Dharun’s gaze flickered to the small pouch in Aaryan’s hand—the one weighed down by more than just cultivation resources. His voice was casual, almost idle, but Aaryan had already learned that the man rarely spoke without purpose.

“You spent quite a bit on those.” Dharun’s fingers tapped lightly against his sleeve. “Not the usual priorities for someone desperate to grow stronger.”

Aaryan met his gaze without hesitation. “Some debts can’t be repaid with strength.” His fingers curled slightly around the pouch. “She saved my life once.”

Dharun hummed, considering. “She?”

Aaryan exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. “Kalyani. She lives alone.” His voice was steady, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “I don’t know how she is now.”

Dharun absorbed that information without reaction. Then, as if it was the next logical question, he asked, “You’re leaving the sect?”

Aaryan nodded. “For a short while.”

“To Green Veil City?” Dharun’s tone remained neutral, but Aaryan caught the shift in weight behind his words. “And how exactly do you plan on traveling?”

That gave Aaryan pause.

He had assumed leaving would be simple—walk out, find a path, and make his way there. But now that he thought about it, he didn’t know the exact route, nor the procedure for requesting leave.

He frowned slightly. “Huh. That’s… a great question. Next question?”

“Disciples are permitted to visit home twice a year,” Dharun explained, just short of disapproval. “But most don’t waste months traveling on foot. They use teleportation tokens—one-time use, expensive, but efficient.” He glanced at Aaryan, his smirk almost amused. “I assume you don’t have one.”

Aaryan’s grip on the pouch tightened, the weight of his earlier purchases settling differently now. He had spent everything.

Dharun’s eyes flickered with something—mild amusement, perhaps, but also something more difficult to place. With an almost lazy motion, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out two smooth, jade-like tokens. They gleamed faintly with inscriptions carved into their surface.

“One to go, one to return.” He tossed them toward Aaryan.

Aaryan caught them instinctively but hesitated. “I—”

“Don’t waste time arguing.” Dharun’s tone was dismissive, but there was no irritation in it. “You’ll pay back the favor eventually.”

Aaryan took them, though something felt… off. This wasn’t the first time someone had handed him something valuable.

First Ravi with the herbs. Now Dharun.

His brow furrowed slightly. “…Why am I getting so much free stuff?”

Dharun remained still. “What?”

“This is the second time,” Aaryan said, eyeing him. “First Ravi, now you. Either I’m secretly some lost prince, or everyone’s got a plan for me.”

“You think too much.” Dharun’s tone was clipped.

Aaryan wasn’t convinced. “That’s what someone trying to manipulate me would say.”

Dharun didn’t bother responding, already turning, but then hesitated. After a moment’s thought, he retrieved a small, palm-sized device from his robes—two intricate, dark metal emblems inlaid with delicate rune patterns. He studied it briefly before handing it over.

Aaryan turned the emblem over in his hand, eyeing it warily.

“…You just had this lying around too?”

“It's better than you making unnecessary trips.” Dharun’s smirk didn’t fade. “Considering you don’t even know how she’s doing, it’s a practical solution. This way, she can contact you if needed, and you—” his gaze sharpened slightly “—can focus on cultivation instead of worrying about a place you can’t return to easily.”

Aaryan glanced down at the device, then back at Dharun. There was no mockery in the man’s expression, only a practical sort of understanding.

He exhaled, then nodded. “I’ll make sure she has it.”

Dharun waved a hand dismissively. “Good. Try not to make it a habit.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Aaryan standing there.

Aaryan looked down at the talisman in his hand, then at the teleportation tokens.

Then he squinted at Dharun’s retreating figure.

“…Either I have the world’s most generous well-wishers, or I’m walking straight into an elaborate scheme.”

He sighed. “Probably the second one.”

The Mission Hall was quieter than usual when Aaryan stepped inside. A few disciples browsed through mission listings, some discussing plans in hushed voices. The attendant at the counter barely looked up as Aaryan approached.

“Name?”

“Aaryan.”

The attendant’s hand paused—just for a fraction of a second. A glance, brief but searching, flicked over him. Expectant? Measuring? But whatever thought crossed the attendant’s mind, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by practiced indifference.

“Reason for departure?”

“Personal matter.”

That earned him a sharper look, but nothing more. Outer Disciples were allowed limited leaves—most used them to visit home or hunt for resources. As long as they returned within the sect’s time limits, no one cared.

“Maximum leave time is three months. If you don’t return by then, your status as a disciple will be revoked.” The words were spoken mechanically, as if recited a hundred times before.

Aaryan nodded. “Understood.”

The attendant tapped the tablet, marking his departure. “You may go.”

That was it. No questions, no suspicions. Just another disciple leaving the sect.

Aaryan returned to his cave, packing only the essentials—spare robes, a few herbs, and the teleportation tokens Dharun had given him. He wasn’t planning to stay long, but there was no harm in being prepared.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Stepping out of the sect’s gates felt… different.

The towering cliffs, the high walls of Evernight Pavilion—once an unreachable place—were now behind him.

He walked through the dense wilderness that once seemed too ethereal. The same forest he had crossed when arriving, the same towering trees, the same damp earth. Yet, everything felt smaller now.

Before, this place had loomed over him. Now, he moved through it with purpose, confidence.

His senses picked up the faint rustling of distant beasts, the hidden trails he hadn’t noticed before. His awareness had expanded.

“I really have changed.”

The thought didn’t bring arrogance—just quiet acknowledgment. Growth wasn’t always about power. Sometimes, it was about how you saw the world.

Activating the Teleportation Token

Reaching a clearing, Aaryan retrieved the jade-like token from his sleeve. It was smooth and cool to the touch, its surface engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly, as if holding a slumbering power. The inscriptions weren’t just decorative—they were the key to its function, carefully carved by expert hands.

One to go. One to return.

Holding it firmly, he pressed the center of the token—just as Dharun had instructed. The moment his fingers made contact, the engravings flared to life, casting an eerie silver glow.

The air around him tensed, charged with unseen forces. A pulse rippled outward, distorting the space around him. The familiar world of the forest blurred at the edges—just for a moment.

The silver glow deepened, but then—a flicker.

A pause. A hesitation.

The energy wavered, and an unnatural weight settled in the air. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it made his breath hitch. The pull wasn’t smooth. There was a faint jerk, as if something had caught on the edges of his existence.

Aaryan barely had time to react before something stretched. The space around him warped, bending in ways it shouldn’t. A flicker of nausea curled in his gut—not overwhelming, but wrong, like stepping onto unstable ground.

Then—

Darkness.

Not a slow transition. No fading, no slipping through space.

Just an abrupt cut.

As if something had severed him from where he was meant to go.

Aaryan’s breath came sharp as the darkness lifted.

He stumbled forward, feet meeting solid ground. The world around him settled—not into the familiar streets of Green Veil City, but… somewhere else.

A dim sky stretched above, tinged with deep blues and muted golds, as if caught between dusk and dawn. The air was thick—cool, yet oddly weightless. Towering trees lined the horizon, their trunks dark and unfamiliar, their leaves whispering too softly against a breeze he couldn’t feel.

His grip tightened around the now-dull teleportation token.

“…This isn’t Green Veil.”

Cautiously, he took a step, then another. The earth beneath him felt real, but something in the air—an undercurrent of wrongness—kept his pulse quickened. His eyes scanned for landmarks, signs of life, anything.

Nothing but the quiet rustle of unseen movement.

Had the teleportation gone wrong? Or had he simply landed in the wrong place?

Aaryan wandered through the strange space, his steps slow and measured. The ground beneath him felt solid, yet the air shimmered unnaturally, as if reality itself was unsteady. He turned, scanning his surroundings. No city. No landmarks. No path.

His jaw tightened. Where am I?

Panic would do him no good. He measured his breaths, assessing rather than reacting

He kept walking, testing his senses. The air was thick, charged with something unseen. The silence wasn’t empty— it pressed in, watchful.

A faint prickle crawled up his spine, instinct stirring before reason could catch up. His breath shallowed for half a beat before he forced it steady.

Something unseen wavered at the edges of perception. A presence. It did not rush toward him, did not lash out, but it was there—silent, observing.

To kill or not to kill?

Its instincts whispered the answer. Humans were not to be trusted. Its wounds, still etched into its being, were proof enough of their treachery. If this one left, if he spread word of this place, others would come.

The simplest solution was to erase him.

For a fleeting moment, something unseen coiled, the weight of intention sharpening like the edge of a blade. An execution held in pause.

Then—hesitation.

Yet something within him—neither fully known nor wholly foreign—stayed the unseen hand. A flicker of familiarity—unplaceable, distant—surfaced where there should have been nothing but cold certainty.

A slow breath. The unseen presence coiled around the space.

“Strange.” The word slipped into the air, weightless, layered, as if carried by a passing breeze.

The boy was not panicking. He was not scrambling for escape, nor blindly calling out into the void. He was thinking. Calculating.

It studied him, its gaze piercing though unseen. Something about him stirred recognition—a thread of the known tangled with the utterly foreign, slipping just beyond grasp.

“Do you wander, little traveller, or have the unseen threads of fate woven your path to me?”

The question was not spoken. It was simply there, settling into the very air around Aaryan.

And still, it remained unseen, its thoughts a silent tide beneath the fabric of this space—waiting, searching.

Aaryan had just reached a very serious conclusion—Dharun was obviously trying to kill him. Maybe even Ravi was working for him. Oh, it made so much sense now. The token was sabotaged. His entire journey? A setup. He should have known!

Then— Shouting. Sharp and aggressive.

Aaryan’s thoughts screeched to a halt. His heart pounded.

Wait. Trees?

When had he ended up here? One moment, he was in that weird, unstable space; the next, he was surrounded by towering trees, thick vines, and the humid scent of damp earth. He frowned. Hadn’t he been somewhere else just now? The transition felt too smooth, too unnatural—like a page turned in a book without him realizing. But something felt… off. The jungle had that odd too-still quality, like a painting where nothing quite moved unless you looked away. Even the air hung thick and unmoving, as if holding its breath.

He hadn’t even noticed the shift—great, now reality itself was messing with him.

Before he could dwell on it, a group of menacing figures burst through the foliage. Evil-looking didn’t even begin to describe them—scarred faces, dramatic, unnecessary capes, and an overall vibe that screamed "professional villainy."

“…Dramatic capes? Who even wears those in this heat? Wait—NO, FOCUS! Assassins first, fashion critique later!”

His brain stalled for a fraction of a second, caught between confusion and survival instinct. Then his instincts won.

He panicked. He screamed.

“I KNEW IT! HE WANTS ME DEAD!”

He spun on his heel and bolted, crashing through the undergrowth. Branches clawed at him as if the entire jungle had been bribed to slow him down.

Between gulps of air, he risked a glance back.

The group wasn’t chasing him.

They were fanning out, scanning the area. One of them crouched, inspecting the ground. “It’s still bleeding. Can’t have gone far.”

“Boss said it’s worth a fortune. Even wounded, it’ll fetch a price,” another growled. “Creatures like this don’t just appear. Even wounded, it’s priceless.”

Aaryan barely registered the words, too busy running for his life. Some tiny, rational part of his brain did wonder why they talked like they were auditioning for the role of ‘generic thug #3’ in a bad play, but the much louder, screaming part of his brain was more concerned with NOT DYING.

Aaryan ducked behind a boulder, heart pounding. He waited, straining to hear any orders barked in his direction.

…Wait. If they were after me, shouldn’t they have already started yelling things like ‘Get him!’ or ‘Don’t let him escape!’?

He frowned. The lines in his head sounded about as deep as what these guys were actually saying. Were mercenaries always this predictable?

…Eh, maybe it was just a hiring trend. He had bigger things to worry about.

He peeked out—just in time to see one dramatically toss their cape over a shoulder.

The jungle around him was eerily silent. Too silent. Aaryan frowned. The last time he’d run like this, his own ragged breaths had been drowned out by chirping insects and rustling leaves. But now? Nothing. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath, waiting.

Carefully, he crept forward, curiosity warring with self-preservation. The men were focused on something else. They weren’t just tracking—they were hunting.

Aaryan strained his ears. A sound—soft, uneven. Breathing? His muscles tensed.

A branch cracked somewhere nearby. Not from the men—too light, too close. Aaryan stiffened. He barely breathed, listening. Another sound—like something shifting against the ground, slow and uneven. His pulse picked up. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving fast. Was it even moving at all?

He swallowed hard and peered through the underbrush and then—he saw it.

Half-hidden among the thick underbrush, a shadowy figure lay curled against the roots of a tree. Small. Wounded. Its shallow breaths barely stirred the leaves beneath it.

Aaryan’s instincts screamed walk away. The group was literally moving in the opposite direction. This was perfect! A great opportunity to NOT get stabbed today.

But then the hiding figure shifted, and for a split second, their eyes met.

Aaryan froze.

The look in its eyes… that helpless, cornered expression…

For a second, he wasn’t looking at a stranger. He was looking at himself, curled up in the dark, counting heartbeats, hoping no one would find him. His fingers twitched.

Aaryan exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. His fingers curled into a fist. He should leave. He really, really should. Just walk away.

But...

He groaned under his breath. “Oh, come on.”

Fleeing with caution had just turned into terrible life choices—with a side of unwanted heroism