The bell rang with a sharp chime, and the murmur of students began to fade into dutiful silence. Golden rays filtered through the high arched windows of Class 4-B, catching on the edges of clean desks and casting long angular shadows across the amphitheater-style classroom. Mr. Hayato stood at the wooden podium, a holographic projection of the seven continents floating beside him in brilliant, animated colors.
"Today," Mr. Hayato began, his voice measured and calm, "we review the geography of our world — or rather, the six major continents that shape civilization as we know it. As you're all aware, we live in the seventh — the Mortal Realm."
That simple declaration caused a subtle shift in the room. A few students straightened in their seats. Others, like Ethan Takahara, barely moved. But his crimson eyes, always watchful, narrowed slightly. The Mortal Realm. Even hearing the name carried a strange weight. To the world beyond, it was a dustbin, a wasteland. To those who lived within it, it was simply... home.
Ethan leaned back in his seat, arms folded. The rest of the classroom buzzed with interest as Mr. Hayato gestured to the floating continents.
"Valhalla," the teacher said, pointing to a glowing continent floating high above the others, encircled with a faint golden aura. "A floating paradise ruled by one of the Three Great Yang Clans. Rich in divine energy, a place of elegance, order, and distance."
He waved his hand again, the map rotating. "Nibisu. The Storm Plateau. The second of the Yang continents. Constant electrical activity, powerful cloud cities, advanced long-range combat techniques."
As the hologram turned, Ethan found his gaze wandering — not to the map, but to his reflection in the window. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the glass, an unnatural color that had never faded. No one else in class had eyes like his. Not in any textbook, not in any lineage database, not even in myth. The color of ancient blood. Of something old.
"Why do I look so different?" he wondered. "Why do I feel so… other?"
Mr. Hayato continued, now highlighting the third Yang continent. "Zephyrtide. The final of the three. Airborne fortresses, glider cities, and the most advanced long-range tactics among the Yang Clans."
Each name conjured images of impossible places, of worlds so distant and surreal that even hearing about them felt like myth. Then again, for those born in the Mortal Realm — a place without divine pulse, without possibility — the other continents were myth.
"Then come the two Yin continents," Mr. Hayato said. The map shifted again. "Yumigara. A land of valleys, stone temples, and physical mastery. Here, the Yin clan known as the Ashen Fist thrives — brutal, disciplined, and powerful."
Ethan rested his chin in his hand, eyes half-lidded. Even as the teacher spoke, his mind drifted.
The world is divided.
Those born with the pulse rise.
Those born without? They remain.
"We live at the bottom," Ethan thought. "Even the name 'Mortal Realm' sounds like a dismissal. A realm for the discarded. A place without gods."
Mr. Hayato's voice brought him back. "The final known Yin continent — Kuroha. Swamps, marshes, and venom-based martial forms. Their clan is… elusive, and unlike Yumigara, they do not open their gates to outsiders."
The map slowly retracted. Silence lingered.
Then the teacher turned back to the class. "This is the world you were born beneath. There's a reason the other continents rarely speak of us. The Mortal Realm has no pulse. No divine blood. But understanding where we stand in the hierarchy of the world is still vital."
Kota leaned over to Ethan, whispering, "Kinda messed up, huh? Like being born in the tutorial zone and never unlocking the rest of the game."
Daiki smirked from the next row. "Yeah, except this game doesn't let you level up."
Ethan didn't respond. He stared at the map as it flickered away. The Mortal Realm wasn't even marked. It was just the space beneath the others. Beneath. Forgotten.
Aya, from her second-year class, had been thinking the same. Across the academy building, her eyes glanced toward the window, where sunlight pooled across the desks. She leaned toward Mei, whispering just loud enough for her to hear.
"You know, my brother doesn't talk to many people," she said. "He's... always serious. He doesn't laugh much. Doesn't play. Doesn't even smile unless it's forced."
Mei looked up, blinking. "But he seems kind. And he helped that little boy the other day."
Aya smiled faintly. "He is kind. But it's like... he doesn't know how to be a kid. Like he's carrying something too heavy."
Mei twirled her pencil, looking thoughtful. "I guess I just thought he seemed… cool. Calm. Like nothing shakes him."
Aya turned fully to her, voice softer. "That's why I think you're the only one who can make him feel normal."
Mei's cheeks turned slightly pink. "M-Me?"
Aya nodded. "You're not pushy. You're patient. He needs someone who makes the world feel less… sharp."
Back in Class 4-B, the lesson concluded, and Mr. Hayato wrote a small assignment on the board: "Write a one-page reflection on your understanding of the six continents — not what they are, but how they make you feel about the Mortal Realm."
Ethan stared at the glowing letters.
How do I feel?
Trapped.
Othered.
Angry.
His hand didn't move. He wasn't ready to write that. Not yet.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees. His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass.
A boy with crimson eyes stared back.
Different.
Alone.