A soft hum echoed in the recesses of Aeron Vale's mind as his eyes fluttered open.
No blinding light.
No swirling cosmic force.
Just... a room.
His room.
Bookshelves stacked with old paperbacks, trophies gleaming dully under ambient ceiling light, family photos lined up across a dusty cabinet.
The familiar hum of the air purifier.
The muffled sound of a television in the next room.
Aeron exhaled slowly.
"I'm back."
The words felt strange in his mouth, as if spoken from the edge of a dream.
One moment ago, he was meditating on the third floor of a sacred temple—the strongest being in a world ruled by martial force, standing above even the legendary Grandmasters.
The next, he was seated on his bed, back in the heart of the Universal Human Alliance, surrounded by glass, steel, and family photographs.
He blinked several times, regaining his bearings.
"How much time has passed?"
His mind snapped to attention. If his consciousness had truly left his body for the twenty years he spent in the Martial World, surely something would have happened in the main timeline.
He grabbed his terminal and checked the timestamp.
The screen blinked.
Only ten minutes had passed.
Aeron leaned back in astonishment.
"Ten minutes here... twenty years there," he muttered.
His thoughts jumped to the gate—the Myriad Worlds Door, the mysterious, glowing construct suspended in his mental space that had first drawn his consciousness across dimensions.
"So time flows differently between realms."
The gate had warned him, before the first journey, that the worlds it linked each moved at their own pace. But even so, a difference of decades for a few breaths was staggering.
"It's true, then," Aeron mused. "The Martial World must be a lower realm. Just like the old legends—'one day in heaven, a year on Earth.'"
The evidence was overwhelming. His body hadn't aged. His family hadn't noticed his absence. The door had faithfully returned his consciousness as promised.
His gaze turned inward, diving back into that metaphysical realm.
There it was.
The Gate of Myriad Worlds.
Floating in the void of his soul.
Its frame was darker now, its edges dimly flickering like dying embers—clearly drained from the journey.
Yet... it pulsed with energy, like it was recovering.
Each corner of the gate slowly lit up, like ancient glyphs reawakening one by one.
When fully lit, he knew, the gate would open once more, and he could travel again.
But that wasn't the only thing he noticed.
New messages began pouring in.
His head throbbed for a moment, and then knowledge unfolded in his mind like blooming lotus petals.
More functions had been unlocked.
The first revelation: he could now travel physically, not just with his consciousness.
"Body travel..."
It was tempting. If he went with his body, he wouldn't have to rebuild strength from scratch in another realm. He would retain everything: his power, his techniques, his energy.
But Aeron quickly saw the downside.
"If I die there... I die for real."
Unlike consciousness projection, where death simply yanked him back to his real body, physical entry meant total commitment. No safety net.
That said, he realized, it could still be a valuable escape route—a last resort if cornered here in the real world.
And there was something else.
The second revelation: the gate now allowed items to pass through.
Weapons. Artifacts. Even techniques.
But at a price.
"Of course," Aeron murmured. "Even gates have tolls."
Then something stirred inside him.
He willed it gently—and like a ripple in still water, a stream of inner energy coiled up from his lower abdomen, circling through his meridians.
Innate energy.
Not imagination. Not memory. Real, true inner energy.
He could feel it.
The cultivation system of the Martial World, carried over into the Universal Human Alliance.
He had returned as an Evolver.
His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but elation.
Innate energy was just the beginning.
In the Martial World, he had transcended into the Unfettered Realm, a domain beyond Mythic, where body, spirit, and mind were one with the heavens.
And now that power was here, in this world.
He felt a low rumble in his stomach.
All that energy required fuel.
He was... hungry.
Knock-knock-knock.
"Brother?"
A young, delicate voice sounded through the door.
"It's me."
He smiled faintly.
His little sister.
Six years old and armed with the kind of curiosity only children could possess.
"Come in," Aeron said, rising from the bed.
The door opened, and she walked in timidly, a small frosted cupcake clutched in both hands like a sacred treasure.
"Mom and Dad said to give this to you."
She looked up at him with big eyes, blinking back emotion. "You can eat it if you want."
Aeron smiled.
He could guess what this was.
His parents were watching from the living room. Trying to play it casual. But he could feel the tension in the air.
After all, he had been conscripted—chosen to be drafted into the Alliance's endless wars. A brutal, impersonal process.
Yet somehow, here he was. Awake. Alive.
And exempt.
They didn't understand how.
They only hoped he wouldn't resent them.
He looked down at his sister. Her eyes trembled. Her cheeks puffed out. It was clear she hadn't wanted to give up her beloved cupcake.
He accepted it with a smile and took a bite.
It was soft.
Sweet.
A child's favorite.
"Delicious," he said sincerely.
His sister's lips quivered.
Then—
"Waaah! That was mine!"
She burst into tears and ran back toward the living room.
Aeron heard his mother gasp and scramble from the couch.
He stood there in silence.
And then—he laughed.
It had been so long since he had heard crying that wasn't born from pain or loss.
He sat back down.
Letting the sweetness settle.
He had returned.
---
But now, came the question of the future.
He was technically an Evolver now.
In the Alliance's eyes, this changed everything. Evolvers were rare—valuable—and exempt from forced conscription.
But he needed proof.
The Alliance didn't run on stories. It ran on documentation.
He would need to register with the Evolver Association.
Get his certificate. Prove his status. Get it into the records.
Once the certificate was issued, he could apply for exemption.
Otherwise, no matter how real his power was, he'd still be herded into a warship and dropped into a battlefield light-years away.
He had time. The draft ceremony was still two weeks off.
Until then, he'd keep quiet.
No need to tell his family yet.
Better to walk in with the papers. To prove with action, not words, that he had already broken free.
He looked down at his palm.
The flow of energy within him was steady.
Contained.
He smiled again.
For twenty year
s, he had trained in the world of Martial Dao.
Now, he would show this world what that training had made him.
The first step was certification.
The second?
Whatever he chose.
(End of Chapter)
--------------
Visit our Patreon for more:
patreon.com/Samurai492