— The Uninvited Guests —
The stench of disinfectant clung to the corridor.
Flickering lights threw serpentine shadows that writhed across the walls.
With a grating creak, the heavy iron door swung open.
Aveline stepped through, leading two men.
Her uniform was crisp as ever, the badge on her chest gleaming coldly in the dim light.
The figures behind her were a study in contrast.
One wore a warden's uniform—his face stern, his presence commanding.
The other was cloaked in fabric so black it seemed to swallow the light, his aura calm yet perilous, as though meeting his gaze might invite danger.
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
"Eren," Aveline began, her tone unusually cautious, "this is Warden Kane Mercer. And this..."
She hesitated, as if weighing her words.
The cloaked man stepped forward with a faint, composed smile. His voice was a low, steady baritone.
"I am Ethan Cross, from the Global Vigil Alliance. We've come to request Mr. Kai's... assistance."
His words were calm, but the weight behind them pressed down like an invisible blade.
A chill slid down Eren's spine.
The Global Vigil Alliance. The GVA.
That mysterious organization whispered about in rumors.
And now, they were here—in his cell.
For him.
He muttered under his breath, "Me? A dead man walking?"
"Yes, Mr. Kai," Ethan said evenly. "We require your assistance."
His calm gaze felt almost surgical—cutting through every layer of pretense.
"Go on," Eren replied, steadying his breath. "If it's within my ability, I'll do what I can."
Ethan nodded, his tone clinical, detached.
"In the eastern range of the Tibetan Plateau, an anomalous black mist has appeared. It blankets hundreds of miles, engulfing a dozen villages and tens of thousands of civilians. The GVA has classified it as an S-Rank incident. We've dispatched more than ten investigation teams—none have returned."
He paused, his eyes locking with Eren's.
"We're preparing to depart. According to Officer Ward, you possess... a unique ability. On behalf of the GVA, I formally invite you to participate in this S-Rank mission. What is your answer?"
---
— The Choice of Fate —
The air grew still and heavy.
Eren's fingertips brushed the cold steel of his shackles, his mind a quiet storm.
"The Tibetan Plateau..." he repeated softly, the name stirring a long-buried ache.
That place—two words that shattered the calm in his mind.
Pan Xu.
His classmate. His internship partner.
A month before Eren's arrest, Pan Xu had taken leave to return home.
After that... all contact vanished.
Eren's gaze hardened. "Forgive my bluntness—but with the GVA's resources, why me? Why a convict?"
Aveline's tone was steady. "Eren, I've seen it—you can absorb corrosive energies. The black mist shows similar properties. If you come, you could make a real difference."
Eren fell silent.
Three thoughts flashed through his mind like sparks:
— A meritorious service could delay his execution.
— He might find clues about Pan Xu's disappearance.
— The black mist... could become fuel for his cultivation.
Ethan's gaze sharpened. "Mr. Kai, will you join us?"
Eren lifted his head, calm yet resolute, a faint glint in his eyes.
"I've always respected the GVA. I'll go. However..." His gaze dropped to the cuffs on his wrists.
Warden Mercer stepped forward. "This will be handled as a special case. The GVA has full authorization. Officer Ward will accompany you."
Aveline's composure broke into a grin. She reached out, clasping Eren's arm.
"Excellent! Eren—on behalf of the GVA, welcome aboard!"
Eren arched a brow, amusement ghosting across his lips.
"You represent the GVA now?"
Mercer and Ethan exchanged a brief, knowing smile, offering no answer.
"Then it's settled," Ethan said, extending his hand.
"We depart for the Tibetan Plateau at dawn. Special transport will be ready."
---
— The Night of Breaking Through —
Dawn.
A faint, almost imperceptible light seeped through the narrow window, slicing thin stripes across the otherwise pitch-black floor.
Eren opened his eyes and exhaled a long, turbid breath. He hadn't slept—he had cultivated through the night.
His body trembled—caught between being torn apart and remade. His first stage of Meta Dipper was less than one-third complete, yet his power had already transformed.
If before he could fell a bull with one punch, now he could crush an elephant.
The manacles? A gentle squeeze—Crack. Iron dust trickled through his fingers.
But brute strength wasn't his greatest gain. It was the flow—the way heaven and earth's energy surged effortlessly into him, as if a new "breathing pore" had opened deep within.
"Meta Dipper... truly profound," he murmured.
Yet he knew this was only the beginning—and that was just one of seven stages.
Only when his energy filled all the centers—through skin, flesh, blood, sinews, bones, and organs—could he forge a Vajra body, indestructible and unyielding.
He needed more nourishment. More battles. More danger.
Deep within his mind, the blurred pattern remained—an abyss of unknown depth, whispering secrets. Eren closed his eyes, trying to visualize it.
Then—Agony.
A searing pain exploded in his skull, like a million needles stabbing his brain at once. He nearly cried out, body seizing, vision fragmenting into shards of light.
When it faded, he was drenched in sweat, gasping. But he had seen something: a tome, ancient and weighty, glowing faintly with golden light, as if slumbering at the bottom of time.
A tremor rippled through his soul. His strength was still insufficient. When his cultivation advanced, he would see the book clearly.
Then something stirred. A faint awareness brushed his mind. He saw—though his eyes were closed—Aveline walking toward his cell, humming softly, a small package in hand, a bright smile on her face.
He froze.
Psionic Awareness.
According to Meta Dipper, this hyper-technique shouldn't emerge until the third stage—but he had awakened it. The ordeal had forced his spirit to evolve; the pattern was a catalyst.
---
— The Journey of Fate Begins —
Footsteps echoed beyond the cell.
Click.
The door unlocked and swung open.
Aveline peeked in, eyes bright. "Eren, ready? Change into these—we're heading out."
She smiled, deftly removing his shackles and handing him a set of plain, travel-ready clothes.
Eren dressed quietly and gave a faint smile. "Let's go."
What preparation did a dead man really need?
Still, he slipped a single thread from his prison uniform into his pocket—infused with his energy.
A simple, seemingly insignificant keepsake.
"Let's move out!" Aveline said cheerfully, looping her arm through his.
Her steps were light, her presence bright as morning sun—too bright for the road ahead.
Eren's gaze softened—but deep within, something stirred,
a pulse older than fear, older than choice.
This wasn't just a mission.
It was the restart of fate.