A month had passed swiftly since the bounty ignited across the Venia Galaxy and the Nocturne Home Galaxy. The rewards—500 worlds and 500 billion mana stones—were too astronomical to ignore. Yet one question stumped every hunter, every faction, every ancient monster who took the contract: Who the hell was Ash Originat?
No clan by that name was known.... Not just that, no fate threads, no karma chains, no destiny lines could trace him.
Scrying failed.
Divinations returned void.
The only lead was a single captured image from his "gifts"—a young man of ridiculous beauty, white hair flowing, dual-hued eyes glinting with mischief, twelve wings of mixed radiance and void barely visible in the projection.
Other than that.... He was like a ghost.
A very dangerous, very wealthy ghost.
While the galaxies hunted, the eight Originat companions progressed in the Myriad World of Races it had been five months since they arrived... and their power had all increased drastically.
For the first time since registration, they gathered in a quiet pavilion overlooking a serene lake of liquid starlight—private, warded, no masters or disciples to interrupt.
The change in them was striking.
They all had stepped into the Fourth Calamity rank, this was of course due to the absurdness of their sub nexus. Even though theirs didn't push them to omnipotnence like Ash's... it constantly pushed them towards their peak... their own perfection.
And now...
They looked… older in power, more refined. Beautiful. Handsome. Dangerous.
Nia broke the silence first, grinning wide as she punched Caelan's arm—hard enough to stagger a lesser cultivator.
"Finally, you all dragged your lazy asses out of training. I see why Ashy thought you'd all become hermits."
Caelan laughed, rubbing his arm.
"Says the one who burned half of Emberheart Peak 'accidentally' last week."
Nia shrugged, flames flickering at her fingertips.
"Valeria said it built character.... Well, for the golems, anyway."
The others then began to chime in, briefly explaining their time here.
Vaeloria smiled faintly, resting on her sword. "Kieran's been relentless as well. I've been doing sword aura drills every day feel like fighting reality itself. But… I'm close to achieving it myself. Really close."
Seris spun a dagger as ash-blood mist coiled into playful chains around her wrist. "Crimson Strategy Hall's war games are brutal. Yesterday I led a phantom legion against a Sixth Calamity simulation.... I Barely scraped through."
Yonna flexed, storm winds whipping her hair. "The Stormblade Arena's tempests feel like breezes now. That old man says I'm nearly ready for real void-storms."
Sonna strummed her harp, conjuring illusions of serene fields that faded as quickly as they came.
"My Illusion Garden's dreams run deeper now, and I can bind wills without causing harm... though I know I still have a long way to go."
Thalion adjusted his glasses, a rare chuckle escaping as he leaned back against a pillar of the pavilion. "...And the Library Tower never runs out of mysteries. Just last week I uncovered a hidden assassin ring. Haha, it's like this place is overflowing with endless information."
The group paused, blinking in unison—surprised to hear actual laughter from the usually stoic void scholar.
Nia was the first to recover, bursting into a grin as flames flickered playfully at her fingertips.
"Thalion… this has to be the happiest I've ever seen those old bones move."
Kael grinned wide, lightning crackling between his fingers in excited sparks. "The Dual Arenas have been ours. We haven't lost a battle yet."
They continued to chat and banter like the old times, but the mood shifted as Nia leaned forward, elbows on the table, her grin fading into a pout that made her flames dim to a sulky ember.
"Ugh, it's been five months, and Ashy wants us to wait five whole years before meeting again?!" she groaned, voice rising in dramatic complaint. "Five years! I miss him already. His stupid smirk, his teasing, the way he just… makes everything feel right."
Vaeloria's blood-moon eyes softened, a rare blush touching her cheeks as she traced a finger along her sword hilt. "It's… difficult. Training helps, but nights are quiet. Too quiet."
Seris twirled a dagger, ash-blood mist coiling lazily. "Don't get me started. I keep planning battles in my head and wondering what he'd say. 'Too straightforward, Seris—add some flair.'"
Yonna huffed, storm winds whipping her hair. "I miss sparring with him. No one else pushes like he does."
Sonna strummed a soft, melancholy note on her harp, illusions of gentle starlit fields blooming briefly.
"Even my dreams feel empty without him in them…"
The twins exchanged glances—Caelan rubbing his neck awkwardly, Kael chuckling. "Yeah, well… we miss the guy too. Who else calls us 'gravity brat' and 'lightning showoff'?"
Thalion cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses again to hide a faint smile. "Our progress is commendable, though. Reaching Fourth Calamity in just five months… unprecedented. The Nexuses are relentless, and we've all adapted beautifully."
Vaeloria nodded, composure returning. "The Nexuses are helpful—constant trials, rewards tailored perfectly. Without them, we'd still be scraping by."
Nia perked up slightly. "True. But still… five years."
Seris leaned forward, blood-red eyes sharpening as she changed the subject. "Speaking of progress… tomorrow's the big one."
She flicked her wrist—a jade invitation materializing, holographic seal glowing with sigils from multiple galaxies.
"The Grand Interstellar Sect Conclave," she announced. "Top sects from Venia and neighboring galaxies converge. Battles, trials, resource allocation—spirit veins, relic worlds, ancient inheritances on the line."
Yonna's eyes lit up. "Finally—real competition."
Caelan cracked his knuckles. "Let's show them what Originat means."
Sonna smiled softly. "Together."
Tomorrow, they left for the Conclave.
Eight stars, ready to burn across the cosmos.