It was already 5:30 when Sorata set out.
Even taking the shortest route from Sakurasou to the station required ten minutes, passing straight through Red Brick Shopping Street.
The world’s technology had only just entered the era of early smartphones.
On both sides of Red Brick Street stood shops styled like the 80s, steeped in retro charm.
Sorata had grown up here since childhood.
The moment he stepped onto the street, shopkeepers on both sides greeted him one after another-fishmongers, vegetable vendors, familiar faces all around.
By the time he reached the end of the long street, an auntie had pressed a croquette into his hands.
Eating as he walked, Sorata arrived at the station ahead of time.
The station was called Geidai-mae.
Even after getting off there, it still took more than ten minutes on foot to reach Suimei University of the Arts.
There was only one ticket gate; residents on the opposite side had to cross a level crossing if they wanted to circle around and catch a train.
Seeing he was early, Sorata leaned lazily against the circular iron fence outside the ticket gate and began sorting through his thoughts.
Though he appeared listless, a part of his attention remained on his surroundings so he wouldn’t miss the person he was meant to pick up.
After all, he knew the photo Sengoku Chihiro had given him was indeed a “fake.”
As he waited, his mood stayed calm.
Even though, according to the plot, Shiina-who would soon appear-would become his girlfriend in the future, his heart remained unmoved.
He was no longer who he once was.
How could he, like an ordinary high school boy, feel flustered at the sight of beauty?
He had seen peerless immortals, light elf queens sculpted as if by the Creator’s own hand, saintesses from sacred cultivation lands, and goddesses beyond mortal comprehension.
“The quality of this body is average. Its physical strength is about the same as a normal high schooler’s. But my mental strength should be roughly three times that of an ordinary person, thanks to the stimulation from the awakening of the True Spirit.”
“There’s faint energy drifting between heaven and earth. I suspect there are supernatural forces hidden beneath this world’s surface. But the cultivation environment is too poor. Even if such forces exist, they shouldn’t be very strong.”
“However, that same harsh environment also restricts my recovery. I tried several immortal-martial and immortal-cultivation techniques earlier. They can be practiced, but the results are far below expectations.”
“Even relying on the several Law grade-level techniques I possess, it would likely take around ten years to reach the peak of the supernatural stage-let alone ascend to the immortal-god level.”
Since waking up, Sorata had been organizing his memories while observing the surrounding environment.
He had even tested a few powerful cultivation methods while chatting with Misaki.
Now his concern lay in choosing a cultivation path.
Whether due to external conditions or internal habit, he disliked the feeling of being powerless.
Sakura nation’s modern society seemed peaceful on the surface, yet every year many still died from earthquakes, tsunamis, and car accidents-not to mention the unknown forces that might lurk beneath.
He had no intention of being hit by a drunk driver or running into a ghost and being dragged into trouble.
That would be absurd.
So he was already considering how to regain enough strength to protect himself from accidents or supernatural incidents.
“This environment isn’t suitable for elemental meditation either… It seems I’ll have to return to my old method.”
After weighing his options, Sorata chose the path he knew best-surpassing the mundane through bloodline power.
Having once reached the peak through bloodline evolution, he had already understood its underlying principles.
He could condense bloodlines from memory and imprint them anew.
“Which bloodline suits my current situation? It must ignore environmental restrictions and world laws, allow rapid growth, and not cap my future potential.”
“Witch Tribe bloodline? No. The spiritual energy here is too thin. I can’t even condense the lowest-level Witch Tribe mark, and there’s no innate baleful aura to accelerate growth.”
He dismissed several Heaven grade-level bloodlines in succession.
“How about the Starry Sky Titan? After fusion, it strengthens by absorbing endless star power. A juvenile Titan stands ten thousand meters tall and already rivals an ordinary deity.”
“But condensing the Titan bloodline requires Star Essence Gold as a guide, and compatibility with human blood is low.” Sorata frowned and rejected the idea.
“Speaking of absorbing star power…”
A faint smile appeared as he glanced at the sparse crowd near the platform.
“I remember the Kryptonian bloodline-Superman. It possesses infinite evolutionary potential. Before absorbing yellow sunlight, an ordinary Kryptonian is indistinguishable from a normal human. The requirements for condensing its mark are low.”
“Additionally, Kryptonian genes are over ninety percent similar to human genes. Fusion should be smooth, and the process of turning the bloodline from illusory to real should be fast.”
The Kryptonian bloodline was peculiar.
At its peak stood Golden Superman or even the Thought Robot with multiversal power.
At its lowest, it was no different from an ordinary human.
When his strength had once neared its summit, Sorata had traveled to the DC Universe and met a Golden Superman who had remained within a supergiant star for untold ages.
That being could shatter galaxies with a single punch, freeze time with a thought, and extinguish stars with a breath.
Even when Sorata unleashed his hidden strength, they had only fought to a draw.
In the end, to obtain a drop of that being’s essence blood for research, Sorata had paid a considerable price to strike a deal.
With that memory, he decided.
The Superman bloodline would serve as his early-stage foundation.
His true body had once fused with Golden Superman’s essence blood, so he was already familiar with its structure.
As for weaknesses like Kryptonite or poor magic resistance in the early stages, he had ways to handle those.
Just as he finalized his decision, a train pulled into the station.
Spring break meant only a few passengers disembarked, drifting out in small groups.
While scanning the crowd, Sorata noticed a familiar face.
The other person spotted him as well and walked over with a surprised look.
“What are you doing here? Waiting for me?”
Mitaka Jin laughed before shaking his head himself.
“No, that can’t be.”
Jin lived in Room 103 of Sakurasou and was a third-year student in Suimei High’s general department.
Known as the “king of staying out,” he spent six nights a week rotating among the homes of women he dated.
He stood nearly 1.8 meters tall-impressive by Sakura nation standards-with a slender build.
His tea-colored medium-short hair and neatly designed glasses gave him an intellectual air.
His demeanor was gentle and refined.
“What are you holding? Smells good.” Jin leaned closer, peering into Sorata’s bag with boyish curiosity.
“Oh. An auntie on Red Brick Street gave me a croquette.” Sorata handed him the remaining piece without ceremony.
“Thanks. I only had breakfast today.” Jin accepted it readily and took a big bite.
“Eh, not bad at all. You’re amazing, Sorata-just walking by and someone gives you something this good. Enviable.”
Sorata smiled faintly.
“How could that compare to Jin senpai? You could probably make someone pregnant just by walking down the street.”
“Hey, hey! Don’t slander me. I use protection.”
“You don’t need to explain that to me. Tell Misaki-senpai instead. And maybe consider the public setting?” Sorata gestured toward nearby pedestrians casting suspicious glances.
Jin cleared his throat.
“So… where’s this croquette from?”
“Bakery in the middle of Red Brick Street. If Auntie Saga knew you praised it, she’d be delighted.”
After finishing the croquette, Jin asked, “If you’re not waiting for me, what are you doing here?”
Sorata pulled out the photo.
“What a cute little girl,” Jin said.
“She is.”
“Your sister?”
“No.”
“No? Don’t tell me-Sorata, it’s not too late to turn yourself in.”
“As expected of a scriptwriter, Jin senpai. Your imagination is impressive. She’s someone Chihiro Sensei asked me to pick up.”
The two exchanged banter back and forth.
Just then, a black taxi pulled into the stand a few meters away.
The rear door opened.
A girl wearing Suimei High’s uniform stepped out.