Solar Ascension Academy
High Solis Citadel,
Stuart Domain, AKA Bastion Pass
Sol Continent
Terra, Gaea, solar system
Milky Way Galaxy
Luminary Star sector
16th Vetraeus cycle, 50 New Solaris Prime
June Wyrdward sat at her desk, her chin propped against her palm as she stared out the classroom window. Beyond the reinforced glass, the sky shimmered with faint traces of ambient mana—soft waves of color that pulsed gently through the clouds like echoes from another world. Birds with iridescent feathers glided on thermal currents, their wings glowing faintly as if dipped in starlight. She sighed, wishing she were anywhere else but here.
Inside the classroom, the drone of the teacher's voice continued like background static. The subject was Post-Convergence Historical Studies—a required course that aimed to educate students about the rebirth of civilization after the Merging of Worlds. Most students found it dull, and June was no exception. She already knew most of the curriculum; her family was one of the many so-called "lesser houses" formed in the chaotic years following the Convergence. She'd grown up with the stories, the struggle, and the strange beauty of the world that came after.
She could hear faint snickering from nearby classmates who were also mentally checked out, doodling on tablets or whispering behind spell-dampening wards. The teacher's voice carried on without pause, barely noticing how little her students cared.
June's reverie was interrupted when her friend subtly nudged her arm, snapping her attention back to the present. Blinking, she realized the classroom had gone quiet.
She turned her head and found the teacher's eyes locked on her. A wave of heat surged up her neck as she realized everyone was staring.
"Am I boring you, Miss Wyrdward?" the teacher asked sharply. Her voice was crisp—authoritative, but not cruel. She was a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied into a tight bun, her educator's robe embroidered with the emblem of the Sol Domain. She set her teaching tablet down on the podium and crossed her arms, clearly expecting an answer.
"Um… no, ma'am," June said quickly, stumbling over the words.
The teacher raised a brow. "Then perhaps you can remind the class what the Convention of the Golden Dawn was?"
Suppressing a sigh, June stood. Her uniform shifted slightly as she rose—woven with threads of adaptive fabric that shimmered faintly in tune with her internal mana flow. She glanced around at her classmates, many of whom now looked at her with a mix of sympathy and amusement.
"The Convention of the Golden Dawn," she began, her voice steady despite the prickling nerves, "was one of the most defining events of the post-Convergence era. It marked the official unification of awakened humanity across the fused continents under a common doctrine—one centered on cultivation, mutual survival, and harmony with the new world."
Her voice found its rhythm as she continued, words shaped from memories of stories told at home and lessons repeated a hundred times. "This convention was made possible through the leadership of the Golden Dawn Alliance, along with the Octagram Society—two organizations that emerged during the darkest decade humanity had ever known: the Ten-Year Chaos. After the Merging, the world fell into disarray. The seven mundane continents—once separated by oceans—were stitched together like a broken tapestry. Nothing was as it had been. The laws of nature warped. The skies cracked. Magic returned."
She paused, letting her words settle over the room. The air felt heavier now, as if the memory of those days still lingered in the bones of the earth.
"Humanity wasn't ready," she said. "No one was. The Merging caused apocalyptic shifts—mountains collapsed, cities drowned, and storms tore the sky. Millions died in the first wave of disasters. Billions would have followed... had it not been for the Golden Dawn."
Even the students who had been whispering earlier now looked at her with quiet attention.
"Back then, no one knew who they were. Just a rumor at first—figures clad in radiant armor, wielding technology and powers no one had ever seen before. They moved across the broken world like divine messengers, saving lives, rebuilding shattered infrastructure, and quelling rampaging mana beasts. And then came the Octagram Society—scholars, witches, and seers who taught people how to use their newfound powers, how to protect themselves, how to begin again."
She exhaled slowly, her voice softening.
"Together, they brokered the Convention. They gave us hope. Structure. Purpose. They saved us from extinction."
June sat down again, her cheeks warm, though she felt strangely lighter. The room remained quiet for a moment.
The teacher gave a curt nod. "Well remembered, Miss Wyrdward. That is the foundation of everything you stand on today. Don't take it for granted."
As the teacher resumed the lecture, June allowed herself a small smile. She may have been born into a lesser house, in a time when the chaos had passed—but the fire of the past still burned in her blood. And in this new era of cultivation and awakening, perhaps she would carve out a story of her own.
****
"Hey June, Teacher Aina sure gave you a hard time back there," said Dorothy Stokes, flashing a mischievous grin as she tightened the straps on her training gauntlets. The two of them stood at the edge of the combat chamber—a massive, dome-shaped arena reinforced with hexagonal arcane barriers that shimmered faintly in the ambient light. Holographic displays of movement diagrams hovered in the air around them, slowly rotating as the system prepared the daily combat drills.
They had just transitioned into their next class—Combat Conditioning. Here, students were taught to refine their instincts, bodily control, and mana-guided strikes, even if their Awakening had not yet occurred.
Solar Ascension Academy, like many others founded in the new era, was more than just a place of learning. It was a crucible—a training ground for the next generation of Ascendants. While most students were still classified as Dormant Mystics, meaning they hadn't yet undergone the Awakening process, they could still faintly sense and direct the natural flow of mana within their bodies. It wasn't much—but it was enough to begin the basics. Enough to ignite ambition.
Even without the Innate Mana Node—an essential metaphysical organ needed to fully harness raw mana—students were encouraged to learn martial forms, spellcraft theory, elemental resonance, and basic mana circulation. And so, they practiced. Prepared. Dreamed. Some would walk the path of the Mystic Artist, honing their bodies as weapons. Others would embrace the arcane path of the Mage, shaping the world with incantations and constructs. A few, rare prodigies, would walk both paths.
June smiled at Dorothy's remark as she adjusted the grip wraps around her wrists. "Aina always looks like she's just waiting for me to slip up," she said with a chuckle. "Can't say I blame her, though. I was pretty spaced out."
"I still don't get why she targeted you," said Elissa, her other friend, stretching beside them. "There were literal giggle-fests going on behind us. And you were just… staring at clouds or something."
June snorted softly. "Yeah, but I wasn't pretending to pay attention. That probably annoyed her more."
Before they could continue chatting, a deep voice cut across the chamber like a blade.
"Students."
The Melee Instructor, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a dense mane of silver hair and scar-split cheek, stepped forward. His eyes were sharp and unblinking, and his aura—though restrained—carried the unmistakable weight of someone who had faced monsters and survived.
"Form up! Today we begin Drill Sequence: Echo Blade Form One—a stance technique rooted in counterweight balance and directional force redirection. Watch carefully. Then repeat."
As he demonstrated, a projected image of his motion hovered beside him, showing real-time annotations of mana flow through muscle and meridian pathways. The class fell silent, focused.
—Later, after drills had ended and classes dispersed, June made her way down the polished stone corridors of the academy toward the lower lockers. The echo of footfalls mingled with the soft hum of arcane lights lining the ceiling. She keyed her locker open and pulled out her belongings—a weather-worn backpack reinforced with minor enchantments. No fancy Dimensional Band for her. Those were magitech luxuries most students could only dream of affording. Her storage pack had limited capacity, but it got the job done.
As she neared the Academy's outer gate, her hand gripped the handle of her collapsible umbrella. Rainclouds had gathered overhead, flickering occasionally with the faint shimmer of sky-elemental particles—a side effect of unstable mana pockets in the upper atmosphere.
But before she could step outside, she paused.
Ahead, the crowd parted.
Students instinctively moved aside, whispering in hushed tones, their eyes following a solitary figure gliding through the hallway with graceful disinterest. June's breath caught in her throat. Even without seeing her face, she already knew who it was.
Leto Thalorin.
The girl walked with the kind of quiet, commanding presence that turned heads without effort. She was tall—far taller than most students, with a long, willowy frame that exuded both elegance and raw strength. Her skin was pale like moonlight on snow, her black hair cascading down her back in a sleek, flawless flow. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly with inner mana, framed by lashes that were too perfect to be anything but natural. She looked like something sculpted from myth.
And she wasn't human.
Leto was a member of the Thalorin family—one of the Five Great Houses that ruled over the Sol Domain. But unlike the other four, the Thalorin were Beastkin, born of an ancient union between Mystical Beasts and humanoids. In a world now unified under the Golden Dawn Alliance, such bloodlines were no longer uncommon—but even so, in the Sol Continent where humans dominated the majority population, Leto was an anomaly.
An elegant, terrifying, awe-inspiring anomaly.
It was said that the Thalorin family descended from a line of apex predators native to the old world jungles before the Convergence. Others claimed their beast forms came from even older celestial creatures. Whatever the truth, Leto's blood ran rich with untamed mana. Despite not being Awakened, her combat scores rivaled high-tier cadets from the advanced divisions. Some even whispered she'd defeated a fully Awakened Guardian trainee during a sparring match.
June had never spoken to her. Never even been near her. But in moments like this, watching how the world seemed to ripple around Leto's presence, she couldn't help but feel small.
But… maybe that's what made it exciting, June thought to herself. In a world like this… anything's possible.
And maybe she'd just carve her name into history—not as a Guardian or Scholar like her kin—but as a Dungeon Explorer. A pioneer of the unknown. With that thought, June stepped out into the rain, lifting her umbrella. The droplets hit the fabric with a soft rhythm as her eyes turned toward the distant, cloud-veiled mountains.
The clouds that loomed above the distant mountain ranges were dark as iron and roiling with flashes of pale blue lightning. From a distance, the storm looked like a living thing—writhing, breathing, pulsing with an energy that never quite settled. It had been like this for weeks now. Skies once known for their golden clarity now churned with unpredictable weather, an eerie reflection of Terra's unstable Essence field.
One might have thought that, after so many decades since the Convergence, the world would have stabilized by now. But reality had proven otherwise. The deeper truth—rarely spoken but widely understood—was that Terra's cultivation grid had become erratic. The planet's leyline system, a lattice of natural energy veins running beneath the surface, fluctuated in resonance. And when a world's flow of Essence is thrown out of harmony, the world itself responds—with storms, tremors, elemental anomalies, and worse.
The continent of Sol, once known as the jewel of the southern hemisphere for its sunlit plains and year-round warmth, had become a theater for strange phenomena. Sunshowers under moonlight. Frost blooming on summer trees. And lightning that struck not from the sky—but up from the earth.
In response to the instability, the Yesh Institution—a scientific and spiritual extension of the Golden Dawn Alliance—had undertaken a planetary-scale project to stabilize the planet's internal cultivation network. They constructed colossal arcano-tech structures called Awakening Temples at strategic leyline nexuses across the continent. These towers acted like metaphysical circuit breakers, dispersing excess energy and regulating mana currents.
Because Awakening during a surge—or worse, during a leyline fracture—could lead to catastrophic failure of the body and soul, the Sol Domain Council had issued strict mandates: no one was allowed to undergo Awakening outside these temples. The risks were simply too great.
June Wyrdward pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stepped onto the Metro Magtrain platform. She wasn't alone—students, workers, and travelers were scattered across the deck, waiting in quiet patience. The platform itself was made from enchanted alloy—adamantium fused with a mana-conductive metal known as Obra, etched with glowing circuit sigils. The rail lines pulsed with blue-white light, a magnetic energy field humming softly beneath her boots. Kinetic thrusters lined the rails, drawing energy not just from power stations but from the movement of the train itself—a perfect loop of arcane efficiency.
This kind of technology—mana-reactive metals, magneto-kinetic rail, and dimensional synchronization systems—was what had kept humanity from falling into the abyss. It had been their salvation during the Ten-Year Chaos. Now, Terra stood on the edge of evolution. A world once classified as a Tier III civilization, it was now pushing the boundary toward becoming a Tier II—a Middle-Level World, as measured by interstellar standards. Once the planetary mana grid was fully stabilized, and Awakening became safe for all, Terra would truly step into a new age.
The magnetic hum deepened, signaling the train's approach. A gust of pressurized wind swept across the platform as the Solflare-class Magtrain arrived in a streak of radiant motion. Its sleek frame shimmered with solar plating and defensive enchantments. The doors parted with a hydraulic hiss.
June entered alongside the flow of passengers. As she folded her umbrella and shook off the lingering raindrops, she paused—eyes wide.
Leto Thalorin.
The noble girl stepped lightly onto the platform with the same effortless grace that had made her the subject of whispers and awe since their first year. Her tall frame cut through the crowd like a blade through silk. She wore the same standard Solar Ascension Academy uniform—white and yellow with gold trim, emblazoned with the radiant insignia of the Sol Domain. But somehow, on her, the fabric looked like a royal mantle, tailored to divine proportions.
June stared, momentarily frozen. She wasn't the only one. Conversations quieted. Even the older commuters gave the girl a wide berth. Leto didn't acknowledge them. She moved with practiced detachment, her crimson eyes distant, her raven-black hair tied into a long braid that swung gently as she walked.
She slid into the seat directly across from June without a word. A pair of sleek, crystal-core earpieces nestled in her ears, pulsing faintly with the beat of whatever music she was listening to. The soft, rhythmic glow of the tech flickered with every note.
June let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She quickly turned her eyes away, trying to ignore the sense of being completely out of place. What is someone like her doing on a public train? she wondered. Most nobles traveled via personal lev-trams or dimensional hop-gates. Leto's presence here felt almost surreal.
Trying to refocus her thoughts, June pulled out her Zodiak Tab, a slim, glasslike device that had replaced the outdated Earth-based network systems. Zodiak devices could project holograms, tap into dimensional signals, and even access mana-based databases linked directly to the Golden Dawn network.
She opened a stream—one of her favorites.
Publicly available Dungeon Expeditions.
Since the arrival of the Dungeons—twenty years after the Ten-Year Chaos—these mysterious pocket dimensions had become a dominant force in the world. Appearing unpredictably, each Dungeon was a self-contained metaphysical space filled with beasts, traps, and ancient relics. They were dangerous… but they were also overflowing with opportunity.
In response, the Sol Domain Council had formed the Dungeon Association, a global regulatory body tasked with monitoring and controlling all Dungeon activity. They had created a profession around it—Dungeon Explorers, or as they were more commonly known: Raiders.
June's eyes lit up as she watched a party of experienced Raiders descend into a crimson-lit crystal cavern, their mana-blades shimmering like starfire. One day, she promised herself, she'd be there too.
As the magtrain glided along its track, June Wyrdward leaned back into her seat, eyes fixed on the glowing display of her Zodiak Tab. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft chatter of fellow passengers filled the cabin, blending into a peaceful white noise. Outside the window, the storm still brewed over the distant mountains, dark clouds pulsing with electric veins.
But then—the atmosphere shifted.
Without warning, a ripple surged through the space just ahead of the train. The air twisted, warping like a mirage caught in a vortex. Space itself convulsed as a distortion tore open—a rent in reality, flickering with sickly red and violet hues. And within it, the unmistakable trace of Infernal energy began to bleed into the world, like ink spreading through water.
Across the city, alarms wailed to life.
Long metallic poles embedded in city infrastructure lit up, casting warning sigils into the sky as the sonic resonance of emergency runes echoed across the skyline. Inside the train, red glyphs ignited along the walls and floor, followed by a deafening shriek from the onboard sirens. The voice of the system AI stammered through the static:"ENCROACHMENT DETECTED. ALL PASSENGERS BRACE FOR EMERGENCY HALT."
June's heart clenched. Her breath hitched in her throat as a familiar, primal fear crawled up her spine. She'd read about Infernal Manifestations. Everyone had. But hearing about them in news reports and actually feeling one manifest were two very different things.
Then, the train slammed to a halt.
The sudden deceleration was violent, like hitting an invisible wall. Bodies flew forward. Screams echoed. June was thrown from her seat, weightless for an instant—
—and then caught.
Strong arms wrapped around her as she collided into someone. She gasped, blinking up—only to see Leto Thalorin staring back down at her, calm and composed amid the chaos. Their faces were close—too close—and June's cheeks flushed as heat surged beneath her skin.
Then a blood-curdling shriek tore through the metal hull.
Leto released her gently, stepping away with quiet urgency as passengers began pouring into their car from the neighboring compartments, screaming and disoriented. June tried to rise, but a crushing pressure fell upon her—an oppressive weight that pressed against her soul. Her body froze, drenched in cold sweat. It felt like death itself was watching.
A violent crash shook the train. The ceiling above ripped open, twisted apart like paper. Blackened, serpentine appendages snaked through the tear, each tipped with bladed claws. They struck without mercy, snatching screaming passengers and dragging them into the storm above.
And then it descended.
A creature of nightmares—colossal, spider-like, and utterly wrong. Its carapace was a mass of shifting tendrils and writhing shadows. Eight glowing eyes radiated malevolence, and its enormous pincers clicked with maddening hunger. A stench of rot and smoke choked the air as it pulled itself partially through the breach.
June stared, frozen in place.
This was no illusion. No simulation. It was an Infernal Beast—a creature cast out by the Odyllic, the Will of the World. A being with no place in reality, sustained only by devouring the souls of the living. And now it was here.
With a guttural screech, the monster opened its maw and vomited forth a horde of smaller abominations—eight-foot-tall spider-creatures with barbed limbs and serrated fangs. They fell upon the passengers like locusts.
One of them seized a woman in front of June and, without hesitation, ripped her in half. Blood and entrails sprayed the cabin. The woman's screams died mid-breath. June, too horrified to think, could only scream—her voice drowned beneath the chaos. The smaller spider turned its gaze to her.
Before it could lunge, a figure flashed from behind. Leto Thalorin leapt forward, landing atop the spider mid-strike. Her yellow-bladed weapon gleamed like a star as she plunged it into the creature's crown, splitting it in half. The monster convulsed—then crumbled into ash.
Leto rose without a word, her form glowing faintly with golden radiance. Without hesitation, she launched herself at the rest of the horde. Blades of flaming light danced from her limbs, her every movement precise, ferocious, and impossibly fluid—like a seasoned Ascendant.
June watched in awe. She shouldn't be able to move like that... she's not even Awakened—right?
But something had changed.
Gone was Leto's signature black hair. In its place was a flowing mane of golden flame, cascading behind her as if alive. Her crimson eyes had turned luminous gold, her aura now blazing with celestial intensity. Her school uniform had been replaced by a skin-tight combat suit, black with radiant gold highlights and protective armor pads over her vitals.
She wasn't a student anymore.
She was a warrior.
June could barely process what she was seeing—until a sound behind her pulled her back.
More shrieks.
She turned and saw another wave of spider-demons charging toward her, gore-slicked claws raised high. June tried to move, but her hands slipped across blood and viscera. She fell. A spider leapt, its pincer inches from her face, about to peel the skin from her skull.
This is it, June thought. My end.
Her dreams of exploration. Her hunger for something more. Her quiet rebellion against a life she never wanted—all of it was about to be erased in a blur of fang and blood. She'd never become a Dungeon Explorer. Never prove herself. Never find her own path. She would die as just another casualty of the new world.
If only...
A scream tore from her lips—raw, desperate, and full of soul. And the world responded.
The soul of Terra—ancient and sentient—heard her. The Odyllic, sensing her resonance, reached back. A spark of recognition passed between planet and girl. And in that moment, a harmonization occurred.
Leto sensed it immediately. She flipped backward, landing on top of the train, eyes narrowing as a surge of power exploded from within June. A shockwave of ice erupted from the girl's body, instantly freezing the swarm of spiderlings in jagged tombs of glacial mana. The car was buried in frost, the heat of battle swallowed in silence.
June stood at the epicenter, her body convulsing. Energy spiraled through her, reshaping everything. Her Soul Core crystallized. A mental core flickered to life in her mind. Her muscles refined, her blood purified, impurities purged. Her Awakening had begun—violently, beautifully, and completely.
Both Leto and the Infernal paused.
The monster turned, its eyes locking on June. That's the one, it seemed to hiss. For weeks, it had stalked the scent of a ripening soul—one on the cusp of transformation. This was its prize. It's meal. It had torn a gate open to project part of its body into the material world, even if limited to a mere fraction of its true form.
It lunged, single-minded in its hunger.
But Leto was faster. A cloak of radiant mana enveloped her body, flickering with the image of a majestic golden beast. Her sword shimmered—and then shifted, transforming into a golden-violet staff radiating crushing density. She leapt—light itself bending around her weapon as she brought it down. The impact was seismic. The staff tore through the abomination's core, unraveling its form. The creature howled in agony as it was ripped apart by radiant energy. Shadows burned away. Its body disintegrated into cinders.
And just like that—the nightmare ended. The train, now still and half-destroyed, lay cloaked in cold and silence. Frozen corpses of spider-creatures littered the ground. At the center of it all, June Wyrdward lay motionless, the chill in the air clinging to her, but her skin was unbothered. Her Awakening had rendered her immune.
Her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Golden light framed Leto's face as she knelt beside her, divine and distant, like a goddess from an old myth.
"You'll survive," Leto said softly, her voice a gentle contrast to the violence of moments before. June tried to respond—but the darkness of exhaustion swallowed her whole. She fell into unconsciousness, her soul now changed forever.