The boundary between the illusory and the corporeal is a thin, razor-edged veil, often guarded by the cruelest whims of the Heavens. For Jai, the transition from the Mind Catch to the waking world was not a gentle drift into consciousness; it was a violent, visceral collision with the physical plane. It felt as if his spirit had been dropped from the highest peak of the Nine Heavens and slammed back into a vessel made of cold, unyielding lead.
His eyes snapped open, the pupils dilating wildly as they struggled to process the flickering torchlight of the infirmary. The first sensation was an overwhelming, crushing weight. His limbs, once light as air in the dreamscape where he moved like a streak of golden lightning, were now heavy anchors pinning him to the bed. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid stone, his lungs protesting the sudden reintroduction of oxygen and gravity.
The silence of the room, which had held for months, was instantly shattered. A heavy wooden chair scraped across the stone floor and toppled over with a resounding thud.
"HE'S AWAKE! BY THE ANCESTORS, THE PRINCE IS AWAKE!"
The shout came from the Chief Physician, but his voice sounded ragged, stripped of its former vitality. Jai blinked, his vision a blurred mosaic of grey and white. Gradually, the Chief's face materialized above him. Jai gasped. The man before him looked as though he had lived a lifetime in a single season. His hair, once a distinguished pepper-grey, was now a shocking, snow-white mane. The lines around his eyes were no longer mere wrinkles; they were deep, jagged canyons carved by five months of sleepless vigils and the crushing weight of responsibility.
"Chief..." Jai's voice was a dry, agonizing scrape, as if his throat had been lined with sandpaper. "How... how many days?"
The Chief grabbed Jai's hand, his fingers trembling with a relief so profound it bordered on hysteria. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over his weathered cheeks. "Jai... my boy... it has been five months."
Jai's heart didn't just skip a beat; it seemed to stop entirely, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. The world tilted on its axis. "Five months? But... the Flesh Gate... the war... we've been away from the palace for an entire year now?"
"Yes," the Chief whispered, his voice thick with the gravity of lost time. "The world did not stop while you fought your demons in the abyss, little Prince. Winter has come and gone while you slept."
The heavy oak door was thrown open with such force it rattled on its iron hinges, nearly splitting the wood. Alaric Chenwongo, the Golden Lion, charged into the room. He didn't speak. He didn't offer a warrior's greeting. He lunged forward and pulled Jai into an embrace so tight that Jai's ribs groaned under the pressure. For a long, agonizingly beautiful minute, Alaric simply held him, his powerful shoulders shaking with the suppressed emotion of a hundred and fifty days of silent mourning.
Following Alaric, the rest of the team poured in—James, Brokk, and Winston. Their cries of joy filled the room, a chaotic symphony of relief. In their arms, they carried the youngest survivors of the war. Little Arthur was in Brokk's muscular arms, and Morisa was held by Winston. Upon seeing Jai's open eyes, the children scrambled down, rushing to the bedside.
Arthur and Morisa climbed onto the bed, burying their faces in Jai's chest, their small bodies racked with sobs. Jai, despite the leaden weight of his muscles, managed to lift his hands, patting their heads with a gentle, rhythmic motion.
"Your brother is not dead yet," Jai whispered, his voice gaining strength as his Qi began to stir. "He still has many years to fight with the villains and defeat the enemies. I am not going to die that easily. A Chenwongo does not fall until the Heavens themselves crumble."
King Borin stepped forward then, his rugged face softened by a profound gratitude. "I came to say thanks, Prince Jai. For everything you and your kin did to protect a race that was not your own."
Jai looked at the Dwarf King and shook his head slightly. "It was nothing, King Borin. If any person were in this same condition, we would have done the same. My uncle taught us that a true Sovereign's duty is to protect those in need, regardless of the blood in their veins."
A round of bittersweet laughter echoed through the room, momentarily lifting the gloom that had occupied the space for months. But as the laughter died down, Jai's sharp eyes scanned the crowd. He realized someone was missing.
"Hey James," Jai asked, his brow furrowing. "Where is Zayn? I don't see him."
The mention of the name caused the atmosphere to shift instantly. Little Morisa, who had just stopped crying, burst into a fresh wave of tears, wailing as she hid her face in Jai's blanket. James turned his gaze to the floor, his jaw tightening.
"James, tell me," Jai commanded, his voice turning cold.
"Queen Morlin is gone, Jai," James revealed, his voice barely a whisper. "She died a month ago."
Jai sat up in a silence so absolute it felt like the entire world had been plunged into a vacuum. The noisy room of seconds before was now a dead silence. The joy that had begun to bloom in his chest withered instantly, replaced by a frigid iron weight.
In a sudden burst of frantic energy, Jai threw back the covers. He stood up, his legs shaking, and lunged forward, grabbing the Chief Physician's collar with a desperate strength.
"Why didn't you save her?!" Jai roared, his eyes flashing with a golden light. "You are the Head of the Medical Arts! You have the capability of saving the entire kingdom, yet you couldn't protect her? You let her die while I was sleeping?!"
The Chief did not fight back. He gently placed his hands over Jai's, slowly prying the young man's fingers from his collar. "Jai, listen to me. Both you and Queen Morlin were trapped in a Mind Catch, also known as the Hallucination Chamber of the Spirit God. In that state, no medicine in Aetheleon can reach the soul. You cannot get out unless you understand that the world you are seeing is an imaginary construct and find the exit of that infinite cycle yourself."
Jai's breath hitched. "How did we even enter such a state?"
"It is a trial of the soul," the Chief explained, his voice solemn. "It is a trick played by the Angels of the Lord Spirit God. They are the weavers of destiny. A mortal enters that state only when they are at their absolute weakest, having exhausted all physical and spiritual ability to fight. The probability of entering is a mere 0.7%. You and the Queen both fell into that sliver of chance. You found your way out through your own latent power, but... I believe Queen Morlin lost her will to fight. She gave up her life in those infinite scenes of war and endless battle within her own mind."
"What powers?" Jai asked, confused. "She was stronger than me. How could I escape if she couldn't?"
"The Heavens have eyes, Jai," the Chief replied. "Days before you woke, your mark began to glow with a brilliant golden light—the sign of the Golden Scourge. I understood then that Emperor Dominatrix herself willed your release. She would not allow her chosen successor to be tortured by the Spirit God's angels. Do you remember what you saw inside?"
Jai paused, searching the dark recesses of his memory. "No... nothing. It's a blank."
"As expected," the Chief nodded. "The Angels of the Lord Spirit God do not allow the secrets of the Mind Catch to be carried into the waking world. They make you forget the horrors so you may continue to serve the path of the living."
After a moment of heavy contemplation, Morisa tugged on Jai's sleeve. "Zayn is at the cemetery, Jai. He hasn't left for days."
Jai stood, his resolve hardening. He ignored his physical weakness and led the group toward the outskirts of the Dwarf Kingdom's capital. There, in front of the half-constructed Palace of the Dwarves—a testament to the ongoing recovery—lay the royal cemetery.
Zayn stood like a statue in front of a fresh grave. The tombstone was carved from the finest white marble of the deep mines, bearing the name Morlin, Queen of the Stone Heart.
Jai walked up and placed a steady hand on Zayn's shoulder. "Don't worry, man. Your mother was my mother also. I feel the same weight in my heart."
Zayn didn't look up, but his frame began to shake violently. He burst into a harrowing cry, the sound of a soul being torn apart. "I am a curse, Jai! Look at my life! My biological mother, my brother, my uncle... and now my stepmother. She loved me more than her own daughter, and I couldn't do anything but watch her fade away! Everyone I love is swallowed by the earth!"
Jai didn't speak. There were no words for a grief that deep. He simply stood there, along with Alaric and the others, and for one full hour, the only sound was the wind whistling through the half-finished towers of the Dwarf Kingdom. Jai felt the guilt like a physical weight. The Queen had sacrificed her life-essence to anchor the black hole, a feat of such magnitude it had shattered her soul-core. While she was dying for them, Jai had been lost in his own mind.
The Cycle of Life and the Journey Home
For the next few hours, Jai sat in a daze back at the camp, listening to the history he had missed. The world had not waited for its prince. He learned how the Dwarves and Humans had forged a brotherhood in the ruins, their shared sweat and blood creating a bond that would last generations. He learned of the "Gifts of the Fallen"—how the orphans rescued from the Flesh Gate had been returned to their families, and those whose parents were lost were adopted by Dwarf adults who had lost their own children. It was a beautiful, tragic alchemy of grief turning into a cycle of new life.
Two days later, Jai forced himself to stand. His Qi-channels were sluggish and his muscles atrophied, but Alaric refused to stay in the mountain of memories a moment longer. Using his restored spiritual powers, Alaric opened a high-level transit path through the ancient, winding tunnels, guiding the team back toward the Human Kingdom.
The journey took two days—a trek through the wild, magical landscapes of Aetheleon that Jai now viewed with different eyes. He had left as a boy seeking adventure; he was returning as a man who had walked through the abyss and carried the weight of a dead Queen's legacy.
When they finally saw the towering, iridescent white walls of the Human Capital, Jai felt a strange sense of displacement. They entered the Grand Hall of the Palace, a chamber of such immense proportions that a dragon could have taken flight within its eaves. The air here was different—it smelled of ancient, expensive incense and the sharp, ozone-like pressure of high-level sorcery.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon a throne of obsidian and gold, was Aunt Beatrice. Her presence was vast, an immovable force that seemed to anchor the entire kingdom. Beside her stood Rena, the woman who had spent twenty years mourning a son she thought was lost to the void.
Jai watched in confusion as Rena stepped forward. She did not offer a hug or a greeting. Instead, she took a ceremonial silver blade. With a terrifying, focused intensity, Rena sliced a piece of her own ear and a strip of flesh from her palm. She placed the bloodied offerings into a bronze brazier filled with black coals that burned with a flickering purple flame.
"What is she doing?" Jai whispered to Alaric, his stomach churning.
"A soul-tether ritual," Alaric replied, his eyes narrowed. "She is calling her son, Rayn, back from the 'Other World.' The blood of a biological mother is the only compass that can guide a soul across the dimensions of the Great Void. She is paying the karmic price to bring the Original Sovereign home."
A thick, oily black smoke began to pour from the brazier, swirling in the center of the hall like a miniature hurricane. The air grew cold, and the sound of a distant, echoing heartbeat thrummed through the stone floor.
Meanwhile, on Earth:
It was 2:00 AM in the heart of China. The city was silent, but in the penthouse of the Zhang International Tower, the air was vibrating with an unnatural frequency. Rayn was fast asleep in his designer bed, his face a mask of cold, professional exhaustion. Even in sleep, he possessed the aura of the "Cold King," the man who ruled the business world with an iron fist and a heart of ice.
Underneath his bed, a black ritual mark—etched in spiritual ink by a power he didn't even know existed—began to glow with an abyssal light. The space around the room began to fold, the edges of reality blurring like ink in water.
Rayn didn't wake up. He didn't see the glass and steel of his penthouse vanish. He didn't see the neon lights of the city replaced by the flickering torches of an ancient palace.
In Aetheleon:
The black smoke in the Grand Hall parted with a violent, thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of the palace. The space fractured with the sound of a thousand mirrors shattering. Suddenly, a massive, modern king-sized bed appeared in the center of the hall, resting upon the stone floor as if it had always been there.
Lying upon it, dressed in silk pajamas and looking utterly out of place, was Rayn.
The silence in the hall was absolute. Every warrior, every healer, every magistrate, and every soldier stared at the sleeping man. Rena fell to her knees, her bloodied hand reaching out toward the son she hadn't seen in two decades.
Beatrice stood up, her eyes flashing with a combination of triumph and dread. "The Sovereign has returned," she whispered, her voice echoing through the rafters. "And with him, the chaos that will reshape the heavens."
Jai looked at the man on the bed. His breath hitched. He looked so much like the person he had seen in his visions many months before—the man in the office, watching a strange game called "football." Was that a dream? Jai wondered, his mind reeling. Why am I thinking about things I don't understand?
The crowd of ministers and magistrates whispered in hushed, terrified tones. They looked at Rayn's face and were struck by his beauty—a celestial, cold handsomeness that inherited the best of Beatrice's bloodline. The skin was like translucent jade, his features sharp enough to cut through the air. The "Cold King" of Earth had arrived in the realm of magic, and the atmosphere grew heavy with the arrival of a new predator.
Rena walked toward the bed, her movements slow and reverent. Beatrice felt a flare of annoyance at the murmurs of the court. She looked back at the magistrates with a gaze so sharp it felt like a physical blow. The hall turned into a dead silence instantly.
Rena stood beside Rayn. She looked at how big her son had become, the man he had grown into without her. For twenty years, she had feared he was dead or suffering in some hellish dimension, never knowing that his father had hidden him in the mundane world of Earth.
She took Rayn's right hand. The blood coming from her palm was warm, but it was strange—it was transparent blood, looking almost like pure, shimmering water, a sign of her unique spiritual lineage that bypassed the common red of mortals. As the warm, water-like blood touched Rayn's skin, she leaned down and kissed his hand, her tears falling onto the silk sheets.
The warmth and the sudden sensation of moisture triggered Rayn's dormant instincts. He felt an annoyance in his sleep, a disturbance in his perfectly regulated world. He turned over, his hand instinctively stretching out toward where his bedside table should be, reaching to check the time on his alarm clock—a habit forged over years of corporate leadership.
His hand met only empty air.
Rayn's eyes slowly opened. He was confused, his mind still clouded by the lingering remnants of a dream about a board meeting in Shanghai. He frowned, wondering where his clock was, his eyes scanning for the familiar glow of a digital display.
Then, he saw it.
He wasn't in his penthouse. He was in the middle of a cavernous hall filled with people dressed in ancient robes and armor. He turned his head and saw a woman kneeling by his bed, weeping, her hand gripping his. He saw the transparent, water-like blood flowing down her wrist, feeling the strange warmth of it against his skin.
Rayn's professional mask didn't slip, but his heart began to pound with a force he hadn't felt in years. Where am I? Who are these people? He looked at the woman—Rena—and then at the massive, glowing eyes of Beatrice at the end of the hall. He looked at Jai, whose golden aura flickered in confusion.
Rayn sat up in his king-sized bed, the silk sheets rustling in a world where such luxury was reserved for the highest nobility. He realized in that moment that the "business" of his life had just been replaced by something far more ancient, and far more lethal.
The two worlds had finally collided. The "Cold King" was no longer on Earth. He was in Aetheleon, and the fight for the throne had just begun.