Arin stood at the edge of the old city ruins, his eyes quietly watching the sky. It was a calm evening. The wind was soft, and the orange sun had just begun to fall behind the distant mountains. Yet something in the air felt wrong-like the silence before a storm.
Around him, nature had taken over what used to be tall buildings. Vines crawled over broken walls, trees burst through cracked roads, and shattered metal poles stood like broken bones. This place had once been a modern city, full of life and technology. Now it was just a memory, eaten by time.
No hovercars. No phones. No robots. Just spirit, cultivators, and the mystic energy that now flowed through everything.
Arin pulled his cloak tighter around his body. He was tall, with reddish-brown hair that fell over his eyes. His clothes were plain—worn-out boots, a faded shirt, and a dark cloak that helped him stay hidden when needed. His eyes were deep red, not glowing like a demon's, but sharp—always watching.
He was twenty years old. An orphan. A nobody.
But deep down, he knew... something inside him was different.
--
Aethel wasn't always like this.
A thousand years ago, Earth was a land of science and machines. Humans had mastered space travel, invented time machines, and even unlocked the code of the human brain. But the very thing that made them great also destroyed them.
In the year 2110, everything changed.
The sky broke.
Huge cracks appeared above cities, glowing with strange lights. Out of these rifts came beings unlike anything people had seen—tall, angel-like creatures with golden eyes and wings of energy. They weren't angry. They were cold. They spoke in a voice that echoed in every human mind.
> "Time has been abused. Reality is fractured. Earth's protection is gone."
And with those words, everything vanished. All technology. All machines. Gone in an instant. In its place came cultivation—the ancient path of body, mind, and spirit that once only existed in old myths.
Spiritual energy, called Qi, flooded the world. People learned to absorb it, to grow stronger. The weak trained to survive. The strong rose to power. Beasts evolved. Magic returned.
And the Earth? It was no longer just a planet. It had become something more—a crossroad of worlds.
Elves, dwarves, dragons—creatures from across the multiverse poured in through the cracks. Some were peaceful. Others… weren't.
--
Arin grew up in this world.
He didn't know his parents. He didn't even know his real name. He had been found outside a ruined temple, wrapped in rags, with nothing but a strange black mark on his chest.
People in the village feared him at first, calling him cursed. But an old herbalist took him in and raised him.
Arin never fit in. No matter how hard he tried, his cultivation was always slow. While other kids reached new levels every few months, he barely moved at all. Teachers said he was lazy. Peers mocked him. But he never stopped training.
Years passed. He grew stronger, but only physically. His Qi core—the source of cultivation—remained small and dull.
Still, Arin didn't complain. He trained harder. He read everything he could find. He learned to survive, not by strength, but by strategy—setting traps, observing enemies, using terrain.
People stopped mocking fun of him. Some began fearing him.
But he stayed quiet.
And alone.
But there was one exception.
A girl named Lira.
She was bold, beautiful, and brilliant. Her talent for cultivation was unmatched in their village. Arin admired her from a distance for years, never thinking someone like her would notice him.
But she did.
She was kind to him, spoke with him, laughed at his jokes. Slowly, something bloomed between them. He shared things he never told anyone. He believed… maybe she was different.
Maybe love was real.
They trained together. Went on small missions. Gathered herbs in the wild. She said she liked his calmness. His way of thinking.
And Arin? He fell for her—hard.
--
One day, Lira asked him to go with her to the Stonefang Mountains a place known for rare herbs and dangerous beasts.
"I heard rumors of a Sanjivny Herb," she said. "A thousand year old one. It's said to heal lost limbs."
Such a herb could sell for a fortune. Enough to buy a large house or start a small sect.
They set off together.
The mountains were steep and silent. Birds flew between the cliffs, and strange vines glowed in the dark corners. They moved carefully, checking the terrain, avoiding beasts.
Hours passed. Then Lira gasped and pointed across a narrow ravine.
There, nestled in a cliff wall, was the herb.
Bright. Glowing. Real.
But it was on the other side a dangerous, crumbling ledge over a deep fall.
"I can get it," Arin said.
"Are you sure?"
He smiled. "You know I'm careful."
He tied a rope to a tree, climbed down, and made his way across. The rock was slippery. One wrong move and he'd fall.
But when he reached the herb, just as he grabbed it, the ledge cracked beneath him.
"Lira!" he shouted, grabbing onto the edge. "Help me!"
She knelt down, reached out… and then, something changed.
Her eyes.
Her smile.
Cold. Empty. Cruel.
She took the herb from his other hand and stepped back.
"Why…?" he asked.
She smiled faintly.
> "You were always too slow, Arin."
And then she turned anCh
The rock gave way.
Arin fell.
Wind roared in his ears. Sharp branches tore at his clothes. He hit the ground hard, bones crunching, vision spinning.
The pain was sharp. But not as sharp as the pain in his heart.
She left me.
She used me.
She… never cared.
The world went black.
But fate… wasn't finished with Arin yet.