The wind at the Center of the World did not blow. It screamed.
Captain Atlas dragged his body across the cold, white stone. His left leg was broken. His famous coat—once a vibrant blue—was now stained dark with blood and oil.
Behind him lay the wreckage of his ship, the Horizon, burning silently. He was the only survivor.
He had done it. He had crossed the Nine Rings. He had shattered the Eight Barriers.
He was standing where no human had stood for a thousand years: The Gate of the First Ring.
He looked up.
It wasn't a gate of pearls or light. It was a monolith of black iron, towering so high it pierced the atmosphere. It was covered in ancient chains, each link the size of a house.
And on the gate, there was a warning carved in a language older than humanity.
Atlas laughed. It was a wet, coughing laugh.
"So... this is the Paradise?" he whispered, wiping blood from his chin. "What a beautiful joke."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. It was an Aether-Caster—a rare crystal capable of broadcasting a signal across the entire Vortex.
His hand trembled as he activated it.
The crystal hummed, glowing with a dying red light.
[The Signal Spreads]
In Ring 4, inside the gleaming glass towers of the nobility, giant screens suddenly flickered. The newsfeed of the Emperor was interrupted by static.
In Ring 6, in the smoky factories where workers slaved over steam engines, the radios buzzed with a sharp, high-pitched noise.
In Ring 9, the desolate Outer Rim, a beggar looked up at the sky as the static noise echoed from the old loudspeakers on the rusty watchtowers.
Then, the static cleared.
A voice cut through the silence of the world. A voice tired, broken, but undeniably alive.
"Can you hear me, World?"
The Vortex Knights in the Central Command froze. The Grand Admiral slammed his fist on the table. "Cut the feed! Cut it now!"
"We can't, sir! The signal is coming from the Center! It's overpowering everything!"
On the screens, the face of Captain Atlas appeared. He looked directly into the camera. He looked directly into the soul of every living being.
"My name is Atlas. And I am standing at the end of the world."
He coughed, spitting blood onto the white stone.
"The Church told you that the First Ring is Heaven. The Government told you that if you work hard and obey, you will be allowed to enter Paradise."
Atlas smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
He turned the camera to show the massive Black Gate and the chains.
"Look at it. Does this look like Heaven to you? It's a prison."
The world held its breath.
"They lied to us," Atlas roared, his voice regaining its legendary thunder. "The world isn't a ladder to climb. It's a puzzle to solve. The Gods aren't waiting for us inside... they are hiding from us."
The signal began to fade. The crystal was cracking.
Atlas brought the camera back to his face. His eye was wild, shining with a manic joy.
"I left everything I found right here. My maps. My journals. The truth about the Void Aether. It's all here, at the foot of the Gate."
He pointed a bloody finger at the screen.
"Do you want to know the truth? Do you want to know what is really outside the Vortex? Then come and get it."
The sound of massive mechanical gears grinding echoed in the background. The Black Gate was beginning to open. A blinding, terrifying purple light spilled out from the crack.
Atlas didn't run. He stood up, facing the light.
"Come to the Center! If you have the guts to cross the storm!"
CRACK.
The crystal shattered.
The screen went black.
The signal died.
For a moment, there was total silence across the nine rings.
Then, in a tavern in Ring 8, a pirate smashed his cup on the floor and cheered.
In a garage in Ring 5, a mechanic grabbed his wrench and looked at his old ship.
In the slums of Ring 9, young men looked at the endless ocean with a new fire in their eyes.
The lie was broken.
The fear was gone.
The Great Migration had begun.