Azreal's nightmare of him striking the blood orb encased demonic foetus clean in half before an astonishing amount of blood Qi explodes forth, shredding his body, Azreal's mind's eye activates and gives himself a bird's eye view of his body being torn to shreds, laceration after laceration forming, as his own blood is pulled into the aggressive, almost living blood Qi.

He manages to last for three seconds of mind-numbing, excruciating pain, before his automatic functions kick in and force him to fall unconscious. This loop replays in Azreal's mind hundreds of times, before it begins to end and his eyes slowly open. A warm embrace surrounds Azreal, an unfamiliar feeling, as his eyes peek open a rush of confusion comes to his mind.

'How did Master Juhee get here?' The first thought that races through his head, she is currently sitting in the lotus position floating a few inches above the ground. A Qi of verdant green is intertwining with violet Qi and black Qi to produce a stream of Qi with three distinct colours, this stream is flowing around her body before each stream wraps around her arms and makes its way to her hands. This stream of multicoloured Qi is then channelled into each of her palms, and once a threshold is felt, she releases the Qi directly into Azreal's body, her eyes still closed yet the Qi is guided with laser precision.

The sensation of Master Juhee's Qi is unlike anything Azreal has ever experienced. The warmth spreads through his body like a soothing balm, the gentle tingling reminiscent of a soft breeze on a summer's day. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood, emanating from Master Juhee, fills his nostrils, adding to the sense of comfort and safety.

Azreal, feeling these energies enter his body, feels a strange sensation tingle from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, the Lightning Qi, familiar yet different, runs rampant and begins to burn dying or infected flesh acting as a guiding hand to the Qi that follows. The black Qi, Azreal assumes is her Darkness Qi, begins to manifest and remove the flesh that is too far damaged to be repaired and the burnt flesh from the lightning, acting as the knife of a surgeon. The green Qi, Azreal has not felt before, assuming this Qi is of Earth affinity, unaware of its potential, begins to heal his body from the Blood Qi's damage and effectively replace any flesh the other Qi deems damaged.

Azreal does not know this, but this kind of Qi control for those not focused on the medical or spiritual aspects of cultivation is almost impossible. The feat Master Juhee is currently undertaking speaks of her brilliance and latent ability. Azreal, too weak and tired to speak, stares at Master Juhee with his crystalline blue eyes. The reflection of her beauty would captivate the men with the strongest of wills, a burning desire that Azreal does not understand begins to swell within his heart and body, a flush rushing to his cheeks.

Azreal, for the first time in his life, has started to understand why men spend their lives chasing women, the woman in front of him is beautiful, talented, and of great importance in a powerful Sect. All of these traits, Azreal would never associate with himself due to the harsh realities of life outside of VR. The blush remaining on his face, Azreal's mind races to a future where he no longer has these thoughts, where these women are the ones to chase him, where he holds the power! A memory of a past life or a hopeful dream?

Moments pass, Azreal's body heals through the powerful and warm Qi running through his system. His mind going wild with thoughts of the possibilities of a future with the ethereal beauty of his Master before him, a sound rings inside of his head which brings him from his internal reverie.

'Thank you, System, I will return in a couple of days, look after my body', Azreal, a little sad that his time with Master Juhee in his mind is cut short, agrees with the System as he has already exceeded his planned time within the game. Hoping his sickly body hasn't been starved, he logs off and removes his helmet, staring at the dirty, dusty, depressing ceiling.

~ ~ ~

An unknown amount of time passes, Azreal, who hasn't moved a muscle, recalls the events he experienced inside Heaven's Universe. The bright light shining through the window shifts as time passes. It is initially a bright natural light, clearly from the sun shining directly overhead. Slowly this light begins to shift and the natural rays of sun are replaced with the harsh bright neon lights flickering between colours pink, red, blue and green. Each blasting into his room through the one window that once overlooked a beautiful park.

Azreal, still locked inside his own thoughts, goes through emotions that he hasn't felt in a lifetime. He is happy, sad and aggrieved as he considers his new Master Juhee, happy they met, sad she's not real and aggrieved at his own heart falling for something within a game. He also feels fear, excitement and joy. Fear at the Crimson Fang and if he was any slower at arriving at the village, he would've died without putting up a fight. Excitement for his new sword, Calista, a powerful soul-bound weapon. Joy from being able to experience a life worth living, a far cry from his life in the world he currently lives in.

A prevailing feeling of anxiety arises within him, as he remembers the oddly similar yet powerful voice that resounded in his mind as he escaped into his mindscape. The image of his own mentality cracking and revealing a beautiful tapestry, with black ink artwork, raises Azreal's heart rate. 'What is this feeling?' Azreal questions internally, expecting the System's response. Taking a deep and long sigh, he forces his body upwards and sits on the side of his bed, a sense of disgust runs through Azreal. His face morphing into self-hatred, 'how did I ever live like this?' his eyes looking down upon the garbage and dust laden throughout the room.

Standing with surprising ease, Azreal begins to move towards his kitchenette, all that rests on the countertop is a metal kettle covered in rust and a microwave covered in food scraps. 'Why did I let it all get this bad? Was I really too sick to even clean? Did I have to destroy my mirror in anger? God, I am pathetic.' A sense of frustration washes over Azreal. Staring absent-mindedly at his ruined microwave, he decides it's time to clean his home, grabbing a handful of garbage bags and begins to pick up all of the trash in his apartment.

A few hours disappear as Azreal continues to clean his apartment, he is shocked by his ability to continually work and clean his home. 'When was the last time my body was free of pain after this much movement?' His eyes glance towards his body, noticing everything seems a slight bit further down than it used to be, 'Did I grow?'

Azreal walks along the now clean floor, stopping just before the mirror he had shattered over a week ago. His face is reflected in the mirror, just above where he threw a punch at his own face, 'I've definitely gotten taller, I suppose I am still growing,' a small cheer going off in Azreal's head as he now stands at 5ft10. 'There is hope for me yet! Now all I need is fifty years of medical advancements to occur before I die and I'll surely be able to become normal!' Azreal's cold heart has begun to thaw, hoping to act as the source of warmth.

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'I really wish that my reality could be the same as the one in Heaven's Universe,' Azreal turns to stare at the headset, now laying on top of his bed. 'I guess, I've got the time to kill, I'll search the internet for more information on Heaven's Universe, maybe learn something I do not already know.'

Azreal reaches for his phone, his fingers, more agile than he remembers, moving with speed and no pain as he types in his queries about cultivation, systems, and the mysterious Qi that now seems more real to him than ever. Headlines and snippets of forum posts flash across his screen:

'Cultivation: Beyond the Game'

'The Secret Path of Qi: Unlocking Your Inner Power'

'Live QA: The #1 Heaven's Universe Player! Claiming to be at third level Martial Adept!'

'The Fringe Group Claiming Real-World Cultivation Breakthroughs!'

Each headline sends a shiver down his spine. 'Could cultivation really work here?' he ponders, clicking through articles and forum threads. "FUCK!" Azreal curses at the top of his lungs, earning him a thud against his common wall, "Shut the fuck up in there," an angry voice screams back. The thought of transcending his physical limitations and becoming something more than human is both thrilling and terrifying. Azreal knows that he must proceed with caution, but the allure of power and the promise of a better life are hard to resist

Azreal, checking his messages, sees the one unread message he has received.

From: Your #1 Servant

Message: Hey, Master! I can't believe my plan worked! I know my Master so well! I knew you would smash your phone if you didn't charge it last night. Now, I know you're going to freak out, but just stay calm and try to inject some of your Qi into your new phone. It will allow me to bring the system to you in this world as well!

His face going pale, his hands becoming weak, Azreal drops his phone onto his foot before it slams onto the floor. 'It's real… it has to be real, if the System can send a message to this world. They have to be linked!' Azreal jumps into the air, his frail body clinking and joints cracking as he does. "FUCK," Azreal screams again, except this time it's at himself, he dropped his brand new phone, earning him another punch against the wall and the same voice screaming at him.

'Franklyn's going to have my head if I've broken my new phone. Please be fine, please be fine,' Azreal repeats to himself as he bends down and picks up his phone. "Phew…" a heavy breath leaves Azreal's lungs, a mixture of panic, realisation, and elation crash into his mind and force him to sit back down on his bed.

Deciding the only course of action for the moment is to keep reading and find out as much as possible, Azreal wants to identify if the stories from all of these people claiming it's real share a common aspect, one he could use in this world.

The discussions he finds are a mix of scepticism and belief, tales of people dedicating their lives to mastering the arts of cultivation as depicted in the countless novels and games they've consumed and those who have just begun due to a mysterious vanishing person leaving a black box at their doorstep. Azreal searches for the better part of the night, he has found a few key pieces of information that he is certain are true.

Firstly, Azreal is the only one to have golden writing on the box, photos posted online from others have none of the golden print on the lid. Secondly, cultivation is certainly real, videos, albeit grainy, have surfaced of inhuman strength and mobility. These videos have previously been called hoaxes and false, but now even the government is taking it seriously. Azreal tunes into watching a live stream of a news broadcast featuring the Supreme Director, current leader of the Corporate Alliance, a group of nepotistic old men who'd rather fill their pools with gold than feed the poor.

The Supreme Director, a man in his mid-fifties, walks onto the stage, thousands of microphones can be seen facing his direction from the edges of the camera. A charming, yet subtly evil smile defines his annoyingly handsome face. "Citizens, all over the world, I beseech you to calm your nerves, I have heard of the claims that cultivation exists in this world, and the fear it is bringing to the population," The Supreme Director says with a charismatic tone, causing a false sense of trust to form.

Azreal watches, anger causing his eyebrows to twitch. "This guy's a fucking abuser, I've dealt with his type before, soft promises and a knife tucked into his pocket," Azreal mutters, instinctively rubbing a scar on his rib cage, just below his pec. Azreal continues to watch as his speech lasts for over twenty minutes, before ending it with a controversial statement and an even more evil smile than he started with.

"I have answered your questions, now it is my turn to ask you one. Do you really believe that if cultivation is real, that we wouldn't already be aware and well underway with our own plans?" The Supreme Director smiles and then walks off stage, his charisma can still be felt through the small illumination of Azreal's phone screen.

"What a fucking psychopath, he's just made everyone more nervous. The current corporate dictators now have the power of cultivation! What a fucking shitbag," Azreal mutters again. Deciding to continue his search, feeling more confident in his previous thoughts, Azreal finds one thread, in particular, that ensnares his curiosity and confirms his thoughts.

"Verge of the Ancient Path: The Enlightened Ones Approaching Martial Adept Realms!" He immerses himself in tales of a Sect known amongst the virtual congregation as "The Enlightened Ones," who staunchly believe that through profound meditation, the cultivation of Qi following the venerable practices of old, and a diligent study of esoteric scriptures, they are on the precipice of transcending to the first echelon of Martial Adept. The newly formed Sect is viewed with both disbelief and reverence, with 'various cultivators' of the forum sharing their experiences and tips to achieve a breakthrough.

After the sun has begun to rise, Azreal lays his phone down and decides he should sleep, his mind is engrossed with reading as much about real-life cultivation methods has caused him to forget about time until he is falling asleep sitting up. He knows that his psyche needs to heal and comprehend what has happened in the game, a slight shiver goes down his spine and the fear and gore he has witnessed is real to him.

He sleeps for the next twenty-four hours, rising as the sounds of birds and the buzzing of the machines spring to life signalling it is morning again. After moving the garbage down to the trash, taking him a few more trips than anticipated, Azreal is feeling as if his life has begun to turn. He is still incredibly sickly, and his future bleak, but it is no longer complete darkness, there is a future he can see coming to fruition.

Returning to floor fifteen, Azreal has a small pep in his sickly walk, his gaunt frame slightly larger and less curled over, whistling his favourite song as he walks down the dimly lit and dank hallway. Azreal has inspected the door when he first went past it, he is overly cautious and aware of this apartment. This is where he heard a woman being beaten earlier and notes that it is closed and no noise is coming from behind the door.

Azreal's whistling stops, as a sense of fear overcomes him, the door of her apartment has been kicked in, the damage evident as a boot print is just to the left of the doorknob. Azreal's heart pounds in his chest as he nears the apartment door, the sound of his own pulse drowning out the distant screams. A part of him wants to turn back, to retreat to the safety of his own apartment and pretend he hasn't seen anything. But another part, a newer, braver part, urges him forward. He knows he can't stand idly by while someone suffers, not anymore.

With a deep breath, Azreal steels himself for whatever lies beyond the broken door, determined to face the consequences of his actions, no matter the cost.