The return to reality from a Glimpse usually felt like waking up from a deep, jarring dream, shaking off cobwebs of possibility. But this time, it felt like my soul had been taken apart, polished, and put back together by a benevolent editor.

  I gasped, my physical body lurching forward in the cultivation pod. My skin felt hot, vibrating with residual conceptual energy. The sheer density of manipulating the Deep Lattice within the inner world of a Titan had stretched my spirit like a rubber band, and now it was snapping back into a new, significantly stronger shape.

  [System Notification: Skill Evolution Requirements Met.]

  [Catalyst: Mythic Understanding of Entropy Reversal.]

  [Void-Interaction Depth: Critical Mass Achieved.]

  [Consuming Excess Gate Essence from “Ascendant Restoration” Concept...]

  I watched the text float in my vision, heart hammering against my ribs. I had three Mythic skills already. This would be number four. One more, and the cosmic bell rings. The Mythic Five.

  I had considered my options greatly, and an unparalleled healing and recovery skill was a good candidate for the fourth. Making sure I survived was probably a good idea.

  My status screen flickered into existence, showing a single, glowing option that seemed to pulse with an authority that bent the light around the text.

  [SKILL EVOLUTION: Phoenix Rebirth (Legendary) -> Syntropy (Mythic)]

  [Description: True Authority does not bargain with Entropy; it Dictates the State of Being. The User rejects the reality of damage. By utilizing Void-Authority and high-tier Lattice Perception, the User edits their own biological or conceptual timeline to overwrite injury with potentiality. Can be applied externally to entities or objects. Includes complete regeneration from near-total annihilation, entropic-reversal on any target, organic or otherwise, and the ability to reverse and remove high-tier poisons, concepts, curses and afflictions.]

  “Syntropy,” I tested the word, feeling the hum of the skill settling into my core, right alongside the Hunger. “Powerful. Simply controlling the complete, current metaphysical state of the object’s existence.”

  It was perfect. It wasn’t Life magic or Time magic; it was sheer, stubborn Authority. It turned damage into a debate, and I was the one holding the gavel.

  A ping echoed in my mind. Not a System notification, but a direct, polite mental knock.

  It felt like warm sunlight touching my forehead.

  “The water is warm, Void Walker. And the door is open.”

  I grinned.

  My cautious side was a bit hesitant — Borvo was already aware of my Soul ability. But I also trusted my own instinct, and reading his Soul has shown me an overview of his intent.

  “Jeeves,” I tapped my comms. “Probably going to be here for a bit longer than expected, let me know if you need anything. Might’ve picked up a side quest.”

  “Very well, Master,” Jeeves replied smoothly, likely sensing the shift in my aura.

  The week that followed was the strangest mix of opulent vacation and metaphysical surgery I had ever experienced.

  I spent my mornings in the literal lap of luxury.

  I woke up in the highest level of the cultivation suite, usually reserved for the Representatives and Scions. I slept for three hours each night, the longest continuous sleep I have had in over a year. The bed was made of spun cloud-silk that adjusted its temperature to my mood. The view looked down on the entire archipelago, where islands drifted like clouds against the purple sky.

  Breakfast was served by a Tier 6 wind-spirit who poured nectar that tasted like liquid optimism. I ate plates of star-fruit that tingled on the tongue, each bite increasing my mana density by a fraction of a percent — a limited effect that I had fully taken advantage of. I calculated the cost in my head — easily 5,000 shards a meal had it not been a gift — and smirked.

  Then, I went to work.

  I [Void Walked] down past the clouds, slipping through the now-permeable barriers into the Engine Room.

  Borvo was always waiting.

  I recalled the first day after our session. He had explained to me that my bracelet was a Curse weapon, a living entity with immense power. He said he could not say more, but to be very careful wielding it and to never succumb.

  Gluttony — which I found out was the Curse entity’s name, of which a fragment resides within the bracelet — apparently was supposed to turn me mad with the desire to consume all. But the feeling I always got from it whenever we ate had been of symbiotic contentment.

  I had to have another conversation with Kasian.

  This time Borvo sat on the titanic sternum of his own soul-skeleton, humming a tune that sounded like the birth of a galaxy.

  “Ready?” he asked, his eyes crinkling.

  “Always ready to fix another typo,” I replied, floating down.

  With [Syntropy], the process wasn’t excruciating anymore. It was fascinating, feeling my control over Reality itself increase slowly.

  I placed my hand on the blackened, corrupted bone. I expanded my new Mythic ability, extending it within my Domain.

  “Deny.”

  The Void washed over the wound. I activated my ability within, engulfing it with my Domain within the Lattice, and [Reversed] its State. The millennia of rot, the agony, the concept of the Curse — it all unraveled into harmless grey static which my bracelet happily devoured.

  In the Glimpse, it would have taken me a year of subjective time to heal a fraction of this damage.

  Now?

  I watched a half a mile-long fracture seal itself in an hour.

  Borvo watched with blurry eyes and a wide smile on his face, silent and awed, as his own broken soul knit itself back together.

  “It feels,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “It feels like hope.”

  In the afternoons, I tested the new skill.

  I rented the Mirror Dojo — a high-tier combat simulation room with shielded walls capable of absorbing Tier 8 impacts. I summoned my Clone, empowering it with a significant portion of my mana.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Attack me,” I ordered. “Go all out.”

  The Clone didn’t hesitate. It launched a Void-Lance — which was essentially a Lance of powerful, Flame altered dense mana within the Void — directly at my chest.

  I didn’t dodge. I let it hit.

  The lance punched a hole through my armor and ribs. Blood sprayed. Pain flared, sharp and hot, warning signals flashing in my brain.

  “Reverse.”

  In the space of a heartbeat, the wound didn’t close — it un-happened. The flesh knit together not by growing new cells, but by snapping back to the state of ‘before’. The blood flew back into my veins. The armor reformed.

  “Again,” I commanded.

  We sparred for hours. I let the Clone tear off my arm while I severed the Concept of pain within my Domain. I regrew it in microseconds. I let it crush my legs. I did not have to stop my kick as they immediately regenerated.

  Then, I tested the Clone.

  “Self-destruct simulation,” I ordered. “Burn over 99 percent of your mass.”

  The Clone complied. It immolated itself within the Void, reducing its form to a single finger on the floor. It was dead by all conventional metrics.

  “Regenerate,” I commanded.

  The Clone didn’t have a soul to anchor the denial, but I extended my Domain over it, acting as the external editor.

  I poured mana into the concept. The air swirled. Matter condensed from nothingness. The torso grew limbs of shadow and bone. The armor spun itself from mana threads.

  In less than two seconds, the Clone stood up, cracking its new neck.

  “That tickled, Boss,” it grinned.

  “Incredible,” I breathed, canceling the summons. “As long as I have mana and consciousness, I am effectively immortal. And my proxies are too. This… this could make things a lot more fun.”

  I left the dojo, exhausted but ecstatic and grinning.

  I met up with Anna later at the celestial cafe.

  We lounged in the Zero-G Chamber, floating among illusions of drifting planets while eating snacks that cost more than a castle.

  “So,” Anna said, tossing a grape into a mini-black hole I’d conjured. “Let me get this straight. You found a dying god in the basement, befriended him, and now you’re performing open-heart surgery on his soul in exchange for room service?”

  “Unlimited room service,” I corrected. “And a favor. A big one. Plus, the training benefits are insane.”

  “You’re absurd,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Most people relax on vacation. You accrue high-tier allies.”

  “I’m multi-tasking. Besides, have you tried the [Abyssal Liquid] Truffle Risotto? It increases mana density by 0.2 percent a meal to a max of 0.5. I’ve already eaten three bowls. I’m basically made of mushrooms and power now. I can’t even imagine how much a meal would cost…”

  “We’re basically looting the place,” Anna grinned. “Healed a god while on vacation...”

  The peaceful rhythm of the Zenith was shattered by a sound that made my danger sense prickle unpleasantly.

  I stopped mid-step on the jade walkway, my bowl of Essence-infused gelato halfway to my mouth. Beside me, Anna froze, her hands instinctively drifting to the position to fire an arrow, ready to summon [Final Word].

  “No,” I whispered. “Wait.”

  We were near the Sapphire Concours, a high-end reception area where guests booked interplanetary tours. It was usually quiet, smelling of ozone and lavender.

  Now, it smelled of iron.

  The young master Cryomancer, who I learned was called Malos of the Frost-Bight, was standing over a receptionist — a small, avian-humanoid girl who was clutching a shattered wing. Dark blue blood pooled on the pristine white floor. She wasn’t screaming; she was in shock, staring up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

  Malos was holding a goblet of wine. It was tipped slightly. A single drop stained his gold-spun robe.

  “Clumsy,” he spat, raising a hand wreathed in jagged ice mana. “I warned you. My robe is worth more than your entire bloodline.”

  The air temperature dropped forty degrees in a second. He wasn’t posturing. He was going to execute her for a laundry stain.

  His four Tier 6 House Guards stood in a semi-circle, watching with bored indifference.

  “Eren,” Anna’s voice was a flat, cold line in my mind. “He’s going to kill her.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re anonymous,” she pressed. “Nobody knows us here. We could…”

  “Fine,” I said. “Okay.”

  My Veil tightened. I accessed the Lattice. I could snap his neck with a Void-pinch before he released the spell. I could rewrite the air in his lungs to vacuum. It would break the contracted rules, but watching him execute a worker wasn’t something I could stand by and watch.

  I raised a finger, mana gathering.

  Malos brought his hand down.

  The ice spear formed, aimed at the girl’s heart.

  The air in the Sapphire Concours suddenly gained the weight of a collapsing neutron star.

  It wasn’t my spell.

  Malos didn’t even have a chance to react. One moment he was standing there, sneering in his gold robes. The next, a vertical cylinder of pure, concentrated starlight descended from the ceiling like a pillar of judgment.

  It completely stopped his movement and started forcefully teleporting him through space, overpowering his Domain. When the light vanished, Malos was gone.

  His four guards froze. Their bored expressions vanished, replaced by the primal, sweating terror of prey.

  They looked up.

  Standing on the balcony above, looking not like a jolly gardener but like a bored, ancient god, was Borvo. He wore his simple cotton yukata, but his eyes were churning galaxies of cold, unfeeling fury.

  “You are uninvited,” Borvo said softly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed in the bones of everyone present.

  The guards were teleported out a second later.

  “Patriarch!” the lead Enforcer wheezed. “We… we didn’t know…”

  “Later,” Borvo said. He didn’t shout. He just… stated it. “Give me a moment with our guests.”

  The guards scrambled. They didn’t run; they blurred, using movement skills to vacate the sector faster than sound.

  Borvo sighed, the terrible weight vanishing as if it never was. He hopped down, floating gently to the floor. He knelt beside the weeping receptionist.

  “There, there, little one,” he murmured, touching her broken wing. Starlight flowed from his fingers, knitting bone and flesh instantly. “It was a rude guest. He won’t bother you again.”

  He stood up, turning to me and Anna. His smile was back, but it was tighter. More tired.

  With a wave of his hand, space folded. We weren’t in the lobby anymore. We were on the roof of the Central Island, miles above the clouds.

  “Apologies,” Borvo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Messy business. He won’t be allowed in the Zenith again.”

  “That was a Lineage Heir,” I noted, watching him carefully. “Frost-Bight. Tier 10 father.”

  “The kid is a spoiled brat with a Tier 6 soul in a Tier 8 suit,” Borvo corrected. “I’ve let things devolve a little too much. They knew I was broken and took advantage, constantly threatening us. It’s about time we’ve had proper security. I have you to thank for this, young Walker.”

  He walked to the edge, looking down at his healed domain.

  “The knot is untied. My spine is finally straight.”

  His aura flared for a second. It wasn’t just mana. It was Presence. It tasted like the deep gravity of a black hole.

  “Let his father come,” Borvo smiled, and this time, there were teeth in it. “I have been asleep for a long time. I could use the practice.”

  I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. The sheer, casual confidence radiating off him was… sobering.

  “What about the girl?” Anna asked.

  “She will get a promotion. A big raise, a paid sabbatical, and we’ll help her with whatever else she needs,” Borvo promised. “Now, speaking of staffing… you mentioned your Academy?”

  He clapped his hands.

  “I cannot leave Zenith. But… I have friends. Students. Retired masters that are bored with the view.”

  He gestured to the portal platform.

  Waiting there was an entourage.

  Twelve individuals stood. A multi-armed chef sharpening knives of light. A wizened Alchemist with skin like parchment. A burly Smith whose skin was literal magma. A Monk with eyes stitched shut.

  “Some of our mentors,” Borvo winked. “I told them you have a planet full of eager minds and void-meat barbecues. They are very interested in working for you.”

  I looked at the assembled masters. Each one radiated a Solid Tier 6 aura that focused on theory and mental enhancements, further improving their craftsmanship.

  “You’re lending me a faculty?” I asked, stunned. “Borvo, I can’t…”

  “Please,” he said, tapping his chest. “You fixed Zenith’s Engine. We are all very grateful. You don’t understand what that means for our world.”

  After a few more back and forth discussions, more goodbyes, and getting acquainted with our new staff members, we stepped onto the platform.

  As I configured the Spire to accept our guests, the violet light took us.

  The jolly gardener was gone. In his place stood the Ascendant of the Zenith, healed, whole, and maybe a little more powerful than I originally expected.

  Vacation was over.

  But I think we just won the draft.