Gregory Stein PoV
The pillar of light appeared three blocks from my apartment in Seattle.
I'd been walking home from the grocery store when the beam shot into the sky, bright enough to cast shadows at noon. People gathered around the obsidian pillars rising from the cracked pavement, phones out, speculating about alien invasions and government experiments.
I pushed through the crowd, drawn by curiosity and the strange pull in my chest.
The portal itself was just a black doorway between the pillars. No shimmer, no special effects. Just darkness that my eyes couldn't penetrate.
Someone threw a rock through. It vanished without sound.
"Anyone brave enough to try?" a guy in a Seahawks jersey asked.
I stepped forward before I could talk myself out of it. The darkness felt cool against my skin as I walked through, like stepping into air conditioning on a hot day.
Then the world changed.
Grassland stretched in every direction, interrupted only by scattered groves of impossibly large trees. Behind me, the obsidian monument rose like some alien flower, its white sphere rotating slowly at the top. A dozen other people stood nearby, all wearing the same confused expression I probably had.
Knowledge slammed into my mind.
Not like learning, more like remembering something I'd always known. Cultivation. Body Tempering Realm. Meridian Opening. Techniques for absorbing spiritual energy and refining it into something more. The Chaos Genesis Body Art appeared in my thoughts, complete with breathing patterns and energy circulation methods.
Fire. The word surfaced with absolute certainty. My affinity was fire.
I had no idea what that meant practically, but the knowledge felt right somehow.
A woman in business attire sat down in the grass, her eyes closed. Others followed, settling into meditation poses like they'd done this before. The knowledge in my head suggested the same thing.
Sit. Breathe. Absorb.
I found a spot away from the monument and crossed my legs. The spiritual energy was invisible, but I could sense it the way you sense humidity before rain. It saturated the air, thick and rich compared to Earth's atmosphere.
According to the cultivation method, I needed to draw it through my skin, let it seep into my body and begin the tempering process.
Hours passed. My legs cramped. My back ached. The spiritual energy resisted absorption like trying to breathe underwater. I focused on my breathing, matching the patterns from the Chaos Genesis Body Art, willing the energy to penetrate my skin.
Something shifted.
The energy began flowing, microscopic amounts seeping through my pores. It felt warm, almost electric, spreading across my skin in waves. I pushed harder, drawing more, letting it saturate the outer layers of my body.
A dam broke.
Energy flooded through my skin, racing across every inch of exposed surface. My body heated from the outside in, not painful but intense. Something dark oozed from my pores, thick and tar-like, coating my arms and face.
The flow stabilized. The heat faded.
I opened my eyes.
Black goop covered my clothes, my hands, probably my face based on the smell. Like rotten eggs mixed with spoiled milk and something chemical. The stench made my eyes water.
Body Tempering first layer. The knowledge confirmed it. This disgusting tar was the impurities my body had rejected during the refinement process.
I stood, trying not to breathe through my nose. The woman in business attire was also covered in black goop, her expression matching my horror. Others who'd broken through looked equally miserable.
No lake. No river. Just endless grassland and those massive trees in the distance.
The monument portal beckoned.
I walked back through, emerging on the Seattle street to gasps and retching sounds. People scattered, covering their noses. A teenager recorded me on his phone, probably already posting it online.
The walk back to my apartment took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of stares, pointing, and one woman actually vomiting when I passed her.
I'd never showered so thoroughly in my life. Three rounds of soap and shampoo before the smell finally faded. The black goop clung to everything, staining my clothes beyond recovery. I threw them in the dumpster and scrubbed the shower afterward.
When I finally dried off and looked in the mirror, I stopped breathing.
My skin was smoother. Not just cleaner, actually smoother. The acne scars on my cheeks had faded to almost nothing. A burn mark on my forearm from a cooking accident last year had vanished completely. Even the rough patches on my elbows and knees felt like silk.
The knowledge confirmed what I was seeing. The first two layers of Body Tempering refined the skin, making it tougher and more perfect. This was just the beginning. Another layer and my skin would resist cuts and temperature extremes.
I returned to the portal the next morning.
The air here was so fresh, nothing like the smog filled streets of Seattle. I could breathe deeper, clearer. The spiritual energy saturated every breath, invigorating in a way normal air never managed.
Over the next few days, I regularly cultivated here, only leaving to eat. I took pictures with my cell phone of the grassland, the massive trees, the rotating white sphere atop the monument. I posted them on Facebook with captions about cultivation and the portal. My friends thought I'd lost my mind until they saw the news coverage.
Other cultivators gathered around the monument, all of us meditating in silence. The woman in business attire was there most days. A college kid with a skateboard. An older man who looked like he'd walked straight out of a boardroom.
We didn't talk much. The cultivation demanded focus.
It wasn't until three days later before I finally reached Body Tempering second layer. The energy broke through some invisible barrier, flooding deeper into my skin. The familiar heat returned, more intense this time. Black tar oozed from every pore, coating me in that disgusting goop again.
I rushed home to wash just like before, ignoring the horrified looks from pedestrians.
On my fourth day, I met a God.
He was floating high in the air, impossibly distant. I shouldn't be able to see him from where I sat, but somehow when I looked it was like I could see him right up close. Details that should've been invisible at that distance appeared crystal clear. His face, young and handsome. His robes, simple but elegant. The power radiating from him like heat from a furnace.
So magical, just as you'd expect from a God.
"Mortals of Earth who have passed through the sacred portals, I am the Eastern Region God, guardian and overseer of the cultivation region you are now in."
His voice carried across the grassland without echo or distortion. Everyone stopped cultivating, looking up at the floating figure.
Small objects materialized in the air, hundreds of them, streaming down toward the gathered cultivators. One flew directly into my hands. A token, smooth and warm, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when I tilted it.
The Eastern Region God's voice resonated through the grassland, explaining the token's purpose. Merit points would track our contributions. Cultivation progress, helping others, completing tasks. All of it converted into a currency we could spend within this realm. The tokens would bind to us permanently, serving as identification and communication tools.
I turned the smooth object over in my hands, examining the shifting patterns. To activate it, I needed blood. Of course. Every cultivation novel I'd ever read mentioned blood binding.
I raised my finger to my mouth and bit down.
My teeth barely dented the skin. The second layer of Body Tempering had toughened it more than I'd realized. I bit harder, feeling resistance, then finally a sharp pain as my canine broke through. Blood welled from the small puncture.
I pressed the droplet against the token.
The blood absorbed instantly, like the token drank it. Warmth spread through my palm, traveling up my arm and into my chest. The connection settled there, permanent and absolute. Knowledge flooded my mind, not overwhelming like the cultivation technique had been, but clear and organized.
Merit points. Three hundred of them already accumulated in my account. One hundred as a starting bonus for all token holders. Two hundred more for reaching Body Tempering second layer, one hundred per layer as a reward.
The token could store contacts, letting me message other cultivators like text messaging but through mental transmission. Contracts could be established between willing parties, enforced by something the knowledge called the Heavenly Dao. I didn't understand that part fully, but the implications were clear. Agreements made through these tokens would be binding.
Movement drew my attention back to the floating figure.
The Eastern Region God descended toward the monument, his robes billowing despite the lack of wind. Everyone watched in silence. What was he doing?
The ground trembled.
Buildings erupted from the earth around the monument, rising like plants on fast forward. Obsidian structures polished to mirror finishes, reflecting the dual moons overhead. They grew in concentric circles, spreading outward from the central platform. Small shops, residential buildings, larger structures that might have been warehouses or meeting halls.
An entire city materialized in seconds.
Bronze plaques appeared beside each doorway, gleaming in the sunlight. The knowledge from my token updated automatically. Those plaques let you rent spaces using merit points. Residential buildings, storefronts, training halls. Everything available for a price.
The God introduced us to the city, which he called American City. Then he vanished.
No flash of light, no dramatic exit. One moment he floated above the monument, the next he simply wasn't there anymore.
The silence broke as everyone started talking at once. People rushed toward the buildings, examining the bronze plaques, testing doors. The college kid with the skateboard whooped and ran down one of the obsidian streets.
I stood still, processing what I'd just witnessed.
A God had raised an entire city from nothing in seconds. Magic made real. Cultivation made possible.
My grip tightened on the token in my palm.
This was actually happening.
---
I sat cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, staring at the bare obsidian walls. Thirty days in American City, six hundred merit points spent on rent alone. The small space barely qualified as an apartment—one room, no furniture, just polished black stone that reflected my frustrated expression.
The math wasn't great. Twenty points per day meant six hundred points per month just to keep a roof over my head. I'd started with three hundred points from the token activation and reaching second layer. Breaking through to third layer added another hundred. Fourth layer, another hundred.
Five hundred total from cultivation progress. Not enough.
Helping other cultivators brought in steady income, though I still didn't understand how the token tracked it. Yesterday I'd shown a confused newcomer how to navigate the city, explaining the merit point system and the portal locations. Thirty points appeared in my account seconds after she thanked me. The day before, I'd helped an older man understand the cultivation technique. Fifty points for that one.
The token somehow measured the value of assistance. Charging money or demanding payment in advance killed the merit gain completely. I'd watched someone try to negotiate a fee for directions and receive nothing when they finally helped anyway. The system rewarded genuine generosity, not transactions.
Early arrival had its advantages. The first week, I'd explored the grasslands outside the city, documenting every new plant species I encountered. Discovery rewards were substantial. A cluster of glowing blue flowers near the western tree grove netted me two hundred points. Strange crystalline moss growing on rocks earned another hundred fifty. A thorny vine with silver leaves, one hundred.
Those rewards dried up fast. Once someone discovered a species, nobody else could claim points for it. The forums filled with botanical documentation as cultivators raced to find anything new. I'd stopped exploring after the first ten days. The effort wasn't worth the diminishing returns.
Herb collection became my primary income source. The grasslands practically overflowed with spiritual plants. I'd venture just outside the city walls, never too far, and spend hours gathering anything that looked valuable. The token accepted everything, but the points I gained were based on the herb's value and how well I picked it without damaging it. Hold the herb in my hand, mentally select the sell option, watch it vanish as points materialized in my account. It was like a video game.
Most cultivators did the same thing. Nobody knew what to do with the herbs yet, so selling directly to the token made sense. That would change soon. The All Paths Library contained knowledge about alchemy, artifact refinement, and other trade skills. People were starting to understand these plants had practical uses beyond point generation.
Supply and demand would shift. Eventually cultivators would buy and sell herbs amongst themselves instead of feeding everything to the token. I just didn't know when.
My own attempt at learning a trade skill sat heavy in my thoughts. The inscription manual cost me one thousand merit points, nearly wiping out my savings. The knowledge transferred into my mind clearly enough. Basic inscription theory, energy flow patterns, the fundamental principles of spiritual carving.
Actually practicing proved impossible.
Inscriptions required a medium. Spiritual crystals worked best for learning, providing consistent feedback and clear results. The problem was finding any. The military discovered a crystal mine two weeks ago and immediately locked it down. Guards patrolled the perimeter constantly. Nobody got close without authorization.
I'd tried using regular rocks. Failed every time. The spiritual energy wouldn't flow properly through mundane materials. My inscription attempts looked like random scratches.
A pulse from the token interrupted my brooding.
I pulled it from my palm, watching it materialize. An announcement glowed across its surface. Virtual space? I read through the details, my eyes widening. A shared consciousness environment, accessible to all token holders. Forums, private lobbies, combat arenas, even a map function.
Curiosity pulled me in.
The transition felt like blinking. One moment I sat in my apartment, the next I stood in an endless white void. Other cultivators appeared around me, their forms solid and real despite being purely mental projections. Someone laughed nearby. A group discussed cultivation techniques in the corner.
I navigated through the options, exploring the forum categories. Alchemy, artifact refinement, general cultivation, combat techniques. And there, under the inscription section, a pinned post.
My heart raced as I read it.
Free inscription lesson. Next week. Taught by someone who actually knew what they were doing. The subscriber count already exceeded two hundred thousand.
I pressed the subscribe button immediately.
Finally, a chance to actually learn this skill properly.