Dragon Kingdom
North city
No. 3 High School
A 17 or 18 boy with slightly white skin dark hair was sleeping on his disk of a certain last year high school classroom
The bell's shrill
metallic shriek tore through the fabric of the boy whos name is Long Su.
yanking him from a void of sleeping, crushing darkness and a profound, absolute nothing.
His head snapped up, a sharp pain lancing through his neck.
The rough grain of a wooden desk was imprinted on his cheek, and a thin line of drool had dried there, sticky against his skin.
Golden, dust-moted sunlight streamed through the tall, grimy windows of the classroom, casting everything in a surreal, honeyed haze.
The air was thick with the scent of old paper, cheap ink, and the faint, chalky residue of a thousand erased lessons.
A single, disorienting thought screamed in the silence of his own mind, drowning out the rustle of pages and the soft scratching of pens around him.
'Didn't I… die?'
'Die ? '
His hands, moving of their own volition, flew across his chest and torso, fingers frantically probing for the catastrophic wounds that had absolutely, definitively ended him.
They found only the crisp, unfamiliar fabric of a school uniform.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, living drumbeat that contradicted his last certain memory.
His eyes darted around, taking in the rows of bowed heads, students his age utterly absorbed in the texts before them.
This was a classroom.
A completely ordinary, terrifyingly mundane high school classroom.
His gaze fell to the book open on his own desk.
The title on the page blinded him, the words so alien they seemed to physically burn into his retinas.
"Lord Unit 1: Arms Classification - The Undead Race!"
A cold wave of pure disbelief washed over him.
Confusion coalesced into a storm of silent, screaming question marks in his mind.
'What is this? Was this… taught in
schools? '
This was not history, not literature. This was a manual for a war he didn't know.
"Ah—"
Another spike of pain, sharper this time, exploded behind his eyes.
It was not a memory, but a floodgate breaking of information.
Fragments of another life, another understanding, violently forced their way into his skull: a planet called Blue Star.
Shattering dimensions. Gates vomiting forth nightmares. A title… a profession… Lords. And monsters.
His breath hitched in his throat, sharp and sudden.
This wasn't his world.
This was something else entirely.
A low, strangled whisper escaped his lips, lost in the classroom's quiet hum. "What in the nine hells—?"
He couldn't remember anything about his self
his past life, his original world, there was nothing.
A void.
A blank slate wiped clean by whatever cataclysm had brought him here.
Only two things he felt that remained solid and unshakeable in the tumultuous sea of his new existence.
One: his name, in this life and the last, was Long Su.
Two: this new Earth, this 'Blue Star,' was a monstrous, expanded facsimile of the world he must have known, its territories stretched a hundredfold to accommodate a terrifying menagerie of species—humans of different strains, and monsters spilling forth from countless conquered dimensions.
It was a world under perpetual siege, a planet-sized battleground.
And in this constant, desperate struggle for survival, humanity's sole, hard-won answer had been the Awakening ceremony.
The official name is The Ceremony of the Seed Lords.
A gift from a beleaguered Blue Star will itself, a means to fight dimensional war with dimensional war.
Upon their eighteenth year, every human underwent the ceremony, a chance to ignite a world seed within their soul.
To become a Lord.
Even though thus change is one in thousand and sometimes one in hundreds of thousands
All the human wrk hard and struggle for a little hope in awakening as a lord
This was the dream, the pinnacle of existence for everyone.
To awaken one's talent, to nurture that seed into a complete, private world.
A world from which one could cultivate legions.
But nothing is free in lord's world .
The first, every lord will have a single foundational unit in a random way its like the gift of fate, even though many people will awaken human units but not everyone whill have them
But every soldier need a price, every creature from the lowliest goblin to the most majestic dragon, had a cost etched in cold, hard calculus: gold coins, magic stones, rare materials.
The powerful demanded fortunes; the weak, mere pocket change.
This was the covenant.
This was how humanity held the line.
For a hundred and fifty years the Lords summoned their cultivated armies to guard the very dimensional gates and the borders areas that threatened to consume human land
fighting a war of resources and protection on the front lines of human land .
And for this service, this ultimate responsibility, they were elevated, revered.
Their social status was unimpeachable, for they were the guardians, the masters of otherworldly arms, and the only thing standing between civilization and the destruction.
Long Su was now in their number, his fate irrevocably tied to this desperate, glorious, and terrifying new world.
The air in the classroom, once thick with the mundane scents of chalk and adolescence, now crackled with a palpable, suffocating tension.
The bell's echo had faded, replaced by the frantic, collective heartbeat of a generation on the precipice.
One of the memories fragments give him another hope to live in this new world
If any human didn't awaken the seed world it's not the end for their life
the path of the warrior, the assassin, the healer, many numerous other profession are available
Even though this Secondly path all lay open at the university and only for those with the money to pay for such paths, offering power and status beyond the common man.
But it was a secondary path, a consolation prize, better then being a normal human.
For long su situations now, its the final hour of tye eighteenth year for this new body,
It was the primary age: the chance to become a Lord, a master of worlds, a commander of armies and held his future in his hand.
The only chance for him.
Long Su's mind, still reeling from the phantom pain of a memories he couldn't place, clung to these facts like a lifeline.
"Long Su?" The voice was a soft intrusion, a ripple in his turbulent thoughts.
Chen Shuirong, the girl from the memories that were not his, leaned in.
Her ink-black hair, smelling faintly of jasmine, brushed against his arm.
Her eyes, wide and the colour of warm amber, scanned his face with a familiarity that felt like a borrowed coat.
"You're pale. Did you skip breakfast again?" It was a question from the old Long Su's life,
asked a stranger wearing his face.
He opened his mouth, a half-formed lie about sleep deprivation on his tongue, but the classroom door slammed open with a force that shook the walls.
All conversation died instantly.
"Silence!" The command was sharp, absolute. Head Teacher Lin Wang stood in the doorway, his gaunt frame seeming to block out the light from the hall.
His eyes, dark and severe, swept over them. "It is time. Form a line. Follow me in perfect order. Breathe. Do not let your nerves master you."
The march began.
Out in the corridor, a river of blue uniforms flowed from every classroom, a silent, solemn procession toward destiny.
The usual clamour of the school was gone, replaced by a respectful, fearful hush.
Under Lin Wang's stern gaze, they moved as one body into the vast expanse of the North High School playground.
The scene that greeted them was surreal. The sprawling field, usually marked for sports, was now dominated by a colossal structure etched into the earth itself.
It was a magical building, a circular dais of polished, milk-white stone inlaid with veins of pulsating silver.
At its heart, a magnificent magic circle, fifty meters across, glowed with a soft, ethereal light.
Its intricate, geometric patterns seemed to writhe and shift like living things, humming with a power that made the air taste of ozone and set the fine hairs on Long Su's neck standing on end.
This was no mere diagram; it was an engine of fate.
The playground seethed with students, a sea of anxious faces framed by the stark, blood-red insignia of the Dragon Kingdom on their uniforms.
The air itself vibrated with their suppressed energy, a low thrum of hope and terror.
Then, a figure ascended the steps of the dais.
Principal Lin, his hair a shock of white against the vibrant energy of the circle, stood before them.
His body, though aged, radiated a formidable, unyielding strength. He did not need to shout.
His voice, a low, grinding rumble that carried to the very edges of the field, commanded absolute attention.
"Children of the Dragon Kingdom!" he began, his hands spread wide as if to embrace them all. "Today, you step onto the banks of the River of Time! You will face its currents for the first time! Danger and opportunity flow together in its waters."
" Your future, the future of our kingdom, rests upon your courage."
" Fight in the coming trials! Never surrender! The opportunity to grasp a World Seed is now in your hands."
" Seize it with everything you got "
Long Su listened, rapt, every word a precious clue to the terrifying new reality of his existence.
He was so engrossed in dissecting the principal's meaning that he started at a sudden, gentle touch on his back.
Chen Shuirong had slipped through the crowd to stand beside him.
She nudged him again, her whisper a ghost in the charged air. "You've been zoning out all morning. If you die in there, I'm stealing your lunchbox."
The line was so perfectly delivered, so utterly normal in this moment of the extraordinary, that it broke through his shell of shock.
He forced a grin, the expression feeling foreign on his face. "You'd miss me, at least," he murmured back, his voice low.
But his retort was lost, swallowed whole by the sudden, deafening roar that erupted from thousands of throats.
The principal had finished, raising his fist high.
The crowd's response was a thunderous, unified wave of sound that shook the very ground beneath their feet.
"HUMANITY FOREVER! DRAGON KINGDOM FOREVER!"