<<Tales of Atlas>>
Astra passed through the towering gates of the upper bazaar, where the air was thick with tensions from the conflicting magical auras emanating by the many magical items and powerful beings.
Most beings go about concealing and holding their auras back as the cash of power can alter landscapes on its own, yet a low rank individual cannot help but still feel the subtle tinge of power emanating from certain items and beings.
The district was like a fortress, heavily guarded by dusk guards—rank ones who prowled the streets—and dusk squires—rank twos who manned the high walls and strategic outposts. A handful of dusk knights, rank threes, ruled the district in silence, their presence both powerful and ominous.
Astra knew to steer clear of them. The nobles, too, were formidable—adept in their magical arts and trained in combat. The guards, though ever-watchful, were little more than a formality, a token against the rare political intrigue or assassination that threatened the delicate balance of power. No one, after all, was foolish enough to steal from the nobility.
Astra knew this well, though he was anything but normal. In fact, he was downright reckless—stupid and crazy, by his own admission. A rank one apprentice, his talent was said to be extraordinary... or so he convinced himself.
In this world, strength and power could be measured in many ways, but the most common and fundamental method was through one's inner domain. Every sentient being had one—an uncharted space within themselves, a reflection of their true nature.
To enter it, one had to awaken their first Mana core, to learn the art of magic, and understand who they truly were and who they wanted to become. For many, even the most powerful Nobles, this was no simple task.
The heart never lied to the mind, and to face one's inner self was a challenge not many can conquer.
There were other ways to access the domain and even ways to enhance the basic method. The key to this process was discovering which elements and powers inhabited the inner domain, for it was said that every being was made of magic, touched by the primordial flame of divinity.
One such method came in the form of mana coins. In this world, there were two types: Noble coins and Mage coins. The Noble coins were rare, distributed only by the ruling powers, and were inaccessible to most they were as a status symbol and were less efficient and had little real use to an individual,they were more like accessories to the mage coins. Mage coins, however, were far more common and even more potent in their function.
In the realm of magic, the Mage coin was a unique artifact, bound to the soul of its bearer. These enchanted discs were not just symbols of rank—they were a window into one's true potential. Forged in the very soul of a being who awakens their mana core, each coin is infused with the essence of the mana and the realms themselves.
Once bound, no magic could alter its bond with its owner. The coin became a permanent part of the wielder's being, a testament to their journey and their soul's growth.
Unlike the Noble coins, which vanished upon the death of their holder, taking their worldly possessions with them, the Mage coins can be left behind even beyond death. They preserved not only the soul's legacy but the knowledge and power accumulated over a lifetime. It was both a blessing and a curse. these coins can still be found in rare inheritance if its bearer so decided to not self destruct the coin. which was....rare to say.
Mage coins were these special coins which carried inside the Mana of all things, Mana exists everywhere, and it flows everywhere, the same way the Time eternally flows, Mana flows in everything, it is the essence of living beings, to why every living beings have consciousness.
the coins albeit made of this special Mana are naturally produced from the very beings they serve once a being reaches rank one.
The coins can be advanced by breaking through the qualitative changes through the process of ascension, only once that newly advanced being injects their now more powerful mana type does the coin break through. these coins all have access to the network of mana as well.
There were also many types of Mage coins, each one marking a mage's ascension and granting unique powers and abilities as rewards for their progress some even get blessed by inspiration or Mana itself through their deeds and various achievements.in the vast history of the realms Few reached the pinnacle—the "Pinnacle." Only a couple dozen or two mages across the realms ever achieved this status, becoming living legends, touched by Realms and Mana itself.
yet, the journey began with the first coin, the first rank.
Astra thought to the most famous novel in the realms, <
Astra, however, had his own path. He was an apprentice, a rank one, one of the countless hopefuls trying to carve a place for themselves in a world that seemed to care little for them. Yet, in the far recesses of his mind, he could not help but think of the legends. The tales of those who achieved greatness. Of Atlas.
In the dim recesses of the Upper Bazaar, as Astra lurked in the shadows, he had time as he awaited two rank one dusk guards to change their shift, so he reflected on one of the most famous chapters of <
as chapter five section two cites
....
Atlas awoke once more from his endless slumber, adrift in an infinite, cold sea. His mind was a void—empty of thought, emotion, and memory. The waters were shallow, the sea infinite. A dark and empty sky stretched above him, its expanse eternal and oppressive. The pulse of mana here was erratic, violent, and the air itself seemed to hum with untapped potential.
Atlas wandered, lost and directionless. He was nothing—felt nothing. A wandering shell in an endless abyss.
But then, amidst the crushing stillness, a spark appeared. At first it was faint—almost imperceptible—but soon it began to grow, a flickering ember at the depths of the void.
Curiosity.
Atlas's mind, once cold and empty, was suddenly filled with the seed of a question—What was this? What was that spark? And why did it stir something deep inside him?
The flickering ember began to burn, its glow changing, shifting in a way that defied understanding. The colors rippled—endlessly turning. Atlas, drawn by an unexplainable force, approached.
And then came the awakening: the first spark of self.
Ambition.
The flame grew brighter, and Atlas felt something deep within stir—a longing to be more, to reach for something greater. His senses sharpened. He was no longer adrift.
He walked toward the flame, its radiance now blazing with such intensity that it lit up the entire sea. The waters, once shallow, began to deepen. What had been nothingness was now filled with purpose. His path was clear.
And as the flame grew ever stronger, so too did Atlas. He began to understand—this was the flame of his soul, the flame of his destiny. But the closer he got, the harder the journey became. The deeper the waters grew, the colder they became. His strength waned. Yet still, he pushed on.
As atlas continued his journey,he suddenly felt a strong emotion
Hope.
With it came clarity, and Atlas, despite the resistance of the world around him, continued. His body fought against the tide, his will unwavering. The flame beckoned, and with each step, he grew closer to his own becoming.
As Atlas reached out toward the flame, the exhaustion of his journey weighed heavily upon him. His body trembled, muscles burning, and his mind wavered, like a candle flickering on the edge of extinction. His fingertips were nearly numb, but still, he reached further, drawn by the pull of something greater than himself. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt the overwhelming weight of his exhaustion—his willpower on the verge of crumbling. But then, his fingers brushed against the spark. It was delicate, barely perceptible, yet it surged with an intensity that sent a shock through his very soul.
The moment his skin connected to the spark, a cascade of energy followed, engulfing him in a torrent of light. The spark expanded outward, its power sweeping over him in waves. The sea, once infinite and suffocating, dissolved as if it had never existed, leaving Atlas standing in the void. His eyes, once clouded with fatigue and uncertainty, regained their clarity. The fire that had consumed his mind faded, and his body shimmered with an ethereal glow, as if the very essence of his being had been restored.
His memories, though, were gone. They had been swept away by the flames, and in their place, there was only a sense of profound clarity. His path ahead was now clear, but his past was a blur. A distant fog. The only certainty he had was this: he had found his true self.
And then, as if summoned by his awakening, the sky above him shifted. The dark, oppressive atmosphere was replaced by a torrent of vibrant lights, dancing across the heavens in an endless cascade. These lights—these streams of mana—moved with a fluidity and grace that defied comprehension. They shimmered with the essence of the cosmos itself, vibrant and alive.
Atlas stood in awe, his breath steady as he finally found his voice. His words came out with clarity, as if spoken by someone who had finally discovered the truth of their existence.
"I see... the flame was the mana of the world itself," he whispered. "This isn't the real world. This is my inner world. This is my soul sea..." he let out a melancholy sigh." How long have I been lost in my own soul?"
As the words escaped his lips, seven coins appeared before him, each one shimmering with its own unique aura. They floated gently in the air, arranged in a perfect circle around him, their presence commanding attention. Each coin had a distinct shape and design, their mana pulsing with different energies. One by one, the coins began to move, each introducing itself to Atlas.
The first coin, a humble copper-green, stepped forward. It was engraved with a dagger, simple yet sharp. Its aura was faint, almost undetectable—like a tiny stream flowing through a mountain pass. Barely a whisper in the vastness of the universe.
"Greetings, Atlas," the coin spoke, its voice soft but firm. "I am the Pawn. I appear to those who have just begun their journey with mana—those who have formed their first mana core. I am here to guide you as you step onto the path of true power."
The Pawn's voice was kind, offering comfort and reassurance.
"And these six coins next to me," it continued, "are my siblings, each representing the next step on the journey to strength."
One by one, the other coins began to step forward, each more imposing than the last.
The second coin was silver, gleaming with luster and engraved with the image of a long sword and shield. Its aura was strong it was a steady, unyielding presence, like a large imposing hill, strong but with clear limits. like the presence of a large imposing hill.
"I am the Squire," the coin spoke, its voice resonating with strength. "I appear to those who have ascended to Rank Two, those who have formed their second mana core. Once you reach this stage, I shall ascend with you, guiding you toward even greater heights."
The air around them thickened, and the energy felt like the pressure of a mountain looming overhead, powerful and steady, yet still bound by earthly limits.
Then the third coin stepped forward, a coin of pure, mythical gold. It was engraved with the image of a gallant knight's head armor, a symbol of heroism and bravery. Its aura was vast and commanding, as deep as a lake or as towering as a mountain.
"Oh noble Atlas," the coin spoke, its tone full of respect, I am the Knight," the coin intoned, its voice regal and noble. "Once my bearer reaches Rank Three and forms their third mana core, I shall ascend to my knightly position, standing alongside you as you continue your journey."
As the Knight spoke, the atmosphere darkened, and the air grew thick with a sinister presence. The coin's aura shifted, turning dark and twisted. The temperature dropped as if death itself lingered just beyond reach. The scent of blood was in the air, and an overwhelming sense of dread settled around them.
But before Atlas could even digest the information, the atmosphere darkened, and a sinister energy filled the air. The next coin emerged from the shadows, its aura heavy and dangerous. The coin was now blood red, its engraving twisted into the form of a crying jester.
"The path to power isn't always so honorable," the voice of the coin became twisted, mocking, as if relishing its words. "Everything in this world is equal; every being can pursue their desires. But mana... mana does not care. It demands a price. Even heaven demands death."
The coin transformed before Atlas's eyes, its once golden surface now blood-red, the engraving changing to a weeping jester's face, a symbol of madness and chaos. Its aura grew heavy and suffocating, like the weight of dark thoughts closing in.
"Some seek power through atrocity," the coin cackled. "And in doing so, they are tainted by madness. Isn't it... quite amusing?"
Atlas shuddered, merely due to the fact he could honestly not see all the wrong in the jesters beckoning, but before he could react, suddenly the dark sinister air dispersed and was replaced by this feeling of grandness, its as vast as a mountain range.a divine presence that filled the space with power.
The fourth coin now stepped forward, and the sinister air from before dissipated, replaced by a feeling of grandeur and divinity. This coin was platinum, radiating a soft yet divine light. It was engraved with the image of an ancient arcane staff, and its aura was vast and imposing, as though the presence of an entire mountain range stood before Atlas.
"Oh Atlas, I am the Bishop," it said with an air of divinity. "Once my bearer forms their fourth mana core, I shall elevate them to the bottom of divinity, where they will become half-Demi-god. Not many reach this stage, Atlas. Many never even see Rank Three, let alone Rank Four."
As the Bishop spoke, Atlas could feel the weight of its presence, the aura surrounding him like the unshakable foundation of the world itself. But then, as before, the air changed suddenly the atmosphere shifted again. A wave of dread settled into the air. The coin's aura turned into a sickly greenish-black, emanating a demonic energy. Atlas could feel his skin crawl as the very air seemed to grow heavier with corruption an overwhelming sense of dread. A dark, sickly aura emanated from the coin as it transformed, becoming a deep, ominous black-green. It now bore the symbol of a demonic viper with sinister fangs.
"I am the Blasphemer," the coin hissed, its voice dripping with venomous pleasure. "I am the counterpart to that self-righteous Bishop. Some choose the path of darkness to gain power, and in doing so, I become their guide." Its tone was chilling, filled with wicked delight. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
A vast, ocean-like aura descended, it was grand, holy and powerful the fifth coin has floated in the place of the demon
The fifth coin glowed brightly, its aura pure and holy. It was white, engraved with markings of divine power and adorned with the image of a veiled figure crowned with a golden halo.
"I am the Saint," it said, its voice calm and serene. "Once my bearer forms their fifth mana core, I will ascend with them, closer to divinity. Not many reach this stage, Atlas. Only the true geniuses can form their fifth core, for the journey to power is a marathon, not a sprint, those with unsteady foundations, shall find themselves limited in the end!."
The air suddenly grew more sinister and evil, grand feelings of dread and fear came about from atlas, once more, the air shifted, an aura as vast as the oceans descended onto Atlas again however instead of holy divine magical power, it was demonic evil and sinister, it felt as if everything was wrong, or...was It right?" as a sinister presence descended. The coin turned pitch black, its engraving now depicting a demonic mask with short horns and sharp red fangs.
"I am the Demon," it declared, its voice mocking. "Once you choose your path, Atlas, I will walk alongside you, as close to divinity as that foolish Saint. All that separates us is our true natures. We are both favored by magic, after all."
Suddenly an aura that could seemingly cover a whole realm descended onto Atlas, it was powerful, holy and radiated pure magical energy, as if you were staring at a gods angel. filling Atlas with a sense of awe and dread. And then, the sixth coin appeared, radiating with a shimmering, liquid-like aura. It was multicolored, pulsating with every color imaginable.
"I am the Angel," the coin said, its voice sweet and soothing. "To ascend to this position, my bearer must form their sixth mana core. At this stage, you will become more divine than mortal, your connection with magic complete. With this power, the world's laws become mere suggestions. You will be able to shape reality itself."
Then, the atmosphere subtly shifted. The once-pure aura of the coin took on a darker, more twisted edge, growing ever so slightly sinister. A strange feeling lingered in the air—things that had once felt correct now seemed wrong, and the wrongness felt almost... right. It was as if the very fabric of reality had turned on its head. Left felt like right, and the boundaries between morality and desire became increasingly blurred.
In an instant, Atlas's mind was flooded with all manner of thoughts—nefarious, chaotic ideas clawing at his consciousness. Every wicked desire, every temptation, every forbidden wish, surged within him. It was terrifying—an overwhelming torrent that threatened to consume him.
Yet, despite the dark shift, the coin remained unchanged. How could it be any different? Or was it?
Atlas's gaze fell upon the engraving, and his heart skipped a beat. The two majestic, holy wings that had once graced the coin's surface had transformed. In their place were two demonic horns, twisted and sharp, an unmistakable sign of the coin's true nature.
The coin spoke, its voice now dripping with a wicked, almost gleeful malice.
"Oh, Atlas,I am the Devil," the coin whispered, its voice filled with both malice and charm. "Where the Angel holds back, I do not. I will walk alongside you, no matter the cost, embracing all desires. To be a Devil, you must dance with all sorts of desires... pleasures... darkness.""
Finally, the last coin appeared, but Atlas could feel nothing but pure, blinding light. Its presence was beyond comprehension, and the air seemed to shimmer with infinite power.
"I am the Seraph," it spoke, its voice echoing through the void. "To be worthy of the seventh core... well, you'll have to figure that out for yourself."
A voice followed, deep and resonant, mocking yet sincere.
"I am Sin," it laughed. "To be worthy of seven cores... Ah, it's a simple choice, Atlas. A choice only you can make. How will you decide?"
The pressure of their presence, the weight of their power, was too much for Atlas to bear just as atlas was about to awaken from his infernal slumber, the coin changed again.
Suddenly Atlas saw everything all at once, he was a grain of sand on a long beach, he was a deer drinking water from a mountain stream, he was a mountain vast and grand, he was the sea, large and unknown,
He was the Moon
the Sun
the Stars
he felt everything all at once
he was divine
he was profane
the cycle of life, the cycle of death, he felt infinite
Atlas's body buckled under the strain, and in that moment, darkness overtook him. The coins, their voices, and the path ahead... everything faded into blackness as he collapsed, overwhelmed by the weight of his newfound destiny.
.....
as atlas awoke, this time in the real world he looked through, he was in a dark cave, the air was thick, it was cold, however he payed his surroundings no attention as there was seemingly a board infront of him.
"greetings atlas, you have reawakened your first mana core!, congratulations, your quest to power starts now if you so wish..."
"I am the pawn, your coin!"
.....
no being in the realms did not know of Atlas's legends and exploits, this was the best selling novel for eons!
Astra loved history and to read, as well as anything related to mana, he was obsessed, he naturally has read this story countless times.
Astra pondered about the final myth in these stories
It was rumored that a Rank 8 existed, but no one had ever reached that level, and even the strongest of Rank Sevens had yet to crack the barrier.
Astra, reflecting on the lore he had read in <
domain..