Eren was an orphan. He’d expected that. His last memories before he reincarnated was the image of his parents bleeding out on the streets, curling themselves over his body to protect him from the burning wreck of their car.
They were dead before he died. A harrowing experience for the young boy he was before. But he’d made his peace with it long ago.
It wasn’t pretty, healing from that kind of trauma. He almost got thrown out of the Palatine of Wisdom because of it.
And he suspected it’s also the reason why his second parents abandoned him. They’d probably felt the resentment he had for them.
They probably saw how he hated them for birthing him, for saving him from his true fate with his true parents.
It didn’t matter now. It was so long ago he felt like a different person. He was a different person.
He didn’t need a prominent family to back him up. He didn’t need the United Governments to save him either. He had everything he needed in his mind.
This Ascension Art... he felt repulsed holding it now. Such a substandard technique. It was like giving someone a bow and arrow in the middle of a war using machine guns.
He’d probably smack my head for thinking such things.
He’d been taught to cherish all techniques, all knowledge. And when he lived as a scholar, he understood that. He lived by it.
But now, he was no scholar. He had a chance to do what he couldn’t.
He could reach the peak. Become the pinnacle, for once.
He’d be able to reach places he’d only seen before.
Using the knowledge he had in his mind, he’d fix his body. Turn this gaunt physique into something worthy to be called venerable.
And then, he’d find a way to return home and find the truth about what happened... why they’re gone.
He noticed the discrepancies. Earth had Ræzoň and Ascension Arts, but no cultivators.
Something must have happened there after he returned to Earth. Otherwise, those monsters, those Phantoms, wouldn’t roam free in this world. Cultivators would have turned them into precious materials, turned them from a threat to a form of entertainment.
He’d once seen them breed a monster that could destroy worlds just so that they could have someone to spar with.
And Earth? They would have found this place too interesting to leave behind.
They were gone. That’s the only explanation. Off to some place somewhere doing heaven knows what.
His greatest clue came from Dr. Reid’s admission of where they got those scrolls.
They found it inside the ruins of an ancient civilization, she said. Now whether that civilization was part of the world he’d been in before was a question for another time.
But one thing was for sure. That civilization was the key to finding the truth.
And he was going to find the answers—no matter what it takes.
>>>
>>>
>>>
Dr. Reid left his room soon after. She told him to sleep and recover for a few weeks. Prescribed him some more medicine while his body acclimated back to normal activity.
She pleaded with him to forgo trying to practice the Ascension Arts for now. He acquiesced. He wasn’t planning on cultivating the [Art of Volcanic Mantra] anyway. And even if he did, his body wouldn’t be able to take it. Not yet.
What he needed to do now was build his body back from nothing. At this point, he was worse than a baby. An infant’s natural vigor allowed them to gather Ræzoň in their body. He didn’t have such luxury.
According to Dr. Reid’s estimates, it would take him approximately 6 months for him to stand up straight without help, and another 12 months for him to walk without crutches.
She assured him this was the fastest timeframe for his recovery. She’d be using her Psionic Arts to enhance his rehabilitation, after all.
But Eren knew a better way. A faster way.
He didn’t have to be a cultivator to use Ræzoň to recover from near death.
...
...
...
Long ago, there was a story of a man who broke his body trying to rescue a princess from an unfathomably tall tower.
He was a mere mortal, not a cultivator. His first fall broke his arm. His next, his legs. By the third fall, he broke his spine and was unable to even raise his head to peer up at his lover.
Legends had it that for forty days and forty nights, the man sang his love for the princess, even as his voice turned hoarse and as the vultures picked apart his dying body.
By the forty-first day, the heavens took pity on him. They created Ræzoň.
But what was he to do? The man was a mortal. He was not a cultivator. No one yet knew how to wield the universe’s power.
The solution was simple. He asked them.
’How can I reach my lover?’ the man pleaded.
And surprisingly, Ræzoň replied. They offered to fix his broken body and bring him unfathomable strength to scale the unfathomably tall tower.
In exchange, the man must show his devotion and passion to his goal.
And so, he did. Ræzoň fixed his body and the man scaled the tower for the fourth time. And yet, the man fell again. The tower was simply too tall. Utterly unscalable.
’I thought you could help me reach my lover,’ the man questioned Ræzoň.
And they replied. ’Do you want to climb the tower, or do you want to reach your lover?’
The man couldn’t speak. He’d been so focused on climbing the tower that he completely forgot about his true goal.
And so, emboldened by this realization, the man closed his eyes.
He focused on his passion and devotion, not for climbing the tower, but for reaching his princess.
And as he opened his eyes, he found himself atop the tower standing face to face with his lover.
...
...
...
That story reminded Eren of the power of passion and devotion. To be so dedicated to something that your goal would materialize in front of you, defying all laws of physics.
It was already deep in the night. Eren was alone. Naeve visited his room a while ago and told him the night shift nurses wouldn’t come for another three hours.
He then took the patches of the Psionic Talent Assessment machine and put it on his temples.
There was one aspect of cultivation they didn’t have here on Earth.
The talent of the mind.
A switch flicked, and the lightbulbs began blazing brightly. One, two, three... all the way to the tenth lightbulb.