Aaryan moved cautiously through the shadows, his breath steady, his senses sharp. The creature lay curled against a rock, its body shimmering with iridescent hues that shifted like liquid moonlight. Even wounded, it was mesmerizing—an exotic thing of undeniable allure. Aaryan felt an instinctive pull, something deeper than curiosity urging him to act.

He crouched beside it, noting the gash along its side. Whatever had wounded it had done so with precision. He hesitated, then reached out. The creature tensed but did not resist as he carefully lifted it.

A distant shout. Aaryan's head snapped up.

Mercenaries.

Cursing under his breath, he bolted. The weight of the creature slowed him, but his movements were swift, weaving through the dense underbrush. He heard the pounding of boots behind him, voices calling orders. Arrows hissed through the air, barely missing their mark. His heartbeat thundered, but his mind remained clear.

A narrow passage between jagged rocks—his opportunity. He slid through, squeezing just enough to slip away before the mercenaries could follow. A few moments of silence. Then, finally, a deep exhale of relief.

Aaryan was about to catch his breath when—

A blade glinted in the moonlight.

He froze.

The mercenaries were suddenly in front of him. No sound, no warning, just there. It was impossible, absurd even—but here they stood, blades drawn, faces twisted with smug amusement.

He had lost them. He was sure of it. But here they were. Waiting.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” he groaned.

"Hand over the creature, boy," one of them sneered.

Aaryan blinked, then frowned. "Oh, of course. You nearly scared me to death just to ask nicely. Here, let me gift wrap it for you too."

The mercenary’s scowl deepened.

"Not in the mood? Fine, let's skip to the part where you try to take it and I make your day significantly worse."

But Then—he ran again.

Aaryan bolted, weaving through ruins, vaulting broken walls. Behind him, the mercenaries’ shouts closed in.

He ducked into a narrow alley, heart pounding. Silence. He allowed himself a smirk, ready to exhale in relief—

something gnawed at him. Hadn’t he just run down this path? No… this was different. It had to be.” He pushed the thought aside—no time to dwell.

Thinking He turned the corner—and stopped dead. The mercenaries were there. Again. Same stance, same expressions. Even the scuff marks on their boots were identical. His pulse hammered. Had they circled around?

No—impossible. he muttered before bolting again.

The same scene, played over and over, like a stage performance stuck on repeat. Every movement too measured. Every reaction too rehearsed. And he was the only one who hadn’t memorized the script.

His stomach twisted. Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

At one point, he flattened himself against a wall, barely breathing. A shadow loomed over him. "Hand it over," one of the mercenaries ordered.

Aaryan, panting, looked up. "Oh sure, let me just—" He hurled a handful of dirt at the mercenary’s face and bolted.

He fought when he had to, dodging, striking back, but they were stronger. Faster. Each escape led him right back into their grasp. Cuts formed along his arms, his side. His breath came ragged, but he never loosened his grip on the creature.

He zigzagged through the trees, climbed halfway up a rock wall, then dropped down on the other side, ducking behind a crumbling wall, catching his breath.

Nothing. No voices. No movement. Just silence.

Then a breath. Right next to his ear.

He spun—empty air. But when he turned forward again—

The mercenaries stood there, waiting. Again.

Aaryan nearly choked. "Okay, now this is getting ridiculous."

One mercenary, the same one as before, stepped forward. The exact same words. "Hand over the creature."

The other two stood completely still. No shifting of weight, no glancing between each other. Just waiting. Too still.

Aaryan hesitated. Was it… the same guy? No, that was impossible. They had been scattered. He should’ve seen different faces. But now that he looked, their postures, their stances—they were too identical.

“Yeah, sure. Here, take it.” Aaryan made a show of pretending to extend the creature forward, then immediately yanked it back. “Oops. Slipped.”

The mercenary’s face twitched. “You think you’re funny?”

“I’m hilarious.”

The first attack came fast. Aaryan barely dodged, rolling aside with the creature clutched against his chest. He lashed out, sweeping a leg under one opponent’s feet, but another caught him mid-motion with a brutal kick. Pain flared through his ribs. He staggered but didn’t fall.

More blows followed. He fought, relentless and desperate, but they were too strong. A cut sliced across his arm, another along his side. The weight of the creature never left his grasp, though his strength waned.

No matter what he did, no matter how many times he ran, they were always waiting. As if the world itself conspired to keep him trapped.

Still, he refused to let go.

Above, unseen, someone observed in silence.

The glint of steel—the final strike aimed straight for Aaryan’s chest.

In that instant, the Observer assessed.

Even now, he clings to it. Despite pain. Despite certainty of loss. How strange... how interesting.

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The silent figure watching from the void tilted its head, unseen. This one was… different.

The blade descended—

And the world stuttered. A flicker, like a candle fighting the wind. The mercenaries blurred, their edges warping, as if they were ink bleeding into water. The pain in Aaryan’s ribs pulsed, then vanished, then returned. The moment stretched, distorted—

Then—nothing.

Aaryan gasped, eyes darting around. He was somewhere else now. Whole. Unharmed. The creature—gone.

The mercenaries, the battlefield, the pain—all dissolved like mist in the morning sun.

One second, a blade was about to pierce his chest. The next—stillness. No pain, no wounds, not even the taste of blood in his mouth. Like the universe had flipped a page, and he had landed in the wrong story.

His body still braced for the next hit, his breath ragged as if the fight had been real. He clenched his fist, half expecting blood, but there was none. His mind reeled. How could something that felt so real be... not?

Something was wrong. The men weren’t just moving in sync—they were too in sync. Their voices, their pacing, even the way they gestured… it was like a script. Aaryan’s breath hitched as realization slammed into him.

“…Oh, come on. I got tricked by badly written illusions?!”

Aaryan blinked rapidly, his mind still reeling from the abrupt shift in reality. His breaths came steady now, but his thoughts lagged behind, tangled in the impossibility of what had just happened. The mercenaries, the endless chase, the final strike—none of it had been real. And yet, his body still felt the phantom weight of exhaustion.

His chest still heaved, expecting a pain that never came. He flexed his fingers, waiting for blood, but his skin remained unbroken.

The world around him—the distant murmur of merchants, the flicker of lanterns—felt too real. But then again, so had the mercenaries.

Aaryan exhaled slowly. He needed something real. Something familiar.

Kalyani.

He took a deep breath, letting the weight of reality settle over him. This was real. The cool air against his skin, the distant scent of cooking fires, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on stone—Green Veil City.

The outskirts of Green Veil City stretched before him—worn cobbled streets, distant merchant chatter. No illusions. No tricks. Just the quiet hum of the city’s edge.

He exhaled, shaking off the lingering unease, and made his way to the only place that ever felt the same. The old wooden structure stood just as he remembered—silent, unassuming, and eerily still. His steps slowed as he approached.

He pushed open the door. The air inside was thick with dust, the kind that settled when no one had the energy to sweep it away. The dim light barely fought against the heavy stillness. Aaryan’s eyes flicked over the room, catching the thin layer of dust that hadn’t been there before. Something was off.

A faint shuffling from the bedroom made him tense. He stepped in and found Kalyani struggling to sit up on her bed.

Aaryan frowned. She looked weaker than the last time he had seen her—her already frail form now almost swallowed by the blankets. It took him a moment to register just how sickly she appeared. Her hair was thinner, the shadows beneath her eyes deeper. Even the usual sharpness in her gaze seemed dulled by fatigue.

But before concern could fully take hold, Kalyani's sharp eyes met his, and she smiled—just for a second. Then, just as quickly, her expression hardened back into its usual sternness.

“You’re back,” she said flatly. “What happened? Did they throw you out?”

Aaryan folded his arms, lips twitching. “Yeah, figured I’d come back to freeload off you. I hear scolding builds character.”

Kalyani exhaled through her nose—something like a snort, but quieter, like even that took effort. “Hmph. Should’ve known you wouldn’t last.”

Aaryan tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Damn, grandma. Either time’s finally winning, or you’ve been rationing your meals just to keep me out of your kitchen.”

Kalyani shot him a glare, but before she could fire back, he clicked his tongue. “Tch. Should’ve known you’d be stubborn about it. Fine, fine—just let me know if I should start planning the mourning rites in advance.”

She snorted—weak, but still sharp. “Don’t waste your time. I plan to haunt you first.”

Aaryan sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Great. Even in death, you’ll still be nagging me.”

Kalyani smirked faintly. “Damn right.”

Aaryan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “At least leave me your cooking pot in the will. You know, so I can eat my grief away.”

Kalyani scoffed. “I’d rather curse it before I go.”

Aaryan’s smirk softened slightly. For all his teasing, the concern lingered in his eyes. “Seriously though… you should be resting.”

“I was resting. Until a certain loudmouth barged in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He crossed his arms. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and make sure you don’t keel over.”

Kalyani sighed, breaking the silence. “If you’re going to stand there being useless, at least make yourself useful.”

Aaryan smirked, straightening up. “Ah, there she is. I was starting to think you’d gone soft.”

Kalyani huffed, but Aaryan caught the small, almost imperceptible smile she tried to hide.

He said nothing more, just shook his head with a half-smile and moved to help. The usual teasing was still there, but this time, it lingered a little longer—something quieter, something closer to home.

Aaryan stayed.

At first, it was just to make sure Kalyani didn’t suddenly keel over, but as the days stretched on, it became something more. He slipped into an unspoken routine—cooking meals, airing out the house, making sure she ate properly.

Not that she made it easy.

“Are you trying to poison me?” Kalyani muttered one evening, eyeing the bowl of congee he placed in front of her.

Aaryan scoffed, dropping into the chair across from her. “Yeah, because slow-cooked rice and broth are deadly weapons. Just eat.”

She took a bite, chewed slowly, then sighed. “Hmph. Still bland.”

He raised a brow. “You’re welcome.”

Kalyani finished the bowl despite her complaints, setting it down with a tired huff. Aaryan took the empty dish, muttering about how she was probably just pretending to be sick to get out of chores. In return, she insulted his cooking at every meal, but she never left a single bite uneaten.

When she slept, he cultivated.

The Soma Root burned through his system, settling deep into his bones, refining his foundation in ways he hadn’t expected. His body felt lighter yet stronger, steadier with each passing day. Even the exhaustion from the illusions faded faster than it should have. The progress was subtle but undeniable—slow, steady, real.

Sometimes, when he finished his cultivation, he would sit on the porch, letting the cool night air chase away the lingering heat in his veins. The village was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional distant murmur of passing merchants or a lone dog barking somewhere down the road. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t running, fighting, or planning his next move.

It was… different.

By the end of the week, Kalyani was back on her feet. Her movements were steadier, the color returning to her face. She no longer looked like she would crumple under a strong breeze, and her sharp tongue had regained its usual bite.

One morning, Aaryan caught her lifting a heavy pot from the stove without the slight tremble in her fingers that had been there before. Another time, he noticed she didn’t pause to steady herself after standing for too long. It was small, but it was there—the weight of frailty slowly lifting.

Aaryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her move about the kitchen. “Well, look at that. Back from the dead.”

Kalyani shot him a glare as she inspected the state of her cooking utensils. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“I’m thoughtful like that.” He smirked and pulled out a small bundle from his bag. “Speaking of, I got you something.”

She eyed the bundle warily. “If it’s another excuse for you to dump extra work on me—”

“Relax, grandma. I actually bought these for you back at the sect.” He unwrapped the bundle with an exaggerated flourish, revealing the carefully selected items—mortal-use restorative pills for strength and vitality, a delicate jade pin, a fine wooden comb, a small vial of perfumed oil, and a fresh set of kitchen knives.

Kalyani reached for the jade pin first, turning it between her fingers. It was simple but elegant, the smooth green surface catching the dim light. “Fancy,” she muttered.

She ran a thumb over the wooden comb, tested the weight of the kitchen knives with a practiced eye, and sniffed the vial of perfumed oil, raising a brow.

Then, before she could get too suspicious, Aaryan casually slid the small bottle of pills toward her. “Here. Take one.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

“Something to keep you from dropping dead every time I look away.”

Kalyani scoffed but took the pill anyway, swallowing it with a sip of water. She didn’t say anything at first, but as the days passed, the effects became undeniable. Her complexion brightened, the hollowness in her cheeks softened, and her steps carried more strength than before.

One afternoon, as she sat combing her hair with the wooden comb he had bought, Aaryan smirked. “So? Feeling immortal yet?”

Kalyani shot him a look. “Still mortal enough to smack you if you get cocky.”

Aaryan chuckled, shaking his head.

The days blurred into a quiet rhythm—meals, scoldings, cultivation. He didn’t think about leaving. Not because he couldn’t. Just because… he didn’t.

For once, he wasn’t planning his next step. Not because he was stuck. Just because… he didn’t want to.