Xylos City. Designated Level 5 – functional, crowded, far from the glittering pinnacles of power found in the higher tiers. The twin moons of Goliath cast long, distorted shadows across its bustling streets.
Down one such street walked Tasin Ahmed, shoulders slumped, the weariness in his steps mirroring the exhaustion deep within his soul.
Twenty-four years. Twenty-four years he'd lived on this alien world, yet the memories of Earth, a vibrant blue marble teeming with different dreams and different physics, remained stubbornly vivid. He wasn't born here, on Goliath, a planet vast and imposing, easily ten times the size of the home he dimly recalled.
Here, survival, progress, and power were all intrinsically linked to the manipulation of cosmic energy. Cultivation was the path.
Civilizations reached for the stars, not just with metal ships, but with the raw power cultivated within their own bodies. This power was categorized, refined, a ladder reaching towards unimaginable heights. Everyone knew the four great tiers:
Tier 1: Cosmic Awakening (Levels 1-3): Learning to Sense the energy, Channel it, and solidify a Core.Tier 2: Cosmic Manipulation (Levels 4-6): Learning to Shape energy, project consciousness (Astral), and Boost capabilities.Tier 3: Cosmic Mastery (Levels 7-9): Mastering intricate energy Weaves, the ability to Warp space, and gaining profound cosmic Knowledge.Tier 4: Cosmic Transcendence (Levels 10-12): The realm of legends – the power to Shift time, attain near-Godhood, and perhaps even Create.
Grand tiers, immense potential. Tasin scoffed inwardly. None of it seemed meant for him.
He couldSense the cosmic energy, yes. After twenty-four years, he remained stuck at Tier 1 Sense mid level. Pathetic.
His parents had been cultivators, perhaps early Tier 2. They ran an interstellar cargo business, dreaming he might surpass them. But cosmic pirates ended their journey, and his childhood hopes, years ago on a routine delivery run. They left him enough credits and the apartment deed – enough to survive, not enough to buy talent or opportunity.
His peers from college? Long past Sense, solidifying their Cores, aiming for Shape. Applying to prestigious academies, joining powerful guilds. Tasin hadn't even bothered applying. He was the cautionary tale.
Now, he was a waiter. Serving synth-ale and nutrient paste in a mid-range restaurant. The clinking of plates was the soundtrack to his stagnant life. The pay covered rent and necessities. A monotonous cycle.
He sighed, looking up past the towering buildings to the star-dusted sky.
Transmigrators in the novels he devoured back on Earth always got something. A cheat. A system. A golden finger.
Why not me? The universe felt profoundly unfair.
He reached his building, a typical 50-story residential block. Rode the humming elevator to the 30th floor. Entered his small, functional apartment. The echoes of his parents were faint now.
He went through the motions – a simple synthesized meal eaten mechanically, staring blankly at galactic news feeds that felt worlds away. Finally, he headed to his small bedroom.
Sleep offered the only real escape. He collapsed onto the bed, the weight of his life pressing down.
But unknowing to Tasin, somewhere in the vast, silent expanse of the universe, a consciousness stirred. Ancient, perhaps artificial. A search, specific and targeted, reached its conclusion.
«Affinity Match Confirmed. Optimal Host Signature Detected.»
«Initiating Binding Protocol...»
A sound, sharp yet ethereal, seemed to pierce the veil of Tasin's slumber, though it failed to truly wake him.
[Ding! Binding to Host 100% Complete.]
Tasin mumbled, rolled over, pulling the thin blanket tighter. He slept soundly, utterly unaware that the unfair universe had just dealt him a new, entirely unexpected hand.
This is the finish of chapter