If Oakhaven was a village and the Salt-Flats were a wasteland, Pangaea was a god's dream made of marble and steam. As Konja and his companions crested the final ridge of the Cloud-Dust Mountains, the sheer scale of the Hegemony's capital stole the breath from their lungs.
The city was built upon a massive, plateau-like creature known as the Dormant Behemoth, a stone-skinned titan whose back spanned miles. Its head served as the foundation for the High Palace, while its four colossal legs formed the pillars of the four lower districts. Steam-powered elevators, or "Prana-Lifts," hummed along the creature's flanks like silver beetles, and the air was filled with the sound of a million voices and the scent of exotic oils and street-side feasts.
"It's not a city," Tali whispered, her eyes wide as she looked at the floating gardens suspended by gravity-crystals. "It's a machine."
"Keep your eyes sharp," Renzo cautioned, his hand hovering near his blade. "In a place this big, the shadows are just as deep as the lights are bright."
Konja felt Zale bristle beside him. The indigo fox's senses were overwhelmed by the cacophony of Prana signatures—thousands of them, clashing and merging in a frantic urban dance.
The Gates of the Apex Institute
The Apex Institute of Martial Culinary Arts was situated on the Behemoth's "shoulders," a district where the architecture was more fortress than school. The gates were made of pure White-Brass, etched with the names of every champion who had ever won the Decennial Summit.
As they approached, they were met not by guards, but by a welcoming committee of students. They wore uniforms of shimmering gold and crimson, and their Crest-Mons were of breeds Konja had only seen in ancient scrolls—Jade-Lions, Solar-Falcons, and Quicksilver-Serpents.
"So," a voice drawled from the top of the marble stairs. "The 'Wilderness Warriors' have finally arrived."
A tall, slender boy with hair like spun silver and eyes of piercing violet walked down the steps. He carried a rapier that looked as though it were made of condensed starlight. Beside him hovered a Lunar-Owl, its feathers glowing with a soft, hypnotic rhythm.
"I am Cassian Valere," the boy said, stopping a few feet from Konja. "First Seat of the Sophomores. We've heard much about the boy who wields a spatula. The Faculty is curious, but the students... we are skeptical."
Konja met Cassian's gaze. He didn't feel the raw, clumsy malice he had felt from Baron Vane. Cassian's presence was refined, sharp, and utterly confident.
"I'm not here to satisfy your curiosity, Cassian," Konja said, his voice level. "I'm here to learn."
"And to compete," Cassian added, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "But remember, in Pangaea, power isn't just about how hard you can hit. It's about elegance. It's about the Art. Your rustic 'Munka-Style' might have worked in the mud, but here, it might just be... unpalatable."
The Induction and the Rivalry
The group was led into the Great Hall, a room so vast it had its own weather patterns. Clouds of floral-scented mist hung near the ceiling, and the walls were lined with portraits of the Five Great Masters.
The Headmaster, Lord Malchor, was a man who seemed to be made entirely of shadows and iron. He accepted Master Omi's dried spice-pod with a flicker of recognition in his dark eyes.
"Omi still lives, then," Malchor mused. "And he sends me a cook. Very well. You will be assigned to the Obsidian Dormitory—the basement. Until you prove your worth in the Trial of the First Harvest, you are considered 'Provisional' students."
The Obsidian Dorm was a far cry from the gold-leafed halls of the upper tiers. It was damp, carved directly into the stone of the Behemoth's back. But for Konja and his friends, it felt like home.
"They're trying to break us," Tali said, throwing her bag onto a stone cot. "They give us the basement to see if we'll crawl back to the mountains."
"Let them try," Renzo said, already sharpening his blade. "I've slept in worse places while tracking Void-Howlers."
The First Encounter: The Kitchen-Arena
That evening, hunger drove them to the Central Refectory, a massive dining hall that also doubled as a practice arena. In Pangaea, every meal was a challenge. To get the best ingredients, you had to win them in "Culinary Skirmishes."
Konja approached the main counter, where a group of upperclassmen were hoarding a crate of Aether-Beef—a rare meat infused with sky-Prana.
"Looking for a snack, basement boy?" a girl with fiery red hair and a massive Iron-Boar companion blocked his path. "This is for the Golden Tier. You can have the scraps in the back."
"I don't want scraps," Konja said, his silver eyes flashing. "I want to cook a meal for my friends. And that beef is the only thing that'll do."
"Then earn it," the girl challenged. "I am Juno, the Flame-Griller. One-on-one. First one to perfectly sear three steaks using only Prana-manipulation wins the crate. Lose, and you scrub the pots for a week."
The Sizzle of the Spirit
A crowd gathered. The students of the Apex Institute loved a show. Juno moved with practiced ease, her hands glowing with a fierce orange flame. She used her Iron-Boar to generate a high-pressure heat-wave, the meat sizzling perfectly within seconds.
Konja stood before his station. He didn't use Zale as a furnace. He remembered Master Omi's lesson. He breathed in the rhythm of the city, the vibration of the Behemoth beneath his feet.
He reached for the steak. He didn't touch it with fire. He used the Fourth Gate: Eternal Hearth, but he kept it contained. He channeled the heat through his fingertips, using the Umami-Balance to ensure the internal temperature rose at the exact same rate as the exterior crust.
The air around Konja didn't burn; it hummed. Zale sat perfectly still, acting as a stabilizer for the ambient Prana.
Sizzle.
The aroma that erupted from Konja's station was different. It wasn't just cooked meat; it was a memory of home, a scent of woodsmoke and mountain air.
The judge, an elderly chef with a nose like a hawk, tasted both. He looked at Juno's perfectly seared steaks, then at Konja's.
"Juno's technique is flawless," the judge announced. "But this boy... he hasn't just cooked the meat. He's respected its spirit. The winner is the Obsidian Dormitory."
The Weight of the Future
Juno huffed, her Iron-Boar snorting in annoyance, but she surrendered the crate. "Beginner's luck," she muttered, though her eyes held a new spark of respect.
As they walked back to their dorm with their prize, Cassian Valere watched them from the balcony above. He wasn't smiling.
"He uses the Hearth-energy with a finesse I haven't seen in a decade," Cassian whispered to his Lunar-Owl. "The Summit of Stars just became a lot more interesting."
Konja sat with his friends that night, the Aether-Beef roasting over a small fire in their stone room. They were in the heart of the world's power, surrounded by rivals who had been training their whole lives for this moment.
"We're not just kids from the mountains anymore," Konja said, looking at the silver brand on his palm. "We're the threat."
The moon of Pangaea rose, white and cold, illuminating the vertical city. The first day of the Academy was over, but the true tests—the trials that would turn them from students into legends—were only just beginning.