The rain had slowed to a fine mist by the time Ethan reached the riverside district.
His shirt was still stiff with drying blood, hidden beneath a zipped-up hoodie he'd grabbed from an unattended laundry rack in a side alley. No one gave him a second glance. In this part of the city, people only stared if you were rich enough to matter.
Riverside Tower rose ahead, a shard of glass and steel cutting into the low clouds. Its mirrored windows caught the river lights and scattered them into the night, turning the building into a vertical strip of stars. Even at this hour, cars slid in and out of the underground parking like quiet shadows.
He'd guarded clients here before. Back then, he'd stood outside the lobby doors in a suit that wasn't quite tailored, earpiece buzzing, eyes scanning for threats while his employer laughed over imported wine upstairs.
He had never walked in as anything other than hired muscle.
Yet the key icon in his vision pulsed brighter the closer he came, hovering over the tower like a beckoning signal.
[Destination: Riverside Micro-Condominium – Unit 1907.]
[Distance: 120 m.]
Every few seconds, a thinner line of text flickered beneath the main prompt—half-formed characters, static, then nothing. He caught fragments:
[Sp… vein… anchor]
[Upper… connec… error]
The System seemed to be wrestling with something he couldn't see. The pale lines he'd glimpsed under the streets back in the alley—like glowing veins—were still there at the edge of his awareness, a faint thrum beneath his feet, as if the city itself had a heartbeat.
He pushed the feeling aside and kept walking.
The lobby doors of Riverside Tower hissed open as he approached, letting out a gust of cool, filtered air. Marble floors gleamed under recessed lighting. A chandelier dripped glass and soft gold light from the high ceiling, reflecting in polished surfaces. The quiet hum of an air conditioner blended with muted piano music.
At the long reception desk, two security guards in matching dark blazers stood behind a console, flanking a young woman with neatly tied hair and a polite smile. Their eyes flicked to Ethan automatically, taking in the cheap jeans, scuffed boots, and faded hoodie.
One of the guards—tall, broad-shouldered, ex-military by his posture—straightened a fraction. Ethan recognized the type immediately. Professional. Alert. Paid to keep people like Ethan out.
"Good evening, sir," the receptionist said, voice professional but edged with caution. "Residents and guests only beyond this point. Do you have a unit number or resident to contact?"
Ethan stopped a few feet from the desk. A part of him wanted to turn around, to accept that this had all been a hallucination and go find a clinic—even if it meant walking into a police report and a hospital bill he couldn't pay.
Instead, he lifted his gaze to the far wall, where a digital directory listed the floors and facilities.
The System responded first.
[Unit 1907 – Registered Owner: Ethan Cole.]
[Ownership: 100%.
Status: Active.]
The letters hovered over the directory for his eyes alone. For a second, his pulse stuttered.
"Unit nineteen-oh-seven," he said quietly. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. "Ethan Cole."
The receptionist's fingers paused over her keyboard. "You're here to visit the owner?"
Ethan met her eyes. "I am the owner."
Silence settled in the lobby like a thin sheet of ice.
The taller guard shifted his weight, already preparing for the usual script: explanation, refusal, removal. Ethan saw the calculations in the man's eyes—wrong clothes, wrong look, wrong income bracket to be speaking that calmly.
Before the guard could step forward, the System chimed inside Ethan's head.
[Query detected: Ownership verification.]
[Initiating legal record synchronization…]
He blinked as a cascade of translucent windows slid into view, stacked like papers on a desk.
[Local Property Registry: Accessing…]
[City Tax Office: Accessing…]
[Financial Networks: Masking anomaly…]
[Synchronization complete.]
[Result: Ethan Cole recognized as legal owner of Riverside Micro-Condominium – Unit 1907 across all mortal-world registries.]
The last line pulsed once, then settled into a steady glow.
Ethan felt a strange tug in his chest, as if invisible threads had stitched him to the building. For a heartbeat, the city's hidden veins surged, and Riverside Tower stood at the center of a faint, luminous web only he could sense.
The receptionist's screen chimed at the same time.
Her eyes widened as she read.
"One moment, Mr. Cole," she said, the formality in her tone suddenly genuine. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "I just… need to confirm something."
She frowned, clicked, then frowned deeper.
The guard leaned closer to peek at her monitor. His eyebrows crept up.
"What is it?" Ethan asked, keeping his voice neutral.
The receptionist looked up at him, confusion and a hint of embarrassment on her face. "I apologize, Mr. Cole. Our system just updated. According to the property registry and internal records, you are indeed the legal owner of Unit 1907."
Ethan exhaled slowly. The part of him trained to expect betrayal still waited for a catch.
"I wasn't… aware of any purchase, but if there's been a mistake—" she began.
"There is no mistake," another voice cut in.
A man in a navy suit approached from a side office—mid-forties, silver at his temples, carrying a tablet. His tie clip bore the stylized logo of the tower's management company. He walked with the confidence of someone paid to smooth over problems before they reached anyone important.
"I just confirmed with the city registry and our corporate server," he said, glancing between the receptionist and Ethan. "Ownership of Unit 1907 was transferred this evening. All taxes and fees paid in full. No flags."
"Transferred from who?" Ethan asked.
He kept his face blank, but his heart picked up speed.
The manager checked his tablet. For a brief instant, a name flashed at the edge of Ethan's vision as the System highlighted it in glowing text before the man even spoke.
[Previous Owner: Vale Urban Investments (Subsidiary of Vale Group).]
The manager read aloud a sanitized version. "From a holding under a larger investment firm." He smiled politely. "You've been very fortunate, Mr. Cole. This unit was… quite desirable."
Ethan's fingers curled at his sides.
Marcus.
The man had tried to kill him and somehow, right after, the System had peeled a slice of the man's empire away and dropped it at Ethan's feet—with legal paperwork attached.
"I see," Ethan said.
The manager misread his tone as polite detachment. "If this was unexpected, perhaps a relative or benefactor arranged it? We sometimes see that with—"
"It's fine," Ethan said. "Can I go up?"
"Of course." The manager straightened, professional smile returning. "Ms. Lin, please issue Mr. Cole a resident keycard immediately. We'll schedule a formal orientation another day, if that's acceptable."
The receptionist—Ms. Lin—nodded quickly, already reaching for a blank card. She slid it into a small slot on her console and tapped a series of commands.
As she worked, the taller guard studied Ethan with new wariness. Not the disdain reserved for street trash, but the wary respect given to someone whose background suddenly climbed several zeroes.
"Security will need your biometric confirmation, Mr. Cole," the manager said. "Fingerprint and a quick photo for the system, if you don't mind."
Ethan hesitated. Years of working around surveillance and black operations had drilled in one lesson: avoid leaving traces you didn't control.
The System hummed.
[Biometric registration opportunity detected.]
[Recommendation: Proceed.
Note: Urban Sovereign System will overwrite and mask sensitive data if external tampering is detected.]
A small line of text flickered under that, barely readable.
[Local data will be integrated into Host's Urban Domain at higher tiers.]
He didn't fully understand that, but the reassurance was enough. He'd already stepped so far past normal that worrying about a lobby camera felt almost nostalgic.
"Go ahead," he said.
Ms. Lin turned a tablet toward him. "If you could just place your thumb here…"
He did. The screen glowed, then chimed.
"Photo," she added, lifting a small camera. "Just look straight ahead."
He did that too.
Within seconds, his name appeared on a small monitor behind the desk, next to a blank silhouette and the unit number 1907. Ms. Lin handed him the keycard with both hands, her expression now politely respectful.
"Welcome to Riverside Tower, Mr. Cole."
The words sounded like a formality, but something in the way the lobby lights reflected in the marble made them feel heavier. As if the building itself had acknowledged him.
He took the card. It was heavier than it looked, cool to the touch. When his fingers closed around it, the System chimed again.
[First Property Bound: Riverside Micro-Condominium – Unit 1907.]
[Establishing Safe Zone…]
A faint warmth spread from the card up his arm, settling in his chest.
[Safe Zone (Level 1) created.
Effects within designated area:
– Enhanced recovery speed (minor).
– External spiritual interference reduced.
– Mortal surveillance systems less likely to detect anomalies.]
Spiritual interference.
The phrase tugged at a memory: the glowing veins beneath the city, the flicker of incomprehensible text about a "Upper Realm connection" when he'd been on the ground, bleeding.
He followed the manager toward the elevator bank, boots quiet on the pristine floor.
"Do you require assistance moving in tonight?" the man asked. "We have staff who can—"
"No," Ethan said. "Just the key."
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The manager stepped back, gesturing for Ethan to enter first.
"Very well. If you need anything, just dial zero from your unit phone."
Ethan nodded and stepped inside. As the doors closed, he caught the faint reflection of himself in the polished metal—hoodie, blood-stiff shadows around the hem, eyes darker than he remembered.
The elevator hummed upward.
Floor numbers blinked by: 3, 7, 10, 15.
He felt the city's hidden veins again, stronger now. Each floor passed through faint currents of invisible energy, like moving up through layers of water in a deep ocean. Somewhere below, the streets and alleys hummed. Somewhere above, a thin whisper of something else brushed the edge of his awareness—colder, cleaner, like air at the top of a mountain he'd never climbed.
[Note: Spiritual density slightly higher at altitudes above 50 m in this district.]
[Potential: Minor cultivation point.]
Cultivation.
The word appeared without explanation, then vanished. He filed it away.
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened onto a quiet hallway softened by thick carpet and warm lighting. Abstract paintings hung between doors; discreet cameras nestled in the corners. Everything smelled faintly of lemon polish and money.
"1901… 1903…" Ethan murmured, glancing at the silver numbers beside each door as he moved down the corridor.
"1907."
He stopped.
The door was like the others—smooth wood, a digital lock panel, a discreet peephole. Nothing about it screamed that it belonged to him now. Nothing about it looked like someone had tried to murder him two hours ago in a different part of town.
He raised the keycard.
The lock beeped. A tiny green light flickered.
The door clicked open.
As he pushed it inward, the System spoke, the voice quieter than before, as if even it respected the threshold.
「Welcome to your first urban node, Host.
Riverside Micro-Condominium – Unit 1907 is now designated as your Primary Safe Zone.
Multiple functions remain locked until further development.
Would you like to initiate an interior scan and bind this location fully to your Urban Meridian Path?」
Ethan stepped inside.
Soft light flicked on automatically, revealing a compact but elegant space: a small entryway, open-plan living area, kitchenette with dark countertops, a balcony window overlooking the river, a narrow hallway leading to a bedroom and bathroom.
No personal belongings. No clutter. It was a model room waiting for a life to be poured into it.
He could still smell the faint trace of cleaning chemicals and new paint.
On the far wall, beyond the glass, the river slid by in the night, its surface broken by reflections of other towers. The city stretched beyond, a grid of light and shadow. The sight pressed against his chest, and for a moment, he felt both very small and strangely… central.
This should not be mine, he thought.
But the door had opened. The records said his name. The System had woven itself into the legal framework of the mortal world, rewriting reality with the same casual efficiency Marcus used on contracts and lives.
He closed the door behind him with a soft click.
"Scan it," he said.
The System's response was immediate.
[Initiating interior scan…]
A faint whisper rolled through the room, like a breeze made of static. For a second, the outline of everything sharpened—the corners of the ceiling, the grain in the wood, the wiring behind the walls—as if someone had traced luminous lines around them.
[Urban Node Bound: Unit 1907.]
[Minor spiritual vein detected beneath building foundation.]
[Hidden Effect activated: Spiritual Vein Resonance (Dormant → Weak).]
The invisible veins he'd sensed earlier pulsed in answering rhythm beneath the floor. It felt like standing on the shallow end of something deep and ancient that had been paved over with concrete and luxury apartments.
[Note: This location can serve as a cultivation point once Host reaches Tier 1 – Mortal Awakening.]
"Cultivation," he repeated under his breath. "Tier… what?"
The System obliged.
[Abridged Progression Path – Urban Meridian Route:]
[1 – Mortal Awakening]
[2 – Vein Refinement]
[3 – Organ Tempering]
…
The rest of the ladder blurred out, as if behind fog.
[Higher tiers unavailable for display at current authority level.]
He exhaled slowly, letting the information settle rather than trying to swallow it all at once.
First, he had been left for dead in an alley. Then, a voice in his head had patched him up, handed him an apartment carved out of his would-be killer's empire, and started talking about "tiers" and "cultivation."
Now, the city itself seemed to have veins as real as any body, and his new home sat on one of them like a lodestone.
He walked to the balcony window and rested his palm against the cool glass.
Below, cars slid along the riverside road, their headlights tracing pale lines. Streetlights cast overlapping circles of light, echoing the faint, glowing web he could feel under the asphalt.
"If this is real," he murmured, "then this city isn't just streets and buildings."
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw it: the city as a dim, sprawling shape, threaded with thin streams of light. Some bright. Some nearly dead. Nodes where lines met, flaring like stars. He felt his new apartment as a tiny new spark in that network, freshly lit.
「You are correct, Host.」
The System's voice sounded closer than ever, as if it were standing beside him, looking out at the same view.
「This city is a body.
Streets are veins.
Buildings are organs.
People are circulating energy.
Those who understand this… cultivate it.
Those who do not… serve those who do.」
Ethan opened his eyes.
In the reflection on the glass, he saw his own face, pale and tired, but alive. Behind it, a faint web of light overlaid the city, there and gone in a blink.
"And you want me to be what?" he asked. "Its doctor? Its parasite?"
A pause.
「Its Sovereign.」
The word settled in the room like a quiet verdict.
He thought of Marcus. Of the hidden owners of towers like this, who moved money and people as if they were pieces on a board. Of rumors about old families who never fell, no matter how many scandals they were dragged through.
Now, something far older than any CEO had reached down and offered him a place on that board—along with a new set of rules no one else seemed to know.
He let his hand fall from the glass.
"Then we start here," he said softly.
His voice sounded different in the empty room. Less like a man waiting for someone to give him orders, more like someone considering his own.
"Show me how to wake up."