The old man waited for Zarak to respond. But when Zarak stayed silent, his eyes focused elsewhere, the old man followed his gaze.
High in the sky, barely visible against the bright morning light, was a small dot floating far above the city.
The old man's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Ah, that floating thing," he murmured with a nod. "That's the Emperor Academy."
Zarak gave a slight nod, his gaze fixed on the tiny dot in the sky, as if it called to him in a way he could not ignore.
"I know it well," he murmured, his voice steady yet thoughtful. "That's the Sky Emperor Holy Land, one of the Seven Holy Lands."
Silence settled around him, and memories from his years in the mountain stirred, bringing to mind the ancient records he had studied.
These Seven Holy Lands were not ordinary places; they had existed for ages, each one a leftover remnant of powers far beyond what mortals could understand, shaped by beings who had moved beyond the bounds of the world long ago.
