From Principal Renshu's perspective, panic bloomed.
The single gate shimmered—then suddenly split into two separate shimmering portals, twisting and writhing in the space rift. A fierce tug pulled at every student, as if the realms themselves were fighting for custody.
The two gates spiraled toward each other, merging slowly, reluctantly, back into one. The entire area crackled with unstable qi. The air snapped with raw tension—spatial energy peeling off like static torn from the fabric of reality.
Teachers shouted warnings. Guild Commander Qian barked orders to stabilize the area.
One academy representative rushed over, scanning the residual energy with a trembling hand.
"The realm zone they entered isn't stable," he announced grimly. "It's a merging of two separate realms—each with its own time flow and spatial signature. The data shows the children are caught in overlapping zones."
He tapped on his device, projecting a pulsing red overlay of warped coordinates.
"Every day outside equates to a year inside."
A hush fell. A single breath seemed to stretch too long.
"We need to act fast. Every second wasted here means hours, even days, pass for those kids."
Renshu's voice dropped. "We can't just sit here talking. We must prepare to send representatives in once the gate stabilizes."
A cold dread settled over the assembly.
"We may not contact them again until they return—or if they do."
The teachers looked at each other. Fear and resolve flashed in their eyes.
Outside, the violet gate dimmed as the merged realm swallowed the students whole.
⸻
Impact was felt first.
Stone slammed into Fan Yumei's back. Her shoulder jarred. She rolled a few times, then came to a stop beside a moss-covered column.
"…Ugh." Her first real breath came like breaking surface water after drowning. Her ribs burned. Her skin itched with residual static from the warp.
Fan Yumei groaned and staggered upright.
Ash and dust settled as Fan Yumei brushed herself off beside a collapsed wall, boots crunching against broken stone. Her body still ached from the realm drop, but she moved methodically, instinct overriding fatigue. Her internal qi rhythm throbbed like it had been kicked sideways.
The ambient air buzzed faintly—not with sound, but with something deeper. The kind of static you feel in your soul.
Her fingers reached to her side and unclipped the rift-map scroll from the inner ring of her utility belt. It was a sleek Federation-licensed model, heat-sealed edges, flame-resistant casing, soul-bound activation glyph built right into the center knot.
Seventeen hundred Federation coins. Bought with her tournament stipend. She'd even skipped lunch that day. Just to afford this piece of high-grade, official-issue gear.
She unrolled it carefully across a flat, moss-dusted slab of slate and tapped the activation rune.
The scroll flickered.
Once.
Then again.
Then it went still.
A faint ripple of blue light shimmered across the surface—and a message appeared in microtext along the top of the map frame:
"WARNING: Realm is currently within an undetectable time-space distortion. Location tracking unavailable. Recalibration pending ambient stabilization."
Fan Yumei just stared at it for a beat. Then another.
"…No way," she muttered. "You've gotta be joking."
She tilted the scroll slightly, as if that would help. Smacked the edge of it with her palm. Nothing changed.
"Seventeen hundred coins," she muttered through clenched teeth. "They said it works across seven planar layers. Seven."
Above her, a dark shadow sliced across the light.
From above, Maxius dove in fast and silent, his wings slicing the dust-heavy air like blades. He landed beside her in a single powerful swoop, claws gripping a fractured pillar.
His great shadow spread over her. He didn't speak at first.
But his eyes—those amber hawk-like eyes—were frantic.
"She's not answering," he said hoarsely.
Fan Yumei didn't need to ask who.
Maxius flared his wings, tail feathers twitching. "Mystic's link—it's gone. Not dim. Not weak. Gone. I can't even feel the echo of her heartbeat. And Lufei? She was close too, but she's blanked out entirely."
"She was right behind us," Fan Yumei whispered.
"She was under us," Maxius corrected, his voice rising. "On that cloud form. That's my little sister—my bonded hatchling. She's not supposed to disappear."
His talons scraped the stone. "I should've shielded her better—I didn't think the realm itself would rip us apart!"
Fan Yumei pressed a steadying hand to the scroll, then reached out and touched Maxius's wing. "I know. I felt it too. Something pulled us—fractured us mid-flight. It wasn't just separation. It was interference. Soul-level."
Maxius snapped his beak once, agitated. "That realm gate didn't split us. It detonated on entry. No way it was stable."
"I think we were lucky to survive the drop," she said quietly.
"I'm not feeling very lucky right now," Maxius growled.
"Mystic's just a baby. She still thinks lightning is funny. She hums herself to sleep in cloud mist. What if she's stuck somewhere? Or scared? Or older when we find her?"
Fan Yumei didn't answer. She looked back down at the rift-map scroll. Still blank.
No beast pings. No teammate pings. Not even terrain outlines. Just a dull shimmer of blocked-out coordinates and static pulses at the edges.
Maxius leaned in over her shoulder. "Did you just buy that thing?"
She exhaled hard through her nose. "Yeah."
"From that weasel in the orange cloak with the broken front tooth?"
"…Yeah."
Maxius let out a disgusted screech. "I told you he looked like he forged his license in a back alley."
Fan Yumei shut the scroll with a hard snap. "Seventeen hundred Federation coins down the void."
"Well," Maxius said dryly, "add that to the useless thing bill."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Maxius's feathers fluffed, protective instinct overtaking his panic. "We'll find her. We'll find all of them. But especially her. If she's crying somewhere in this warped hell of a realm, I'm going to find her first and make sure she knows we never left her."
Fan Yumei's voice softened. "You think she'd believe you abandoned her?"
Maxius's voice cracked slightly. "She might. Hatchlings don't understand realm theory. They just… feel." Fan Yumei held him in her arms hugging him.
She was upset about the situation as well but had no time to whine and cry as they didn't fix anything.