The sky of Aethernia had always been beautiful, but that morning everything was different. The sun filtered through clouds dyed with a faint crimson, as if the world itself were preparing for something inevitable. Everyone held their breath. I did too. Because that day was no ordinary day: it was the day of the Ether Pulse.
I was eight years old. According to the elders, this was my first chance to awaken ether. If I failed, I would have to wait until I turned sixteen—and although no one admitted it out loud, we all knew that those who awakened late were always one step behind. No one said it in the plaza, but everyone thought about it.
"I'm screwed, damn it!" thought Kael, our protagonist. How could he not be?
Imagine being at home, living as a normal young man: going to college, coming back, repeating the same routine day after day. Between novels and your new vice—fanfics—life seemed like an endless cycle. Even when you went out with a woman, everything ended as quickly as it began (and I don't mean just sex… or do I?). Monotony always returned. And suddenly, without warning, you wake up as a baby in a world both medieval and modern, where an invisible energy could lift a damn elephant as if it were chewing gum.
"So, how did it all begin?" Hah… truth is, I don't really remember.
Unlike Chinese novels, I wasn't born with heaven-defying comprehension nor do I remember anything from when I was just sperm. My memory was hazy, almost nonexistent during my first three years, as if I had lived on autopilot. It was at the start of my fourth year that everything changed: I truly awoke, and with that consciousness came the memories.
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Eight Years Ago
The village of Evros had always been lively. Even when cultivators arrived thinking they owned everything, the joy of its people never faded.
But on that day, the 16th of Septum, year 1984 by the reckoning of the Emperor of Humanity, several villagers gathered in front of a cabin, whispering in hushed voices.
"Is she in labor already?" murmured a woman, tilting her head with concern.
Another villager, holding her husband's hand, tried to peek inside the house.
"No, I haven't heard any screams yet. Maybe the contractions are just starting… I hope she's alright," she whispered, careful not to interrupt the process. With a sigh, they walked home; for non-cultivators, night demanded rest, like for any other human.
Meanwhile, inside the wooden house, the screams had already begun.
"Urghhh… AAHHH!" cried a woman on a simple bed, the white sheet soaked with sweat and effort.
"Come on, dear, you can do it," said her husband, Jhon, gripping her hand tightly. Beside him, the midwives moved deftly, checking the mother for complications.
"It hurts, it hurts so much!" Martha repeated as she pushed, clinging to the hope of bringing her child into the world.
After an hour of effort, the baby was finally born. But he did not cry. Instead of life, what appeared was a pale body, almost drained of blood.
Jhon paled at the sight. He signaled for the midwives to quickly take the baby out of the room. He didn't want his wife to see him like that; he couldn't bear the thought of losing her too, crushed by grief. It was a selfish act… but one that could end badly.
"Give me back my child!!! What's wrong with him?" Martha screamed desperately, trying to rise despite her weakness.
"Calm down, love… sleep, we'll talk later, please," said Jhon, his face etched with pain.
"What are you saying, Jhon? They took my baby and you ask me to sleep? Are you insane?" she cried, weakly shoving him aside.
Jhon sighed, resigned. I can't lie to her… if she doesn't find out today, she will tomorrow, he thought, heartbroken.
"Love…" he murmured.
"W… why do you look like that, Jhon?" she asked, fear flooding her eyes. Before she could hear the answer, she fainted.
"Shit, Martha!" he exclaimed, holding her in despair.
An hour later, standing before a small grave dug in the earth, Jhon and Martha looked down at the baby who hadn't survived his birth.
"We have to bury him, my love," Jhon said, squeezing her hand.
Martha didn't answer. Her gaze was empty, fixed on the lifeless body of her son, as if refusing to accept the truth. She searched for a sign, any sign. When tears finally began to fall, Jhon tried to embrace her.
Slap! Her hand stopped him cold.
"Shut up! What did you expect me to do? Sleep? Did you seriously ask me to sleep without even seeing my baby?" she shouted, broken by grief.
She turned and walked away slowly, her steps unsteady from the recent birth. Jhon didn't stop her. He just stood there, mentally punishing himself for his stupidity.
One Week Later
In the same wooden house, a man tried and failed to split a log with a common axe. Frustrated, he threw it to the ground.
"Damn it, damn it!" he shouted, kicking the log and hurting himself. He collapsed into a simple chair.
What am I supposed to do? Jhon thought bitterly. Since that day, his wife hadn't even looked at him. She remained in bed, distant, as if her world had stopped.
And as he lamented, memories from five years earlier came rushing back…
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Five Years Earlier
Jhon had been just another young man: neither the First nor the Second Ether Pulse had allowed him to cultivate. He had to accept a mortal's life and return to his hometown. Perhaps it was a blessing; maybe someone like him wouldn't have survived in a world of slaughter and betrayal.
He had a childhood friend—just as non-cultivator as him—and together they learned carpentry. Though mortals were few in Aethernia, there was still enough work to earn a living with common coin. Upon returning, they were well received: the elders still remembered those two boys who once ran through the streets of Evros.
It was in his third month as a carpenter that Jhon first saw her.
A woman walked into the workshop: chestnut hair, hazel eyes, skin slightly bronzed by the sun. She carried a measuring tape around her neck and a timid smile.
"Good day… are you Jhon?" she asked, carefully holding a sketch.
"Y… yes," he replied, almost hammering his own finger out of nervousness. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Martha, the new seamstress on Market Street. I need a sturdy chair for my counter, something nice… but strong enough for heavy customers," she said, her gaze playful.
Jhon coughed to hide a laugh.
"Here, beauty and strength aren't enemies," he replied, daring to hold her gaze.
"Then, I'll trust your hands," she said as her fingers brushed his while handing over the sketch. The touch was brief, but enough to make the carpenter's heart skip.
From that day on, Martha often stopped by the workshop "to check on the progress." She never stayed briefly. They talked of fabrics and woods, of dyes and varnishes, of village life and trivial things. Gentle, inevitable flirting.
Within a year, they were already acting like a couple, though Jhon was too shy to make it official. Sometimes he caught her dreamily watching the weddings of other villagers.
One afternoon, he finally swallowed his shame. He crafted a unique chair: a backrest carved with ivy patterns, a broad seat, waxed wood that gleamed like honey. When Martha arrived, he invited her to sit.
"It's perfect," she said, caressing the carving.
"Not as perfect as its owner…" Jhon murmured. Then he knelt, awkward yet sincere, holding a simple silver ring. "Martha, will you marry me?"
She covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes glistening.
"Yes…" she whispered. "Yes, Jhon."
The ceremony was humble but warm: wildflowers, sweet bread shared, string music in the plaza, and the village's old artisan as master of ceremonies. Friends hung ribbons at the workshop's door and, between jokes and embraces, the newlyweds danced until nightfall.
Two years later, they moved into a simple wooden house. Life was good. They cared for each other. They loved. And Jhon was certain she loved him too.
By the fourth year, the desire for a child had grown. They visited the village healer and spent their savings. The man, a practitioner of the Light element, conducted a thorough examination.
"Light doesn't just illuminate," he explained, conjuring a pale sphere in his palm, "it reveals what the eye cannot see."
He traced seals, projecting a soft glow over Martha's belly. The luminescence pierced through skin and tissue, and on a glass sheet appeared a subtle map of meridians and flows.
"Here," the healer pointed. "There are etheric scars in the endometrium. The light refracts irregularly, and the nutrition meridians don't anchor well. It's not impossible to conceive… but it will be difficult for the embryo to take root."
Martha pressed her lips together. Jhon held her hand.
Disappointed—and Martha on the verge of guilt—they returned home.
"You'll see!" she said with a radiant smile that defied despair. "We'll have a child. I swear it by the ether."
And, against all odds, it happened. One day, Martha was overcome by nausea. They rushed to the healer. Moved, he confirmed the news: they were expecting a baby. The villagers helped in every way they could; joy filled every corner.
Nine months later… tragedy.
The rest, you already know.
Jhon opened his eyes in the present, rubbed his forehead, and went inside. The living room, silent, felt heavier than air. He saw Martha lying on the bed. With nothing else to do, he entered the small room they had prepared for the child… and fell asleep.
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Somewhere in Outer Space
Far from the demonic cluster, three beings clashed—or rather, two attempted to fight.
BOOOM!
"Uwaaa, uwaaa!"
Selene held Kael in her arms. The child cried as space ripped apart in storms of energy. Arcturus stood before them, his body wreathed in golden flames; if one looked closely, they would see that his heat alone could scorch space.
Nihil'Vor loomed over the battlefield, spreading a void that devoured star systems and seas of cosmic ether.
"Selene, go now!" roared Arcturus, his voice like an exploding sun, as he hurled thousands of compressed suns at Nihil.
"OOHHHH!" Straining past his limits, he launched a punch containing a tiny white sphere toward Nihil.
Behind him, Selene protected herself and her baby within a light-blue spatial barrier. Though not directly struck, its strength was enough to withstand the shockwave.
BOOOOOM! Space shattered. Before Arcturus, his left arm was gone, consumed by the impact.
"No! I won't leave you!" Tears streamed down Selene's face as she erected spatial barriers that lasted mere seconds against the overwhelming clash.
Seeing her husband so wounded, she wept while attempting to distort Nihil's space—but what was that against the void? She had never imagined such tragedy would strike on the day of her son's birth.
The Abyss spoke:
"A child who should not exist… that cry disturbs order. Hand him over, and his death will be swift."
Even after Arcturus's strike, Nihil bore not a scratch. Between realm seven and realm eight of ether, the difference was insurmountable.
"What did you just say?!"
Arcturus laughed in fury, veins bulging with rage and pain. Yet he never flinched at his wounds.
Gritting his teeth, he whispered in milliseconds:
"And here I thought I'd never have to use you again, old friend."
He drew forth a magnificent halberd of obsidian black, forged from concentrated ether.
As he gripped it, blood poured forth, forming a circle inscribed with strange runes that warped Nihil's void.
"Hahh," he sighed, preparing for what could be his last day, blood streaming from his eyes from overload.
"Descent of the Sun…" he muttered, setting the halberd into the circle.
Crying out, Selene also prepared her strike:
"Over my dead body, you wretched spawn!"
The collision was catastrophic.
"Banished Moon!!"
"AHHHH!"
Selene folded space, compressing entire systems, ignoring the life within, forging a colossal moon that lit the cluster's darkness. Arcturus shredded the void with burning blood; every drop became a neutron star exploding against Nihil'Vor.
Yet the enemy was too much. His entropy devoured light, flame, and even space itself.
"Pathetic," Nihil scoffed, brushing aside their combined assault. But Arcturus had anticipated it, hurling his halberd with all his remaining strength, trying to catch him off guard.
In 0.000001 seconds, he turned toward his wife.
Kael cried louder, as if his very wail wanted to break reality. Selene, heartbroken, prepared the forbidden teleportation circle.
"Arcturus…" she whispered, voice shattered.
Bleeding, half-blind, he turned to her and smiled—a strong, proud, defiant smile.
"Take care of him, Selene. Make him strong. Make him free. Believe me… there will never be another. Only he will achieve what we always desired."
"No… please, no…"
He leaned close, kissed Kael's forehead. The baby quieted for a moment, recognizing his father's warmth.
Then Arcturus roared, shaking creation itself. He ignited all his blood into solar flames, becoming a living sun, and charged at Nihil'Vor with his halberd.
"NOW, SELENE!"
Through tears, Selene activated the teleportation. She and Kael vanished amid shards of light and space, while Arcturus's roar resounded as his final oath.
In a Small Village
The portal opened in a distant forest. Selene fell to her knees, exhausted, Kael in her arms. Before her stood Martha, who after losing her baby had devoted herself solely to sewing. What had once been a happy marriage now dangled on a frayed thread.
"Ahhh!" Startled, Martha fell backward, slightly injuring herself from the sudden shock.
"Urghh…" she clutched her belly, unwilling to check if her stitches had torn.
Ironically, with a healer, that wound could have been cured in a prayer. But her pain and emptiness made her keep it, never letting herself forget that she had once been a mother, even if only for seconds.
Inside the house, John was attempting to cook—poorly—for his wife, who no longer even cared to. Somehow, they were still living together.
"Ahh!"
He turned instinctively toward the backyard at the sound of Martha's frightened cry. Grabbing an axe, he ran outside.
Seconds later, he found her with a beautiful baby: porcelain-white skin, deep dark hair like the Abyss itself, and violet eyes with crimson lines swirling alive within. Before them stood a wounded, breathtaking woman.
"Who is she, what's happening?" John asked Martha, glancing at the baby.
"Don't you see? He's our son!" she said with a twisted smile, her eyes empty and obsessive as a starving wolf, fixed on the child.
Seeing his wife like that, sweat ran down John's forehead. He stepped back slightly.
"Martha, you know… we're just ordinary humans, we can't raise—" He tried to reason with her, only to receive a slap.
"Shut up! Do you think I need your help? I can take care of him myself!" she screamed, denying her husband.
Seeing this, John sighed and turned toward the cultivator.
Selene, who had chosen Martha after scanning her with her spiritual sense and briefly witnessing what had happened, knew that the best choice was someone psychologically unstable, someone who would become obsessively devoted to her child to ensure his survival.
She handed Martha a pendant with unknown gems, shimmering like a galaxy.
"Please… take care of him. His name is Kael. He… he will change worlds."
She placed on his chest a black jewel inscribed with arcane runes: the Veil of Life Gem, which concealed his presence from any cultivator.
With tears in her eyes, Martha took the baby. John clenched his teeth, looking at Selene as if to ask a thousand questions.
But Selene rose, her violet eyes blazing with determination.
"If I can return… I'll come for him. But if not… tell him his parents loved him more than anything."
The air trembled. With one last flash of lunar light, Selene disappeared, returning to battle.
When Martha realized she was gone…
"I hope she never comes back," she whispered, her eyes black as she gazed at the baby.
"Only I will be your mother, my Kael~" she said, walking back home, ignoring John.
John simply stood there for an hour, waiting for the cultivator's return.
She never difd.