[NOTICE: THIS MAY LOOK LIKE CHINESE NOVEL TO THE READER'S BUT IT'S IS NOT DON'T LOOK AT THIS CHAPTER LIKE CHINESE NOVEL THIS WAS ONLY FOR THIS CHAPTER THERE IS NO CULTIVATION SHIT IN THIS NOVEL ONLY FOR INDRA FUTURE MULTIVERSE AND OMNI VERSE TRAVEL HINT'S SO DON'T TAKE IT TO THE HEART PLEASE SUPPORT ME WITH YOUR REVIEW'S AND POWERSTONES]
The world did not so much twist as it unfolded. The familiar, gritty textures of the mortal realm—the scent of damp earth, the faint residue of cursed energy in the air, the oppressive weight of human ambition—simply dissolved. For a single, vertiginous moment, Indra, Garuda, Gamamaru, and Agni existed in a state of pure potential, suspended in the silent, humming void between dimensions. Then, reality re-knit itself around them, not with a bang, but with a profound, resonant sigh of creation.
Indra's first breath in this new place was a revelation. It was not air he inhaled, but life itself. This was the Celestial Plane, a realm so saturated with Natural Energy that it felt less like an environment and more like a living, breathing entity. The energy did not merely exist here; it flowed, sang, and pulsed with a vibrancy that made the richest concentrations of energy in the human world feel like stagnant, brackish puddles. It was a symphony of power, and every cell in his body thrummed in harmony with it.
His Six Eyes, constantly active, usually had to perform the arduous task of filtering the chaotic miasma of the world, parsing cursed energy from the benign, and constantly, painstakingly, converting minuscule ambient traces into the pure Natural Energy he needed to sustain himself. Here, that struggle ceased. The Six Eyes, for the first time in his memory, did not work; they drank. They opened wide, not as tools of analysis, but as portals, greedily and joyfully absorbing the boundless, pristine energy that surrounded them. The constant, low-grade strain he had learned to live with vanished, replaced by a feeling of wholeness, of absolute saturation. He felt… quiet inside.
A wave of profound, almost painful regret washed over him. If I had found this place before Agni hatched… he thought, his gaze drifting to the magnificent phoenix beside him. The years of relentless travel, the dangerous siphoning of cursed energy from volatile hotspots, the endless, meticulous conversion process—all of it could have been condensed into a matter of days in this paradise. The realization was a bitter pill.
Agni, sensing the shift in the very fabric of existence, let out a soft, melodic trill. Her form, usually a blazing spectacle of divine power, seemed to deepen in hue, the golds and crimsons of her plumage becoming more profound, more real. On Indra's other side, Garuda and the great toad sage, Gamamaru, stood in silent reverence. Garuda's hawk-like eyes scanned the horizon with a familiar, protective gleam, while Gamamaru simply closed his eyes, a deep, rumbling croak of contentment echoing in his chest. The immense Agni, in a display of playful adaptability, shifted her size, shrinking down to that of a small, elegant hawk. With a graceful flutter, she alighted on Indra's shoulder, her warmth a familiar and comforting weight.
"It never ceases to inspire awe," Garuda murmured, his voice hushed. "The wellspring of all life."
Before them stretched an impossible landscape. The sky was not blue, but a shifting canvas of liquid gold and soft violet, with no sun visible, yet everything was bathed in a gentle, omnipresent luminescence. The ground beneath their feet was not soil, but something like solidified light, firm yet yielding. And ahead lay the Forest of Whispers, a vast expanse of trees whose bark shimmered like mother-of-pearl and leaves that chimed softly in a breeze that carried the scent of blooming stars.
As they began their journey into the forest, they were not alone. Mythological beasts, creatures spoken of only in the most ancient and forgotten scrolls, moved with an unhurried grace through the iridescent groves. A unicorn, its horn spiraled with latent power, drank from a stream of liquid silver. A griffin preened its eagle-like feathers, its lion's tail lazily swishing. High above, an Eastern dragon, long and serpentine, coiled through the golden sky, its passage silent and majestic. A powerful Yali, part-lion, part-elephant, stood guard at a crossroads, and a White Tiger of immense size regarded them with ancient, knowing eyes before melting into the shimmering foliage. A winged lion, its mane like spun platinum, roared a greeting that sounded less like a threat and more like a peal of celestial thunder.
It was a menagerie of legends, all coexisting in a peace that was unimaginable in the world below.
As they progressed, they were met by two formidable figures. A Great White Snake Sage, its scales gleaming like a thousand polished moons, and a Slug Sage, a being of immense, gelatinous beauty that left a trail of sparkling, life-giving dew. They bowed their heads respectfully, not to Indra, but to Garuda The Golden Eagle, a silent acknowledgment of their return to the source.
"The King and Queen await you in the Heartgarden," the Snake Sage hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper that seemed to emanate from the very air.
They passed through the Forest of Whispers and entered what could only be described as a garden, though the word felt woefully inadequate. This was the Heartgarden. Here, the Natural Energy was not just abundant; it was superior, intelligent, and sentient. Flowers bloomed with petals of crystallized light, their fragrances capable of altering one's mood and thoughts. Trees bore fruits that pulsed with the very essence of creation. The air hummed with a silent, profound wisdom. This was the nexus, the core from which all natural law emanated.
And in the center of this vibrant paradise stood a humble hut, so simple and small it seemed almost a paradox. It was a structure that could comfortably house only two or three people, built from woven branches and thatched with leaves that shimmered with morning dew. It spoke not of poverty, but of a choice, a conscious rejection of grandeur in favor of essence.
As they approached the hut, a profound shift occurred in the demeanor of the Sages. The Great Toad Sage, the Great White Snake Sage, and the Slug Sage, beings of immense power who commanded fear and respect across the mortal realm, immediately fell to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the luminous ground in a gesture of ultimate submission and reverence. Garuda, too, dropped to one knee, his head bowed. the Three great sage's with some effort, lowered there immense bulk in a deep, respectful kneel.
The door of the hut opened.
A couple emerged. They appeared to be in the prime of middle age, their faces bearing the gentle, timeless beauty of weathered stone and ancient forests. The man had hair the color of a starless midnight and eyes that held the slow, inevitable turn of galaxies. The woman's hair flowed like a cascade of liquid Crimson and gold, and her gaze was a bottomless well of maternal kindness and the stern, unyielding truth of the grave.
Their presence was not overwhelming in the way of a crushing force; it was foundational. They did not stand upon the world; the world existed because they stood.
The woman's eyes, those deep pools of life and death, swept over the group and instantly settled on Indra. A soft, knowing smile touched her lips. She then looked to Agni, perched on his shoulder, and her smile widened into a radiant beam of pure, unadulterated joy.
"Oh, you beautiful, brave ember," she whispered, her voice like the first spring breeze that coaxes life from frozen ground.
She moved forward, and Agni, the proud Phoenix, the ultimate predator of the skies, did not hesitate. She launched herself from Indra's shoulder, not in an attack, but with the desperate, trusting flight of a fledgling returning to the nest. She flew straight into the woman's open arms, trilling and cooing, nuzzling against her neck. The woman, Izanagi, laughed, a sound like chiming bells, and hugged the divine beast close, stroking her feathers with a tenderness that was profoundly maternal.
"You have done so well, little one," she cooed, pampering Agni as if she were a newborn baby. "Guiding him, protecting him, waiting for him to be ready. You have been so strong."
Agni, in turn, shed all her majestic bearing, becoming a clinging, affectionate child, utterly secure in this embrace. It was a side of her Indra had never seen, a vulnerability that spoke of a bond far older and deeper than his own.
Then, Izanagi's gaze returned to Indra. Still holding the contentedly trilling Agni, she stepped closer to him. She was tall, nearly his height, and she looked directly into his face, her eyes searching, memorizing every feature. They lingered on his hair, his jawline, and finally, they locked onto his Six Eyes. But she did not look at them with fear, greed, or even awe, as most did. She looked at them with an overwhelming, soul-piercing maternal love.
A single, silver tear traced a path down her cheek. "You look so much like your mother," she breathed, her voice thick with a love that spanned decades. "Hana. She had the same defiant set to her jaw, the same light in her soul. She was the only human, in eons of watching your world, who did not see me as a distant deity to be feared or a power to be exploited. She saw me… as a protector. A guardian. A friend. And you, my child, are her very image."
Indra felt as if the very foundation of his being had been struck by lightning. His breath hitched. His mother's name, spoken in this place, by this being, was a key turning in a lock he never knew existed deep within his soul.
"Madam," he said, his voice uncharacteristically small, stripped of its usual cold authority. "You… you knew my mother?"
Izanagi reached out and playfully, lovingly, stroked his milk-white hair. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, that he should have flinched away. But he found he could not. It felt… right.
"Yes, I knew her, my child," she said, her smile bittersweet. "She was a talented kunoichi, yes, but so much more. She was one of the most gifted disciples of my Husband. And… she was our adopted daughter. Our chosen child. So, you see, technically, you are our grandson."
The world tilted on its axis. Grandson. The word echoed in the vast, silent chamber of his mind, dislodging everything he thought he knew about his lineage, his isolation, his place in the cosmos.
"I am Izanagi," The Divine Phoenix the woman continued, her voice steady, her gaze holding his. "Ruler and Protector of Life, Death, and the sacred cycle of Reincarnation. It is my domain to see the soul's journey, to witness its passages. And I can see yours, Indra. It is a brilliant, fierce, and ancient thing. But it did not originate in this realm. I am right, child?"
She asked not with accusation or threat, but with that same, inexhaustible maternal love, a love that promised acceptance no matter the answer. It was a confession booth where the priest was also your grandmother. Indra, the master of secrets, the keeper of his own truth, found himself disarmed. He could not lie, not to those eyes. He simply nodded, a single, sharp dip of his chin.
Izanagi's smile deepened, as if he had just passed a great test. She then gestured to the man who had remained a silent, watchful pillar behind her. "And this is my Husband, The divine draconic Qilin the anchor of reality, the weaver of causality, the Ruler of Time, Space, and Wealth Fortune and all that Is. Daikokuten. Your grandfather."
Daikokuten's gaze was impenetrable. It was not cold, but ancient, like the void between stars. He gave a slight, regal nod of acknowledgment, but said nothing. The weight of his silence was heavier than any proclamation.
And it was that very weight, the sheer, unimaginable power these two beings represented, that finally ignited the smoldering ember of resentment in Indra's heart. The shock and wonder curdled into something darker, sharper.
He looked from Izanagi's loving face to Daikokuten's impassive one, and the question that had haunted him since his Birth to this world because She died before He Awakened his past life memories, that had festered in the lonely years that followed, burst from his lips, laced with a bitterness that surprised even him.
"If you are both so powerful," Indra's voice cut through the serene atmosphere, sharp with accusation, "if you are the rulers of life, death, and reality itself, then why did you never interfere in the mundane world? Why did you stand by and let my mother die?"
A collective, sharp intake of breath came from the kneeling Sages. The Three Great Sages of the Mortal World looked up, their faces a mixture of shock and burgeoning anger. How dare this mortal boy, Even though he was Grandson of King and Queen, questioning the King and Queen of All? It was blasphemy of the highest order. Yet, they dared not speak, for they sensed this was not a matter of state, but of family—a painful, long-buried family wound being torn open.
It was Garuda, ever the loyal guardian, who broke the tense silence. He rose to his feet, his eyes blazing with fervent loyalty to his masters.
"Boy, watch your words!" Garuda's voice was a whip-crack. "Yes, the King and Queen are powerful! But they are not like you! You, who were blessed directly by the Creator of Existence Himself! They are just the protectors and guardians of the Law, not absolute persons who can alter it at will! Our control over the Law of Nature is profound, yes, but it is a stewardship, not an ownership! It is a pact. And the moment we sought to break that pact, the Laws themselves rebuked us!"
Indra stared, his irritation now mixed with confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Izanagi placed a calming hand on Garuda's arm, silencing him. Her eyes never left Indra's. "He speaks the truth, my child. The problem is not a lack of will, but the fundamental nature of our existence. We did not create the Laws of Nature; we are their ultimate manifestation and guardians. And when a being's power reaches a certain threshold—when they 'break the roof' of what the natural order can contain within a single realm—the Laws themselves impose a restriction. A balance."
Daikokuten spoke for the first time, his voice the deep, resonant hum of spacetime itself. "This Celestial Plane is a pressure valve. A sanctuary for power that would otherwise destabilize the fragile ecosystem of the mortal realm. Here, we can exist in our true forms, as you see us. But the moment we step foot back into the mundane world…"
Izanagi finished for him, her voice gentle. "The Laws force a transformation. Our power is drastically reduced, and we are confined to our primordial, beast forms. We would become like… well, like these three." She gestured kindly towards the kneeling Toad, Snake, and Slug Sages. "Powerful, yes, but bound by the limitations of a physical form that the mortal world can tolerate."
Indra's mind raced, piecing it together. "So… these three, the Great Sages… they are considered 'low-level' here?"
"In terms of their raw, unrestrained potential and their connection to the source, yes," Izanagi confirmed. "But that is the very reason they were able to leave. Their power, while immense by mortal standards, was still within the allowable limits for travel. They found this place eons ago, learned from us the ways of true Natural Energy manipulation, and understood the restrictions. They became our emissaries, our eyes and ears in the world below, tasked with observing the trajectory of humanity."
The pieces were falling into place, but the central, painful piece—his mother—remained.
"And Mother?" Indra asked, his voice softer now.
A beautiful, sorrowful smile touched Izanagi's lips. "She was a miracle. A human born, like you, with Divine Eyes—though the Six Eyes, hers were different, a brilliant, deep Ethereal Blue Eye's that could perceive the flow of fate itself. Such eyes are incredibly rare, perhaps one per generation. She found her way here, a scared but determined young woman. She learned from us, from my Husband, with a hunger and a brilliance that rivaled your own. But her body… her human body was weak. It could not contain the vastness of what she was learning. She knew she did not have many years left."
Izanagi's eyes grew distant, seeing a memory from long ago. "So, she made a choice. She said goodbye to us. She said she wanted to return to the world, to find a good man, to know love, and to have a child. She believed, with every fiber of her being, that her child would be the one to change the world. Before she left… she made me promise. She made me swear that if she had a child, we would protect That Child. That we would teach Him the true balance of nature and how to utilize it without being consumed by it. She entrusted your future to us."
Tears now flowed freely down Izanagi's face. "We honored our promise. From the moment you were born, we watched over you. We saw the shadow of the Uchiha clan, their darkness, their plans for you. At the same time the Love of Your Step mom and Your Father We saw your loneliness even though you had Family. And we saw, on your first birthday, the moment you awakened the Six Eyes. We also saw the truth of your soul—that it was not from this world, yet it was welcomed, blessed, and sent here by the God of Existence Himself."
The title hung in the air, charged with an unimaginable significance.
"The God of Existence…" Indra whispered.
"He is the only one," Daikokuten intoned. "The sole entity who can interfere with the mundane world without restriction. Because He is Existence. The Laws are not rules imposed upon Him; they are the expression of His will. To restrict Him would be to restrict reality itself. No one can put a chain on the very concept of being."
"He blessed you, Indra," Izanagi said, stepping closer again, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "He saw something in your soul, something that warranted a direct gift, a direct intervention. He sent you to this world, to be born of Hana, for a purpose we cannot fathom. We do not know what He plans. But your mother believed in that purpose. She believed in you."
The revelation was a tidal wave, crashing over Indra and scouring everything in its path. His entire life, his struggles, his power, his very identity—all of it was part of a tapestry woven by forces far beyond his understanding. The neglect he had felt was not neglect at all, but the silent, shadowed vigilance of grieving grandparents, bound by cosmic law, honoring the dying wish of their daughter. His mother's death was not their abandonment, but the tragic, inevitable consequence of her own mortal frailty and her ultimate, selfless hope for his future.
Why him? Why had this omnipotent God chosen him? What was the grand design? The questions swirled in his mind, a vortex of mystery and cosmic uncertainty.
But one thing became crystal clear, a single point of solid ground in the shifting sands of his reality. If he wanted answers, if he ever hoped to understand the machinations of a God and the true extent of his own destiny, he needed power. Not just the power to defeat a clan or a nation, but the power to comprehend the laws of reality, to perhaps one day stand on equal footing with the forces that had shaped him.
He looked at Izanagi, at the love and hope in her eyes—the same love he now recognized, retrospectively, in the memory of his mother's smile. He looked at Daikokuten, the silent guardian of reality, who offered not affection, but knowledge. He looked at Agni, now nestled contentedly in Izanagi's arms, her own journey coming full circle.
The confusion did not vanish, but it was subsumed by a new, iron resolve.
"I will learn from you," Indra said, his voice firm, his Six Eyes gleaming with a new, profound purpose. "I accept. Please Teach me."
Izanagi's smile could have lit up the darkest corners of the universe. "Then we shall begin. I will teach you the ways of the Phoenix Sage Mode My own Creation, the art of harnessing life, death, and rebirth through Natural Energy. It is the ultimate expression of my domain."
Daikokuten gave another slow nod. "And I will oversee your training. Your comprehension of space and time you have solid Foundation but it must evolve if you are to wield such power."
And so, in the Heartgarden of the Celestial Plane, under the watchful eyes of his newfound grandparents—the King and Queen of All Sages—Indra began his true training. Agni, too, would learn, reconnecting with the ancient, primal techniques of her kind from the very source of her power. The boy who had been shaped by shadows and curses would now be forged in the light of creation itself, all in pursuit of the most elusive quarry of all: the truth behind the God of Existence and his own mysterious soul. The path to power had begun, and it was a path that led not just through the world, but through the very fabric of reality.
[Sorry Guy's Today I Have Some Busy Work At Office I Will Post Tomorrow 4 Chapter's Please Continue Your Support To Me]