Awakening at Amethyst Summit Division
This place lay in the far eastern reaches of the Forsaken Domain, cradle of legends and home to the towering Celestis Academy.
A chipped lantern trembled in the wind outside the window, its dying flame clinging to life — a stubborn ember defying the dark.
Inside a dilapidated wooden house clinging to the cliffs of the Amethyst Summit Division, a young man sat on a creaking bed, motionless. He seemed suspended between dream and waking, like a soul unsure which world he belonged to.
His hair — long, black, and unruly — spilled across his shoulders. Stray strands brushed against a face that still held traces of youth. But his eyes…
His eyes were a deep, luminous purple — unsettling and beautiful — reflecting the dim light like starlight drowning inside water.
He looked like someone trying to remember who he was… and quietly terrified of what he might discover.
Silence wrapped around him.
He slowly lifted his hands, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else.
"…That's it," he whispered, voice raw and faintly amused, even while it trembled. "I'm toasted."
A brittle laugh slipped out — humor stretched thin over panic.
"I think I… transmigrated."
The words sounded unreal, like a line from one of those cultivation stories he used to skim through — worlds of swords, immortals, and impossible destinies.
He sucked in a steady breath, forced himself onto his feet, crossed the worn wooden floor, and pushed the window open.
The world outside flooded in.
A vast purple glow washed across the heavens like dawn forged from shattered amethyst. Clouds shimmered with immortal radiance, drifting slow and dreamlike. In the distance, robed figures streaked across the sky, riding swords, talismans, and pure currents of mana like shooting stars.
Their cloaks snapped in the wind. Their blades hummed with restrained violence. Every movement dripped with power.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
It felt like stepping into a myth.
Leon's fingers tightened around the window frame, grounding himself as awe and disbelief churned together in his chest.
"…A world like this," he murmured, voice soft. "This is nothing like Earth."
He closed the window gently — almost reverently — like he was afraid the vision would disappear if he stared too long.
Time blurred.
Half a day passed in heavy silence, thoughts crashing through him like relentless tides. He resisted them at first… then surrendered. Slowly, the truth settled deep, cold and solid as winter stone.
He wasn't dreaming.
He had crossed into another life — into the Forsaken Domain, a world that felt strangely familiar. Not from one story, but from many — threads of cultivation, ancient households, celestial academies, beasts older than mountains.
And the identity fate handed him?
That was the hardest part.
"…Head of one of the Seven Divisions of Celestis Academy," he muttered, a crooked half-smile tugging at his lips. "Eighteenth leader of the Amethyst Summit Division."
The laugh that followed carried weariness, sarcasm, and the faintest plea to the heavens.
"My status seems to be quite noble," he said quietly, eyes darkening, "but it's a pity I'm a general without an army."
The room swallowed his voice, leaving only echo and emptiness.
His teacher — Respected Zeon, a legend whispered across the academy — had lived and breathed the Immortal Principal. A man who clawed at the boundary between mortal and eternal until the last flicker of his life.
One step away from ascension.
One step… and then nothing.
On his deathbed, terrified the legacy of the Amethyst Mist Sword would vanish, Zeon named Leon as successor — not because Leon was brilliant, but because someone had to hold the line.
And Leon knew it.
He wasn't chosen out of faith.
He was chosen out of desperation.
His aptitude? Mediocre.His foundation? Cracked and fragile.His future? Practically doomed.
Before Zeon could truly guide him, he left behind only fragments — old scrolls, fading inheritance, an empty seat of authority nobody really respected.
When Zeon lived, people bowed.
After Zeon died, those bows vanished like dew in sunlight.
Leon rubbed his face, exhaustion digging into his bones.
"…Yeah. My abilities are a huge disadvantage. If I don't fix that, I might as well go dig my own grave."
His heart began to race — fast, restless.
He needed direction.He needed strength.He needed something impossible.
Then — his heart lurched.
A faint chime rippled through his mind. Clear. Ancient. Echoing like temple bells carried across eternity.
[Ding…]
Light flickered behind his eyes. A spectral progress bar swept across his consciousness.
1% — 17% — 37% — 57% — 77% — 97% — 100%
[Ding. Binding complete.][Grand Return System successfully established.]
Leon stiffened.
His purple eyes widened, pupils narrowing to slits.
"…System?"
His voice cracked — not from fear this time, but something dangerously close to hope.
His breathing steadied. His thoughts sharpened. He forced himself calm the way a gambler stills his hands before revealing the final card.
Then knowledge surged into him like a tide.
[Grand Return System]
(Visible only to Leon. Hidden from the world. Bound in secrecy.)
The host may bestow cultivation manuals, spirit pills, sacred herbs, spiritual cores, Blood & Bone Elixirs — even cultivation base — upon a student.
Upon bestowal, the system will return a reward.
The return is multiplied at random — sometimes small… sometimes beyond imagination.
Probability constantly shifts.
The greater the sincerity and sacrifice, the greater the potential return.
Leon's lips slowly curved upward.
Not wildly.
Not foolishly.
A quiet, razor-thin smile — like dawn slipping beneath storm clouds.
"Oh? Interesting."
His tone changed. A spark crept into it — heat, calculation, hunger.
"Maximum return… such a massive investment strategy. If I take in a student and truly train them — seriously, patiently — I could gain hundreds or even thousands of years of cultivation in return?"
His thoughts spun like a wheel set aflame.
Fear melted.
Possibility bloomed.
He felt, for the first time since awakening here, that the world no longer pressed its boot against his neck.
He actually grinned.
"Then maybe," he whispered, voice barely audible, "I don't have to worry about anything at all."
The system chimed once more.
[System diagnostic…]
Host: LeonCultivation: Onyx Realm — 2 Stars. (So weak he could vanish in a crowd without notice.)Sacred Art: NoneAptitude: Ordinary — future prospects bleak. Progress will demand miracles.Charm Rating: 99 — acceptable. Handsome enough under decent lighting.
Leon stared.
Then went dead silent.
"…"
A vein twitched at his temple.
"…I swear to the heavens, I'm going to punch this system one day."
Annoyance flared — but beneath it, something far stronger burned stubbornly:
Hope.
Another notification unfolded across his vision.
[Congratulations, Host.][You have received a Novice's Gift.][Would you like to open it?]