The rain tapped insistently against the cracked window of my apartment, a dull percussion that had become the soundtrack of my life. Outside, Sector 7 sprawled in endless gray, a maze of dilapidated buildings and neon advertisements flickering through the perpetual drizzle. Inside, I sat hunched on my worn couch, VR headset resting on my lap like a forbidden promise. My fingers trembled—not from cold, not from fear, but from the weakness that had been my constant companion for twenty-five years.
I flexed them experimentally. The bones felt brittle, the muscles slack. I lifted a water bottle, three fingers curling around it like a child handling a toy, and drank. The nutrient paste that followed was tasteless, thick, and slightly sour, but it was all I had to sustain this fragile body. My heart pounded faintly; my lungs wheezed. In the world outside the headset, I was nothing.
And yet, in the VR world, I could be more. Maybe.
I had logged countless hours staring at cultivation guides, dissecting forum threads about elemental affinities, and watching livestreams of cultivators with perfect spiritual roots. Full 5-Element Bodies. Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, Lightning. Potential unmatched, power unimaginable. All of it a cruel reminder that my root was F—obsolete. Pathetic. Dangerous.
Yet that Full 5-Element Body was mine, too. All five, waiting for perfect synchronization. A dream—and a curse. Most cultivators would kill for a body like mine. I was a walking paradox: maximum potential, minimum compatibility. One misstep, one imbalance, and it could kill me.
I exhaled, trying to shake off the self-pity. Today was different. Today, I had decided, was the beginning. Not of mastery. Not of fame. Not of strength. But of survival.
I dropped the headset over my eyes. The familiar whirring of the system booting up sounded in my ears.
"Welcome back, Sovas Rovaner."
"Current Realm: None – F Root"
"Recommendation: Begin Phase 1 – Physical Reconditioning."
The white room appeared—empty, sterile, a canvas for progress. I stood in the center, feeling the slight strain in my legs as if the system measured my weakness. I bent down, doing a half-hearted stretch. My body protested. Every tendon screamed.
One push-up. One step.
I dropped to the floor. My hands shook violently as I lifted my weight, barely a fraction of a proper push-up. The system registered it. My stats blinked:
Strength: 5%
Stamina: 4%
Reflexes: 3%
Pathetic. I closed my eyes. Breathe. In… out…
I tried to focus on the point between my eyebrows, as all guides suggested. A spark, faint and stubborn, blinked like a dying candle. Energy. Not much, but enough to feel my pulse through the tips of my fingers. My first link to something greater than this frail shell.
I did five more push-ups. My arms trembled so violently I feared they might snap. My lungs burned. My heart raced. And yet… I survived.
The white room shimmered. My muscles ached less in the VR body than they did in reality, a cruel mockery of the real pain. Still, progress was progress. I noted every detail, every tremor. Every tiny gain counted.
"Begin meditation and breathing cycle. 10 minutes minimum."
I sat cross-legged, focusing. The spark between my eyebrows flared slightly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the water in my veins, the heat in my chest, the earth beneath me, the wind brushing past the edges of consciousness, the lightning of nerve endings firing. Five elements. One body. My curse. My potential.
Minutes passed. My mind wandered to the forums, to the cultivation guides, to the world outside. Wealthy sects, perfect spiritual roots, lives of ease and power. And me. Weak. Hungry. Alone.
But if there was one advantage I had, it wasn't physical. It was survival. Observation. Patience. Strategy. Every cultivator with a perfect root could burn too quickly, rush into danger, die in a spectacular collapse of pride and ability. I would not. I would survive. Slowly, painfully.
When I finally opened my eyes, the white room had faded into a dense forest. Mist hovered over the ground. Streams cut through mossy rocks. I knelt by one of them, reaching out with my awareness. Water. Cool. Solid. Real.
Water Affinity: 0.5%
Pathetic. I smiled faintly. But at least it responded. One element, one tiny victory.
I spent the next hour performing basic elemental exercises. Water flowed through my meridians in faint currents. Fire sparked and fizzled in my palms. Earth hummed beneath my feet. Wind whispered through the trees. Lightning tickled along my fingers. None were strong, none were controlled. But they were mine. And mine was enough.
"Phase 1 complete. Begin Herb Gathering Protocol."
Herb gathering. Safe. Low risk. Low reward. But it would buy Spirit Stones, the currency for cultivation tools and healing. I scanned the map: a small zone northeast, a patch of Moonpetal Bloom surrounded by frostroot. Nothing dangerous. Barely enough to make a difference—but a start.
I moved through the forest cautiously. Every step calculated. Every breath measured. Mist curls from the stream brushed my legs. My palms ached from holding the water in forms too weak to be useful, but I persisted. Small flowers glowed faintly in the undergrowth. I collected them one by one, careful not to waste energy.
Collected: Moonpetal Bloom x3, Frostroot x2
Spirit Stones Earned: 15
A tiny sum. But in my world, fifteen stones were fifteen more than yesterday. Fifteen more steps toward survival.
I paused at a stream, letting my reflection ripple. My eyes were sunken, my body fragile, my hair unkempt. But my mind… my mind was sharp. Calculating. Patient.
I could see the road ahead. Arena battles. Guild invitations. Rare herbs. Experiments. The path of a cultivator wasn't glamorous. It wasn't fast. But it was survival, and survival was the first victory.
I clenched my fists, feeling the tremor in my body. My spark between the eyebrows flickered.
"Desperate, but alive. Weak, but growing."
One push-up at a time. One step at a time.
I would become more. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday.
Sovas Rovaner begins his journey.