General Arthur Zhang kept his eyes closed, the rhythmic hum of the armored limousine providing a backdrop to his silent calculations. Beside him, Ethan Ye remained motionless. He watched the rugged mountain landscape whip past the window, his expression as unreadable as the dark glass.
An hour later, the vehicle slowed, passing through a series of heavy-duty checkpoints before descending into a subterranean base carved into the heart of the granite peaks.
Ethan was led into a high-security chamber. It wasn't an interrogation room; it was a makeshift theater of war. The walls were cold, silver-white alloy, and the furniture was sparse—just a reinforced table and two chairs. However, the flickering red status lights and the array of high-fidelity recording equipment meant one thing: this conversation was being broadcasted live to the highest levels of the Republic's leadership.
General Zhang removed his cap, placing it on the table. He leaned in, his sharp gaze—honed by decades of command—locking onto Ethan's eyes.
"Ethan," the General began, his voice gravelly and direct. "Last night, the Prime Minister experienced a... phenomenon. A vision of a man claiming he could provide a foundation for ten thousand generations of our people. Was that your doing?"
Ethan nodded, his tone alarmingly frank. "I used a specific proximity trigger within the dream-state to get his attention. I needed to ensure I wasn't talking to a middleman."
Despite his mental preparation, hearing Ethan admit to such supernatural capabilities made Zhang's hand tighten around his glass of water. A storm of implications raged in his mind, but he suppressed it. He was a soldier; he dealt in results.
"Then let's skip the pleasantries. What exactly is this 'path to prosperity' you promised?"
Ethan leaned forward, clasping his hands on the alloy table. "Three days ago, a world awakened in my mind."
The General raised an eyebrow, but Ethan continued.
"It is vast, practically infinite. Its resources—timber, minerals, water—are inexhaustible. They don't just exist; they regenerate. But more importantly, that world houses a Gateway."
Ethan's gaze darkened. "A portal that connects to other realms. I've stepped through. I've seen what lies on the other side. They are real, physical places. But..." Ethan gave a small, helpless shrug. "I'm only one man. In those realms, I'm weak. I've died more times than I can count."
"An awakened world? Infinite resources? Constant death?" Zhang frowned. The words were English, but the concept was alien. "Ethan, this sounds like a sci-fi script. We need empirical proof before we commit the Republic's resources."
"Proof? That's the easy part."
Ethan didn't reach for a gadget or a remote. He simply lifted his right hand and gave a casual, dismissive wave toward the empty corner of the room.
Whoosh.
Without a sound, the space was no longer empty. A massive, perfect stack of grey stone cubes materialized instantly, filling the corner to the ceiling.
They weren't jagged rocks. They were perfectly uniform, sharp-edged cubes with a strange, pixelated texture—as if they had been rendered by a supercomputer and 3D-printed at a molecular level.
General Zhang bolted upright, his chair clattering to the floor. He stared at the monolith of stone. "Spatial displacement? Matter fabrication?"
Before he could process it, Ethan waved his hand again.
Swish.
The grey stone flickered and transformed. The color bled into a deep, oily black. Immediately, the heavy, pungent scent of high-grade anthracite filled the room.
"The most basic building blocks of that world," Ethan said calmly, pointing to the black cubes. "Cobblestone and Coal Blocks. In my world, matter obeys my intent instantly. General, do you believe me now?"
Zhang walked to the pile, his trembling fingers brushing the cold, unnaturally smooth surface of a Coal Block. It was a perfect 90-degree angle. No tool on Earth could cut raw coal this precisely without it crumbling.
To a military man, this wasn't just "blocks." This was a logistical miracle. This was fuel, fortification, and raw material, provided instantly and without a supply chain.
After a long silence, Zhang took a ragged breath and forced himself back into his seat. His eyes burned with a new, feverish intensity.
"Fine. I accept the reality of your 'Magic World.' But you mentioned dying. If you are a god in that world, how are you losing?"
Ethan's expression turned bitter.
"The creatures of that world—Zombies, Skeletons, Iron Golems—they're mindless. Think of them as biological hardware without software. They wander. They bump into walls. They fight each other."
Ethan let out a frustrated sigh, thinking back on his first three days. He had expected to be a God-King, crafting nuclear reactors and dragon-scale armor. Instead, he found himself stuck with "Vanilla" rules. No high-tech mods. No industrial machinery. Just wooden swords, primitive bows, and redstone circuits that were only good for sorting gravel.
Every time he tried to explore a portal to another dimension, he'd get slaughtered by whatever lived there because he couldn't control his "army."
"I discovered a limitation," Ethan explained, leaning in. "I can project my consciousness into these creatures. I can make a single Zombie move like a Tier-1 Operator. But I only have one mind. I can't lead a legion by myself. I can't hold a front line against ten thousand enemies while I'm trying to scout the rear."
Ethan stated his ultimate objective.
"That is why I came to you. I have the hardware—immortal biological carriers that can be revived infinitely. I have the world and the resources. But I lack the 'souls' and the tactical equipment to make them effective."
He looked Zhang dead in the eye.
"The Republic has the finest soldiers in the world—men and women with iron discipline and elite tactical training. You have the military-industrial complex to arm them. I provide the bodies and the gateway; the Republic provides the minds and the weapons."
Ethan's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Together, we won't just protect our borders. We will harvest the Myriad Worlds."