Stella sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor of her cultivation chamber, a faint scent of lavender curling in the air.
The walls, carved from pure wood, glowed warmly in the light of the floating spirit orbs around her.
Each orb pulsed gently, echoing the rhythm of her breathing as she refined the energy within her dantian.
Her straight, white hair flowed down her back, smooth and soft, brushing against her petite frame as she continued cultivating like usual.
Her hazel eyes, tinged with crimson like a dying ember, reflected the faint shine of the Sun itself. Pale, flawless skin stretched across delicate features, and even in the stillness of her practice, she oozed a kind of quiet, unshakable beauty that seemed…otherworldly~
The energy in the room shifted all of a sudden as a figure in black materialized beside her in a swirl of crimson flames.
Stella didn't flinch, she didn't even turn her head fully as Almond appeared inside the room, his expression blank.
"Did you give it to him?" She asked in her usual, honey like tone.
"Yes." The voice was deep, smooth, tinged with confidence.
Almond stood there, still in his black suit, the folds of his fabric catching the soft glow of her orbs as he ruffled his crimson hair.
He was five-foot-ten, fair-skinned and definitely the kind which would make the girls go head over heels for.
But Stella treated the poor man like a fucking robot, or so he thought.
The girl exhaled softly, letting the sound slide through the quiet room as if it carried all her thoughts.
"I wonder," she said, her tone neutral but tinged with curiosity, "what our parents could have left for him. Really, I wish they'd left a note for me too. Just…something."
Almond's eyes blinked, just slightly, betraying the faintest expression that appeared on his face.
Ever since she was small, the man had to walk tip toes around her.
He had never understood how she had everyone fooled into believing that she was just a sweet little girl.
Perhaps it was the years of living as her shadow, but he knew she was the worse of the Mortlehymes.
She not only had the brains of their father but also the brawn's of his mother.
All this and he still couldn't read the quiet strength under her delicate frame.
Stella's gaze didn't waver from the orbs spinning around her. She continued coldly, with her usual perky attitude, "I can imagine it's nothing small. Something worth everything they ever had. Honestly…after all he's been through, he deserves it."
Almond hesitated, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He knew that she was way more mature than the kids her age, but it was only because the circumstances had made her become so.
While the eldest son of the family had rotted away in sadness and depression, their youngest daughter had only strengthened her will more and become the life support for the both of them.
Omen, as well as Almond.
Not many people knew, but although Almond was supposed to be Stella's shadow guard, he had been raised by her father almost like her very own son. That is also the reason Almond calls their parents as father himself.
He couldn't help but ask the unnecessarily pretty girl in front of him with uncertainty, almost scared as he questioned:
"Why haven't you told your brother…that you awakened an attribute, even without the help of a Heaven Stone?"
The petite girl's lips curved into a small, sly smile, eyes glittering as she looked straight into Almonds crimson eyes. Her voice was sweet but it carried a tone of mischief, of secrets kept too close to her chest.
"It's a surprise."
***
Back in the darkened plain, Omen flipped another page of the Reverse Cultivation Sutra, his hands trembling slightly as he traced the faded, stitched lettering.
The white horse, Agnus as Omen named it stamped the ground impatiently, its blue-flamed eyes flicking between Omen and the words, as if urging him to read faster.
Omen's voice barely rose above a whisper. "So the story about the Ancient Cultivators being the original inhabitants of Earth…they weren't just myths.
They were…real?
And they…they actually found ways to fight back, even against the gods?"
Omen was sitting silently beside the white horse in a cross legged position as he continued reading the book.
The boy still didn't know where he was but had a feeling that this book would definitely help him.
"This act angered the 7 original dieties and they stripped the race off their powers, banished them to a weak and mortal plane and chained them for an eternity."
"NEEIRGHHHH" Agnus scurried its head closer to him, peaking into the text as if it could read, making the boy laugh.
In between all this, Omen realized were notes scratched here and there, the first one he noticed had named this the first cultivation method known as the pure cultivation followed by the mixed cultivation researched by them humans from the ancients texts scavenged from the dead Ancient cultivators in the ongoing war.
The 18 year old boy was well aware about the world's situation along with the fact that these ancient cultivators talked about in the book had already found methods to slowly break free from their punishments and fight back to reclaim Earth.
Omen's eyes turned into pinholes as he realized the gravity of the situation, he knew that everyone on Earth believed that these Ancient Cultivators were enemies, but he wondered what they would think if they knew the truth.
He turned another page.
The scribbles in the margins weren't just notes, they were warnings, clarifications, and tiny glimpses into the mind of someone who had once stood where he now sat.
A crude diagram, etched in jagged lines, almost like it had been carved with desperation made him widen his eyes.
It showed a hollow skull, with half the shape of a crown embedded atop its head. Beneath it were notes written in a tiny, meticulous script.
Omen froze, that was the skull. His skull. The one he had received from his parents, the one that had drawn him into this place.
"The user's intent directs the flow. Imagine the world you wish to return to. The mind shapes the path. Cling, and it shall lead you home."
Omen's hands shook as he looked at Agnus. The white horse, flames flickering softly along its mane, blinked at him knowingly, almost impatiently, as if it understood the moment better than he did.
He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured his room. The stale smell of milk and cereal, the blue sofa.
Stella would hum quietly in the kitchen, with Almond always hiding inside her shadows.
Slowly, trembling fingers reached for the skull tucked against his bag. The weight was heavier than he expected, almost unnatural, as if it carried not just bone, but the history of everyone who had ever touched it.
He gripped it tightly, focusing every ounce of his mind. "Back. Back. I want to go back."
Omen's jaw tightened, fear and determination running inside of him. He could run from this world…or he could embrace it, use it, and maybe even wield it.
His dantian had been broken. The heavens had abandoned him. But he wasn't done yet.
"Take me back…" the boy whispered, more to himself than anyone else as his surroundings started to fade like a washed up painting.
And then, the ground beneath him finally disappeared again.
Omen felt nothing, only the skull in his hands, and the single thought that refused to leave: Back to where I belong. Back to her.
Back to my life.
The line written in the small piece of paper again appeared inside his mind.
"He who feeds shall be fed upon."
Omen willed and a small, inconspicuous book appeared beside him.
It read: The Reverse Cultivation Sutra
"This time…" Omen muttered, feeling the blood rushing inside his veins after years of self blame.
"…this time, I choose to feed."
***