Three days passed like water through fingers.
Nova spent them in routine—morning cultivation, afternoon training, evenings with Priscilla in the greenhouse. But beneath the calm, anticipation coiled like a serpent. The first year was over. The second waited.
And with it, everything would change.
The summons came on the fourth morning.
Instructor Thorne stood at the front of the assembly hall, his expression unreadable. Before him, the sixty students who had qualified for second year stood in uneasy silence—Class S, Class A, and a handful of exceptional students from lower ranks who had clawed their way up through sheer determination.
"Congratulations," Thorne said flatly. "You survived. That's more than many manage."
No one laughed.
"Today, you leave this branch and enter the true Sky Tower Academy. Located in a secret realm created by one of Earth's strongest—the First Sovereign, who founded this institution three generations ago." He paused, letting that sink in. "The mana density there is five times what you've experienced here. The training is ten times harder. The competition is a hundred times more dangerous."
He gestured toward the massive doors behind him.
"You'll pass through the portal in groups of ten. So, pack your things. On the other side, you'll be processed, evaluated, and assigned to your new classes. What you were here—Class S, Class A, whatever—means nothing there. You'll start at the bottom with everyone else."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Shut up and listen." Thorne's voice cut like a blade. "In the main academy, you'll find students from every branch across the continent. Thousands of them. Some have been cultivating since before you were born. Some have bloodlines as old as civilization. Some have killed before—and will kill again if you give them reason."
His eyes swept the crowd.
"The weak don't last in the secret realm. The arrogant die screaming. The only thing that matters is growth. Remember that, if you want to see your third year."
He stepped aside.
"First group—move."
Nova's group assembled in silence.
Him. Priscilla. Kaelen. Rina. Seraphina. Darius. And four others whose names he hadn't bothered to learn. They walked through the massive doors into a chamber that hummed with power.
The portal dominated the room—a vertical tear in reality, its edges crackling with blue-white energy. It was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
"Through there," a technician said, pointing. "Don't stop. Don't look back. Just walk."
Nova went first.
The transition was nothing like teleportation.
Teleportation was instant—here, then there, no sensation of movement. This was different. This was passage. For a disorienting moment, Nova existed between worlds, suspended in a space that had no up or down, no time or distance.
Then reality snapped back.
He stumbled onto solid ground, gasping. Around him, the others appeared one by one—Priscilla falling to her knees, Kaelen catching himself against a wall, Rina clutching her head as her spatial sense rebelled against the transition.
But none of them were looking at each other.
They were looking at everything else.
The secret realm was impossible.
Nova stood at the edge of a platform that stretched into a sky that shouldn't exist—violet and gold, shot through with ribbons of light that moved like living things. Below, mountains floated in defiance of gravity, their peaks capped with structures that gleamed like captured starlight. Waterfalls rose instead of fell, their streams arcing upward to join rivers that flowed through the air.
And the mana—gods, the mana.
It pressed against him like a physical weight, dense and rich and alive. Every breath filled his lungs with power. Every heartbeat pushed it through his meridians. His bloodline sang in response, surging with recognition.
"This is..." Priscilla whispered.
"Impossible," Kaelen finished. "This is fucking impossible."
"The First Sovereign," Rina breathed. "They say he was 7th Order when he created this place. Maybe higher. No one knows for sure."
Nova said nothing. He was staring at the central structure—a tower that dwarfed anything on Earth, rising from the largest floating island like a spear aimed at the artificial sky. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.
It was home for the next three years.
"Move your asses! You're blocking the platform!"
The shout came from behind—a student in a uniform Nova didn't recognize, his cultivation flickering at 2nd Order, 5th Rank. Older than them. A third-year, maybe, assigned to guide new arrivals.
Nova's group shuffled forward, still dazed.
"First years?" The older student—his name tag read "Marcus"—scanned them with obvious contempt. "Fuck. More fresh meat. Follow me. Try not to get lost. The last guy who wandered off ended up in a training zone and got his head ripped off by a senior's stray attack."
He led them through a maze of platforms connected by bridges that seemed to exist only when you stepped on them. Other new arrivals streamed around them—students from other branches, their faces a mix of awe and fear.
"How many?" Priscilla asked quietly. "How many first years total?"
"From all branches? Maybe eight hundred." Marcus glanced back. "Only half will make it to second semester. The rest wash out, transfer back, or die."
He said it like he was discussing the weather.
Registration was chaos.
A vast hall filled with hundreds of students, all pressing toward counters staffed by exhausted-looking administrators. The noise was overwhelming—shouts, arguments, the occasional crash as someone's temper got the better of them.
Nova's group found a line and waited.
Forty-five minutes later, they reached the front.
"Name." The administrator didn't look up.
"Nova Almond."
"Branch?"
"Aetheria Prime."
The administrator tapped at a crystal display, then frowned. "Your file says first year, Class A, ranked second overall."
"That's correct."
"Fuck me." The administrator finally looked up, studying him with new interest. "Second overall in Aetheria Prime. That's something." He tapped more crystals. "Here, it puts you in Class C. Maybe D, depending on your evaluation."
Nova's expression didn't change. "Understood."
The administrator blinked. "That's it? No argument? No 'but I'm special' bullshit?"
"Would it change anything?"
"No."
"Then why waste breath?"
For the first time, the administrator almost smiled. "You might actually last here, kid. Here's your assignment."
He pushed a crystal across the counter.
"Class C, Dormitory Block 7, Room 304. Orientation is tomorrow at 0800 in the main assembly hall. Don't be late. Don't cause trouble. Don't die before your first mission."
Nova took the crystal. "My group?"
"They'll be assigned separately. You're not a group anymore. You're individuals." The administrator waved him away. "Next."
Priscilla found him outside.
"Class D," she said, her voice hollow. "They put me in Class D. After everything—"
"Classes don't matter here." Nova's voice was calm. "Not the way they did before. The only thing that matters is growth."
She looked at him, searching for comfort he couldn't give. "You really believe that?"
"I know it."
She took a breath, steadying herself. "Okay. Okay. Class D. I can work with that."
"We can still see each other."
They stood together, watching the chaos of new arrivals flood past. Thousands of students. Thousands of competitors. And somewhere among them, people who would become allies, enemies, rivals, lovers.
A commotion near the registration hall drew his attention.
Shouting. The crash of furniture. A student flew through the doorway and slammed into the opposite wall, leaving a dent in the crystalline surface.
"Fucking idiot," someone muttered. "Tried to argue with a senior about his class placement."
Nova watched as a third-year stepped through the broken doorway, brushing dust from his uniform. The senior's cultivation flickered at 2nd Order, 8th Rank—high enough to make the point without killing.
"Anyone else want to complain about their evaluation?" the senior called out.
Silence.
"Good. Fucking good."
He walked away, leaving the crumpled first-year groaning on the ground.
Priscilla gripped Nova's arm. "This place is insane."
"No." Nova watched the senior disappear into the crowd. "This is actually how the real world works."
"That's terrifying."
He turned to her. "Come on. Let's find our dorms before someone else decides to make a point."
They walked through the floating city together, following the crystal maps that appeared at every intersection. Students of all years passed them—some indifferent, some curious, some openly hostile. A group of second-years laughed at Priscilla's Class D uniform. A third-year shoved Kaelen aside for walking too slow. No one started a fight, but the threat hung in the air like smoke.
"Bastards," Kaelen muttered after the third-year passed. "Fucking arrogant bastards."
"Let them be arrogant," Nova said. "Arrogance makes them predictable."
Kaelen snorted. "You're always like this. Calm. Calculating. Don't you ever just want to punch someone?"
"Often. But I wait until it benefits me."
They reached the dormitory blocks—massive structures built into the floating islands, their windows glowing with soft light. Priscilla's block was first. She stopped at the entrance, turning to face him.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Orientation. Don't be late."
"I'm never late."
"I know." She hesitated, then rose on her toes and kissed him—quick, soft, over before he could respond. "See you then."
She disappeared inside.
Kaelen whistled. "You two are still at it, huh?"
Nova didn't answer. He was already walking toward his own block, his mind on tomorrow.
GODLESS SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
NEW LOCATION DETECTED: Sky Tower Academy — Secret Realm
Mana Density: 5.2x External Standard
Bloodline Activation Acceleration: +15%
Cultivation Rate Increase: +200%
NEW QUEST GENERATED: "SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST"
Objective: Achieve Class A ranking within the main academy
Difficulty: A-Rank
Time Limit: End of second year
Rewards:
Complete Heaven-Grade Cultivation Technique (Fragment 2/3)
5,000 Gold Coins
Bloodline Enhancement Pill (High-Grade)
Fragment Detection Range: Planetary
Warning: Competition in this environment is lethal. Proceed with caution.
Nova dismissed the notification and entered his dorm.
The room was small but functional—a bed, a desk, a cultivation mat, a window overlooking the impossible sky. He sat on the mat and began to cycle mana immediately.
The difference was immediate.
Five times density meant five times faster growth. Every breath fed his core. Every heartbeat pushed him forward.
This, he thought, is where I become strong enough.
He cultivated until dawn.
Morning came with a chime that echoed through every room.
Nova opened his eyes, refreshed despite the sleepless night. His cultivation had jumped—2nd Order, 2nd Rank, 34% toward 3rd. A single night here was worth a week at the old academy.
He dressed and walked to the assembly hall.
The hall was massive—tiered seating rising in concentric circles, each level packed with students. First-years filled the lower sections. Second-years above them. Third-years higher still. And at the very top, invisible behind screens of light, the fourth-years watched in silence.
Nova found a seat in the Class C section and waited.
Beside him, a boy with nervous eyes introduced himself. "Tomas. From the Southern Reach branch. You?"
"Nova. Aetheria Prime."
"Aetheria Prime?" Tomas's eyes widened. "The main branch? Shit, you must be good."
"Not good enough for Class A here."
Tomas laughed bitterly. "None of us are. Look around. Every single person in this section was top ten in their branch. And here we are, fucking Class C."
Nova looked. Tomas was right—the students around them radiated talent, their cultivations solid, their eyes sharp. Former elites, now reduced to mediocrity.
The lights dimmed.
On the central stage, a figure appeared—a woman in flowing robes, her cultivation so high Nova couldn't sense it at all. 6th Order. Maybe 7th.
"Welcome," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly, "to the true Sky Tower Academy. I am Headmistress Veyra. For the next three years, your lives belong to me."
Silence.
"Some of you will rise. Some will fall. Some will die." She smiled—cold, beautiful, utterly without warmth. "That's not a threat. It's a promise. This realm was created by the First Sovereign to forge warriors strong enough to protect Earth from what lurks beyond. If you can't handle the heat, get out now."
No one moved.
"Good. Then let's begin."