The scent of ozone and wet salt was gone, replaced by the heavy, sweet aroma of sandalwood and aged parchment . I opened my eyes to a ceiling that seemed to stretch into infinity, decorated with mosaics of constellations that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light.
I wasn't on a beach or in a dark laboratory anymore. I was lying in a bed of silk so fine it felt like water against my skin, but my body felt like it had been shattered and glued back together with lightning .
"You're in the capital, Orizon," a voice said.
I turned my head slowly. Elara was sitting by a massive arched window. Beyond her, the Magic Tower rose like a needle of white glass above a city that defied every law of physics I knew.
Orizon was a marvel of arcane engineering. Buildings of ivory stone spiraled upward, connected by bridges of solid light that hummed as citizens crossed them. In the plazas below, I could see the people of Avulum—men and women in flowing garments that shimmered with protective enchantments.
They moved with a grace that felt alien; even the commoners here seemed to breathe in sync with the city's ambient mana. High above, floating gardens drifted like green clouds, kept aloft by massive crystals that caught the morning sun. It was a place of absolute beauty, yet it felt fragile, like a masterpiece painted on a bubble.
"This is the highest magical authority in our world," Elara continued, her gaze returning to me. "After you collapsed, the Nexus ran dry. It will take weeks to siphon enough mana back into the core for another attempt at your world. The elders are... not pleased."
I pushed myself up, the silver-blue lines on my skin throbbing in protest. My mind felt strangely sharp, as if the overload had burned away my mental fog, leaving behind a crystalline understanding of the coordinates.
"The elders are looking at the wrong map," I rasped, my voice cracking.
Elara frowned, stepping toward the bed. "What do you mean?"
"The coordinates are shifting because you're treating Earth like it's a solid anchor," I said, my mind's eye seeing the jagged "tear" I had spotted before the blackout. "But Earth has no mana. To your magic, my world isn't solid rock—it's a liquid. It's viscous. When you try to hammer a magical spike into it, the 'ground' just flows around the point. You're slipping because there's no friction."
I looked at her, the logic of physics merging with the sight I had gained. "If you want to stabilize the path, you can't use a single spike. You need a broad, multi-layered resonance. Like a snowshoe on soft powder. You have to distribute the weight across the 'liquid' physics of a mana-dead world."
The door to the chamber creaked open, and a group of figures in heavy, ornate robes swept in. These were the High Council, the masters of the Tower. Their auras felt like leaden weights pressing down on the room.
"A 'liquid' world?" the lead elder sneered, his eyes narrow as he studied me like a laboratory specimen. "You suggest we dilute the ancient geometry of our summoning circles because your world is... soft? You are a messenger, boy, not a scholar of the High Arts."
Akhtar stepped in behind them, his massive frame a silent shadow of support. "He saw the fracture before we did, Archmage. The device is dead because it couldn't find earth and kept searching in an infinite loop."
"The device is dead because it was mishandled," the Archmage countered, turning his back on me. "We will wait for the recharge. We will rely on the calculations that have served Avulum for three thousand years. Not the 'physics' of a void."
The Council swept out, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. They were trapped by their own mastery, unable to see the flaws in a system they considered perfect.
Akhtar walked to the side of the bed and handed me a simple wooden staff tipped with a dull, unlit crystal. "They won't listen," he said grimly. "They'll let the device charge at its own pace, which gives us time. But the monsters on your world aren't waiting for a recharge."
He looked me in the eye, his expression hard. "If the Council won't change their math, then you have to become the anchor yourself. We start your training today. If you can't hold the mana, the 'Anchor Constant' won't matter because you'll be dead before you reach the gate."
I gripped the staff. My hands were still trembling, but the "void" inside me felt hungry again.