Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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Ding!
Achievement Unlocked: Created a New Energy Type, 'Existential Energy' — the most valuable force ever discovered, with the potential to become the mightiest power known.
Reward:
➤ A random golden finger.
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A sharp chime sliced through the stillness, jolting me from the depths of my introspection. My chest thrummed faster, though it wasn't exhilaration driving me—caution had seized the reins.
"I already bear one golden finger," I mused, the thought ringing with a certainty shadowed by a flicker of unease about what might lie ahead. "To accept this new reward would be to shackle my own wings. Two golden fingers would bind me, their captive, restricting every step, every unveiled truth."
I stood frozen, my gaze drifting across the boundless Existential Sea—a shimmering mirror reflecting my fears, ambitions, and inner storms. Its waves, heavy with secrets and substance, seemed to murmur tales of forgotten clashes and horizons yet unclaimed.
"I won't let some thing fight my battles or carve my identity," I whispered, my voice steady yet tinged with a quiet sorrow. "Every triumph must spring from me—my sweat, my struggle—not from an object that holds me in chains."
The choice crystallized, sharp and clear as the moon's gentle glow on the water. I turned away from the golden finger—not out of indifference, but out of a fierce loyalty to my freedom and a hunger to transcend without fetters.
"I press onward," I affirmed silently, knowing that true growth, even amid temptation, lies in forging my own path.
With that resolve, I took a step forward, leaving the Existential Sea—and that fleeting possibility—behind, carrying the unshakable belief that every decision, no matter how daunting, shapes the core of who I am.
Emerging from the churning tides of my inner world, I sharpened my senses and turned toward the tomb. Its ancient frame rose like a pulsing shadow, steeped in a weight that seemed to defy time itself. Around it, the silence hung thick, broken only by a faint, cosmic wail echoing from afar.
That's when I noticed it: the essence of chaos seeping slowly through a crack in the stone. A delicate mist slipped through each fracture, as if the scars etched into the rock were reciting memories of lost ages.
"The world seeks to mend itself—perhaps even to rise beyond," I thought, my eyes locked on the chaotic energy's erratic sway as it dispersed.
A nagging question took root: What could have shattered all this? Each fissure seemed to cry out for answers, weaving together threads of pain and ruin.
My gaze shifted to a purple fruit resting on a rough-hewn pedestal beside the tomb. Its mysterious shimmer called to me, a quiet promise of extraordinary power—an offering many would clutch without a second thought.
"Utterly useless," I muttered, my tone stripped of warmth.
The irony wrapped around me like a cloak. For someone whose existence already stretched beyond ordinary limits, even the rarest treasures of the system felt trivial, almost laughably small.
I lingered on the paradox encircling me:
"To be the richest in the lower realm… or perhaps the upper one?"
My mind cradled a vault of supreme fruits, sacred relics, and weapons from bygone eras—treasures that would ignite envy in others as the height of aspiration. To me, they were little more than polished pebbles in a realm where their worth dimmed.
"Rich yet poor, brimming with all, yet hollowed by so much," my inner voice echoed, cutting with unsparing truth.
At last, my eyes settled on the ring I'd unearthed within the tomb. Its energy thrummed faintly, as if yearning for release, hinting it was far more than mere adornment. Within it slumbered an ancient spirit, a presence stirring faintly, much like me, amid the vastness of time and memory.
Every moment here pulsed with intensity, daring me to face the enigma and the silent anguish the world strained to heal.
Without hesitation, I slid the ring onto my finger, feeling its essence meld with the deepest parts of me. Soon, a feminine voice—rich with gathered wisdom and serenity—rippled through my mind.
"Bearer… what do you desire of me?"
With the cool precision that has always defined me, I replied without pause:
"Save your strength. Simply heed my words."
My command left no room for wavering.
"Absorb four-tenths of the diluted essence of chaos."
The ring responded with a subtle gleam, an unseen vortex swirling around it, drawing in the vivid purple energy with exacting grace. The fierce, fleeting current spun into an ethereal abyss, finding refuge within that tiny realm of metal and mystery.
When it ceased, I studied what remained. The essence of chaos still flickered faintly, alive, as if defying the order I'd imposed.
"Why take it all?" I wondered silently, eyeing the stubborn remnant that lingered. Beside it, the purple fruit stood untouched, now draped in a faint veil of chaotic energy, as if the world itself pleaded for a reprieve.
The air around me seemed to hum—not with words, but with a presence that pierced through me. It was the world, begging for life, for a sliver of that primal force that, even diminished, could reshape reality itself.
I exhaled, the weight of a choice beyond the physical settling on me.
"I'm a monster… but who says monsters lack hearts?" I thought, a wry twist of irony lacing the uncomfortable honesty.
By sparing the remaining essence, I knew the purple fruit would keep pulsing, and the world—ravenous for its own scars—could slowly draw it in to renew itself. What I'd gathered would be enough for others to raise a thousand immortals or birth a new age.
"For me, it's just another tool I might never wield," I murmured, stepping away from the tomb with the same emotional distance that had marked me for years.
As I walked, I felt the quiet weight of the spirit in the ring, its stillness mirroring the duality of my deed. The world had bared a piece of its soul, and I, in turn, had left it something—a fragile, vital balance.
With the purple energy tucked within the ring and the tomb fading into memory, I moved forward, haunted by a thought that clung to me:
"If the world thrives on chaos to endure, perhaps I, too, rely on it to be who I am."
After one final glance at that place, I knew it was time to leave. The truths I'd uncovered still thrummed within me, but cold, clear reason beckoned me to the next step. I summoned one of my rare gifts: Interdimensional Teleportation. No need to leap between worlds—just to reach a familiar spot. My destination was set: the duchy, lands of the man who called himself my father. Perhaps there, I'd find whispers of my mother.
But I didn't want to materialize out of thin air. I tuned the teleportation to drop me nearby, where I'd continue on foot, steady and unseen. Simplicity steered my path.
When I emerged, a dense forest swallowed me whole. The crisp air carried the sharp scent of leaves and the faint dampness of earth. Towering trees wove a canopy overhead, scattering sunlight into shifting patterns on the ground. Nearby, I sensed spiritual beasts—Foundation Establishment level, all of them—scattering as my aura brushed against them, fleeing something they couldn't name.
"The Aura of the Absolute still claims its dominion," I said under my breath, brow furrowing.
"Best adjust that," I decided.
Closing my eyes, I tempered my presence with care. The daunting force softened into the delicate "Aura of Oblivion," cloaking me like a whisper. It didn't just conceal me—it erased any trace of my passing from memory, a shadow melting away.
"That'll do," I murmured, certain that being seen would never serve me.
My footsteps fell so lightly the earth barely noticed. The forest buzzed with life: distant calls of spiritual birds wove through the rustle of leaves in a soft breeze. But that calm shattered as human voices—low but distinct—cut through the air, hinting at something, or someone, close by.
With a mind both tranquil and sharp, I pressed on. The world, with its intricacies and hidden truths, was a riddle I—detached yet watchful—was destined to unravel.
"Everything matters, but I dwell in the shadows," I reflected, striding toward the duchy, resolute in leaving the existing order undisturbed.
And so, veiled by the Aura of Oblivion and cradled by the forest's quiet, I continued toward my goal, aware that the past might offer answers—or more questions—as the road stretched ahead.
Yet something halted me. Curiosity tugged, and I slipped among the tree shadows, unseen, to observe. A group of girls stood firm against a spiritual beast—a three-eyed leopard, its fierce aura roaring with Foundation Establishment might. Even in peril, their spirits didn't falter.
The fight played out like a dance, practiced and precise: the young women traded strikes and parries with a grace that caught the eye. Then, with a guttural roar, the leopard lunged, only to be met by a gleaming spear that nearly split its side. Before I could track the battle's end, their eyes snapped to me.
"What… what's going on?" I thought, frowning as they abruptly abandoned the beast. Without rhyme or reason, they broke off and charged my way.
Instinct braced me for trouble. I had no desire to spark a fight, but I wouldn't tolerate pointless disruptions either. I held my ground, studying their every move as their faces blended shock, excitement, and an odd, magnetic pull.
"Why are they reacting like this? I've done nothing to stand out…" I pondered silently.
Then their hushed words drifted to me:
"What's that scent? It's mesmerizing!"
"It's him… that fragrance is impossible to resist!"
"What is it? I've never felt anything like it!"
The realization struck like a thunderclap, and I sighed, impatience simmering.
"The smell. It's my blood," I muttered, eyes closing for a fleeting second.
My origins were never mundane. Beyond a mere cultivator, I am a Supreme Nephilim—a rare blend of human, celestial, and demonic. Among my quirks is a natural scent, a fragrance that stirs those nearby without my intent. Memories flickered of Earth's webnovels, tales of werewolves and vampires sniffing out mates, each supernatural being marked by a unique aroma.
"Of course I'd carry something like that too," I thought, a dry edge of irony masking my indifference.
Watching the girls—now dangerously close—I saw them waver, torn between advancing and pulling back. I drew a deep breath and, with the measured calm that always guided me, took action. Focusing my energy, I reshaped my aura until it masked my presence and dulled the scent stirring such chaos. The potent Aura of the Absolute faded into the subtle, effective Aura of Oblivion, wiping away any hint that might draw eyes.
"That should settle it," I murmured, as the girls stalled, bewildered, as if the spark of their frenzy had vanished.