Orien stood frozen before the mirror, living through Kaelvir's memories. A storm of emotions flickered across his face—confusion, awe, and a creeping sense of responsibility—before he finally sighed and sank into the soft chair in the small study.
His eyes drifted to the figurines on the shelf. One by one, he picked them up, marveling at their craftsmanship. Among them, one caught his attention—a black cat carving. It was familiar… exactly like the one he often saw in his dreams and the day of his accident back on Earth. And in Kaelvir's memories, it had appeared there too. There was a connection, but its meaning eluded him.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Young master, sorry for the delay. You must be hungry—here comes the food," came Fay's cheerful voice.
Orien turned and saw her rolling a trolley toward the table. Dishes he had never seen before were arranged neatly, yet somehow, he instinctively knew their taste. He reached for a cup of water first.
The moment it touched his lips, relief flooded him. He drank again and again, savoring the purity of the water. Clear as crystal. Fay watched him quietly, a hesitance in her eyes that he caught immediately.
"Fay, you can just say what's on your mind," he said, offering her a knowing look.
Caught, she hesitated. "Young master… this time you were careless. How could you attempt the awakening process without supervision? Were you trying to kill yourself?"
Orien froze. He hadn't done it himself, yet Kaelvir's memories rose unbidden—his despair, his reckless attempt to force open the dream gate using only Solun's energy… and the disaster that had left him vulnerable.
"If not for your sister finding you, who knows what would have happened?" Fay continued. "You made everyone worry."
A pang of guilt struck him. Though not his fault, he felt it as if it were. Her concern was genuine, and that warmth softened him.
"I'm sorry, Fay. It's my fault. I made everyone worry."
She sighed, a small smile forming. "Young master, I know you're troubled by your inability to cultivate, but nothing is set in stone. Don't be careless and bring sadness to those who care for you."
Her words settled on him like a guiding hand. Though he had died on Earth, fate had given him life here. For the first time, he felt the weight of Kaelvir's existence as if it were his own—the pain, the hopes, the obligations.
A subtle chime rang deep within him. Suddenly, his senses sharpened. The world became clearer—he could distinguish the scent of air, food, and herbs. That calming fragrance he had sensed upon waking—it was Fay's.
Kaelvir stood, gently placing his palm atop her head. "Thank you, Fay. I promise not to be careless again."
Fay froze. The young master had never touched her so intimately. She cleared her throat, stepping back quickly. "Uhh… young master, your food is still hot. I'll wait outside for you."
Orien returned to his seat, savoring the divine flavors. "Even the food… tastier than Earth. This world is truly magical…"
After finishing, he stood before the mirror again, steeling himself to meet Kaelvir's father—one of the strongest in the clan. One wrong move, one falter, and his disguise could be exposed.
Outside, Fay waited.
"Let's meet Father. I'm ready," he said.
"Yes, young master," she replied, trailing behind like a loyal shadow.
The hallway stretched in a perfect square, doors lining both sides. A faint breeze carried the scent of flowers from the central garden, mingling with the warmth of the afternoon. Larger buildings rose beyond, bustling with servants and disciples.
Kaelvir relied on his memories to navigate—without them, any misstep could expose him.
"Fay, have you awakened yet?" he asked suddenly, curiosity threading through his voice.
She looked up, surprised. "Yes, young master. Four years ago." She lowered her gaze. "I didn't tell you before because I didn't want you to feel bad."
Four years ago, kaelvir failed his awakening what a contrast between them.
He smiled warmly. "Why? You think I'm that petty?"
Her lips curved into a gentle smile.
When he inquired about her cultivation level, pride flickered in her eyes. "Peak of Awakening Realm—Soul Projection."
Kaelvir paused, impressed. "That means you can almost bring your affinities into the real world."
She nodded, extending her palm. Purple lightning danced along her fingers—beautiful, yet incomplete. He knew it would fully manifest in time.
His mind flickered through Kaelvir's knowledge of the cultivation realms: Awakening Realm, Dreamforged, Body Ascendance, Soul Forge—each divided into early, middle, late, and peak stages. Few reached the pinnacle. Fay, only eighteen same age as him, had already achieved nearly the second realm. Extraordinary.
As they walked, disciples greeted them. A training ground passed by, the younger generation practicing their techniques.
"If memory serves," Kaelvir said casually, "the realms are Awakening Soul Projection, Dreamforged, Body Ascendance, and Soul Forge. What lies beyond them?"
Fay shook her head. "Only elders or those at the peak of Dreamforged realm know. That knowledge is hidden from the weak."
He looked skyward. "When will I be able to cultivate or reach that level?"
"Don't worry. The clan leader has sent people to search for treasures that might heal you or help you cultivate. We should hear soon," she reassured.
He laughed lightly. "Then I'll wait for the good news."
At the corridor's end, massive grey iron doors loomed, etched with faintly shimmering runes. Two armored guards flanked the entrance, their presence radiating power.
If these are only the guards… how strong must those inside be? Kaelvir thought, a shiver running down his spine.
"Young master, you should go in. The master is waiting," Fay prompted.
Steeling himself, Kaelvir stepped forward. The doors swung open silently, and the air beyond spilled into the hall—warmer, faintly scent of burning incense. The guards' eyes followed briefly before resuming their post, leaving the hall eerily quiet.
Inside was a vast chamber. The ceiling arched high above, supported by dark stone beams carved with winding patterns. At its far end sat a single figure—motionless, yet commanding. His presence alone demanded respect.
Kaelvir's breath slowed. The man did not speak; he did not need to.
In a voice steady but respectful, Kaelvir spoke first. "Father… I am here."
A pause stretched… the air thick with anticipation.
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Author's note: revised chapter for more clarity and no plot change