Twelve years after the first Mana Pulse, Earth had become a stranger to itself. The very ground shuddered with altered ley lines, and the air hummed with corrupted energies. The lands that once bustled with humanity's ambition now echoed with the howls of beasts and the hum of alien machinery. Cities had fallen like dominoes, their skyscrapers turned to tombstones beneath skies torn open by interdimensional rifts that never quite closed. Time and reason itself seemed to have warped in places, the very fabric of reality fraying at the edges.
In place of the sprawling, vulnerable cities of the old world stood thirteen great bastions—colossal fortress-cities known as Ley Cities—built where ley line nexuses burned brightest. These nexuses, ancient mana veins hidden deep beneath Earth's crust, had once lain dormant. But the Pulse had awoken and amplified them, turning them into throbbing hearts of the world's new power. These Ley Cities were humanity's last stand, the vital spark of its civilization, where knowledge was preserved, and new generations were forged.
Ark Fortress, perched precariously yet defiantly on the broken shoulders of the Himalayan fracture, was the easternmost of these sanctuaries. A marvel of desperation and hope, it rose from shattered bedrock and hovered on stabilized anti-gravity pillars that shimmered with contained mana. Its colossal towers, forged from composite steel and living metal, gleamed under mana-charged light, crowned with spires that touched the bruised clouds. Streets hovered, stacked in vertical rings, connected by shimmering bridges of solidified mana. Mana conduits ran like luminous veins through every wall, every lamp, every screen, providing endless power. Floating drones patrolled overhead, and the faint, resonant hum of mana barrier-fields vibrated through the air like a second, protective heartbeat.
To an outsider, someone glimpsing it from the desolate Wilds, it was a living jewel—a defiant declaration that humanity would not go quietly into extinction.
But for those born inside its towering, shimmering walls, it was something else entirely. A cage. A gilded bunker. A last resort. A constant, claustrophobic reminder that beyond Ark's fortress's translucent mana domes, chaos reigned absolute.
The Wild Dominions stretched endlessly beyond the safety zones—mutated territories no longer subject to the laws of physics or sanity. These were the hunting grounds of colossal beasts, Earth's own fauna that had either evolved monstrously with the mana intrusion or awakened their prehistoric bloodlines as apex predators. These lands also harbored the twisted spawn of invading races that had slipped through multiverse breaches. The true apex predators, the Legions of the Outer Void—titans of war, kings of psionic empires, entities that had consumed their own stars—still stalked these territories. And now, they wanted Earth.
Over 60% of the planet's surface had been swallowed by these Wilds, an ever-shifting, unpredictable nightmare. Every forest, mountain, and ocean now harbored anomalies and predators unseen in Earth's mythologies. Trees that whispered murder, winds that cut like blades, and rivers that drowned not the body, but the soul.
The remaining 40% of the planet, the Ley Cities, stood only because of the Thirteen Pillars—humans who had been chosen, or perhaps created, by Earth's Will itself. These beings, gifted with elements and superpowers beyond human understanding, had pushed back the first cataclysmic wave of destruction. They forged the impenetrable barriers, awakened the dormant bloodlines of humanity, and bought the last remnants of civilization precious, fleeting time. Now, humanity's awakened armies fought on five desperate fronts against the relentless pressure of the alien invaders and the encroaching horrors of the Wild Dominions.
But time was a currency rapidly running out, measured in the fading spirits of the Pillars themselves.
Today, however, was not about war. Not about the horror that lay beyond the walls. Today was Awakening Day.
Held once every three years, Awakening Day was a sacred, highly anticipated event that summoned every un-awakened youth sixteen years old to the Hall of Will's, a cavernous chamber at the very heart of Ark Fortress, where they would place their hand upon the Will Crystal, a colossal shard of solidified mana named after Earth's Will, and be judged.
Would they awaken to power—a potential savior, a new defender of humanity? Or would they fall into obscurity, condemned to a life of labor and fear within the Ley City walls? Would they be one of the chosen—or remain unknown, a simple cog in the machine of survival? The tension was palpable, a current running through every young soul.
In Ark's Academy, nestled in the heart of the third ring, young voices stirred in a chaotic blend of anticipation and dread. The academy tower—formed of glass-steel and living metal—pulsed with soft, contained energy. Its corridors twisted in elegant spirals, and its walls occasionally shimmered with elemental phenomena. Teachers in cloaks of elemental rank patrolled the hallways, their footsteps silent against runic floors that glowed faintly.
Inside Class 3-A, a dozen boys and girls whispered and fidgeted, their anxiety a palpable hum. Each wore a pristine black uniform embroidered with their family sigil and house emblem, a symbol of the old world's hierarchy within the new. A few adjusted their mana cuffs, ensuring they wouldn't suppress their resonance by accident when the moment came. Others read silently from worn data-pads, their faces pale, already resigned to a fate they couldn't control, whether that be the burden of power, the quiet desperation of mediocrity, or the immense, terrifying responsibility of an SSS-rank awakening that could draw the unwelcome attention of the Void itself. Some prayed silently, others clutched small, personal totems, their hopes a fragile shield against the immense pressure of the day.
But one figure didn't stir.
In the far-left corner, by the window that overlooked the mesmerizing, shimmering cityscape, a boy sat with his arms folded and his head leaning against the shimmering pane. He didn't move. Not even when the mana bell chimed thrice, its resonant tone echoing through the glass-steel walls, signaling the final hour before the ceremony.
Arin Vale.
Fifteen years old. A name barely whispered in school corridors. He had no known elemental bloodline, none of the prestigious lineage that often guaranteed an Awakening. No exceptional grades that might hint at a hidden affinity. No family connections to pull strings or offer comfort. He was a non-entity in a world obsessed with potential.
And yet, there was something undeniably wrong with him. Not "wrong" in the usual, juvenile sense—not rebellious or ill-behaved—but unplace-able. Unreadable. He was an anomaly even among anomalies, a still point in a world of constant motion. When Rei tried to meet his eye, Arin's gaze would drift just past, as if seeing something else entirely. Kaela, with her keen perception, sometimes caught him humming a melody no one else seemed to hear, or noticed a fleeting expression of profound sorrow that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Today, Arin's expression was particularly distant, his pale features almost ethereal in the mana-light. His fingers twitched slightly in his lap, a nervous tic of an inner turmoil. His eyes remained closed, but behind those lids, visions danced, fragmented and jarring.
He was dreaming.
But not in the way one normally dreams, a hazy sequence of subconscious thoughts. This was lucid, terrifyingly real. He saw two Earths. Two lives. Two histories woven together like incompatible threads, tearing at his very essence with a constant, low thrum of pain behind his eyes.
In one, he was just a student, living in a world of mundane familiarity: grey buildings, chalkboards, the distant hum of traffic lights. A life utterly devoid of magic. A fleeting flash of a quiet, unscarred park bench, then gone.
In the other, the memories came in sharp, painful jolts: the acrid smell of burning mana; the roar of a titanic Armor Demon crashing through a familiar landmark; the chilling, possessive gaze of a Shadow Figure flickering in a crowded market. He knew of mana. Of awakenings. Of the thirteen cities and the sprawling, terrifying Wild Dominions. Of beasts that wore human faces, and gods who walked among them. The raw despair of a world teetering on the brink of annihilation.
The memories weren't syncing. They were colliding, a painful internal cacophony that made his teeth ache. A jolt, like a low electrical current, ran through his spine, and a phantom taste of ash filled his mouth. He flinched, his body tensing, but his eyes remained stubbornly closed.
Arin Vale. The name echoed again in his thoughts, unfamiliar yet undeniably his own. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember arriving here, in this academy, in this specific chair. Yet here he was. And strangely, despite the jarring collision of realities within him, his heart wasn't racing with panic—it was still. Like a lake in winter, frozen over, hiding unimaginable depths beneath its calm surface.
A sharp rap against his desk jolted him from the loop, pulling him abruptly back to the buzzing reality of Class 3-A.
"You're spacing again, aren't you?" said a warm, teasing voice, laced with familiar exasperation.
Arin looked up, his eyes slowly opening, revealing depths that seemed older than his fifteen years.
Rei Damaris stood there, arms crossed, his auburn hair a mess of energetic curls, his eyes bright with restrained confidence. He was everything Arin wasn't: popular, outgoing, and clearly destined for a powerful Awakening.
Beside him stood Kaela Voss, calm and quiet, her emerald green hair braided into a spear-thin tail that touched her waist. Her uniform was pristine, not a single crease out of place. Her eyes, however, missed nothing. As Rei spoke, Kaela's gaze lingered on Arin's pale face, a faint flicker of concern in her usually stoic expression. She subtly noted the almost imperceptible tremor in his jaw, the lingering disconnect in his eyes that Rei seemed to overlook.
"Still thinking about dreams?" she asked, her voice quiet enough only Arin could hear, a rare softness in her tone.
Arin said nothing, only offered a slight shake of his head. The vibrant light from the mana-pane window lit his face, leaving half of it shadowed, accentuating his unreadable quality.
Rei slid into the seat beside him and grinned, oblivious to the unspoken exchange. "Well, maybe your dreams are prophetic! Maybe you'll awaken with Sight. Or some mysterious third eye nonsense! That'd be cool, way better than just, like, Fire".
Kaela frowned, a slight crease between her brows. "Or maybe he's just tired. You did skip breakfast again, didn't you, Arin?" Her concern was genuine, almost maternal.
Arin shook his head again, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through him. "Just… distracted." He knew the word was inadequate, a flimsy veil over the chaos inside him.
"Right." Rei gave him a familiar pat on the shoulder, a gesture of casual reassurance. "You better snap out of it fast. It's almost time."
The moment those words left his lips, the air in the classroom thickened, growing heavy with latent energy. A chime rang—not from any bell, but from the sky itself, reverberating through the Ley City's core. A powerful, resonant pulse from the Will Crystal, vibrating through the very foundations of Ark Fortress.
The Awakening had begun. Mana stirred in the halls, a palpable presence flowing like an invisible river, crackling with anticipation. The Will Crystal had activated, its silent hum now a roaring vibration in the unseen.
Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate, imbued with controlled power. The classroom door opened without a sound, as if the air itself parted for the figure standing there.
A tall man stood in the doorway, draped in midnight blue robes that seemed to absorb the ambient light, his hair a shocking silver, slicked back from a high forehead. His eyes were like lightning compressed into orbs, crackling with barely contained elemental energy, and a faint, almost visible aura of compressed mana radiated from him. This was Instructor Helros, the Academy's sternest master, a powerful Awakener rumored to have once faced a Stone Demon alone and survived. The very air around him felt denser, charged with his presence, and the students, including Rei, instinctively straightened, their whispers dying to respectful silence, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
"Class 3-A," he said, his voice deep and resonant, a sound that didn't just speak, but cracked the air like thunder, echoing with the raw power of the elements. "Follow."
Arin, despite the internal maelstrom, found his gaze drawn to the vast city skyline outside the window—floating barges drifting through the sky like luminous galleons, skyscrapers of steel and sapphire reaching for the heavens, and clouds of mana weaving in silent, luminous currents above Arkspire's tallest spires. He saw the resilience, the defiance, but also the fragile illusion of safety that defined humanity's existence in this new, brutal world.
Beneath the awe, something in his soul shifted, a nascent stirring that resonated with the incoming pulse from the Crystal. The Will Crystal waited. Ancient. Watching. Judging. Its silent hum promised power but whispered of secrets.
It would read them—soul and spirit, truth and lie. It would strip away pretenses and lay bare the deepest desires and fears. For within the Will Crystal lay fragments of forgotten empires, echoes of cosmic grief, and secrets not meant for mortal minds. It was more than a tool for granting power. It was a sentient memory, a record of creation's vast, chaotic history.
It would not simply awaken power.
It would remember.
And in its memory, it would choose who to crown...and who to erase from existence.