Nova stepped onto the narrow street just as the city began to wake.
Merchants pulled open wooden shutters, guards patrolled lazily with spears resting on their shoulders, and the distant clang of metal echoed from blacksmith shops. Everything was familiar. Too familiar. This was the city he had once clawed his way out of, bleeding and broken, only to return years later as a feared name.
Now, he was back at the beginning.
Nova kept his expression calm as he walked, but inside, his mind was sharp and alert. He focused inward, reaching for the invincible core resting deep within him. The sensation was immediate — a steady, overwhelming presence, like a sun sealed inside his body.
Power answered his call.
He stopped in a quiet alley and clenched his fist. Energy surged, invisible yet undeniable. The air trembled faintly. Nova frowned slightly and loosened his grip, cutting the flow at once.
"So it's real," he murmured.
In his past life, accessing this level of power had required years of cultivation, countless life-and-death battles, and unbearable sacrifice. Now, it responded effortlessly — too effortlessly. That was dangerous. Power without control invited disaster.
Nova resumed walking, deliberately slowing his pace. He needed confirmation. A controlled test. Something small.
Fate, it seemed, was eager to cooperate.
A sharp voice rang out ahead.
"Move aside!"
Nova looked up just in time to see a young man shove through a crowd, knocking over a fruit cart. Oranges scattered across the street. The man wore the insignia of a local training hall — one notorious for bullying civilians under the excuse of strength.
"Watch where you're going!" an old merchant shouted.
The young man scoffed. "You should be grateful I don't break your legs."
Nova stopped.
In his past life, he had ignored moments like this. He had believed strength should be reserved for greater battles. That hesitation had cost him allies, trust… and eventually, his life.
This time, he stepped forward.
"Pick them up," Nova said calmly.
The street fell quiet.
The young man turned, eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
"I said pick them up," Nova repeated, voice even. "And apologize."
Laughter broke out from the man's companions.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" the young man sneered. "I'm a ranked disciple of the Iron Wolf Hall."
Nova nodded once. "Then act like one."
The insult landed.
The disciple's face twisted with rage. He stepped forward, aura flaring weakly. "You want to die?"
Nova felt it then — the difference. The gap between them was absurd. This man's power was like a candle before a star.
"Go ahead," Nova replied.
The disciple roared and swung.
Nova didn't dodge.
He raised his hand and caught the punch effortlessly.
The impact never came.
The disciple froze, eyes widening as he realized his fist was trapped — immovable. Panic flickered across his face.
Nova exhaled and applied the slightest pressure.
There was a crack.
The disciple screamed as his knees buckled, pain shooting through his arm. Nova released him instantly, stepping back as the man collapsed, clutching his wrist.
"I warned you," Nova said quietly.
Silence followed. The crowd stared, stunned. No one had seen Nova move. No one had felt an aura flare. It was as if reality itself had sided with him.
Nova's heart pounded — not from fear, but realization.
This was barely a fraction of his power.
Too much.
He turned and walked away before guards could arrive, ignoring the whispers erupting behind him.
"Who was that?" "Did you see his eyes?" "That wasn't normal…"
Nova didn't slow until he reached the outskirts of the city, where stone roads gave way to dirt paths and tall grass swayed in the breeze. Only then did he stop and steady his breathing.
Control. He needed control.
The invincible core was absolute, but absolute power without restraint would expose him far too early. His enemies in this era were not weak — they were simply patient.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a presence stirred nearby.
"You're reckless."
Nova's eyes sharpened instantly.
An old man leaned against a tree a short distance away, hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes keen beneath a weathered brow. Nova hadn't sensed him approach.
Interesting.
"You watched," Nova said.
"I did," the man replied. "And you held back. Barely."
Nova studied him. No insignia. No visible weapon. But his posture was wrong — too relaxed, too balanced. This man was dangerous.
"Who are you?" Nova asked.
The old man smiled faintly. "Someone who recognizes talent when he sees it."
Nova said nothing.
The man pushed off the tree. "Power like yours doesn't belong in street fights. If you continue like this, you'll attract things you're not ready to face."
Nova met his gaze. "I survived worse."
The man chuckled. "In another life, perhaps."
That confirmed it. He knew.
Nova's hand twitched — not to attack, but to test. The man noticed and raised a finger.
"Careful," he said gently. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have finished that fight."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Nova relaxed. "Then speak."
The man nodded approvingly. "Good. When you're ready to learn control, come to the old watchtower outside the eastern ridge."
"And if I don't?" Nova asked.
"Then you'll burn too brightly," the man replied, turning away. "And stars that burn too bright don't last."
With that, he vanished into the trees — not by speed, but by presence fading, as if he had never been there.
Nova stood alone, the wind brushing past him.
A mentor. Earlier than expected.
He clenched his fist slowly, feeling the invincible core pulse in response. His path was already changing. The world was reacting.
Good.
He turned back toward the city, eyes cold and focused.
This was only the first test.
And he had passed.