When the heavens split, the proud build towers to reach what they cannot understand."
— Writings of the Forgotten Architect, Year of the First War
🏔 The Northern March
The wind of the north was sharp enough to flay skin.
Each step through the frozen valleys felt like walking through blades of ice.
Yet Jin's group pressed on, cloaked in silence, the distant glow of the Broken Sky Rift lingering behind them like a bleeding wound in the heavens.
Lin Xue's breath misted faintly. "The qi here… it's heavier."
Su Ren nodded. "The Northern Spire manipulates the flow of spiritual energy. The Council built it to draw power from the earth veins—like a heart siphoning blood."
Jin glanced northward. Through the blizzard, a shape loomed: a tower of black crystal piercing the sky. Lightning arced from its peak, vanishing into the rift above.
The Northern Spire—the seat of judgment and war.
âš™ The Shadow of the Council
Rumors traveled faster than wind.
By the time Jin reached the outskirts of the Spire's territory, entire sects had already sent envoys to watch the "Oathbreaker" arrive.
Rows of banners flapped along the ice cliffs—each bearing the insignia of a great sect:
The Crimson Moon Sect, masters of flame and blood qi.
The Jade Dragon Pavilion, wielders of illusion and divine seals.
The Iron Fist Monastery, descendants of Murim martial saints.
And the Thousand Lotus Sect, known for their assassins and healers alike.
All gathered beneath the Spire's light to witness history—or execution.
Ash-Eye grinned as he saw the amassed armies. "Quite the welcome. Think they've forgotten who burned the Gate open?"
Su Ren smirked. "They didn't forget. They're just hoping to see if the rumors of your death are exaggerated."
Jin didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the Spire, where twelve floating platforms circled its peak—each one a throne for a High Lord of the Realms.
âš” The Hall of Judgment
When they entered the Spire, sound itself seemed to die.
The hall stretched endlessly, its walls carved from black ice and living runes.
Thousands of cultivators lined its perimeter, kneeling in silence. Above them, the Council of Twelve sat on elevated thrones.
At their center stood a silver-armored man whose presence felt like a glacier—ancient, immovable, and vast. His name echoed across the chamber like thunder:
"High Lord Kaen of the Azure Flame Sect," Lin Xue whispered, bowing slightly. "He was the one who fought beside the dragons in the First War."
Kaen's eyes locked on Jin.
"Reclaimer of the Hollow Flame," he said, voice deep enough to shake the pillars. "You opened the Gate of the Hollow Sea. Do you deny this?"
Jin's hand rested calmly on the Leviathan Blade's hilt.
"No. I opened it."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Some gasped, others smirked, and more still whispered prayers or curses.
Kaen rose, the air freezing solid around him.
"Then you have doomed us all."
🌌 The Accusation
Another voice rang out—sharp and smooth, belonging to a woman clad in gold armor, her hair silver as moonlight.
"You have awakened the exiled realms," she said. "You have broken the covenant that bound the Hollow Realms in peace. The dragons stir, the Void Sea trembles, and you—" she pointed directly at him, "—are the cause."
Jin met her gaze without flinching.
"You speak of peace while your sects slaughter each other for shards of power falling from the sky. The covenant was already broken—you just refused to see it."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Arrogance."
Kaen slammed his spear into the floor. "Enough."
âš– The Verdict
For a long moment, only the distant hum of the Spire's heart could be heard.
Then Kaen spoke again.
"The Council decrees: the Reclaimer shall not be executed… yet. Instead, he shall lead the vanguard north—into the Void Scar itself.
If he returns, we will recognize him as the True Bearer of the Accord.
If he falls… the Realms will forget him."
A stunned silence fell.
Even Lin Xue's eyes widened. "They're sending you into the Scar? That's suicide!"
Ash-Eye grinned grimly. "Or a chance to become a legend."
Jin lowered his head slightly.
"I accept."
đź•Ż The Offer of the Moon
As the crowd dispersed, one figure lingered behind—cloaked in silk white, face veiled. She approached Jin silently, her presence laced with moonlight qi.
"You shouldn't have agreed," she said softly. "The Void Scar devours even dragons."
Jin studied her. "You're not with the Council."
The woman smiled faintly behind her veil.
"No. I am with the Pale Moon Sect. And unlike them… I remember the Reclaimer you once were."
Before Jin could reply, she pressed a small talisman into his hand—carved from moonstone, inscribed with a symbol of twin crescents entwined.
"When the scar begins to whisper, this will answer."
Then she vanished into mist.
🌌 The Beginning of the Vanguard
That night, Jin stood alone atop the Spire, wind tearing through his cloak. The Broken Sky Rift loomed above like an open wound, lightning crossing its edges.
The Leviathan Blade hummed softly.
"The path of kings is never walked willingly."
Jin's eyes glowed faintly with draconic fire.
"Then I'll make it one worth walking."
Far below, armies began to march—banners of every color rising beneath the fractured heavens. The War of Realms had begun.