Moving through the mirror didn’t feel like anything at all.
No resistance. No shift in pressure. No mystical tingle crawling over his skin. Aster had half expected the universe to at least acknowledge when someone stuck an arm through another dimension, but apparently not. The portal swallowed his hand as casually as smoke. Then his arm. Then his leg.
Naturally, because self-preservation had never once been allowed to interfere with curiosity, he escalated.
He leaned in farther. Tested how much of him could pass through before anything reacted. His shoulders. His chest.
Then, because apparently his brain had gone on strike, he experimentally pushed his hips through the threshold.
That was when Lena’s voice cut through behind him, dry as sun-bleached bones.
“You know, if that gate collapses while you’re halfway through, you’d be split clean in two.”
Aster froze.
Then he ripped himself backward so fast he nearly dislocated something, clutching his groin like a man betrayed by physics.
“You said this was safe!” he snapped, his voice climbing several octaves under the force of pure crotch-based terror.
Lena burst out laughing.
“I was kidding,” she said, still grinning. “Mostly. Though to be fair, space cultivators can do that. Slice you in half like a fruit. So I wasn’t entirely lying.”
Aster glared at the portal as though it had personally threatened his bloodline.
He kept one hand protectively cupped over himself and made a mental note: no more portal experiments. Ever!
“So,” he muttered, “where’s the registration office? Preferably somewhere my anatomy isn’t at risk.”
Lena waved him onward, still visibly delighted by his suffering.
“Small detour first. We need to get your typing.”
Aster narrowed his eyes. “Typing? What is that, a magical personality quiz?”
She snorted. “Not quite. The Astral Plane is built on seven energy types—Earth, Fire, Water, Wood, Air, Lightning—”
“You said seven.”
“The seventh is Spirit,” Lena said. “It’s… complicated. Rare, weird, and a little annoying to explain. Let’s just find out if you’re special before we unpack that one.”
They rounded a corner and the corridor opened into a sprawling courtyard.
Jagged crystal spires rose from the stone like frozen lightning, scattered in deliberate patterns across the grounds. Students and initiates crowded between them, some pressing their hands to the crystal faces while others scribbled notes under the supervision of instructors who looked one inconvenience away from ritual murder.
Aster watched one crystal flare a deep rust-red. The initiate touching it punched the air like he’d just won the lottery.
Probably found out he got to throw fireballs. Lucky bastard.
Lena nudged him toward an unoccupied crystal where a woman in a crisp white uniform stood with the bored patience of someone who had explained the same process eight thousand times and now viewed all students as a temporary fungal outbreak.
“We’d like to perform a typing,” Lena said.
The woman gave Aster a long look. “Only typing?”
“Yes, please.”
Aster folded his arms. “What else can it do?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she tapped a rune on the crystal and a semi-transparent screen flickered into existence beside him. Rows of numbers. Symbols. Labels.
Strength. Speed. Will. Typing.
Aster stared at it.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “What in the gamified hell is this?”
Lena stepped up beside him, visibly delighted to explain.
“That’s your stat screen. Technically it’s an interface rendered by the Nootropic Tether—a planetary spell-script that links everyone’s mind to a shared layer of collective perception.”
He squinted at her.
“…You’re saying reality has an app.”
“More like a self-writing wiki you can jack into with magic,” Lena said. “The Tether reads your Astral Vessel, parses it through an old spell-algorithm, and builds a profile of your abilities, potential, elemental alignment—all the useful bits. Once you’re synced, it updates passively as you grow.”
Aster stared at the screen, deeply offended by the concept of his own statistics being made visible to the public.
“It’s not just for show either,” Lena continued. “A lot of scriptures, contracts, and cultivation techniques literally require registered stats to purchase or use. You can’t access most of the Astral Realm without syncing first.”
“So it’s a magically enforced state ID.”
“That, a résumé, a diagnostics tool, a public record, and a ranking board rolled into one. Until now, you’ve basically been a statless drifter.”
He made a face. “And the crystal?”
“Onboards you. First-time tether sync. It calibrates your base stats and typing so the system can start tracking you. After that you can pull your stat screen up whenever you want—for yourself or for other people, assuming they haven’t locked their privacy settings.”
Aster stared at the hovering interface.
“So I’m about to get a printout of my entire existence.”
“Yes,” Lena said, “but don’t take it personally. You’re only a Veiled-Moon Initiate.”
He glanced at her. “Translation: as weak as a kitten?”
“Yes,” Lena said cheerfully. “Your Strength is probably around a three. Mine’s fourteen, and I’m not even strength-typed.”
Aster stared at her.
“Three? Out of what, twenty?”
“Out of infinity, more or less. The useful benchmarks start at one hundred. That’s Standard F. Two hundred is Greater F. Three hundred is Lesser E, and so on.”
His stomach went cold.
“So a Greater A is what, around eighteen hundred?”
“Roughly.”
Aster’s brain quietly stepped outside for a cigarette.
He wasn’t exactly a powerlifter, but he’d moved heavy boxes, built fences, lifted weights. He knew what a hundred-kilo deadlift felt like. He knew men on Earth had pulled over twice that.
And apparently the world’s strongest humans wouldn’t even crack proper entry-level relevance here.
What kind of goddamn monsters lived in this place?
“And above Greater A,” Lena added helpfully, “the scaling gets worse. S, SS, SSS, then Beta, Alpha and Omega. Omega strength can reach around one hundred and twenty thousand.”
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Of course it could.
Reality here apparently had the power-scaling philosophy of a shounen manga written by a cocaine enthusiast.
The woman gestured to the crystal.
“Place your hands on it. Your typing will appear as a colour. Red for Earth, orange for Fire, blue for Water, green for Wood, yellow for Air, indigo for Lightning, purple for Spirit.”
Aster exhaled.
“Let’s see what kind of cosmic joke I am today.”
He put both palms against the crystal.
Instantly, he feels it, like magnets locking onto his bones. A current hums through him, threading into the gaps between thought and flesh, invasive and intimate.
The crystal flared purple.
Deep, unmistakable purple.
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════
[ ASTRAL VESSEL: NOOTROPIC DISPLAY ]
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════
NAME: Aster Elchen
RACE: Human
TYPING: Spirit (Sahasrara) ◈
CULTIVATION: Initiate — Veiled Eclipse
CULTIVATION TYPE: Symbio-Cultivator
PROGRESSION TIER: 1 — Aware
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
⚙️ CORE STATS [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Abbreviation
Stat
Value
Recovery
Grade
Vessel Integrity
HP
18 / 18
0.0/s
F- Lesser Lead
Mana
MP
12 / 12
1.5/s
F- Lesser Lead
Will
PSY
303
D- Lesser Iron ◈
Mental Fortitude
MF
75
F Standard Lead
Intelligence
INT
8
F- Lesser Lead
Attack
ATK
5
F- Lesser Lead
Defence
DEF
6
F- Lesser Lead
Speed
SPD
6
F- Lesser Lead
Stamina
STA
6
F- Lesser Lead
Luck
LCK
–3
ANOMALOUS ◈
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
🌌 GATE ALIGNMENT [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Element
%
Progress
Stat
Stat Increase
Astral Earth
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
DEF
+ 0
Astral Fire
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
ATK
+ 0
Astral Air
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
SPD
+ 0
Astral Wood
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
REG
+ 0.0/s
Astral Water
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
STA
+ 0
Astral Lightning
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
MP
+ 0
Astral Spirit
0%
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
PSY
+ 0 ◈
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
🔶 VESSEL INFRASTRUCTURE [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Mind
[○]
L.Shoulder
[○]
Heart
[○]
R.Shoulder
[○]
L.Elbow
[○]
Spine
[○]
R.Elbow
[○]
L.Hand
[○]
Stomach
[○]
R.Hand
[○]
L.Hip
[○]
R.Hip
[○]
L.Knee
[○]
R.Knee
[○]
L.Foot
[○]
R.Foot
[○]
occupied ○ empty
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
📜 PHYSICAL SCRIPTURES [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
N/A
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
📜 ARCANE SCRIPTURES [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
N/A
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
📜 MERIDIAN CONSTELLATIONS [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
N/A
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
⚔️ ARTEFACTS [-]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
N/A
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════ Lena let out a low whistle.
“Wow. Lesser D in Will and Standard F in Mental Fortitude? That’s ridiculously high for an initiate. I’ve been grinding Spellcraft since I was sixteen and I’m barely at Greater F. With Will that strong, picking your build’s going to be a lot easier.”
Aster folds his arms, unimpressed by his own cosmic paperwork.
“You said Spirit was weird. Go on then. Hit me with the fine print.”
Lena sighs, adjusting her glasses, and slipped into lecture mode with the air of someone who’s been waiting all day for an excuse.
“Think of the Astral Vessel as a prism. With seven typings. Think of a prism for each one of the elemental typing. Each one refracts only its own spectrum of hues. Fire, for example, isn’t just ‘fire.’ It includes Ash, Heat, Smoke, Ember, Combustion, Destruction, and Astral Fire—also called Fire Spirit or Fire Essence. A fire cultivator can access the different hues within that typing, with the final hue always being its spirit.”
Aster nodded slowly, bracing for the inevitable catch.
“Spirit is different,” Lena continued. “You can interact with all seven elements, but not with the full spectrum of their sub-hues. Only the final hue of each one—their Spirit. The nucleus, basically. The thing that holds the rest of it together.”
He frowned.
“Normal cultivators get the full range of hues in a single typing, but they’re trapped there. You get access to the spirit-hue of every element. It’s weaker in some ways, rarer in others, but far more versatile.”
Aster rubbed at his face.
“So I can’t shoot fire, but I can shoot the idea of fire.”
Lena paused. “That is not a technically correct explanation.”
“But it is emotionally correct.”
She chooses not to argue.
“Lucky for you,” she said, “magic isn’t the only thing cultivation gives. Every Gate you open comes with a hardware upgrade. Each typing aligns its Gates differently depending on the hues involved, but Spirit’s more straightforward. Earth boosts Defence. Lightning boosts Mana. Fire raises Attack, Air raises Speed, Water raises Stamina, Wood improves Recovery, and Spirit raises Will.”
Aster stared at the stat screen.
“So the Gates are basically magical gym equipment.”
“Cosmic limiters,” Lena corrected. “You start with them shut.. But the more you cultivate a Gate, the more it opens. Every percent unlocked gives you +1 in its aligned stat.”
She pointed at his display.
“Your Strength is three because you haven’t opened anything yet. That’s just you. Raw. Unmodified. Disappointingly mortal.”
“So I’m not weak because I suck. I’m weak because all my Gates are still closed.”
“Exactly.” Lena snapped her fingers. “No open Gates means no stat bonuses. Which is why Spirit’s interesting. You’ve got no progress anywhere, but your Will’s already at Lesser D. That means your Spirit resonance is stirring.”
“Spirit does Will,” Aster said. “And mine’s high even though the Gate’s still at zero?”
“Because Spirit doesn’t grow the way the other gates do. You don’t have seven gates like the other typings, only six.” Lena said, and for once there was no teasing in her voice. “That means you can’t cultivate Spirit. You learn to become it. It grows through pressure. Through contradiction. Through pain. Through understanding. Every time life should have broken you—but didn't—it left something behind.”
Aster gave her a long look.
“So what I’m hearing is that my suffering has been converted into spiritual cardio.”
“Kinda.”
She smiled.
“But don’t panic. Spirit’s hard, not hopeless. Three members of the Celestial Council reached Celestial rank with Spirit typing. It’s difficult, but it’s not a death sentence. You just need to choose your classes carefully to maximize your strengths and cover your weaknesses. Lucky for you, you’ve got me, the 'Class Build Goddess.'"
Aster gives her a look flat enough to iron shirts on. "Do people actually call you that, or is that self-awarded?"
She winked and tapped her temple.
“I know exactly how to turn you from cosmic deadweight into a functioning cultivator.”
Aster sighed.
Somewhere, presumably, Fate was still taking minutes on his humiliation.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Lead on, Build Goddess.”
And because the universe had spent the day proving itself untrustworthy, he followed her with one hand still hovering protectively over his groin.
Just in case the portal system decided to make a second attempt.