As the teleporter faded, Asterius realized he was no longer in the wild, magical forest full of monsters.
Instead, he stood in a shining building—the Federation Teleportation Hub.
The air felt clean and artificial.
Tall, smooth pillars reached up to a ceiling covered with holographic moving pictures advertising strange things like braille helpers and floating scooters.
The floor was made of polished fake stone.
People rushed around in sleek, modern clothes, looking at screens on their wrists.
It was noisy and busy—a world far away from the quiet, ancient forest.
“Wow, amazing…” Asterius muttered under his breath.
Captivated and enamored by the sight before him, a new world opened up.
Ceres’s words echoed in his mind.
He stood motionlessly for a while, taking everything in: the floating screens, glowing letters, and people in strange getups he had never seen before.
He had seen them in Ceres memories, but laying eyes on them firsthand was a completely different experience.
He finally came out of his trance and started surveying the crowd, searching for something.
Then he found it: glowing green arrows stating, “Public Transit.” According to Aries’s memories, they were supposed to lead him to a vehicle that would take him home.
He followed the arrows.
He walked for a while, nudging his way through a host of crowds.
Strangely indeed, some in modern clothing, some also in old armor, carrying swords and other medieval weapons like daggers, whips, harpoons, tridents, and so on.
Some were waiting in groups, others alone minding their own business.
Later, he came across an escalator and boarded it, transporting him underground to the train station.
The air here felt warmer and smelt like electricity and oil.
A long, silver train slipped silently into its platform.
The train came to a stop, and its automatic doors slid open, allowing passengers to alight.
Asterius stared on for a while but walked intrepidly into the train, finding a vacant seat by the window.
News played on the TV, and trivial conversations were being made.
Ten minutes later, the train kicked into motion, moving smoothly and fast, gliding on a track above the city streets.
Asterius looked out through the window at the city—giant buildings like mountains made up of metals and glass stretched high into the sky.
Some had gardens growing up their sides.
Small hover cars zipped between the buildings on skyroads.
Below the streets were full of hover cars and regular vehicles.
Strange, moving holographic pictures covered buildings, showing news ads for body upgrade techs and shows.
Bright signboards from various shops also flashed: Agatha Buyers, Tech Repairs, Starlight Lounge.
The city was huge, large, and full of energy.
Asterius felt lost, alone, it was certainly home,but not his.
After about twenty minutes, the train went down to ground level.
The beautiful, tall buildings were silently replaced by smaller, older apartments and blocks slumped together like beehives.
This was District 7, the past.
The train slipped into Haven Station and came to a stop.
Asterius knew that it was time to alight.
He muttered something under his breath and sighed.
He then stepped out from the train into a busy square.
The air smelt like spoiled food, fabric, and metal from nearby recycling plants.
He walked unhurriedly down the streets, which looked familiar but at the same time not, the sort of remembered imagery connected to Ceres memories.
He passed Mama Li’s noodle shop (steamy windows, always busy), Arlo’s Gadgets (windows filled with old tech parts), and big, protocol-built shops with plants growing under purple light.
He turned onto Sycamore Lane, a quiet street with connected houses, each having their own mini-porches, and passed some familiar—unfamiliar houses—family friends, according to his memories.
He moved past Ms.
Gobble’s house; her porch was a mini-jungle.
Cho fixed flying masts in his garage, and one could even make out the sound of tools clanking and a woman yelling—his wife.
Mrs.
Cho worked at the local clinic.
Silas, a big, quiet man across the street.
Rumors say he used to be a soldier who fought on the frontlines against the Nox but retired because of injuries.
At the sight of this man, Asterius narrowed his eyes.
“The rumors were probably true; he’s dangerous”, Asterius muttered after sensing an overbearing bloody scent spilling out from his body.
One characteristic of battle-seasoned warriors.
Even though he tried to suppress it, it couldn’t escape the senses of an old monster like Asterius—someone who had fought and exterminated races and almost stepped into Godhood in his past life!
As if sensing Asterius’s gaze, he met his eyes with his own.
One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture, a pale-blue eye with a feline slit; the right eye, a deeper shade of blue with a sword-like scar across it.
They stared at each other for about three seconds.
Then Asterius retracted his gaze and silently walked away.
Behind him, Silas stopped for a moment and glanced at his retreating back.”Isn’t that Aaron’s boy?
He seemed to have undergone some subtle changes…
or was I mistaking?…
Interesting…”
Asterius finally reached number 25, a two-story building with blue faded panels.
A small patch of real grass struggled in the front yard, edged with smooth pebbles.
The windows were clean and sturdy.
Asterius took a deep breath.
He felt a little uneasy.
“Well, I guess it’s that time.
Now or never.”
Asterius knocked on the door.
One…
two…
three…
creeeaaak!
He twisted the door knob.
Warm, familiar scents enveloped him the moment he crossed the threshold—the crisp tang of cleaning supplies, fresh baking, and the unmistakable, grounding aroma of home.
“…Ceres?!
Is that you?
Oh, thank goodness!”
A frantic, breathless voice echoed from the kitchen.
Elara, Ceres’s mother, hurried into the living room.
Standing roughly 1.7 meters tall, with flowing black hair framing a kind face worn thin by worry, she wore a simple house dress.
The moment her eyes landed on him, her immense relief instantly hardened into fierce, maternal fury.
“Look at you!
You’re filthy and half-starved!
Didn’t I tell you to eat properly in that awful forest?!
What were you thinking, vanishing for weeks?!” She rushed him, her arms flailing in a chaotic blur, seemingly torn between throttling him and pulling him into a tight embrace.
Her words cut like glass, but beneath them lay pure, unadulterated love.
Asterius froze.
A heavy guilt settled in his chest; he felt like a thief, absorbing affection meant for Ceres, her actual son.
“Chill, Mom.
He’s back.
Stop yelling,” a calm, slightly bored voice drawled from the sofa.
She lounged casually, her sharp eyes fixed on a glowing holographic display hovering over her smartwatch, which spun with lines of code for some advertisement only she understood.
She didn’t look up immediately, maintaining a carefully crafted mask of indifference.
“…Told you he was too stiff to get eaten by those smelly monsters.”
Yet, Asterius noticed her shoulders drop just a fraction.
When she finally glanced up, a flash of profound relief pierced her beautiful eyes before she quickly snapped her attention back to the screen.
“Your shoes are filthy.
Don’t go dragging mud through the house.”
Asterius blinked, staring down at his boots.
An absurd, surreal realization washed over him.
Who would have thought that the legendary, unyielding God of Destruction—a primordial force feared and revered by all and sundry, a warrior whom no entity dared look directly in the eye—could be thoroughly scolded by a fifteen-year-old girl for ruining the floor tiles?
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Snapping out of his reverie, he anchored himself to his new reality: he was now Ceres, the weak, seventeen-year-old brother of this prickly girl.
“I’ll clean it up shortly,” he murmured, the words tasting awkward on his tongue.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ellen said, offering a rare, fleeting smile—her own quiet way of showing she cared.
Before he could respond, Elara bypassed her daughter entirely and lunged forward, locking Ceres into a crushing, desperate hug.
It was warm, safe, and suffocatingly sweet—sensations completely alien to a former god.
“Never mind the mess.
Go wash up properly and come down.
Dinner is almost ready,” Elara said, the rich, savory scent of beef, fresh vegetable stew, and curry rice wafting from the kitchen.
“It’s your favorite.” She gently nudged him toward the stairs.
“And throw those dirty clothes straight into the cleaner.”
“Oh…
Mum,” Asterius mumbled.
The word felt heavy, foreign, and strange in his mouth.
Escaping upstairs, he found himself on a landing flanked by six doors.
He walked to the one at the far end and pushed it open.
Ceres’s bedroom was small, meticulously kept, and unmistakably a teenager’s sanctuary.
The pale grey walls were plastered with faded posters: one featured Lethal Arena, a wildly popular VR fighting game depicting mechanical titans clashing in brutal combat; another showcased a band named Mural Statics; and the last was a vintage advertisement for a sci-fi show called Wild Runners.
A simple bed with a dark blue blanket rested against the wall, while a cluttered desk nearby held a standard PC, a screen projector, and a graveyard of scattered computer components.
Outside the small window, he could see the rusted roof of Mr.
Choi’s garage and a distant, flickering holographic billboard advertising groceries.
But the room’s true centerpiece—the thing that demanded absolute attention—was the gaming pod.
Though compact enough for the bedroom, it was massive, easily built to house a full-grown man.
The sleek, eight-foot-long crimson capsule rested on a raised platform, illuminated by a soft, pulsing blue neon glow along its base.
The hatch sat open, revealing a cockpit lined with intricate biometric sensors and vibration pads, flanked by a glowing, standby control panel.
This was a Battle Online gaming pod.
It was a hyper-advanced, staggeringly expensive piece of engineering that allowed fighters across the Federation to clash in a terrifyingly realistic virtual universe.
In this modest, ordinary room, it looked completely alien.
It was a monument to the real Ceres’s obsession—a life Asterius knew absolutely nothing about.
Asterius stared out the window at the bruising blue sky of twilight.
Below, the rich scent of stew drifted up the stairwell, accompanied by the muffled, rhythmic sounds of his mother talking and his sister interacting with her wrist screen.
These were the sounds of a peaceful, normal life.
A life that wasn’t his, all revolving around a boy who loved an extraordinary machine.
He was finally out of the deadly jungle, but a far more treacherous challenge lay ahead.
He had to figure out how to live this borrowed existence.
The hard part was just beginning.