There are five continents in this world—each divided by oceans as though the gods themselves wished to keep them apart.
At the center of all lies the Demon Continent, a cursed land surrounded by storms that never cease. Around it, like four points of a compass, the other continents stand guard, each watching, each waiting.
To the south of that dark heart lies Solmere—a land of unity and strength, where humanity learned to stand tall in the face of endless danger.
Solmere is one nation, but within it lie five distinct regions.
The Northern Region, called the Frontline, forever faces the dark sea where demons sometimes attempt to cross. Soldiers there live knowing a single mistake could open the world to ruin.
To the west and east lie the Western and Eastern Regions, places of trade and prosperity.
The Central Region is the capital—the seat of knowledge and progress—where rift research and anti-demon weaponry are developed.
And finally, the Southern Region—a place of endless instability, where the land itself is scarred by unknown forces. It is known as the Dungeon Frontline, because dungeons appear there more frequently than anywhere else in Solmere.
No one knows why.
Only that every dungeon born there births danger—and opportunity.
---
Michael sat in geography class, eyes half-focused on the digital board as the teacher's voice filled the room.
He rested his cheek against his fist and muttered under his breath, "We already know most of this, right?"
Beside him, Gideon leaned back in his chair. "Not for me. Especially the dungeon part. I didn't even know the Guardians manage all that."
Michael glanced at him. "You don't check anything online?"
Before Gideon could reply, the teacher cut in sharply. "Gideon, care to teach the class for me?"
Gideon straightened instantly. "No, sir!"
The class laughed softly. Then the bell rang, mercifully.
"Alright," the teacher said with a tired sigh. "We'll continue next class."
---
At the cafeteria, Michael and Gideon found an empty table near the window. The chatter of students filled the hall, and trays clattered against metal.
Michael stabbed his fork into a steaming plate of fried beast meat and laughed lightly. "At least the food's good. Otherwise, I'd still be starving."
"Because of this morning?" Gideon asked.
"Yeah."
Gideon smirked. "Let me guess—your uncle again?"
Michael shrugged. "Something like that. Let's just say he has his ways of 'motivating' me to eat fast."
Gideon chuckled. "Scary old man."
They ate in silence for a moment before a soft voice and light footsteps caught their attention.
Elena.
She walked past their table, her long black hair swaying slightly, her presence calm yet magnetic. She was tall, graceful, and among the few who kept their natural black hair and eyes—a simple beauty that drew more attention than any flash of dyed color or glowing aura.
Michael's gaze lingered on her for a second. Her energy's barely measurable, he thought. She probably won't awaken at all.
Still, the cafeteria seemed to tilt toward her as she walked—like sunlight bending through glass.
"A lot of guys are ready to risk it all for her," Gideon muttered.
Michael's lips twitched. "Yeah."
"You gonna try too?"
"Too many guys around her anyway."
"Coward."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Realist."
They both chuckled softly. After a few more minutes, Michael stood up.
"Already done?" Gideon said in surprise.
"While you were too busy staring."
"Dude…" Gideon sighed, watching his friend walk out.
---
The academy library was quiet—a warm hush broken only by the faint hum of floating lights. Michael found a seat by the window and opened a history book about Solmere's formation.
He had barely read a page when a familiar voice spoke beside him.
"You ignored me again."
Michael turned slightly. "There were too many guys around. Didn't want any glares."
"So what?" Elena said, pouting slightly as she sat next to him. "That doesn't mean you can't say hi."
He sighed and closed his book. "Alright, sorry."
She leaned back in her chair, studying him. "You've gotten colder lately. You weren't like this before."
"People change."
"Or maybe they hide better," she said with a faint smile.
Her tone was playful, but her eyes—sharp, confident—watched him with unnerving precision. That was Elena's real side. Beneath her warmth and laughter was a girl who always saw more than she let on.
Michael gave a faint smile. "Still reading those action novels?"
"Yeah," she said, holding up her book. "They make the world seem bigger somehow."
He chuckled. "You always loved watching fights. You even got me into a few, remember?"
"What? Those were self-defense!" she said, laughing. "You're the one who kept showing off your punches afterward."
"Because you kept getting me into them."
She grinned, resting her chin on her palm. "You didn't complain back then."
"Because I was too busy covering your mess."
Elena laughed softly, but her voice lowered. "Still, you were strong even then. Watching you fight made me feel… safe."
Her expression softened, her usual teasing giving way to something quieter—nostalgia, maybe.
Michael looked down at his book, pretending not to notice. "You put on a good act. Most people wouldn't think the smiling school idol used to pick fights for fun."
Elena smirked. "Well, that's a secret between us."
"Guess it is."
The bell rang faintly in the distance.
Elena stood, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Try not to ignore me next time."
"I'll try," he said.
She gave him one last smile—warm, deceptive, familiar.
Michael watched her leave and sighed. That smile probably fooled a lot of people… but I know better. Still, I can't deny it—I had a good childhood thanks to her.
---
Later that evening, Michael sat cross-legged in his room, the hum of the city faint beyond the window.
Dinner had been simple—roasted beast meat with grain stew—but his mind was elsewhere.
He placed his hands on his knees, exhaled slowly, and began channeling his Celestial Energy.
Every person possessed a core, a small spherical structure deep within the body that absorbed energy from the surrounding atmosphere. The energy drawn in spun around the core, refining itself into the user's unique Celestial Type.
This process was what allowed people to awaken and strengthen their energy.
However, what determined the strength and rate of growth of one's energy was the speed of their core's rotation—measured in RPM, revolutions per minute.
The higher the RPM, the faster one could draw and refine Celestial Energy.
For most ordinary individuals, the average was around 500 RPM—steady and controllable.
But Michael's core spun at 700 RPM, an uncommon rate for someone of his rank. It meant his control, focus, and efficiency were far beyond average.
Smith once told him that his own core rotated at 1000 RPM, a number Michael still found almost unreal.
He remembered the way Smith had grinned when explaining it: "You don't force the core to move faster, you convince it to."
Michael inhaled deeply and focused.
He had reached a plateau in his current training—his movements, his energy control, even his breathing patterns were all too smooth. It was time to push further.
As he guided the flow of energy through his body, something strange stirred within him—a second pulse beneath his green energy, faint yet unmistakable.
It wasn't aggressive. It was calm, cool, almost ethereal.
A second energy…? he thought, narrowing his eyes.
He slowed his breathing, allowing his core to spin faster. 600… 650… 700 RPM.
The pressure in the air thickened. A faint, blue shimmer began flickering beneath his skin—subtle but alive.
The two energies intertwined, green and blue, creating a strange resonance. His muscles tightened, his heartbeat quickened, and for a moment, it felt like his entire body was vibrating at the same rhythm as the core itself.
Then pain shot through his arm.
Michael's control slipped, and the blue light vanished instantly.
He opened his eyes, panting. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stared at his trembling hand.
The faint mark of energy pulsed beneath his wrist—a lingering trace of what he'd awakened.
"…A new power," he murmured with a faint, tired smile.
But even as the satisfaction settled in, confusion followed. Why couldn't I channel it properly?
He leaned back, exhaling. "I'll ask Smith when he returns. He'll know."
Outside, the night was quiet. But deep within the invisible currents of energy, something ancient stirred—responding faintly to the new pulse that had been born within him.
Something had changed.
And Michael could feel it.