The first thing Kael felt was silence.
Not the gentle quiet of a sleeping world—but a silence so absolute, so overwhelming, that it pressed on his ears like water too deep. There was no wind, no breath, not even the rustle of his own heartbeat. Just stillness, thick and eternal.
And then, breath returned.
Kael gasped, violently. His lungs expanded with sharp, icy air, laced with something… unnatural. Mana. The moment he inhaled, he felt it — not just in his chest, but in his bones, his nerves, his thoughts. It was like breathing light.
He opened his eyes.
Above him was a ceiling of black stone, etched with constellations that shimmered and moved. Slowly. As if the stars themselves were alive, watching him. The chamber was massive, circular, and ancient. He lay on a platform of obsidian, veins of violet-blue energy glowing beneath him like a heartbeat.
Where was he?
He sat up. His body responded before he even thought to move. Muscles flexed instinctively. His balance was perfect. Too perfect. He looked at his hands—longer fingers than he remembered. Slightly calloused palms. A forearm with tightly packed muscle and smooth skin, faintly lined with glowing threads under the surface.
This isn't my body.
But the memory came back before panic could settle.
The truck. Rain. Headlights.
An instant of pain, then nothing. Then this.
You died on Earth.
And then… a voice. Not heard, but remembered. As if a dream had carved itself into his soul.
Kael Ashen. You have been chosen.
This is Nythra. The world of the Ascendants.
In this place, your strength is yours to build. From nothing.
He stood, slowly. The platform beneath his feet pulsed with warm energy. Every inch of the massive chamber was carved in spirals and runes — some diagrams looked like anatomical blueprints. Others were planetary systems. And others still depicted humanoid figures, each marked by an orb near the chest.
He touched his own chest.
There it was — a pulse. Not a heartbeat. Something colder. Denser. A humming core of mana, just below his sternum. He hadn't seen it, but he knew what it was.
The Core.
He wasn't afraid. That was strange. There was no fear, no disbelief. Only… certainty. His mind accepted this too easily.
Tier One: Foundation of Flesh.
Build the Body.
Shape the Core.
Anchor the Mind.
When all three resonate in unity… ascend.
The words echoed in his skull. Not a memory. A command.
He stepped forward, and the runes on the floor lit with each footfall, guiding him down a long corridor lined with ancient statues. Each statue depicted a different figure: some wore armor of bones, others were robed in light, and a few had no faces at all. All of them looked downward, as if observing those who passed.
Kael walked in silence.
The knowledge in his mind was too detailed to be accidental. He knew about mana — how it flowed, how to sense it, even how to cycle it through the body to temper flesh. He knew what a mana core was, how it could be shaped into forms—spinning, layered, crystalline—and how each form affected one's future path.
He shouldn't know any of this.
But he did.
And he clung to that knowledge like a lifeline.
"Start with the body," he murmured aloud, voice hoarse. "Core is built from within. But the vessel must hold."
The corridor opened into another vast hall, circular like the first. In the center, a hovering monolith of black crystal spun silently, suspended above a ritual circle. Its surface was mirror-smooth. As Kael approached, it shimmered.
And reflected not just him — but something behind him.
He turned.
No one.
Yet in the reflection… another figure. A version of himself, wearing a cloak of feathers, eyes glowing with faint gold. His expression was calm. Familiar.
Then it blinked.
Kael stepped back sharply. The image shattered, and the monolith went still.
Nothing chased him. No ghost emerged. Just silence again.
I'm still adjusting. Still raw. The mana's playing tricks on me.
He forced himself to focus.
There was work to do. He needed to begin the Foundation — building the first tier of strength. According to the memory etched into his soul, each Tier required the creation of an entire body — not just flesh, but a fully harmonized construct of body, mind, and core.
That's what made this world terrifying.
A Tier 2 cultivator didn't just grow stronger — he had two bodies, perfectly synchronized. One could fight, while the other prepared. One could die… and the other live on, with slightly reduced Tier. It was an unkillable system — as long as one self survived
But for now, he had only one
One life. One chance.
He closed his eyes and sat beneath the monolith, entering the first meditation.
And far, far away, in a chamber veiled by stars, a figure cloaked in black watched Kael through a pool of light.
Its voice was soft. Barely audible.
"He's accepted the story."
"Good. Let him rise… unaware."
"The real game begins later."