… something about the mountain… resonated within him. And Kael, brimming with pride and impatience, did not yet realize that he was standing across from someone who would one day defy not only mortal limits but the expectations of the heavens themselves.
Hours passed as the two circled each other, testing balance and patience more than striking. Kael, trained for decades within the Iron Mountain Sect, relied on brute strength and honed technique. Ethan moved with instinct and awareness, barely touching the ground yet shifting it subtly under his feet, responding to the terrain in ways Kael could not anticipate.
A pebble slid beneath Kael's foot, forcing him to stumble, and Ethan's eyes flickered with quiet satisfaction. He did not strike—yet. Not today. He was learning the mountain, the crystal, and his own limits.
As dusk fell, the valley below Crestfall bathed in gold, Ethan finally descended from the cliffs. The hum from the crystal had faded slightly, but a memory of its pulse lingered, like a distant heartbeat. Somewhere, in the hidden crevices of the mountain, something ancient had noticed him. And whatever it was, it did not rest quietly.
The elder council gathered that evening in the main hall. Ethan had returned, silent and unassuming, but Kael's reports had preceded him. Whispers filled the stone halls—an orphan, an outsider, moving beyond what should have been possible. Some viewed it as a blessing, others as a threat.
Master Korrath, watching from the shadows, did not speak. His eyes, sharp and calculating, followed Ethan across the hall. There was potential in the boy—wild, untamed, and dangerous. But that potential… it could shake the foundations of the sect, or even the entire Virelon Empire, if guided wrongly.
Ethan did not notice the weight of their eyes. He only felt the mountain within him, the pulse of the crystal fragment, and a stirring anticipation of something far greater than any ledge, any cliff, or any rival he had yet faced.
Above, the stars blinked into existence one by one, and the mountain whispered in wind and shadow. Somewhere far beyond, hidden in a valley lost to time, a Forbidden Zone stirred. A fragment of power long forgotten pulsed faintly, acknowledging the presence of a boy who had not yet even begun his journey.
And in that quiet night, Ethan Sixx understood something he could not yet name: the world was no longer the same.