The capital city of Aethermoor rose from the plains like a crown of stone and steel. Massive walls encircled the metropolis, enchanted with defensive formations that shimmered faintly in the morning light. Beyond them, towers and spires reached toward the sky, their architecture a testament to centuries of accumulated wealth and power.
Anthonio observed it all from atop the Wind Horse as they descended from the clouds. In his previous life—his author's life—he had imagined this city in exacting detail. Every district, every landmark, every hidden alley. Now, seeing it manifest in reality, he felt a strange disconnect between memory and experience.
*I created you,* he thought, gazing at the sprawling city below. *But you're so much more than I imagined.*
"The Crimsonhart estate is in the Noble Quarter," Selene said, guiding the Wind Horse toward the northeastern section of the city. "We should arrive within the hour."
Anthonio nodded, already steeling himself for what was coming. He hadn't seen his family in over three months. To them, he was still the worthless fifth son, the embarrassment who had been conveniently exiled after the Awakening Ceremony disaster.
They had no idea what he had become.
The Wind Horse landed in a public stable near the Noble Quarter's entrance. Anthonio paid the stable master—an extortionate fee, but money was no object with the vault's fortune at his disposal—and they proceeded on foot through the pristine streets.
The Noble Quarter was everything the name implied. Immaculate cobblestone roads, perfectly manicured gardens, estates that could house small armies. Servants in fine livery hurried about their business, while nobles in expensive silks paraded their status for all to see.
Anthonio felt their stares as he walked past. Some recognized the Crimsonhart family crest on his travel cloak. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to contempt.
*Let them stare,* Anthonio thought coldly. *In twenty months, these same nobles will be bowing before me.*
The Crimsonhart estate occupied an entire city block. Three-story manor house, extensive gardens, private training facilities—a monument to old money and older power. Guards in crimson armor flanked the main gate, their hands resting casually on weapon hilts.
"State your business," one of them said as Anthonio approached. Then his eyes widened in recognition. "Young master Anthonio? We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"We made better time than anticipated," Anthonio replied evenly. "Is my father available?"
"Duke Marcus is in meetings with the other lords. The family gathering doesn't officially begin until tomorrow evening." The guard's tone carried barely concealed disdain. Even the household guards looked down on him.
"Then I'll settle into my quarters and wait." Anthonio moved past them into the estate grounds.
The interior of the manor was exactly as he remembered from Anthonio's memories—opulent to the point of excess, every surface covered in expensive materials, every wall decorated with portraits of distinguished ancestors. The Crimsonharts had been one of the kingdom's premier noble families for eight generations. They took their heritage seriously.
A servant appeared immediately. "Young master Anthonio! We've prepared your old room. Shall I have your luggage brought up?"
"That won't be necessary." Anthonio gestured to Selene. "My companion and I travel light. Just show us to the quarters."
The servant's eyes flickered to Selene with obvious confusion. Why would the exiled trash bring his servant to a family gathering? But he said nothing, leading them through familiar corridors to the wing reserved for family members.
Anthonio's room was exactly as he'd left it three months ago. Large, well-appointed, but noticeably smaller and less luxurious than his siblings' quarters. A subtle reminder of his place in the family hierarchy.
"This will do," Anthonio said, dismissing the servant.
Once alone, Selene moved to the window and extended her spiritual sense. "The estate's security is formidable. Multiple Manifestation-level guards, several Transcendence-level cultivators in the main house. And that's just what I can sense—there are likely hidden protections as well."
"My father doesn't take chances." Anthonio removed his travel cloak, revealing the simple but well-tailored clothes beneath. "The Crimsonharts have enemies. Political rivals, business competitors, cultivation sects we've offended. This estate is designed to be a fortress."
He moved to the mirror, checking his appearance. The Ring of Crimson Shadows was suppressing his cultivation perfectly—to any observer, he would appear to be Consolidation 2-Star. Weak by noble standards, but not completely pathetic.
"Young master," Selene said carefully, "are you prepared for the possibility that your family might be... unkind?"
Anthonio's smile was cold. "I'm counting on it. Their disdain will make my eventual rise all the more satisfying."
---
**The Next Evening**
The family gathering began at sunset in the estate's grand hall. Anthonio arrived precisely on time, neither early enough to seem eager nor late enough to be considered disrespectful. Selene remained in the servants' quarters—bringing her to a formal family event would have been unseemly.
The grand hall was filled with Crimsonharts. His father, Duke Marcus, stood at the head of the room, imposing in formal robes that emphasized his Transcendence 4-Star cultivation. Beside him was Anthonio's mother, Duchess Vivienne, her expression carefully neutral.
His siblings were there as well. Damien, the eldest, stood with a group of young nobles, his SS-Rank cultivation making him the center of attention. Victoria, his second sister, held court with several noble ladies. Alexander, his third brother, practiced sword forms in a corner, showing off for admirers.
And then there was Lucian, his fourth brother, who caught Anthonio's eye and sneered openly.
"Well, well," Lucian said loudly enough for nearby nobles to hear. "The prodigal trash returns. Tell me, little brother, have you learned any parlor tricks during your exile? Perhaps you can juggle for our entertainment."
Laughter rippled through the nearby crowd. Anthonio felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him, waiting to see how he would react.
In his previous life as the original Anthonio, he would have bristled with wounded pride, said something foolish, made the situation worse. But that Anthonio was dead.
"Hello, Lucian," Anthonio said mildly. "You're looking well. I see you've advanced to Consolidation 7-Star since I left. Congratulations."
The calm, measured response caught Lucian off guard. He had been expecting anger, defensiveness, anything but polite acknowledgment.
"I—yes, well." Lucian recovered quickly. "Some of us have actual talent. Speaking of which, I heard a rumor that you somehow reached Consolidation 2-Star. Bought some black market pills, did you?"
"Something like that." Anthonio smiled slightly. "Though I prefer to think of it as resourcefulness rather than desperation."
More laughter, but this time directed at Lucian's transparent attempt at mockery. Anthonio moved past him before his brother could formulate a response, heading toward the refreshment table.
*First encounter, successfully defused,* Anthonio thought. *They expected the old Anthonio—arrogant, easy to provoke, desperate for validation. This new version confuses them.*
"Anthonio."
His father's voice cut through the ambient conversation. Duke Marcus approached, his expression unreadable. Up close, Anthonio could see the subtle signs of stress—lines around the eyes, tension in the jaw. Being the head of a major noble house was clearly taking its toll.
"Father," Anthonio said, bowing respectfully. "Thank you for inviting me to the gathering."
"You're family. You belong here, regardless of your... circumstances." Marcus's tone suggested he didn't entirely believe that. "I see you've managed some cultivation progress during your exile. How did you achieve that without family resources?"
"Private tutoring and personal discipline," Anthonio replied smoothly. "The isolation of the Eternal Mist Pavilion provides excellent conditions for focused practice."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Just strategically incomplete.
Marcus studied him for a long moment. "Consolidation 2-Star is still far below acceptable for a Crimsonhart. But it's better than F-Rank. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."
Damning with faint praise. Typical.
"I do what I can with what I have," Anthonio said.
"Indeed." Marcus glanced around the hall, ensuring they weren't being overheard. "Tomorrow night, Duke Aldric Stormborn will be presenting his bastard son at court. All major noble families are expected to attend. That includes you."
"Of course."
"I want you to understand something, Anthonio." Marcus's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "This family's reputation has already been damaged by your failure at the Awakening Ceremony. I will not tolerate any further embarrassment. You will attend the presentation, you will be polite and respectful, and you will not draw attention to yourself. Am I clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Father."
"Good." Marcus turned away, already moving toward another conversation, dismissing Anthonio as easily as one might dismiss a servant.
Anthonio watched him go, feeling nothing. No anger, no hurt, no desperate need for approval. The original Anthonio had craved his father's recognition, had destroyed himself trying to earn respect that would never come.
But Anthonio the author understood something the character never had: Marcus Crimsonhart was just a minor character in a larger story. His opinions were irrelevant to the plot.
*Tomorrow,* Anthonio thought, moving toward the hall's exit. *Tomorrow I meet Kael Stormborn. The protagonist. The hero. The man I created to be perfect, powerful, and ultimately doomed to face what I've become.*
He couldn't wait.
---
**The Royal Court, Next Evening**
The throne room of Aethermoor Palace was designed to inspire awe. Vaulted ceilings that seemed to touch the sky, massive columns carved from single pieces of marble, walls adorned with centuries of royal history. At the far end, elevated on a dais of crimson stone, sat King Aldric III, ruler of the kingdom.
The king was a formidable presence even sitting still. Sovereign 8-Star cultivation, battle-scarred features, eyes that missed nothing. He had ruled for thirty-seven years, defending the kingdom against external threats while maintaining internal stability.
The throne room was packed with nobility. Every major house had sent representatives, eager to witness this historic moment—a duke acknowledging his bastard son publicly for the first time in living memory.
Anthonio stood with his family in the Crimsonhart section, positioned to have a clear view of the proceedings. His father had insisted on perfect presentation—all Crimsonhart family members in formal attire, displaying unity and strength.
"This is unprecedented," Victoria whispered to Damien. "Duke Aldric has always denied having any illegitimate children. Why acknowledge one now?"
"Political necessity," Damien replied quietly. "I heard rumors the boy has exceptional talent. Three Divine Essences, they're saying."
Three Divine Essences. The words rippled through the crowd as others picked up the whisper. Anthonio felt the shift in atmosphere—skepticism giving way to intense curiosity. Divine Essences were blessings from the gods themselves, granted to perhaps one person per generation. Three in a single individual was unheard of.
*They don't know what's coming,* Anthonio thought. *They can't comprehend what I created.*
"ANNOUNCING DUKE ALDRIC STORMBORN AND HIS SON, KAEL STORMBORN!"
The herald's voice echoed through the throne room. The massive doors at the entrance swung open, and two figures entered.
Duke Aldric was a mountain of a man, easily six and a half feet tall, built like a warrior despite his noble rank. Transcendence 6-Star cultivation radiated from him like heat from a forge. His presence alone commanded respect.
But Anthonio's attention was entirely on the young man walking beside him.
Kael Stormborn.
The protagonist of his novel, made flesh.
He was sixteen years old, same as Anthonio, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Anthonio was lean and elegant, Kael was powerfully built, muscles visible even beneath formal clothes. His black hair was tied back in a simple warrior's knot. His face was handsome in a rough, unrefined way—the face of someone who had earned everything through struggle.
But it was his eyes that truly caught Anthonio's attention. Brilliant silver, almost glowing in the throne room's light. The Eye of Destiny, one of his three Divine Essences, manifesting even in casual appearance.
*Impressive,* Anthonio admitted to himself. *I designed him well.*
Father and son approached the throne, both bowing with perfect synchronization.
"Your Majesty," Duke Aldric said, his voice carrying easily through the silent throne room. "I come before you today to formally acknowledge my son, Kael Stormborn. Born of a union sixteen years past, he has lived in obscurity until now. But his recent Awakening Ceremony revealed talents that cannot be hidden."
King Aldric III leaned forward with interest. "I have heard remarkable claims, Duke Stormborn. Three Divine Essences, if the reports are to be believed. Is this true?"
"It is, Your Majesty." Duke Aldric gestured to Kael. "My son, if you would demonstrate."
Kael straightened, and Anthonio felt the atmosphere in the room shift dramatically. Power radiated from the young man—not the overwhelming force of high-level cultivation, but something more profound. More fundamental.
Divine power.
Kael raised his right hand, and a sword materialized from nothing. It was formed from pure void energy, black as midnight, its edges seeming to cut through reality itself. The Blade of the Void, capable of severing anything—matter, energy, even conceptual bonds.
His eyes flashed silver, and for a moment, Anthonio felt an impossible sensation—as if Kael was seeing not just the present, but all possible futures branching from this moment. The Eye of Destiny, granting glimpses of fate itself.
Then Kael's cultivation base surged, revealing his true level. Consolidation 5-Star, the same as Anthonio's hidden cultivation. But the quality of the energy was different—denser, purer, touched by divine grace.
The throne room erupted in whispers. Three Divine Essences. It was real. It was actually real.
"Extraordinary," King Aldric said, genuine wonder in his voice. "Young Kael, you are blessed by the gods themselves. Such gifts carry great responsibility."
"I understand, Your Majesty." Kael's voice was strong, confident, but not arrogant. "I will use these gifts to serve the kingdom and honor my father's name."
Perfect. Humble yet powerful. The ideal protagonist.
Anthonio felt a predatory smile tugging at his lips. *Just as I wrote you. But you have no idea what's waiting in the shadows, do you?*
The formal acknowledgment continued for another hour. Other nobles approached to offer congratulations to Duke Aldric, to get a closer look at his miraculous son. Kael handled the attention well, neither overwhelmed nor prideful.
Eventually, the Crimsonhart family's turn came to offer formal greetings.
"Duke Stormborn," Marcus said with a slight bow. "On behalf of House Crimsonhart, I congratulate you on your son's talents. He is a credit to your bloodline."
"Thank you, Duke Crimsonhart." Aldric's eyes swept across the assembled family members, lingering briefly on each. When his gaze reached Anthonio, something flickered in his expression—was it pity? Contempt?
Kael, however, barely glanced at the Crimsonharts. His attention was elsewhere, already moving to the next introduction, the next congratulation.
*He doesn't even see me,* Anthonio realized. *To him, I'm just another face in the crowd. Another forgettable noble.*
Perfect.
The introductions concluded, and the gathering began to disperse into smaller conversational groups. Anthonio was about to retreat to a quiet corner when he heard a voice behind him.
"You're Anthonio Crimsonhart, aren't you?"
He turned. Kael Stormborn stood there, silver eyes studying him with unexpected intensity.
"I am," Anthonio replied carefully. "I'm surprised you know my name."
"I make it a point to learn about other cultivators my age." Kael's tone was casual, but those eyes missed nothing. "I heard you were at the Awakening Ceremony three months ago. F-Rank, they said. Broken Veins."
There it was. The inevitable comparison. The protagonist meeting the trash character.
"That's correct," Anthonio said. "Though I've managed to reach Consolidation 2-Star since then through considerable effort."
Kael's expression shifted slightly. Was that sympathy? "That must have been difficult. Going from nothing to even minimal cultivation. I... I can't imagine."
*No, you can't,* Anthonio thought. *You were born blessed. You'll never understand what it means to be truly powerless.*
"We all walk our own paths," Anthonio said aloud. "Yours is clearly blessed by the gods. Mine is more... mundane. But it's mine nonetheless."
For a moment, Kael simply stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, he extended his hand. "It takes courage to continue after such a setback. I respect that."
Anthonio looked at the offered hand. This was a moment he had never written in his novel—the protagonist showing respect to the disposable villain. It was such a small gesture, meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
But it was also an opportunity.
Anthonio took Kael's hand, shaking it firmly. The moment their skin touched, he felt it—the divine power flowing through Kael's veins, pure and overwhelming. The Blade of the Void, the Eye of Destiny, the Dragon Heart, all three Divine Essences resonating together in perfect harmony.
Against anyone else, such power would be unstoppable.
But Anthonio had the Primordial Red Lightning hidden in his veins, suppressed by the Ring of Crimson Shadows. EX-Rank power that predated the gods themselves.
"Thank you," Anthonio said, releasing the handshake. "That means more than you know."
"Perhaps we'll see each other at the Royal Academy," Kael said. "I plan to attend in two years, once I've advanced sufficiently."
"As do I." Anthonio smiled that carefully crafted humble smile. "Though I imagine our experiences there will be quite different."
"Maybe." Kael's silver eyes flickered with something—was it the Eye of Destiny activating? Seeing possible futures? "Or maybe we'll surprise each other."
Then he was gone, pulled away by Duke Aldric for more introductions, leaving Anthonio standing alone in the throne room.
*He doesn't know,* Anthonio thought with dark satisfaction. *The Eye of Destiny showed him nothing. The Ring of Crimson Shadows suppressed my true nature so completely that even divine sight couldn't penetrate it.*
He looked down at his hand, the one that had touched Kael's. Felt the lingering traces of divine power. Analyzed them with his author's knowledge.
*Strong. Incredibly strong. But not invincible. Not against what I'm becoming.*
---
**Later That Night**
Anthonio stood on the balcony of his room at the Crimsonhart estate, looking out over the capital. The city glittered with thousands of lights, a living organism of ambition and power.
Selene materialized from the shadows beside him. "How did it go?"
"Perfectly." Anthonio smiled. "I met Kael Stormborn. Shook his hand. Let him form his opinions."
"And those opinions were?"
"That I'm a weak, barely competent cultivator who shows admirable determination despite lacking talent. Exactly what I wanted him to think."
Selene was quiet for a moment. "Young master, when you met him, when you touched him—did you feel his power?"
"Yes." Anthonio clenched his fist, remembering that overwhelming divine presence. "Three Divine Essences, all perfectly integrated. His potential is staggering. If left unchecked, he would become exactly what I wrote—the strongest cultivator of his generation."
"And yet you don't seem concerned."
"Because I know something Kael Stormborn doesn't. Something no one in this world knows except you and me." Anthonio turned from the balcony, his eyes glowing faintly crimson in the darkness. "Divine Essences are powerful. But they're not primordial. The gods granted those blessings, which means the gods can take them away. Or they can be... overwritten."
"Overwritten?" Selene's eyes widened. "Young master, are you saying—"
"I'm saying that in twenty months, when we meet again at the Academy, I'll be Sovereign 7-Star with full control over the Primordial Red Lightning. And at that level, with that power, even three Divine Essences won't be enough to stand against me."
He moved back inside, already planning his next moves. "Tomorrow we return to the Eternal Mist Pavilion. I need to achieve breakthrough to Manifestation within four months, then push hard for Transcendence. The timeline is clear now. Every goal is achievable."
"And Kael Stormborn?"
Anthonio's smile was cold and predatory.
"Let him enjoy his moment of glory. Let him be celebrated as the blessed hero, the duke's miraculous son. Let him believe the gods favor him above all others."
Crimson lightning crackled across his knuckles.
"Because in twenty months, I'm going to teach him the difference between divine power and primordial fury. And by the time he understands what's happening, it will be far too late."
He looked out at the capital one last time, at the palace where Kael Stormborn was probably still being congratulated by fawning nobles.
*Sleep well, protagonist. Enjoy your rise to fame. Because I'm coming for everything you think is yours. Every opportunity. Every artifact. Every woman. Every victory.*
*This is my story now.*
*And villains don't follow the script.*
---
**The Next Morning**
The Crimsonhart family gathered for breakfast in the estate's grand dining hall. It was a tense affair—Marcus at the head of the table, his children arranged according to rank and favor. Anthonio sat at the far end, the physical distance a perfect metaphor for his place in the family hierarchy.
"Last night was a success," Marcus announced, cutting into his breakfast with precise movements. "The Stormborn boy made an impressive debut. Three Divine Essences. Unprecedented."
"He seemed arrogant to me," Lucian said, though his tone suggested jealousy more than genuine criticism. "Showing off his power like that."
"He was demonstrating what he was asked to demonstrate," Victoria corrected. "There's a difference between pride and arrogance. You should learn it."
Lucian scowled but said nothing.
Damien, the eldest, spoke up. "Father, have you considered the political implications? If Duke Aldric's bastard achieves even a fraction of his potential, the Stormborn family's influence will grow tremendously. We should consider an alliance."
"I'm already in negotiations," Marcus replied. "A marriage contract between our houses would be ideal. Victoria, you're of appropriate age—"
"No." Victoria's voice was flat, brooking no argument. "I have no interest in being sold off for political advantage. Marry me to anyone and I'll make both our lives miserable."
Marcus's expression darkened, but he moved on. Victoria was the only one of his children who openly defied him and got away with it—her talent as a Consolidation 8-Star cultivator at age nineteen made her too valuable to alienate.
"Damien, then. Perhaps a business partnership—"
"Father," Damien interrupted carefully, "wouldn't it be wiser to wait and see how the Stormborn boy develops? He's powerful now, but he's also young, untested. Divine Essences don't guarantee success. They could make him a target for those who fear his potential."
Interesting. Damien was thinking politically, considering angles beyond simple alliance. He was smarter than Anthonio had given him credit for.
*Good,* Anthonio thought. *Intelligent enemies are more satisfying to defeat than stupid ones.*
"Perhaps you're right," Marcus conceded. "We'll observe and wait for the opportune moment." His gaze swept the table, landing on Anthonio. "Speaking of young cultivators, Anthonio, when do you plan to return to your exile?"
"This afternoon, Father. I've already made arrangements."
"Good. The family appreciates your attendance, but your presence here... complicates matters. It's better if you continue your training in privacy."
Translation: You're an embarrassment. Go away.
"Of course, Father." Anthonio's voice carried no emotion. He had stopped caring about Marcus's opinion three months ago.
After breakfast, Anthonio returned to his room to collect his minimal belongings. Selene had everything prepared—they could leave within minutes if necessary.
"Young master," she said as he changed into travel clothes, "your family's treatment of you is shameful. You are Duke Marcus's son, regardless of your cultivation level. You deserve basic respect."
"They treat me exactly as I deserve, based on what they can see," Anthonio replied, fastening his travel cloak. "I'm Consolidation 2-Star at age sixteen. By noble standards, that's pathetic. Why should they respect pathetic performance?"
"Because you're family. Because respect should be earned through character, not just power."
"In this world, power is character." Anthonio turned to face her, his expression serious. "That's the fundamental truth of cultivation society. The strong are admired. The weak are dismissed. No amount of philosophical reasoning changes that reality."
He moved to the window, looking out at the estate grounds one last time.
"But in twenty months, I won't be weak anymore. I'll be stronger than any of them. And when they finally see what I've become, when they realize what they dismissed so casually..." His smile was cold. "That's when I'll enjoy reminding them of every insult, every dismissal, every moment they treated me like trash."
"Revenge?" Selene asked softly.
"Justice." Anthonio turned from the window. "Come. We have a long journey ahead, and four months of brutal training waiting for us. I need to achieve Manifestation before the year ends."
They left the Crimsonhart estate without ceremony. No one saw them off. No one cared that the family embarrassment was returning to exile.
Perfect.
As they walked through the Noble Quarter toward the public stables where the Wind Horse waited, Anthonio found his thoughts returning to Kael Stormborn. That handshake. That moment of contact.
The protagonist had no idea he had just met his ultimate enemy. No idea that the weak, forgettable noble he'd shown sympathy to was actually a monster in disguise.
*Divine Essences,* Anthonio thought as they mounted the Wind Horse. *Three blessings from gods who think they control destiny. But I'm the one who wrote this story. I'm the one who knows how it's supposed to end.*
*And I'm going to rewrite that ending entirely.*
The Wind Horse launched into the sky, carrying them away from the capital, away from politics and family drama, back to the isolated Pavilion where his real work could continue.
Anthonio looked back once at the city shrinking behind them. Somewhere down there, Kael Stormborn was probably training, pushing himself to master his Divine Essences, preparing for his destined rise to greatness.
Let him prepare. Let him train. Let him grow stronger.
It would only make the eventual confrontation more satisfying.
*Twenty months,* Anthonio thought, turning his gaze forward to the Crimson Mountains looming on the horizon. *Twenty months until the Royal Academy. Twenty months until I reveal what the exiled trash has become.*
*Twenty months until I steal everything the protagonist thinks the gods promised him.*
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and crimson lightning flickered across Anthonio's eyes.
*The countdown has begun.*
---