That evening, back in his room, Adrien sat shirtless near the balcony, staring out over Lunaris.
Twilight Lotus was dangerous. But he couldn't deny it, something inside him stirred. Stronger than before. Clearer. A fire...and a hunger.
He didn't just want to try to survive anymore.
He wanted to thrive.
He wanted to learn how to control whatever this new power was. If this world was going to test him, then he would push back harder.
But more than anything, he had to get back.
Han. Ria. Mel. Alex. Sarah.
His family, his friends. They were still there, still struggling.
He wasn't going to let them think he died. Not if he could help it.
Not if he could change everything.
Suddenly, a bell chimed near the door.
It was Selyra again.
This time, she wore a more casual robe, her long hair tied back. "The Elders have assigned you a mentor," she said without ceremony. "Your training begins tomorrow."
Adrien raised a brow. "Already?"
"Twilight Lotus doesn't wait. And neither should you."
She paused, eyes scanning his form. "For what it's worth... I think you have what it takes."
Adrien smirked, standing up. "You don't say."
"Get some rest. You'll need it."
That night, dreams came.
Not chaotic like before—but focused.
Visions of a throne carved from bone, standing in the middle of the Void. Of chains cracking open around his heart. Of a black sun that pulsed like it was alive.
And somewhere in those dreams... he heard it.
A voice.
"Awaken, Inheritor."
He sat up in bed, heart pounding.
Then his system flashed for the first time since he arrived.
Ding!
[SYSTEM MESSAGE:
You have entered a Tier-5 World.
[NEW FUNCTIONALITY UNLOCKED: Ethereal Pathway]
[Status
Name: Adrien Cortez
Dream Ascension Tier :1
]
Adrien stared at the glowing interface.
A light smile slowly crept across his face.
"Now we're talking..."
The next day arrived not with fanfare, but with a low, humming resonance that seemed to pulse through the very walls of Adrien's room.
The rich morning glow of Lunaris bled in through the silk curtains, gilding the marble surfaces in soft gold.
Adrien stirred on his bed, his senses adjusting slowly to the Aether-rich environment. He sat up, shirtless, stretching as the gentle thrum of ambient power filled his lungs with a heady rush.
There was a knock at the door. Not the casual kind, measured, purposeful, almost ceremonial.
He pulled open the door to find Selyra standing tall, dressed far differently than the previous days.
Gone was the lavender robe with golden hems. Today, Selyra wore her formal sect robes.
They were a masterpiece of craftsmanship and divine artistry—flowing layers of gold-dusted silk that shimmered faintly like liquid starlight.
Her sleeves flared wide and long, with translucent inlays woven in celestial patterns that rippled with her every movement.
A sash of braided moon-threads clasped at her waist, holding a slender blade in a lacquered sheath that gleamed with embedded runes.
Her boots rose high and soft, woven with cloud silk and outlined in metallic etchings.
A diadem crowned her forehead, etched with sect insignia, and the Aether around her responded as though drawn by reverence alone.
Adrien blinked. "That's... new."
"These are my formal robes as a Core Disciple of the Moonlight Sect," she said, stepping in. "You, however, are getting something more... modest."
She handed him a folded set of garments.
Black robes—simple but clearly enchanted. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, runes stitched subtly along the hem and sleeves in deep indigo threads.
The tunic fit snugly, the pants tucked easily into ankle-high boots of hardened leather reinforced with lightweight plates.
A silver sash completed the look, engraved with the Moonlight Sect's insignia: a crescent wrapped in thorned ivy.
Compared to Selyra's divine grandeur, Adrien looked like an apprentice scholar.
"Outer Disciple standard issue," she said, gesturing for him to change. "Sturdy. Enchanted. Not fashionable."
"I'll take enchanted over fashionable," Adrien muttered, quickly slipping into the robes.
Once dressed, she handed him a smooth, leaf-shaped jade that shimmered with internal light.
"This is your Sect Identification Jade," she said. "All disciples have one. It is bound to you alone. Press your thumb to it."
He obeyed. The jade flared with a soft green glow before shrinking slightly and attaching itself to his robe just below the collarbone.
"It's now attuned to your Aether signature. It will function as your ID within sect grounds, track mission records, and hold up to three square meters of personal items."
Adrien tapped it curiously. "Storage? Like... pocket dimension?"
"Precisely. Just will your intention to store or withdraw an item, and it will respond. But be warned—it's limited to simple objects. No living beings or unstable energy constructs."
"Got it."
Selyra turned, motioning for him to follow. "Time to move. The Elders were generous enough to let you stay in the Sanctum, but now you'll join the rest of the Sect's outer court."
They exited the Sanctum, and Adrien found himself once again awed by Lunaris.
Silver walkways arched across flowing rivers of light, connecting ivory towers and floating platforms.
Gardens with trees that shimmered like stars surrounded crystal ponds, while sky-fish darted through the air above.
Sect disciples, dressed in various shades of robe, moved purposefully in groups or alone. Yet what stood out to Adrien most wasn't the beauty—it was the divide.
Robes defined status.
Black robes like his—Outer Disciples—moved in small packs, whispering among themselves and keeping to the outer paths.
Light blue and violet robes—Inner Disciples—walked more confidently, heads high, often exchanging words with instructors or mentors.
And the golden robes, like Selyra's... there were barely any of them. One, maybe two, visible at a time. And when they passed, the crowd parted instinctively.
"This place is like a caste system," Adrien murmured.
"It is a meritocracy," Selyra corrected. "And survival-driven. The Outer Court is where the majority begin. Many never advance. The Inner Court demands breakthroughs, skill, dedication. And the Core... that's by selection only. Or feats that shake the heavens."
They continued down a gently curving path until they reached the training grounds.
Here, the division was even more apparent. The outer grounds were filled with dozens of disciples sparring with wooden weapons or focusing on meditation in stone circles etched with Aether conduits.
Meanwhile, across a glowing barrier fence, the inner grounds sparkled with advanced tools—spirit beasts, illusion halls, combat arrays. Outer disciples looked on with envy or quiet resentment.
Beyond those grounds loomed the Core Pavilion, a floating lotus-shaped palace surrounded by protective wards that shimmered like glass in sunlight.
Only golden-robed disciples entered or exited.
Adrien noticed the stares as they passed. Dozens of heads turned, hushed whispers following them.
"Is that... Fairy Selyra?"
"She never comes here. Who's that with her?"
"A new disciple? No, can't be. She doesn't take disciples."
"He's not even inner court. Look at his robes!"
Adrien ignored the stares as best he could. "Popular girl."
Selyra didn't respond. Her expression was neutral.
They stopped at a three-story stone building with moss-covered arches and simple doors. A sign above read: Outer Disciple Quarters - Wing Three.
She led him to a room on the second floor. It was tiny—six square meters at best. A single bed, a small desk, a shelf, and a wash basin.
"Charming," Adrien muttered.
"It's more than most start with," Selyra said. "You'll live here until your rank changes."
She stepped back into the hallway. "Adrien Cortez. This world is not forgiving. Nor is the Sect. Mind your business, train hard, and don't provoke those above your station.
Some will test you, others will try to use you. Fail, and you may not get a second chance."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," Adrien called out. "Yesterday... you said you knew something about Earth. You promised."
She paused. A long silence stretched before she spoke.
"I said you would find out soon. That hasn't changed."
Adrien's jaw tightened. "So you do know something."
"I know many things," she said quietly. "But not all truths are meant to be told at once. I'll return tomorrow morning. Your training begins then. Be ready."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Adrien standing at the threshold of his room.
He stepped inside and sat on the bed. The room felt suffocating after the grandeur of the Sanctum. But it was his.
For now.
He stared at the jade on his chest, then at his hands.
Aether responded more easily now. His breathing calmed. He extended a hand, and tiny silver sparks coalesced between his fingers—fluid, vibrant.
He wasn't home. He wasn't safe.
But he was alive.
And for the first time since the rift swallowed him whole, Adrien Cortez had a purpose.
To survive. To grow. To ascend.
And maybe, just maybe—
To find the truth.
The stillness of the night in the Outer Disciple quarters was almost unnaturally quiet.
The moon cast a silvery glow through the small, square window of Adrien's tiny room, illuminating the dust motes floating through the air.
The space barely fit the simple bed and a small chest, yet Adrien felt oddly at peace.
Perhaps it was the training grounds he'd passed, the feeling of purpose blooming inside him, or just the unrelenting energy of this world.
Either way, exhaustion had overtaken him quickly, dragging him into sleep.
But the quiet did not last.
A sharp crack of wood echoed in the darkness, followed by a heavy thud.
Adrien's eyes snapped open. Something wasn't right.
The door to his room had been blown inward, the hinges groaning under a forceful impact. His instincts roared to life, Aether flooding his limbs like fire through his veins.
A tall figure stepped into the room, his presence radiating contempt. Long black hair was tied in a loose knot behind his head, and his crimson inner disciple robes gleamed in the moonlight, embroidered with silver phoenix sigils. He wasn't alone either—two others, likely servants or hangers-on, flanked him like shadows.
Adrien sat up on the bed, unruffled.
The young man sneered. "So this is the stray dog Fairy Selyra saw fit to accompany."
Adrien didn't answer.
The man took a step forward, lifting his chin. "I am Kairos Feng of the Crimson Talon lineage. An inner disciple of the Moonlight Sect. And you… you are nothing."
Adrien finally spoke, his voice calm. "Then why are you here?"
Kairos' face twisted. "You walked beside her. As if you were her equal. A mutt from a forgotten world, parading through the sect grounds like some honored guest. Do you know what that looked like to the rest of us?"
"I wasn't parading. She showed me around. That's all."
"Lies." Kairos spat the word like venom. "No one touches Selyra. Not even Core Disciples approach her lightly. Yet she personally walked you to your room. You've caused quite a stir."
Adrien stood slowly. He wasn't afraid. He didn't feel like the weakling who had been spat out of a forest days ago. Not anymore.
"I didn't ask for her attention."
"Then you'll return it," Kairos growled, stepping forward and drawing a short blade wreathed in glowing red runes.
The room exploded in motion.
Kairos lunged, blade flashing toward Adrien's throat. The air shimmered with his speed, but Adrien ducked, weaving to the side with grace born of instinct.
The blade whistled past, carving into the stone wall with a harsh hiss.
Adrien's hand shot out, silver Aether flaring to life. He gripped Kairos by the wrist and twisted.
CRACK.
Kairos cried out, the blade clattering to the floor.
The two lackeys rushed in, but Adrien spun, sending a sweeping kick laced with force across one's chest. The boy flew back and slammed into the hallway wall, unconscious.
The other hesitated.
"Run," Adrien warned.
The boy obeyed, bolting into the night.
Kairos fell to his knees, cradling his wrist, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You… you're just an outer disciple," he snarled.
"Apparently not," Adrien said. He grabbed the broken door and slammed it upright, leaning it against the frame.
Kairos looked up, hate burning in his eyes. "This isn't over."
Adrien knelt beside him. "Then next time, knock."
He tossed Kairos' blade out into the hallway, then returned to bed without another word. His heart was still thudding, not from fear—but exhilaration.
Something inside him had awakened during that fight. His reactions were faster, his movements sharper, like the world around him had slowed.
He stared up at the cracked ceiling, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
This world was dangerous. Cruel, even.
But it was also perfect for someone like him.
By the time the dawn came, a thin mist drifted over the outer courts. Adrien sat cross-legged by the small window, meditating. The pulse of Aether in the air wrapped around him like a warm tide.
A knock—this time a real one—came at the doorway.
Selyra's voice called through, light and composed. "Adrien? You awake?"
"Yeah."
The door creaked open, and Selyra stepped inside, already dressed in her luminous gold sect robes, her long braid glinting in the sunlight.
Her gaze swept over the damaged doorway, the faint scorch marks, and the crack in the wall.
"You had visitors."
Adrien stood. "Yeah. One of your inner disciples. Kairos Feng."
Selyra sighed. "Of course it was him. Did he hurt you?"
"No. He should be icing his wrist though."
Selyra raised a brow. "You broke it?"
"Dislocated. Maybe."
She gave him a long look, then smirked. "Impressive. I'm guessing word will spread soon. Try not to start a war before breakfast, alright?"
"I'll try."
She turned. "Come on. Let's begin your training. You'll need it now more than ever."