Chapter 5

For several long days, Aster had fasted at Matter's instruction, enduring hunger and fatigue. Each night, his mind would cross over into the Astral Plane, as though his body and spirit had been severed for brief moments of time. He quickly adapted to the strange ritual—falling asleep and waking up in the Astral Plane as if it was just another part of his existence. Matter, in the rare instances he would answer Aster’s questions, told him that with time, Aster would be able to cross over through deep meditation as well. He spoke cryptically about a ceremony called the "Sever Ceremony," which, when Aster reached “Acolyte rank,” would allow his consciousness to split. Both halves would experience the Astral and Material Planes simultaneously, a process Aster couldn’t quite grasp. “You’ll learn all that at Galamad,” Matter had said dismissively. “I’m busy. Why don’t you go do some more Will practice?”

Will practice had become Aster's least favourite activity, like an incessant, maddening game. It was like the old childhood toy where you had to move a wire along a loop without letting it touch—only it was a thousand times worse. He had to move a gem through a narrow, wire mesh tube using only his focus, keeping his eyes locked on it. If his concentration slipped, the gem fell. A buzzer would sound, a cruel reminder of his failure, and the whole process would reset. On the third day, Aster finally managed to finish the circuit, but Matter wasn’t satisfied. He swapped the wire mesh for a solid tube. “Try again,” he instructed.

Aster had protested. “I can’t see the stone in there. How am I supposed to move it?”

Matter’s only advice was simple. “Feel it.”

Aster had no idea what that meant at first, but he reasoned that it had to be some kind of magic—perhaps an extension of the powers he had seen Matter demonstrate. Matter had manipulated objects around the room without touching them, even slaying a dangerous creature with barely a glance. Surely, this was related.

Determined, Aster had tried to feel the stone in his hands first, but the sensation was indistinguishable from his own touch. Frustrated, he placed it on the table and attempted to focus again, his eyes trained on the stone. Slowly, he could feel something—a subtle pull, a sensation of weight, but it was fleeting. Allowing his focus to raise the stone in the air again, he tried to maintain that feeling. Holding onto it, he tried closing his eyes, but the stone would always drop.

It was maddening. Day after day, he tried. Hundreds of failures. But something changed on that day. Despite the gnawing hunger that pulled at him, he felt a difference—something like a connection, a way to feel the stone's weight in his mind.

He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to concentrate. The stone wavered in midair, but it dropped once more.

“I need to focus on its weight,” Aster reminded himself. He opened his eyes and adjusted, allowing the stone to rise again and keeping the sensation of its weight at the forefront of his consciousness. And then, it happened. He felt the weight of the stone as clearly in his mind eye as he did holding it in his hand. For the first time, it wasn’t just his eyes working—the stone was there, connected to him, and he felt the pull, the resistance, the gravity of it. But just as he got it into place, it fell again.

But Aster didn't give up. He repeated the process, dozens of times, until finally—he closed his eyes and instead of the telltale drop of the stone, there was a pause, suddenly realising he had done it, he lets his focus slip, which is of course followed by the sound of the stone dropping.

“It fell, but only after a second! I held it completely without looking!” Aster shouted.

From across the room, Matter watched with surprise, his eyes wide.

“Didn’t think you’d figure it out so quickly, did you?” Aster grinned, feeling an unexpected rush of pride.

Matter cleared his throat, looking a little guilty. “The Absent Labyrinth is used to test and train Will at the Saint level,” he said. “I needed to be sure you had enough strength in your will just to lift the gem. That was the minimum to survive the surgery. The fact that you were able to finish the first level of the Labyrinth —well, that’s an accomplishment at your level. But the fact that you mastered it and could maintain your focus with your eyes closed... that’s the first step to Divine level.”

Aster blinked, confused. “Saint level? Divine level? What are you talking about?”

Matter gave him a sideways glance. “I’m not sure how much you’ll understand, but that’s the scale we’re working on here. The higher your Will, the higher the chances the surgery will succeed.”

Aster didn’t fully grasp what Matter meant, but those words sounded impressive enough. Lifting the stone without effort now, he absentmindedly caused it to drift in a lazy eight pattern. Chuffed at his mastery, he gave Matter self-satisfied smirk. “So why have me practice all this extra stuff if lifting the stone was all you needed?”

Matter paused, scratching his head sheepishly. “Well... the higher your will, the more likely the surgery is to work. And, uh...” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “It also kept you busy so I could get some work done without your constant questions.”

Aster flings the stone at his head using a surprising amount of force which simply bounces off Matter without leaving a mark.

“Wow you’re really getting good at this” he exclaims, causing Aster to storm out of the room before he tried to throttle him.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“The ritual is ready” Matter suddenly disrupts Aster’s concentration on the stone as it falls on the side of the closed tubing causing the hated alarm to go off, essentially screaming ‘Loser’ to Aster as he cursed this contraption, he had made it halfway through and had hoped to complete it before the surgery.

Suddenly realizing what Matter said, he quickly let go of his frustrations as he turns his attention to Matter “I just finished though so I’m quickly going to get ready, but you can head over to the tablet. You remember what you need to do?” Matter asks.

Aster rolled his eyes but grinned. "Yes, I remember." He had heard the instructions so many times, it felt like it was seared into his consciousness. “When you feel the sharp pain go off the guided path, use your will to keep it straight.”

Matter seemed happy with his answer and moves to go, but suddenly stops as he seemed to want to say something more. After a long pause, with his back still turned to him he finally says “You’re Parents really did love you, never forget that” before leaving the room and leaving Aster to ponder the meaning behind what he meant.

The cold marble of the tablet pressed into Aster’s bare back as he lay down, the coolness sending a shiver through him. His body felt tense, rigid with anticipation as the ritual groves on the stone etched deep lines into his skin, forming an intricate map—lines of power and meaning that connected him to the unknown. He didn’t fully understand it, but he could feel the hum of magic beneath his skin, pulling him into the centre of whatever was coming. His heart raced, but he steadied himself. This was it. He had to trust Matter. There was no going back now.

The room was dark, the sky above just beginning to lighten with the first whispers of dawn. The atmosphere felt thick with latent energy. Calm before the storm, Aster thought, taking a deep breath. He could almost hear the pulse of his own heartbeat in the stillness.

Suddenly, the soft rustle of cloth broke through his thoughts. Matter appeared; his figure dressed in a jet-black robe that shimmered in the dim light. The fabric seemed alive, swirling with stars and galaxies, as though the robe was made of the night sky itself. There was something ethereal about him, an aura of power that made Aster feel small, insignificant in comparison. For the first time since he had met him, Aster felt a flicker of awe.

“Ready?” Matter asked, his voice calm, though Aster could sense the weight of the moment in it.

Aster took a deep breath and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Matter checked the ritual setup one last time, his eyes scanning the space with sharp attention. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small white disk. Both sides of it glowed with brilliant red symbols that pulsed like flames. Aster’s pulse quickened as he watched it..

“After I activate this artefact,” Matter explained, his voice steady as he held it up, “you’ll be transported to the Wyrm. The ritual will begin then. Remember what I told you—guide the pain to the marked path. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

Aster nodded, though his mind still reeled. Guide the pain? What did that even mean? How would he manage it? But Matter was looking at him with those piercing cyan eyes, as though reading his thoughts. Aster swallowed his uncertainty, forced himself to focus.

“Good luck,” Matter said quietly, but there was something more in his voice—something that sent a chill down Aster’s spine. It was as if he knew something Aster didn’t. As if he understood what was truly at stake.

Before Aster could respond, there was a crack, a sudden violent shift, and then everything went dark.

The world around him spun, and he fell, tumbling through endless blackness. Aster couldn’t scream, couldn’t even draw in a breath. Then—pain. A sharp, raw pain erupted in his forehead, a flare of agony that tore through his skull. He gasped, feeling his body twist, pulled in directions he couldn’t comprehend. His vision blurred as he tried to hold on to himself, to keep some semblance of control.

His eyes snapped open.

Before him, the Wyrm loomed. It was vast, its form twisted and grotesque, an insectoid creature the size of a mountain. Its skin was slick and alien, reflecting the darkness around it, and its eyes—cold and unfeeling—locked onto him. It was as if it could see straight into his soul, as if it were measuring him, calculating his worth in some unfathomable way. Hunger radiated from it, a dark, endless hunger, but there was no malice, no cruelty. Just an innate, primal need to consume.

Aster’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Not now.

The pain surged, rippling through his body as though it were tearing him apart. His mind screamed in protest, but he held on, forcing himself to stay grounded in the presence of the Wyrm.

The world around him seemed to shift. The Wyrm twisted and writhed, its immense form thrashing, and yet Aster could see something new. A massive ritual pattern stretched across the ground beneath them, intricate and vast, glowing faintly in the void. The symbols pulsed with a strange energy, as though alive, and at the center of it all—the Wyrm, the focus of the ritual.

Above, a brilliant light began to move. It started as a dull white glow but slowly grew brighter, shifting to a radiant gold. Aster felt the call of it, as though the light wanted him to act. It was his path—he had to guide it.

With what little strength he had, Aster focused on the light, pulling it through the geometric pattern. Pain erupted with each step. The light burned as it moved, slicing through his soul, but Aster forced himself to keep it steady, guiding it along the path, weaving it through the runes with all his will.

The Wyrm’s body began to convulse violently beneath him. Its movements were frantic, desperate, but Aster did not stop. He could feel it, a resistance building, but he had to keep moving. Hours passed—or perhaps it was days, time seemed irrelevant in this place—and Aster’s focus never wavered. Finally, after an eternity, he felt the ritual reach its peak.

The pain in his body reached its limit, his muscles screaming, but the light was moving steadily through the pattern now. And then—nothing.

Aster felt a wave of confusion. Had it worked? Was the ritual over? Was he finished?

Before he could even begin to process what had happened, a bright flash of light appeared before him, blinding him. Squinting against the glare, Aster saw a figure materializing in front of the Wyrm.

It was a man—a tall, radiant figure, glowing with golden light. His presence filled the space, and Aster felt a surge of recognition. The figure turned slowly, and Aster’s heart stopped.

It was Matter.

His cyan eyes locked with Aster’s. But they were different now—filled with a deep sadness, a sorrow that echoed through Aster’s very soul. But there was something else too—something resolute, something almost joyful.

"Aster," Matter’s voice echoed in his mind. "I’m sorry. There was no other way. For the Wyrm to enter chrysalis and complete the ritual, it had to feed on a spirit. I promised your parents I would look after you."

Tears filled Aster’s eyes as he saw Matter, glowing with radiant energy, standing before him. But before he could react, the Wyrm moved.

With a terrifying roar, its immense form lunged forward, jaws snapping shut around the spirit of Matter, consuming him in an instant.

Aster’s heart shattered as the figure of Matter disappeared into the Wyrm’s gaping maw. His voice echoed in Aster’s mind one last time:

“Shake this world, Aster. For me. For Howard. For Seni.”

And then, with a deafening explosion of light and sound, Aster’s consciousness shattered, falling into an endless void.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Aster woke with a searing pain radiating through every fiber of his being. His muscles screamed in protest as if they had been stretched and torn, and his head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache. The last thing he remembered was performing the ritual with Matter, but now… he wasn’t there anymore.

The air around him felt different—thinner, colder, yet charged with an otherworldly energy that made his skin prickle. As his vision cleared, he realized he was no longer on Earth. He lay on a flat, invisible surface suspended in an endless expanse of stars. Galaxies swirled in the distance, their vibrant hues of blues, purples, and golds painting the void. Nebulas stretched like cosmic brushstrokes, their ethereal glow casting faint light across the scene. Aster’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sheer vastness of it all. He was floating in the middle of an ocean of stars, and the sight was both breathtaking and terrifying.

“So, you’re finally awake,” a deep, guttural voice growled, snapping Aster out of his awe. The voice was heavy, commanding, and carried an edge of menace that made Aster’s instincts scream in warning. He turned his head, wincing at the pain, and saw a figure standing a short distance away.

The being was massive, standing at least four meters tall, with a muscular frame that exuded raw power. His head was that of a lion, with a golden mane that shimmered faintly in the starlight. His eyes glowed with an amber hue, piercing and predatory, as they locked onto Aster. The lion-man’s presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. He wore a suit of armor that seemed to be forged from the very stars themselves, its surface shimmering with constellations that shifted and moved as if alive.

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Aster tried to push himself up, his body trembling with the effort, but before he could even get to his knees, the lion-man let out a thunderous roar. “Insolence!” The word reverberated through the air like a shockwave, and suddenly, an immense weight pressed down on Aster, forcing him back to the ground. It felt as if a small horse had been placed on his shoulders, crushing him into the invisible surface beneath him.

“You dare to stand in my presence!?” the lion-man bellowed, his voice dripping with contempt. “A mere worm, thinking himself my equal?!” The weight doubled, and Aster gasped as the pressure intensified, making it feel like his bones were about to snap. “You stay on your knees and know your place!”

Anger flared in Aster’s chest, hot and defiant. Who the hell does this guy think he is? he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain. He had just woken up in this bizarre place, and now this overgrown house cat was treating him like dirt. Aster had faced bullies before—his foster mom had been one of the worst—but no one had ever broken his spirit. He wasn’t about to let this lion-faced tyrant be the first.

Straining against the crushing weight, Aster slowly pushed himself up, his muscles trembling with the effort. The lion-man’s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his hand, he increased the pressure fivefold. Aster was instantly driven back to the ground, his body screaming in agony as it felt like every bone was on the verge of shattering. Insolent, me? Aster thought bitterly, his vision blurring from the pain. I’d worship you if it meant getting rid of this pressure. He could feel his ribs cracking under the strain, and for a moment, he wondered if this was how it would all end—crushed by some cosmic lion in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly, a soft woosh echoed through the void, and the weight vanished as quickly as it had come. Aster gasped, drawing in ragged breaths as the pain began to recede.

“Still love torturing initiates, I see, Rhyden?” a woman’s voice said, her tone laced with contempt. Aster wanted to look up, to see who had saved him, but he kept his head down, his body still trembling from the ordeal. He had learned his lesson with the lion-man—rebellious as he was, he wasn’t stupid.

“And so what if I squash an insect or two?” Rhyden replied, his voice dripping with disdain. “There are millions of them.” Aster couldn’t help but think, This guy must be a real joy at parties.

“That is in complete violation of the Astral Charter,” the woman retorted, her voice sharp. “But looking past that, you still can’t harm this one. That’s why we’ve all come together.” More wooshes echoed through the void, and Aster felt the air around him grow heavier as more beings appeared. The pressure of their presence was almost as suffocating as Rhyden’s weight, but Aster kept his head down, determined not to draw their attention.

“You can look up if you wish,” the woman said, her tone now tinged with amusement. Aster hesitated, then slowly raised his head. Blood trickled from his nose, and his body ached from the ordeal, but he forced himself to meet the gaze of his savior.

The woman was unlike anything he had ever seen. She radiated light, her very being seeming to be constructed from the warmest sunlight. Her skin glowed with a white-hot brilliance, and her hair roiled with flames that danced like the corona of a star. She was beautiful, but in a way that was almost painful to look at, as if her very presence could burn away the darkness. Aster stared, slack-jawed, until the woman cleared her throat, snapping him out of his daze.

“I asked, do you know where you are?” she repeated, her voice patient but firm. Aster blinked, realizing he must have missed her the first time.

“The Astral Plane,” he ventured, his voice hoarse.

The woman sighed. “Do you know who we are?” she asked, gesturing to the figures around her. Aster glanced at the others—twelve in total, each one more bizarre than the last. Rhyden wasn’t the only one who looked part monster, and the sun woman wasn’t the only one made of energy. There was a man who seemed to be made of magma, his body glowing with molten heat, and another who swirled with ash, his form constantly shifting. A woman with the body of a spider loomed in the background, her many eyes glinting with malice, while a pair of figures stitched together from mismatched parts grinned unsettlingly at him.

“Hopefully very friendly people?” Aster answered, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“He’s an idiot,” the magma man exclaimed, his voice crackling like lava.

The sun woman sighed again, clearly exasperated. “Let me fill you all in before this devolves further,” she said, her tone commanding. “This boy is the lost heir of the Elchen family.” Murmurs of recognition and shock rippled through the group, though some still looked confused. “The one infected by the SS-level void wyrm as a baby in the womb,” she added, her voice heavy with significance.

“That’s impossible,” the magma man protested. “The Elchen and Sikewe families were wiped out more than twelve years ago. He should have hatched ages ago.”

“That’s why I’ve asked you all here today,” the sun woman replied. “This boy has not only survived being a void wyrm host, but it seems he was transfused with the wyrm into a SymbioCultivator with the parasite.” The group erupted into chaos, some demanding proof, others calling for Aster’s immediate execution. The sun woman raised a hand, silencing them. “I’ve already made a copy of his engravings onto a tablet for each of us to study. However, I doubt we’ll find much use for it.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “The ink used for his engravings was made from sap harvested from the eternity tree.”

The group fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “Not only that,” she continued, “but the man who performed this ritual was a Celestial-rank enchanter. He cultivated the sap in his own body for over twenty years, using his very will to shape the runes. He even sacrificed himself to complete the ritual.”

As the group erupted into chaos again, with some demanding proof and others calling for Aster’s immediate execution, a new voice cut through the cacophony. It was low, measured, and carried an undercurrent of danger that made even Rhyden’s growl seem tame by comparison.

“Enough,” the voice said, and the room fell silent. All eyes turned to the speaker.

“Rheno Mashe, you have the stand” Aerothena said as she steps backwards allowing an older man, his electric blue hair and beard shimmering like a storm-lit sky, to step forward . His glowing eyes, a piercing shade of cobalt, scanned the group with a calculating intensity. He was dressed in flowing robes that seemed to shift and ripple like the surface of a calm sea, and his presence exuded an air of quiet authority. Unlike the others, who radiated raw power or elemental energy, Rheno’s aura was more subtle—a coiled tension, like a blade waiting to be drawn.

Aster’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure. ‘Mashe,’ he thought, trembling with a mix of anger and fear. ‘Matter said they were the ones who infected me with this parasite?’

“This boy,” Rheno said, his voice cold and precise, “is not just a curiosity or a potential resource. He is a threat. A living, breathing weapon that could unravel the very fabric of our existence.” He turned his gaze to Aster, who flinched under the weight of those glowing eyes. “The void wyrm is not a parasite to be tamed or a tool to be wielded. It is a force of annihilation. And this boy—this host—carries it within him.”

Aerathena’s fiery gaze narrowed. “Rheno, your fear is understandable, but your conclusions are premature. We have no evidence that the wyrm’s influence is active or uncontrollable.”

“No evidence?” Rheno’s voice rose, sharp and biting. “The boy survived a transfusion that should have killed him. He bears engravings made from the sap of the eternity tree, burnt into him by the sacrifice of a Celestial. Do you truly believe such power comes without a cost? Without a purpose?” He stepped closer to Aster, his movements deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “The void wyrm is not a passive entity. It is a predator, a destroyer. And it will use this boy to fulfill its purpose.”

Aster’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the weight of Rheno’s presence—the sheer, coiled power radiating from him—kept him rooted in place. “You don’t know me,” Aster said, his voice trembling but defiant. “Your family… they’re the ones who infected me with the void wyrm. You’re the reason I’m like this.”

Rheno’s smile didn’t waver, but his glowing eyes narrowed slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey. “A bold accusation,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “And one you have no proof to support. The void wyrm is a force of chaos, boy. It does not discriminate. It does not take sides. To blame my family for your… condition is not only baseless but foolish.”

Aster’s fists trembled at his sides. He wanted to argue, to lash out, but the words caught in his throat. Rheno’s calm dismissal was infuriating, but it also planted a seed of doubt. What if he was wrong? What if Matter meant someone else in the Mashe family?

Aerathena stepped forward, her fiery presence cutting through the tension. “Enough,” she said, her voice firm. “This is not the time for accusations or personal grievances.” She looks hard at Aster conveying that her words were meant for him, before turning to the other individuals. “We are here to decide the boy’s fate, not to dredge up ancient history. Make your point and let the council decide”

Rheno inclined his head, his expression smooth and unbothered. “Of course,” he said, though his glowing eyes lingered on Aster for a moment longer, as if silently warning him to tread carefully. “My concern is for the safety of the Astral Plane, nothing more.”

Aster glared at Rheno, his mind racing. He didn’t trust the man—not for a second. But without proof, without any way to back up his claims, he knew he was powerless. For now, he would have to bide his time, to watch and wait. But he wouldn’t forget. And he wouldn’t let Rheno’s calm facade fool him.

Rheno’s lips curled into a cold smile. “I know enough. I’ve seen what the void wyrm can do. I’ve seen countries reduced to ash, civilizations erased from existence. And I will not stand by while he—while it—threatens everything we’ve built.” He turned to the group, his voice rising with conviction. “I move that the boy be put to death. Immediately. Before it’s too late.”

The room erupted into murmurs, some of agreement, others of protest. Aerathena raised a hand, silencing the group once more. “Rheno, your concerns are noted. But we are bound by the Astral Charter. The boy has the right to make it through to his severing ceremony, to be given a chance to grow and prove herself.”

“The Charter,” Rheno spat, “was not written with creatures like him in mind. It was written to protect the innocent, not to shield a ticking time bomb.” He turned to the others, his glowing eyes sweeping across the group. “How many of you are willing to risk everything for the sake of curiosity? How many of you are willing to gamble the fate of the Astral Plane on the hope that this boy can be controlled?”

The magma man stepped forward, his molten body crackling with heat. “I stand with Rheno. The boy is too dangerous to be left alive.”

The ash man nodded, his form shifting and swirling like a living storm. “Agreed. The void wyrm is a threat we cannot afford to ignore.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, a man covered in metal with two small moons orbiting him stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. “What do you propose, Aerathena?” he asked.

“That the boy be studied,” she replied. “We may learn something that could help cure those stricken by the void. But he is also the heir of two legacy families, and under the Astral Charter, he must be allowed to attend his studies and undergo the severing ceremony. My proposal is to let him grow. We don’t know how this transfusion will influence his development, and I, for one, am curious to find out.”

The metal man nodded. “We’ll take a vote.”

Aerathena looked relieved. “All those in favor of allowing him to be schooled and grow, raise your hands.” Seven hands went up, including Rhyden’s, much to Aster’s surprise. The others who voted in favor included a bearded man, a young boy, a man with closed eyes holding a sword, the metallic figure with two moons orbiting him, a floating sphere of water, and lastly a large, tree-like entity that resembled a well-pruned shrubbery.

“Those opposed?” The opposition consisted of darker figures—the magma man, the ash man, the spider woman, the stitched-together pair, and Rheno Mashe himself. Aster shuddered at the thought of what “opposed” might mean to them, especially after hearing the stitched man’s earlier suggestion of dissection.

“Then it’s settled,” Aerathena declared. With a series of wooshes, the others disappeared, leaving Aster alone with her in the vast, star-filled void.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Are we actually in space?” Aster cautiously asked the sun-being, trying to start a conversation. His voice echoed faintly in the vast, star-filled expanse, the sound swallowed by the infinite void around them. The woman—Aerathena—turned her radiant gaze toward him, her eyes like twin suns that seemed to pierce through his very soul. She smiled, and for a moment, Aster felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold, otherworldly environment.

“We’re in a pocket dimension,” she explained, her voice calm and reassuring. “We use it to travel to and from the Astral Wilds to the lower strata. The energy down here is too thin for us to remain stable, so this pocket dimension acts as a bridge, allowing us to interact with cultivators like yourself. The ripples of your ritual reverberated throughout the Astral Planes, catching our attention, I sent Rhyden to fetch you while I gathered the rest, he’s a brute but as you saw with the way he voted, he’s a good person.”

Aster swallowed hard, his throat dry, and asked the question that had been gnawing at him since he woke up.

“Did Matter really do something that had never been done before? Why did he have to die?” The weight of Matter’s sacrifice suddenly hit him like a tidal wave, and he fell to his knees, his chest tightening with grief. ‘I knew he was acting weird at the end,’ Aster thought, his mind swirling with regret. ‘I thought he was just awkward, like me. I thought we’d have more time to get to know each other. Damn it!’

Aerathena’s expression softened, her fiery hair flickering gently as if in sympathy. “Nothing like this had ever been attempted before,” she said, her voice tinged with both awe and sorrow. “No one had even considered it—and for good reason. The Eternity Tree is a colossal entity that exists in a realm only accessible to those who have mastered the Law of Time. Its sap holds the essence of time itself. While benign within the tree, once removed, it becomes wildly unstable. Imagine time as a series of polarities—forward, backward, present, and stop. Now imagine those polarities reduced to the size of atoms, ripping through the stable flow of time around them. One part of you might age centuries in seconds, while another reverts to infancy. The result is… catastrophic.”

She paused, her glowing eyes studying Aster as if weighing how much to reveal. “This Matter you speak of—likely a pseudonym for a genius Celestial-rank enchanter who disappeared around the same time you and your parents did—somehow transfused the sap into his own body without degrading. He attuned it to his will, stabilizing it and turning it into the most durable and potent body enchantment medium I’ve ever seen. And he used it to contain the void wyrm within you.”

Aster’s breath hitched. “Is the void wyrm really that bad? Matter mentioned they were an invasive species, but I didn’t really understand why they’re so dangerous.”

Aerathena’s expression darkened, her fiery aura dimming slightly as if the mere mention of the wyrm dampened her light. “Worse than you can imagine,” she said, her voice heavy with gravity. “The void wyrm is a parasite from a plane of existence that borders our own—a plane that is anathema to everything we know. They first appeared in the late 1800s, though we don’t know why. The destruction they leave in their wake is unimaginable.”

She took a deep breath, her flames flickering as if agitated. “Once a wyrm infects its host, there is no cure—or at least, there hasn’t been until now. When they hatch, the true nightmare begins. After feeding on their host’s Faith and good karma, they enter their next phase, devouring the host’s spirit and causing their body to fall into a coma. The wyrm then forms a chrysalis, drawing in the surrounding essence to build its body from the very fabric of our plane. Within 24 hours, it emerges as a fully grown Void Form, capable of manipulating fate on a massive scale. It feeds on the karmic fate of towns, cities, countries, and even continents.”

Aster’s stomach churned as she continued. “The threat level of each wyrm is measured from E to A, with special cases designated as S, SS, SSS and finally, god-level threats: Beta, Omega, and Alpha. The wyrm inside you is classified as SS due to its distinct cross horn shape—a typing that indicates immense destructive potential. The last time an SS-rank Void Form was born, it triggered WW2—a global conflict that started with the economic collapse of Germany, the descent into madness of its people, which eventually culminated in a war that stretched the globe. Every bomb dropped, every building destroyed, provided fuel for the wyrm, each act of destruction liquidated that asset’s worth of faith on the Astral Plane for the Wyrm to absorb and become stronger from. We only stopped it by rallying our own karmic fate to contain its destruction before finally destroying it—at great cost.”

Her voice trembled with sorrow, and Aster felt a chill run down his spine. ‘If he remembered correctly, World War Two resulted in more than Sixty million deaths,’ he thought, his mind reeling. ‘Maybe more. And the thing inside me could be even worse?’ He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to process the enormity of it all.

“If I’m this dangerous,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “why keep me alive at all? Why not just kill me and study the ritual from my corpse?”

Aerathena’s fiery aura flared brightly, forcing Aster to shield his eyes. “The Eternity Sap used in your ritual is the strongest binding I’ve ever seen, just to study this process would make it worth it to keep you alive” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “But what's more is the bindings itself is a cultivation technique known as ‘Symbiocultivation’ —a well-studied method that fuses two beings into one, creating a new, more powerful cultivation type which allows the cultivator to get access to the cultivation of the being they're fused with. The fact that you’re in control and the wyrm is not means we don’t need to worry about you losing control at the moment. But we can also study how the fusion has changed your Astral Vessel and whether you can harness its Void typing, if you can, you could theoretically remove other Void Wyrms as the Void typing would have a much better effect on them.”

Aster felt a flicker of hope, though it was quickly overshadowed by doubt. ‘Void typing?’ he thought bitterly. ‘With my luck, the only void power I’ll develop is probably developing stomach cancer.’

Seeing his doubt, Aerathena’s expression softened. “The knowledge that Matter was able to seal the wyrm, will reverberate throughout the Astral Plane,” she said. “Countless lives have been lost to the protocol of executing wyrm hosts. Now, there’s a chance to save them. That will make you a hero to many—but if they ever learn the impossible means used to achieve it, they will hate you.”

Her words sent a chill through Aster, despite the warmth radiating from her fiery form. ‘Such dark and somber words from a walking sun,’ he thought, his skin prickling as it began to sunburn from her proximity.

“That’s why we won’t release the details of the ritual to the public,” Aerathena assured him. “It will be classified as SS-level, need-to-know only.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the swirling galaxies around them. “Speaking of which, you are to be enrolled in Galamad. Have you heard of it?”

Aster frowned, “Matter mentioned it once or twice. It’s a school on the floating island above the… emotional clouds?”

“Peninsula and Astral Storm,” Aerathena corrected, her tone patient. “It’s the South African branch of an educational institution with schools in every country. It’s the starting point for all new initiates. You’ll be about three months behind the other first-years, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Aster nodded, though his mind was still reeling from everything he’d learned. ‘I’m finally starting my cultivation’ he thought, a mix of excitement and apprehension bubbling in his chest. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’