Aether stepped out of the inn and stopped.

The air hit him first. Cold, damp, heavy with mist. It carried the smell of wet stone and salt, sharp enough to cling to the back of his throat. The sky above was pale and washed out, light bleeding through layers of fog that refused to lift. Nothing here felt clear. Nothing ever fully showed itself.

Veyr unfolded beneath him.

The island was not whole. It was many pieces stacked together, stone platforms rising at different heights, some wide, some barely large enough to hold a building. Bridges connected them all, wooden and iron alike, curving instead of running straight, bending around structures as if built after the city already existed. Some dipped low, others climbed high, crossing above rooftops and courtyards before descending again.

At the center of it all stood a massive stone platform, elevated above the rest. A thick pillar rose from its middle, branching outward into a strange, blocky canopy that loomed over the city like a frozen tree. Around its base sat a circular structure, stone seats arranged evenly, worn smooth by time and use. People passed through it without stopping, treating it like just another part of the city.

From there, everything spread outward.

Buildings were packed tightly together, their shapes uneven and practical. Sloped roofs overlapped. Walkways cut through narrow gaps between walls. Some homes were stacked on top of others, supported by thick beams driven deep into stone. Lanterns hung from railings and posts, glowing softly through the fog, their light reflected in puddles left by the rain.

To his left, the sound of metal rang out.

A smithy occupied one of the lower platforms, its front completely open to the air. A forge burned inside, orange light pulsing with every strike of the hammer. Sparks burst outward and vanished before touching the ground. Blades and tools hung along the walls, some finished, others half-formed, their edges dull and unfinished. The smith worked without pause, movements steady and practiced, as if nothing in the world could interrupt him.

Nearby stood a shop, cramped and overflowing. Crates were stacked outside its entrance, marked with faded symbols. Inside, shelves bowed under the weight of supplies. Rope, lantern oil, maps, empty vials, things meant to keep people alive rather than comfortable. A small bell chimed every time someone entered or left, its sound swallowed quickly by the mist.

Across a wider bridge rose a heavier structure.

The bank.

Its walls were thick stone reinforced with metal bands. Guards stood near the entrance, weapons resting at their sides, posture calm but alert. Inside, counters were carved directly into the stone, iron grates separating clerks from those who approached. People waited quietly, hands tight around pouches or locked containers. No one lingered longer than necessary. This place did not invite conversation.

Further up, away from the noise, sat the library.

It occupied a taller island, narrower than the others, connected by slim bridges that swayed slightly underfoot. The building rose higher than most, its windows narrow and tall, letting in just enough light to read by. Inside, shelves climbed toward the ceiling, packed with books and records of all kinds. Some looked ancient, their spines cracked and darkened. Others were newer, hastily written, bound unevenly. Knowledge gathered here did not feel refined. It felt collected.

Beyond that were training grounds.

Open stone platforms marked with scars from repeated use. People sparred in silence, movements controlled, deliberate. Others stood at the edges, watching, memorizing. A notice board nearby was layered with old parchment beneath fresh postings. Jobs, warnings, names crossed out or circled. The city remembered who failed.

Lower still were the residential islands.

Smaller buildings pressed together, laundry strung between walls, fabric stirring faintly in the wind. Children ran across bridges without fear, feet splashing through shallow puddles. Voices drifted through open windows. Laughter, arguments, life continuing without ceremony.

Water surrounded everything.

It moved slowly between the islands, dark and patient, brushing against stone supports as if testing them. Boats drifted below, tied loosely to posts or pulled onto shallow docks. Fishermen worked without urgency, casting lines into depths they understood better than most.

Aether stood still, taking it all in.

This had not been what he expected to see when waking up. This place was amazing, beautiful. Was this really the place where people had lost all their hope, the place the Tides had taken over a long time ago, and completely redone?

I mean, he had seen many amazing places, like Frozen Crown, the Second Ring was quite beautiful, the architecture was splendid, and the first ring was good also. His own kingdom, it was majestic, but not like the sight in front of him. How the sun got in his eyes at the horizon, the sheer number of islands, slowly descending.

It looked straight out of a fairy tale. Really.

The ones he used to read as a child, the ones he used to imagine himself entering. Well, here he was, finally in one. Yet at the same time, he had to remind himself, this was a Seeker Titan, and moreover, he had been to the Tides; he knew the true terrors of this world; it wasn’t a fairy tale. But something a lot worse.

Aether took a step forward, then another, a little hesitant, but in the end, he went to explore, his first stop being, of course, the smith. It was no wonder that he needed some armor. I mean, the clothes he was wearing weren’t going to protect him, and his cloak didn’t do anything to help either.

So he was going to ask for some armor.

…

…

“Kid, if you don’t have any embers, just get out.

The smith was a strong man with broad shoulders and rough hands. He worked at the forge, heating metal and shaping it with hammer and anvil. Sweat covered his face, and his clothes were stained with soot. He focused on his work, moving quickly and carefully to make tools, weapons, and other metal objects.

“Can’t you make an exception this time?” Aether said, gritting his teeth out of anger.

This guy was stubborn; he didn’t want to give him anything, and he didn’t even ask for anything exaggerated. He just had weak armor, I mean, he knew he wasn’t going to get a strong one, but he would be happy with a not-so-successful piece. Just anything.

“No, and that’s final. Just leave my shop.”

Aether groaned. “Come on, can-” But before he could finish, the smith looked at him and raised his arm towards him, winds bursting out and knocking him out of the building, along with closing the door.

‘What was that?’

Aether frowned, ready to charge back in, but before he could, someone approached him.

“There’s no point, you won’t be able to get back in, the old man is Wind Will, who is very powerful. I mean, what do you expect? He was trained by the master of the Will.”

Aether turned his head at the man who had approached him and raised his eyes.

“What are you saying? I didn’t understand a thing… I just got back from the Tides.”

The man’s eyes widened before he smiled.

“Oh, sorry. You must have been there for a long time then. Either way, do you know what a Will is? Like elements, but they’re called Will since they manifested from humanites ember.

So this was the power system in this world. Will’s, interesting, really interesting. He hadn’t seen many power systems; this was the second, since Frozen Crown took place in the real world, and it used affinites.

It would be a lot simpler if every book were like Frozen Crown, since he could ask how strong someone i,s and he could easily get their rank and class. But now he didn’t have any idea of how to officially evaluate someone’s power.

“Since you don’t know about Will’s, it must mean you died and entered the Tides a long time ago, so um. Do you have one?”

“No.”

This opportunity was quite good.

After all, since entering a book doesn’t give you the powers of the person you took over, even more in trials, since you don’t take anyone over. You are placed in the story as yourself.

So when someone asks for your power, you just have to say that you either don’t have one or just use your affinity. But he doubted there existed a power like the Abyss.

And this time, no, actually had a reason, that being that he was in the Tides and never got one.

“Damn bad luck for you… You just got back from the Tides and have to live a normal life. You see, now, people with Will’s are the priority, and the soldiers of the world… sorry to say, but you will have to live a normal, boring life… Also im going… i dont wan’t want to be seen being friends with someone without a Will.”

There it was… the truth hidden inside the fairy tale that he thought this world was.

So people with powers were considered superior, and those without inferior. How original.

He chuckled…

“I’ll have to live a normal, boring life… with how much I’ve been through lately, that sounds quite relaxing.”

…

“Just that I don’t think that would ever happen.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep