The air on Earth Star was heavy with spiritual pressure, but Jareth didn't stagger.
He stood at the center of a marble platform surrounded by spires of black crystal, each humming with energy pulled from realms unseen. The sky above churned with unnatural storms, a mix of celestial violet and shimmering gold. This was not Earth. The land beneath his boots was older, deeper, bound to the blood of kings and monsters alike.
This was Earth Star.
Jareth exhaled slowly, his breath misting despite the warmth. It wasn't the temperature. It was the weight of something far greater pressing down on him, the sensation of stepping onto a world built for only the strong.
At the far end of the platform stood a man draped in a flowing black cloak, silver trim marking his rank. His face was carved from bone and arrogance, his gaze hard enough to cut through metal. Behind him loomed a structure that looked part fortress, part palace. The Black Family Estate.
"I see the disappointment didn't die after all," the man said coldly.
Jareth's eyes didn't waver. "Uncle Marrek. You haven't changed."
Marrek Black, brother to the patriarch, had ruled the Seventh Continent of Earth Star in Jareth's absence. His cultivation aura radiated in waves refined, restrained, but unmistakably lethal. He had been one of the loudest voices against Jareth's inclusion in the family ranks.
And now, here he stood, back from the dead in all but name.
Marrek gestured to the waiting procession behind him. Nobles, cultivators, tacticians. All dressed in tailored robes marked by the sigil of the Blacks: a black serpent circling a broken throne.
"You return after vanishing for five years. Without permission. Without rank. Without power." Marrek sneered. "And yet, the Ancestor summoned you. Why?"
Jareth stepped forward. His stride was measured, confident. "Because my power exceeds every son you've groomed to fail."
A murmur rippled through the assembly. Marrek's eyes narrowed.
The tension broke when a young woman stepped into view.
She was dressed in deep violet robes edged in obsidian thread. Her dark eyes were sharp, curious, and far too knowing for someone so poised. She studied Jareth without speaking, but the silence was louder than any insult.
She was Zera Black.
The youngest daughter of the Black Patriarch. A genius strategist. A mid-tier core cultivator at only twenty-three. And far more dangerous than anyone in that courtyard realized.
Jareth's gaze met hers. She didn't blink.
Marrek's voice returned, colder. "The other families are watching. They've heard whispers. If you're going to call yourself a Black, prove it. Or leave."
"I don't need to prove anything to you," Jareth replied. "But since you seem desperate for a display..."
He turned slowly, raising his right hand. The tattoos on his forearm began to glow runes etched into him during transmigration, now pulsing with life. The ground beneath him trembled. A sudden vortex of qi formed, sucking energy from the surroundings like a black hole.
And then came the core.
It blazed to life within his chest, visible through his robe. A radiant sphere of deep crimson threaded with gold dense, alive, pulsating. Not a basic core. Not even high-tier.
An SSS-rank core.
There was no mistaking it.
Someone in the crowd dropped to their knees. Another gasped audibly. Even Marrek's expression cracked for the first time.
"You... awakened an SSS core?" he asked, voice strained.
Jareth stepped forward again. "No. I was born with it."
He walked past his uncle and into the estate, ignoring the stares, the quiet calculations, the silent fury building behind him. His footsteps echoed through the obsidian halls as if claiming the space by right.
He knew what would come next.
Whispers in the night. Spies in the corridors. Poison in the wine. They would not welcome him. They would test him, isolate him, tempt him to fail.
And he would let them.
Because every scheme they set would expose their hand. Every plot would fuel his rise.
And when the day came to ascend the Black Throne, there would be no one left who dared to challenge him.
---
Elsewhere, far across the skies of Earth Star, a war council gathered beneath a mountain suspended in the air.
The seven families each had their seat of power, but none dared ignore the Solari.
A woman in golden robes stood in front of a crystalline map of the world. Her fingers traced the outline of the Black family's continent.
"So... the exile returns," she murmured.
Her name was Lysara Solari. Heir to the First Family. Beautiful, deadly, and the most likely person to one day spark another continental war.
Her advisor bowed low. "He has awakened an SSS core. There are rumors it's bound to a forgotten cultivation path."
Lysara tilted her head. "Perfect. Let him rise. The throne will make him arrogant. That's when we strike."
The council chamber darkened as her golden qi flooded the room. It twisted around her, a sun forged into a blade.
She whispered, "I want the Black Throne shattered beneath my feet."
---
Back in the Black Estate, Jareth stood on a high balcony overlooking the city below.
He saw it now his domain.
He had come to Earth Star with no allies, no safety, and no illusion of family. But he had something more important than blood.
He had ambition.
And in a world where legacy ruled and cultivation determined fate, he would become more than a survivor.
He would become a king.