"You have awakened, Jack, but the world has not. It is as He said. The Twin Angels That Fell will ascend. Divine retribution will come to Earth. You should have stayed hidden."

'What god is he? Which pantheon is he a part of?'

His thoughts were slow and methodical.

Dasha needed to know.

Dasha had to know.

He systematically eliminated the impossible. He narrowed in on the gods that could and could not be the shadow before him.

But there was little to go off, leading him to give a simple nod. What could he say? The string of words the masked man said made little sense to him. There was too much to consider and too much to risk.

Twin angels…

'Lucifer and Michael, perhaps?'

Lucifer, the Devil, Satan, the Originator of Evil in the King James Bible. The name Lucifer meant the Morning Star, a translation carried over from the late-4th-century Latin translation of the Bible. It was a Latin word that slowly became analogous with the devil himself despite originally being affiliated with the Roman-Greek god Venus.

Lucifer often referred to the devil prior to his fall. When the Morning Star returned, divine retribution would strike Earth? But why regard Lucifer as an angel? After falling, was he not considered a demon? Even if Lucifer returned to being an angel, why would his appearance alongside Michael's cause the Earth to suffer? Michael was in the Heavenly Games managing Valhalla's Colosseum and he was regarded as a great, powerful angel in the public whispers.

So what sin was committed to make Michael fall?

'Divine retribution will come to Earth. The Day of Judgement, put simply. Michael and Lucifer...hrm.'

"Bartender?" A woman in a black chiton came over at the masked man's call. "A bottle of Ciso, please."

'Ciso, typically Peru. Finally.'

He had something. The lady bartender had the drink at the ready. She worked for him. This man's influence went deep. To be recognized and listened to with such ease, his mask must have been an easy identifier.

'The flamingo mask is pink, like the Andean flamingo which is in the southwest tip of Peru. This god might belong to the Paracas Civilization. In which case…'

The god wore an expensive three-piece gray suit, so the mask, the bottle, and his body were the three aspects up for analysis.

'Too underweight. Boneless even. Powerful. His aura and cadence is neither good or evil. A mask. Pre-Incan mythology. He must be Kón, the Flying Feline and creator of the first humans.'

"A gift from me to you," said Kón, getting off the stool. "Good luck, old friend. May we all find what we are looking for."

Dasha eyed him from his amplified peripheral. The bartender gave him the bottle of cisco Kón requested. He turned the bottle and read the label. Underneath the contents, written in tiny letters of a language long since forgotten. Four words. Four seconds.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

They are still listening. Be careful

His blood ran cold.

Then promptly returned to normal.

For the first time in this world, he was agitated by his ignorance. Not knowing meant life and death. The gap between himself and the upper echelon of the White Abyss was insurmountable, and he was beginning to recognize that.

He needed to keep reading. He needed to understand everything the world had to give—and then seize it for himself. From his inventory, he pulled out a quill and paper.

"I need you to do something for me," he wrote down.

In five seconds, a single word appeared on the paper.

"Sure!!!!!!"

***

Addiction to pills was a phenomena he wanted to avoid. The folktales that cultivation masters told their students on pill addiction was well-recorded. The most popular of which originated from a Champion of the Heavenly Games from a hundred years back. The Champion's knowledge of pills and herbs were second to none in his era, and so, he used that knowledge to his advantage and built a Foundation Establishment reliant entirely on pills.

He was powerful, but he was also addicted. He forgoed meditation and to keep up with his rising peers he consumed pill after pill. Dozens a day. Hundreds a month. Tens of thousands a year.

He consumed pills until one day his body broke down from the bits of impurities that lingered and the strain on his soul. The Champion was never able to wield Qi again. The truth of the story was enough to turn into a cultural warning. Cultivators of the modern day constantly had to consider if they were over reliant on pills. The tiny jumps were too gratifying to ignore completely. Striking balance was an issue that ran rampant in every sect. According to the journals he read of former Unorthodox Sect members, it was perhaps their largest problem with cultivating.

'It's also why the greatest pill maker, Li Xuanming, went to the Orthodox Sect. The Unorthodox were unhinged and incapable of controlling themselves at one point. They became too reliant.'

Forgoing pills entirely would hinder Dasha's rate of growth. Balance was key. Therefore, he decided to consume a high-ranking pill at the Early Stage of the Foundation Establishment and never again.

To reach the Middle Stage of Foundation Establishment required learning to manipulate Qi to heal oneself. At the most basic level, that would be healing basic cuts.

He opened up his friend list and clicked on Grace's username. A backdrop of options opened up, including [ Invite ]

[ Invite Grace to personal dimension. ]

[ Yes or no? ]

The white summer dress of Grace appeared in his lab from the corner of his eye. One hands on her hip and the other behind her, she approached him with her usual perpetual smile. "Whatcha doing?"

"Making the last batch of Dream Meth till I leave."

"You want me to give it to Xavier," she said.

"Yes. I told him in advance what to do."

"Look at you, so prepared." Grace watched him tend the flames of the beaker containing the Dreamweaver's Dust and the Ethereal Clarity. He was two-thirds through the thirty minute process. Even so, he had already finished several previous concoctions. "By the way—"

"You have it," he stated bluntly.

"I do. Took a lot of convincing though. Our resident pill-maker, Sawatdee Chayangkul, said a bunch of the materials were from the Shang Dynasty. Not easy stuff to get."

"Yet still you convinced him. I'm impressed by your negotiation skills."

Grace put her fingers at the edges of her mouth and stretched it into a childlike smile. "This smile is E for everyone!"

The final step remained: the transmutation. He formulated the symbols through Fire Finger and activated a rare magic that synchronized with the beaker and transformed it into the Dream Meth.

"Woah. Cool," Grace praised.

"Now then." Dasha left his work area and approached her. "The pill, please."

"One Xuanwu's Ascension Pill coming right up!" From the hand that had been behind her, she revealed a small treasure chest. A crafted chest depicting a black tortoise. "Lóng Shé Cháobài. I hope I said that right—"

She must have gotten it right because the imagery glowed red and the chest flicked open.

"An S-rank cultivation pill." With three fingers, he picked it up. The small orb was brown in colour and carved with detailed markings. It was unexpectedly soft.

'This was not supposed to be in my plans for a year.'

"Thank you, Grace."

She winked. "It's a part of our agreement."

"I will have to consume this elsewhere," he said.

"Where will you be going?"

"Where do you think?"

He meant it as a genuine question. Grace went into a thinking pose.

"Ummm…nature is good for meditation and Qi stuff, I think. So…Gate 1, the forest?"

He gave a respectful nod. "Yes. I will be returning to where it all began."