I am rewriting the whole series from beginning, so stay tuned.
Prologue : Echoes of the First Gate
The world remembers the day the heavens split and the veil of reality trembled.
It began not with thunder or storm, but with a ripple in the very air, as though existence itself drew breath. The skies shimmered like molten jade, and then came the light, neither sun nor star, neither flame nor lightning. It was something far older, a brilliance that seemed to weigh upon the soul, carrying the chill of eternity.
Across endless deserts and frozen wastes, across oceans and mountain spires, rifts blossomed like wounds in the Dao of Heaven. They were not mere fissures, but gates, portals forged by hands unknown, each a scar carved into the tapestry of worlds.
From those gates descended calamity and wonder alike. Creatures of impossible forms strode forth. Some glimmered like living constellations, their wings scattering fragments of starlight as though they had drunk deep of the cosmos. Others were abominations, their blood reeking of poison, their roars shaking the marrow of mountains. Mortal armies fell like reeds before the storm; weapons forged of iron and fire crumbled like ash. Cities were devoured, kingdoms became legend, and entire bloodlines were erased in the span of days.
Yet not all that emerged were beasts. Among the carnage fell relics of unfathomable design, artifacts of crystal and metal, humming with a resonance that defied both scripture and science. Some called them divine treasures, others named them accursed remnants of an age when mortals sought to trespass against Heaven. With their power, cities rose again in defiance, fueled by artifact cores that glowed brighter than suns. Medicines were brewed from the essence of other realms, machines fused with sorcery, and humanity staggered between salvation and damnation.
In this chaos, a new path was born. They called them Reclaimers, men and women who braved the gates not to flee, but to seek. They were no longer mere mortals; scavengers became pioneers, zealots became warriors, outlaws became sages. They walked into realms where even light dared not follow, gambling their flesh and spirit against the unknown. To the common folk they were both guardians and heretics, blessed and cursed, those who returned with treasures or never returned at all.
Yet the questions remained, whispering like wind through shattered ruins.
Who forged the gates? Why do they open where they do? And what stirs in the silence beyond them?
The oldest fragments of history murmur of a civilization that reigned across not one world, but ten thousand. Of Architects who wove the portals as bridges, or as weapons. Of gods and demons who waged war not for thrones or mortals, but for the very right to inscribe law upon existence. Their names are dust, their war reduced to myth, but their shadows linger still in every flicker of portal-light.
Now, the balance falters once more. The gates thrum with restless power, realms bleed into the mortal world, and factions sharpen their blades, some for faith, some for dominion, others for secrets older than time itself. The struggle of mortals has become a struggle of Heavens.
And at the heart of this storm stands a single youth.
Leo Rivers, a novice Reclaimer without lineage, without brilliance, yet bearing a resonance that should not exist. His soul trembles in harmony with the gates themselves, as though a forgotten oath binds him to their origin. Though unremarkable, the blood of fate coils within him; his choices will carve the marrow of destiny across realms uncountable.
For the gates are not doors. They are trials set by hands unseen. And the heavens have already chosen their Ascendant.