John and Bobo descended cautiously through the shadowed passage, anticipation building with each step. Yet, unlike his experience in the real world, he did not find a deeper connection with the World Tree beneath the surface here. The ancient roots and magic seemed muted, distant—less alive than before.

  At the end of the passage, where the dark crystal had once rested in the real world, John discovered two enigmatic artifacts resting on stone pedestals, glowing faintly with latent power.

  One artifact held the promise of creation—a tool that would allow him to establish another shelter, expanding his sanctuary and reach within this parallel world. It was another “Shelter Summoner”.

  The other was far more consequential: an item that would enable John to return to the real world without the finality of death in the parallel world. It offered a chance to cross back and forth, the precious possibility of return and reunion.

  Yet doubt gnawed at him. If using the artifact somehow repaired his broken timer depicting the time he had spent inside the parallel world, would he risk triggering the restriction of having exceeded 30 days here? The consequences loomed uncertain but potentially dire as he might be blocked from returning and from reuniting with Bobo.

  For now, John chose caution. He pocketed the artifact’s knowledge, aware of its unparalleled value but deciding to hold off on using it—reserving the power of return for when the moment was truly right.

  John stood in quiet reflection, the weight of his journey pressing on him. Though his body remained that of a 13-year-old, years had passed inside the parallel world—years filled with battles, growth, and companionship alongside Bobo. Not only during the first phase, before he started travelling but even since he had fought that giant ape and the journey to the west had started, at least a year had passed. His powers were capped but Bobo was growing stronger. Unlike the other challengers who usually stayed only 30 days, he had built a life here, forging a deep bond with his loyal companion.

  The thought of eventually leaving this world brought a pang of sorrow. Bobo was more than a pet; he was a confidant and friend who had shared countless adventures and supported John through every trial. The idea of losing him felt like losing a part of himself.

  Yet, memories of the real world tugged at his heart—friends, family, and a life waiting to continue. Returning home meant relinquishing all his hard-won abilities, starting again as just an ordinary boy, restricted by a collar, unable to grow stronger. The conflict ran deep.

  However, with the artifact offering the possibility of return, John realized he maybe didn’t have to make an irreversible choice—at least, not yet. But doubt lingered: would using the artifact close the door forever, cutting him off from Bobo and the bonds they’d forged? The uncertainty made every decision fraught, and John knew that both worlds, in their own ways, required a sacrifice. For now, he resolved to stay, cherishing every moment with Bobo, as neither path could truly free him from the cost of leaving the other behind.

  John pondered and mulled over the decision of where to establish his new, second shelter. The memory of the oceanic cave shelter lingered—its unique, almost magical properties had offered him unparalleled respite and strategic advantage.

  Curious if similar benefits could be found elsewhere, his thoughts turned to the place where the black crystal should have rested, deep within the cave at the heart of the World Tree’s roots beneath the elven kingdom. The exact place where he was right now.

  With quiet resolve, John chose this spot for his second shelter. If the energies that had converged around the dark crystal in the real world held any power here, it could grant him exceptional protection and resources.

  Beneath the ancient roots of the World Tree, shrouded in shadow and life-giving magic, John set to work. This new sanctuary would be more than a refuge—it would be a beacon of strength and connection in the ever-shifting landscape of the parallel world.

  John had set up his second shelter with practiced efficiency. The system had claimed the cavern, and when the light dome ignited, it framed only a modest campsite: a stout canvas tent and a simple stone-ringed fireplace that crackled with conjured flame. It felt like a downgrade compared to the comfortable house of his first shelter, but the place carried a quiet, dense power—rooted in the heart of the World Tree’s roots beneath the elven kingdom.

  Only once he took a step back did he notice something that had not been there before. Next to the tent, half?sunken into the rocky ground, stood a strange metal cylinder twice as tall as himself. Its surface was smooth and metal?grey, broken only by faint seams and a large, round hatch on the front. Soft runes pulsed along its base like a slow heartbeat.

  Above it, translucent text hovered in the air, framed by the familiar lines of the system interface:

  Incubation Chamber (can help evolve your pet)

  John frowned, curiosity sharpening. Whatever this shelter lacked in comfort, it seemed determined to make up for in mysteries.

  John had quickly realized that, even after all their travels and battles, Bobo was still far from his new level cap. The little white feline warrior had grown stronger and more skilled, but each new level came slower than the last—a clear reminder of how steep the curve had become now that Bobo was rank C. What once had been a rapid climb was now a long, grinding ascent.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Sitting by the fire in the dim cave, John’s gaze kept drifting from Bobo’s status window to the smooth metal surface of the incubation chamber. The cylinder stood there in silence, humming faintly with an unreadable promise. Should he try it on Bobo now and risk unknown side effects? Would it accelerate growth, mutate him further, or lock in some path they weren’t ready for?

  Bobo lay curled near the fireplace, tail wrapped around himself, blue eyes half-lidded but alert. John’s fingers tightened around his knees. Maybe it was wiser to wait—to learn more, to test the chamber on something else first, but what? At least John felt like he had to understand the rules of this world a bit better before. For now, he let the question hang between them like the soft glow of the runes on the metal cylinder: a temptation, not yet a decision.

  A bit later, inside the tent, John had first felt mildly disappointed. The second, unleveled shelter was as simple as it looked from outside: a low cot, a rough rug, the ambient warmth from the magical fire beyond the canvas. It was a far cry from the comfortable, fully furnished house of his first shelter, more like a temporary camp than a real home.

  Then he noticed the back wall.

  Where there should have been only canvas, the air shimmered. Two openings rippled there like vertical puddles of light—stable, door?shaped distortions. One showed the rocky cave of his current shelter, with the fireplace and metal cylinder faintly visible. The other framed a familiar underwater cavern bathed in bluish glow: his first shelter.

  Testing the phenomenon, John stepped through the second opening and emerged into the dry interior of his original house, the transition as smooth as walking from one room to another. There was no tent here, only the wooden walls, workstations, and comforts he had painstakingly built through leveling the shelter, although it would have been much worse if he had had to build everything himself. When he eventually exited the house, the system presented him with a choice: step out into the oceanic cave of his first shelter or into the root?cavern of the second.

  With a single decision, he could now move between both sanctuaries—two distant strongholds, linked by invisible doors only he could see.

  The next weeks had carried John and Bobo ever westward, their days split between hard marches, scattered fights, and quiet evenings in shelter or sometimes under the open sky. The road felt endless at times, but Johns growing familiarity with the continents shape told him they were drawing closer to where Celestor should have stood in the real world—the proud capital of the empire.

  When they finally arrived, the sight waiting for them was by now oddly familiar. In place of towering walls, floating architecture, flying creatures, marble spires, and crowded districts, there was only another village: a cluster of simple houses, fields, and that same protective light dome humming softly above it. Here too, the grand city of his memories had been reduced to a modest settlement, as if the parallel world refused to acknowledge anything larger than these repeating starting points.

  They spent several days around the parallel Celestor, taking on missions and hunting beasts for the village’s elder—who, as always, was the same man John had met in every other village, unchanged in face, voice, or manner. Each completed task reinforced the odd normality of it: different landscapes, same elder, same dome, same scripted rhythm of requests and rewards.

  When their work there was finally done, John’s thoughts turned to the road ahead. The next stretch of the journey would mirror, in geography at least, the route he had once crossed in the real world riding on a dragon’s back, soaring effortlessly over mountains and wild lands. Here, in the parallel world, there were no dragons waiting to ferry him—only his own feet, Bobo’s, and the long, perilous distance between this modest village and whatever lay beyond.

  For years, John and Bobo pushed ever onward, their journey stretching into an unbroken thread of days and seasons that blurred together. They crossed whispering forests where the canopy swallowed the sky, open grasslands that rolled to the horizon like a green sea, and deserts where heat shimmered above cracked earth and every step felt like it might be their last.

  Despite the passage of time, John’s body remained that of a thirteen-year-old, while Bobo steadily grew in power and grace at his side. Together they carved a path through beasts, ambushes, and the quiet loneliness of the road, their bond hardening into something unshakeable. Nights in the shelter broke the monotony, but each morning, they stepped back into a world that demanded endurance above all else.

  At last, the land began to rise and buckle. Ahead loomed the same dreadful mountain chain that, in the real world, guarded the approach to Golddeep—a wall of stone whose peaks rose like serrated blades stabbing into the sky. Here, the slopes were steeper, the ridgelines sharper, the air colder and thinner. From a distance alone, the range looked impossible to traverse on foot, a natural fortress meant to turn back all but fliers and fools.

  Yet there were no dragons this time, no friendly back to carry them above the peril. Standing at the base of that titanic barrier, John tightened the straps of his gear and glanced at Bobo, who met his gaze with quiet resolve. Impossible or not, they would have to try.

  John had been careful—almost obsessively so—never to let either of his levels brush against the fatal boundary of 50. The parallel world rejected anyone who crossed that line, and he had no intention of being hurled out before finding village 001 and its dungeon. His perfected negative XP potions had become his most precious tools: with a few swallows, he could peel away excess experience, dip back below the next threshold. In the past, he would then have looped his way up through level?ups again and again, squeezing every last stat point out of the system without ever triggering expulsion but now the stat caps were already reached since long ago.

  Those same brews had served Bobo as well. Using the gentler versions set aside for his companion, John had guided the feline through his own cycle of leveling up and down, letting him carry his improved stats forward each time. What had begun as a fragile rank?G runt was now a sleek rank?C fighter with beautifully grown attributes and a level curve that, while slower, spoke of true long?term power. In a world where John constantly throttled his own growth to stay under the ceiling, watching Bobo rise freely had become one of his quiet, enduring satisfactions. It was true that pets grew faster than their masters, although for their team, it had taken some time. Bobo was now much stronger than John.