The Walker estate was vast. Alex knew that. He'd been born within its marble-walled embrace, bled across its training fields, and limped through its healing chambers. But until now, he'd never truly walked its halls with his own pace — unhurried, unwatched, and free.
The silence was different today.
It wasn't the tense hush of awaiting orders, nor the breathless calm before a sparring match. No. This was the silence of home — of ancient stones and drifting dust motes, of old memories hiding in creaking floorboards and oil-lamp shadows.
He passed towering windows that framed cloud-brushed skies, courtyards where sword grasses swayed, and halls hung with portraits of stern-faced ancestors whose silver eyes felt like they followed your every step.
And then, as he turned a familiar corner near the east wing, his feet slowed.
The tall double doors of the Walker family library stood ahead — still sealed with an old lock-plate engraved in interlaced runes. For a long moment, he simply stared at them.
He remembered being small — smaller than small — crawling, waddling, stumbling his way down this very hallway. Back then, this door had been a dream. A treasure vault for a reincarnated mind hungry for knowledge. His grand heist... interrupted by diapers and sleepy maids.
Alex chuckled under his breath.
"It's about time, isn't it?"
With a hand raised, he pressed his palm to the rune-plate. It pulsed in recognition, silver threads trailing across his skin like veins of light. The lock clicked open with a deep thunk, and the heavy doors creaked inward.
Dust, Oak, Ink and Time.
The smell hit him first — the scent of forgotten centuries and whispered secrets. Shelves upon shelves stretched into the distance, rising to a ceiling lost in gentle shadows. Floating lights bobbed between the aisles, illuminating rows of leather-bound tomes, ancient scrolls, and crystal memory tablets.
Alex stepped inside.
For once, there was no rush. No ticking clock. No brutal instructor yelling at him to brace his stance or tuck his chin. Just him, his thoughts, and a thousand lives bound in paper and ink.
He ran his fingers along the spines of books as he passed, feeling the textures — smooth, cracked, rune-etched, or warm with faint lingering mana. His eyes scanned the titles.
"The Weaving of Planes: A Spatial Thesis."
"On the Anatomy of Mana Constructs."
"Records of the Outer Spiral—Volume VI."
And so much more.
Alex's feet padded softly against the marble floor, his hands trailing along the polished wooden shelves of the mansion's grand library. The morning sun filtered through tall, arched windows, bathing the rows of ancient tomes in golden light. It had been a long while since he'd wandered these halls—not since he was still a baby, scheming his silent infiltration for knowledge he could barely reach.
Today, though, he walked in upright and unhurried, no longer a crawling child on a secret mission but a young boy with purpose.
His eyes drifted across the spines of books, fingers brushing titles until one caught his attention. It was thick, bound in worn navy leather, its title etched in silver: A World Beneath Endless Skies: A Geographic Record of the Profound Expanse.
Alex blinked, then gave a small chuckle. "Fitting."
He carried the hefty tome over to a velvet-cushioned chair nestled in a quiet alcove, the kind of seat that almost seemed to embrace you the moment you sat. With the book resting on his lap, he opened it, greeted instantly by sprawling maps rendered in elegant, shifting ink. As his fingers traced the lines, the enchanted pages shimmered faintly with soft silver hues.
The first chapters painted a picture of the Profound Expanse—the name of the world itself, vast and ancient beneath the vault of stars.
The Central Continent, the beating heart of civilization, was the most developed and storied landmass. Here lay the Duskwither Wilds in the west—a primeval forest where ancient beasts roamed and mana thickened the air like mist. To the east, the Stormrend Ocean churned with tempestuous waves, ever hungry for ships. Frosthollow blanketed the north in ice and silence, while Emberfield stretched across the south, its golden plains alive with warmth and color. At the center, gleaming like a beacon, stood Luminaea—the radiant capital, a floating city built atop converging ley lines.
The Great Families had their strongholds anchored to specific pockets tethered to this continent—except for the House of Walker. Unlike the others, their dimensional stronghold drifted freely across the folds of reality, never remaining in one location for long. It was said their domain could only be found by those who could read the movements of the stars.
"Quite fitting" Alex mused as he continued reading.
The House of Nightshade held sway in Graveshade, tethered to Frosthollow's frozen breath. The House of Liora bloomed in Blossommere, thriving within Emberfield's verdant embrace. The House of Veyla shimmered in Miragefall at the Wilds' edge, where illusion and dream converged. And the House of Draven ruled from Bloodhollow, their dimension anchored to the eastern cliffs above Stormrend.
The Four Pillars, meanwhile, were not dimensional—they were rooted in the physical realm, acting as anchors to power across the Central Continent.
The Techno Dominion stood in Gearhold to the east, a bastion of machinery and innovation. The Chaos Crucible blazed to the west in Stormforge, where elemental chaos reigned. Swordborn Bastion carved its home into Bladecrest, a fortress at the northern reaches. And the Mindspire Covenant floated above Psyveil in the southern skies, glowing with psionic power.
Beyond the Central Continent were the other great lands of the Profound Expanse.
To the south stretched the Embervast Continent—a realm of endless deserts, flame-touched jungles, and sprawling volcanic ranges. This land was rich in fire and spirit, home to flame-touched tribes and ancient ruins buried beneath ash.
To the north lay Glacien Reach, a continent of glaciers, aurora-lit skies, and mountain ranges so tall they scraped the clouds. Here, the hardy races thrived—those adapted to cold, silence, and storm.
To the west existed the Verdant Shroud, a continent wrapped in eternal mist, with bioluminescent flora, deep canyons, and hidden civilizations said to speak with the world's will itself.
And finally, to the east, the Sapphire Chain—a scattered chain of island continents, each shaped by its own unique climate and mana ecology, ruled by seafaring clans and storm-summoners.
But what truly caught Alex's attention came next.
The book spoke not only of land—but of war. Of the skies themselves.
It told of the an alien race from beyond the stars. Not travelers. Not seekers. But destroyers. Beings of pure darkness that sought only the obliteration of life itself. They had descended upon the Profound Expanse like a shadow that devoured light. Their forms were dark as void, their minds unknowable, their power destroying and consuming the natural laws of the world.
It was their arrival that had united not only the human nations, but the other native races—the draconic Dravari of the Embervast, the frost-born Skeldir of Glacien Reach, the beastkin tribes of the Verdant Shroud, and the enigmatic Feyborn who walked between realms. For the first time in recorded history, all life stood together against a common enemy.
Alex closed the book slowly, heart thudding.
The Profound Expanse was far vaster than he'd imagined.He couldn't even compare it to earth, it like a child compared to a God,the size difference is overwhelming.
And he had only just begun to take his first step through it.
"The books here are very valuable for a reincarnated person like me, it's like my treasure trove of knowledge."
That's it, my next mission is to finish...." He passed as he looked at the neverending books in the library "to read some of the books here" he solemnly started.