Veil of Aether

It had become what many were now forced to accept as just another global mystery—10,000 people had suddenly vanished, and the general public still had no answers as to how or why.

Emergency summits and worldwide meetings were held, scrambling to uncover how so many individuals could simply disappear without a trace. Yet, those who did know the truth—the governments, the hidden organizations, the old families—could only feign outrage and concern. Some even took part in public search efforts, projecting sorrow and determination, while behind the scenes, they moved in secret, making preparations for what they knew was coming.

Their only hope lay with the trial participants inside the Expanse. If their performance was strong enough, it could mean a head start for their organizations, their families, their factions. They didn’t expect miracles. At most, they hoped the participants would complete a few quests with acceptable ratings, clear some dungeons with decent performance, and maybe—just maybe—survive an encounter with an Apex Boss.

Defeating one?

That was considered a delusion.

Their wildest dreams never came close to touching what actually occurred.

To their shock, they were able to feel the participants’ progress in real time. System access began flickering into existence around the world. Notifications appeared for a chosen few. Systems awakened.

For the first time, people all over the world awoke to translucent screens in front of their eyes, detailing stat windows, quest prompts, and mysterious force affinities.

Granted, this all occurred when the changes first began to show themselves—when the various global powers, families, corporations, and shadow organizations chose to gather together for the first time in recorded history to discuss a mutual concern. They set aside their usual self-interest and gathered together in rare unity.

At the forefront of public attention stood Cherry Tree Inc.

If there were ever problems plaguing the world—be it economic, environmental, or technological—the global population had grown used to one comforting truth: Cherry Tree Inc. always stepped in. Even when it cost them, even when it meant slicing their profits thin, they were there.

And because of that legacy, the people had formed a blind, unwavering trust in the company.

For the first time, Cherry Tree Inc. regretted that blind trust.

Because this time, they had no idea what was going on.

During a hastily arranged press conference, Lia—the acting president in both Kei and Jenny’s absence—stood stiffly at the podium, facing a swarm of flashing cameras and panicked, half-crazed reporters.

Dozens of questions flew at her like bullets.

"Madam President, are you seriously saying your company has no intention of stepping in to aid the world during this outbreak of supernatural powers and abilities?" one reporter shouted, practically trembling.

Lia stared him down, her expression unreadable. Then, with a deep breath, she leaned into the mic.

"Such words never left my mouth. Nor was anything remotely close to that implied," she said coldly. "But let me make one thing clear—what’s happening right now is so far outside anyone’s scope of preparation that even we don’t know where to start."

She raised a finger, her tone sharpening with each word.

"As of this morning, we’ve confirmed individuals who can stop bullets with their thoughts. Others who can ignite cars with a whisper. And one poor guy sneezed and floated into the sky."

She paused, giving the crowd a flat look.

"So unless you're quite happy being a complete idiot, I really don’t know what you expect from us. Last night, I went to bed in my pajamas, depressed about my losing streak in Fortnite. This morning, I woke up to fireballs, telekinesis, and a guy suddenly flying through the air."

Her eyes narrowed.

"So, with the full weight of my position as acting president of Cherry Tree Inc… I want you to take this personally—get fucked."

The room went dead silent.

The company’s official stance was clear: they had no idea what was happening.

For once, Cherry Tree Inc. wasn’t in a position to offer immediate aid. Unlike the many crises they had resolved before, this was something entirely unknown—something they didn’t yet understand. And until they did, they wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

The world would have to accept that.

And so, the events continued to unfold.

Aether began to leak into the planet itself.

And with it… came mysterious and wondrous changes.

Military drones malfunctioned mid-air. Power grids overloaded as unknown energies seeped into city infrastructure. Religious groups declared the end times. Governments were powerless to stop it. Civilization didn’t collapse—but it shifted.

The results were so far beyond anything the powers of Earth could have imagined that it was as if every family, organization, and government shared a collective, stunned thought. One after another, they called emergency meetings—not to advance their personal agendas, but to gather and discuss the sheer bizarreness of what they were witnessing.

These were the people who had known about the cultivation world long before the general population. The disappearance of the 10,000 participants hadn’t shaken them. They already knew what it meant. They had expected some progress, some hope of foundation for Earth’s integration. But this?

The performance of the participants had been so outlandish, so anomalously high, that it made even the best-informed among them feel like they were back to being clueless onlookers.

Despite all their preparations.

Despite all their knowledge.

They were back to square one.

Even the ancient texts and scrolls they had gathered—records painstakingly collected from rogue realms and broken secrets hidden in their world—had nothing to say about this level of success. The idea that a planet undergoing its first trial could perform on such a scale had only been whispered as a far-off fantasy:

“What if a world were to exceed all expectations during its first integration? What kind of reward would it receive?”

No answers.

Just questions.

And somewhere in the distance—though they didn’t yet realize it—Earth’s true trial was only just beginning.

A few hours after the press conference.

“So this is why you always called me ‘tiger’?” Lia asked, standing alone in a reinforced underground room beneath Cherry Tree Inc. Her eyes scanned her status screen, fixating on the Force Alignment now glowing at the center: [Feral Dominion].

“Basically. Why? You thought you were special enough to earn pet names without a reason?” a chuckling voice teased.

“Not as crazy when it came from someone who thought flipping his name around was a clever disguise. Seriously—Sen Rui? That’s the best you could come up with?” Lia asked, unimpressed.

“It did its job, didn’t it?” Ren Sui replied as if nothing about the world going to hell fazed him.

“Not really. Nobody knew who you were. You just paraded around as a janitor,” Lia said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really think anyone would notice you were the leader of a hidden organization?”

Ren muttered. “The less attention I drew, the easier it was to anchor my cover inside Cherry Tree. But now—with everything going haywire—there’s no point in keeping up the act. Especially not with you. I didn’t expect you to get your system so quickly.”

“Hm.” Lia folded her arms. “I always wondered why you were so insistent on all that physical training. You had me training in every martial art, every kind of weapon… I used to think you were just looking for excuses to spend time with me.”

Ren gave her a deadpan look. “I just saw a ridiculous amount of hidden talent floating around Cherry Tree. And I felt bad for you, since you weren’t one of the gifted ones. So I figured—might as well train you to survive a little longer. You were always nice to me.”

He didn’t get to finish.

Lia’s palm cracked into his chest, launching him across the room like a cannonball. He slammed into the reinforced wall with a thunderous thud.

“Gotta admit,” Lia said, admiring the dent as Ren remained half-stuck in the wall, “these walls are pretty damn sturdy. I’m impressed you convinced Kei to build an entire underground facility beneath HQ without raising a single red flag... even with the cost.”

Ren groaned.

Lia flexed her hand, sparks of her force alignment flaring faintly along her knuckles. She smiled at the hum of power now coursing through her veins. “I really am enjoying this newfound strength.”

From inside the wall, Ren peeled himself free, brushing off chunks of paneling from his jacket. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Terrifying, isn’t it?”

He cracked his neck with a satisfying pop.

His gaze lingered on Lia, as if still trying to assess her sudden leap in power.

It had all started when the changes first hit, around the time that the Iron Ravager had been defeated. Lia had been one of the first people on Earth to receive a system.

She’d been in Kei’s office, working through the usual chaos of company affairs, when the translucent screen suddenly appeared in front of her. A status window—impossible and unfamiliar—floated inches from her face.

Across the room, Ren had been present as well, handling his janitorial duties when the same screen appeared before him.

“This is much quicker than expected,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he read over the system prompt. Before he could speculate further, a loud, frantic scream rang out behind him.

Lia had fallen back in her chair, clutching the side of her head like she was being electrocuted, her body spasming slightly. Her scream was sharp enough to echo down the corridor.

The sound sent half the building into panic.

Staff came sprinting toward the office. Given how often Ren and Lia were known to argue—sparring verbally or physically—people assumed something might’ve gone wrong between them.

But when they burst through the door, what they saw was Ren crouched beside her, clearly shaken and doing his best to calm her down.

From their perspective, it didn’t look like he was the one who caused it.

Lia, still trembling, was locked in a half-hysterical daze as the system interface continued flickering in front of her eyes.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Finding it difficult to calm her down, Ren quickly pressed his hand against the wall in Kei’s office. A soft hum answered him as the wall scanned his palm. Seconds later, a hidden panel slid open, revealing an elevator embedded into the structure.

Without hesitation, he guided the still-frantic Lia into the lift. It hummed softly before descending deep underground.

The moment the doors opened, Lia’s panic faded—replaced by stunned disbelief.

She stepped out, eyes wide, taking in the massive underground facility hidden beneath Cherry Tree Inc. “Since when has this been here?” she asked, still breathless. “And why do you know about it?”

That was only the first of a flurry of rapid-fire questions.

It took a few minutes, but Ren eventually managed to calm her down. He walked her through everything: what she was experiencing, what the system meant, and how it worked. He broke down each stat, explained her Force Alignment, and even detailed her progression potential.

His explanation was so thorough and well-informed that she stared at him, squinting suspiciously. “Since when does a janitor know all this?”

That was when he slipped.

He revealed a bit too much—casually admitting that he was the leader of a hidden organization that had been preparing for this world-altering event for years.

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Lia launched into one of the most creative, profanity-laced tirades Ren had ever been the target of—leaving him blinking, slightly deafened, and wondering how someone could string that many insults together in one breath.

As for the facility itself…

Long ago, Ren had convinced Kei to let him build it as a "personal project"—a training area, he’d claimed. What surprised him most was how quickly Kei had agreed.

Kei’s response had been simple: “Another area to hide in? Sounds good.”

Jenny’s had been even shorter: “Another place to nap? Approved.”

Neither cared about the insane cost. They just wanted the space for their own reasons.

Ren had drawn up the schematics, detailed to the inch… but when he showed them to Kei, the kid quietly took the plans, reviewed them overnight, and handed them back—completely redesigned.

Ren was speechless when he saw the result. Not just improved, but overhauled in a way that made his original version look like a preschool doodle. The facility had been reinforced, optimized, and enhanced with aether-conductive materials and force-isolated chambers.

The insult wasn’t lost on him.

“If I knew you could actually build this stuff,” Ren grumbled later, “I’d have bothered making a better design.”

Kei just laughed. “I think I did too good a job. The coding for this place is going to be the death of me. And by the way, judging from your original plans, it looks like you’re expecting to install some sort of power core and rare materials in the future?”

Ren nodded cautiously.

“Yeah, well… good luck with that. I’m leaving that part to you,” Kei said, eyes already glued to a floating screen as he dove back into writing code. “You should have a few hundred billion dollars you can burn. Go nuts.”

Ren blinked. “A few hundred billion… what?”

But Kei was already too deep coding the system architecture to respond.

Thinking more about the present, Ren motioned for Lia to follow. “Anyway, it’s time we head out. We’ve got work to do. Time to meet with the other families and organizations. If Earth is being integrated at this rate, we’ll need to accelerate everything.”

“You’re sure it’s fine for me to go?” Lia asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“It should be fine,” Ren said casually. “It’d be even easier if you were willing to join my organization—” He cut himself off the moment Lia shot him a glare sharp enough to peel paint.

He laughed nervously, taking a step back. “Okay, okay. Bad joke.”

Leveraging her authority as acting president of Cherry Tree Inc., Lia secured one of the company’s private jets, granting them fast access to the gathering site—where all major families, organizations, and forces familiar with aether and cultivation had convened.

Ren wasted no time upon arrival. He headed straight to the conference, with Lia trailing a few steps behind him, her face obscured beneath a sleek mask. Given her public role, it was best to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

As they entered the expansive chamber, a mocking voice called out from within.

“Ren Sui… it’s good for a man of your stature to bless us with his presence.”

Ren didn’t even spare the speaker a glance.

The moment he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted. Eyes turned. Conversations halted. His presence commanded attention—not just because of his lineage, but because of the legacy he carried.

Ren Sui was the leader of Earth’s most ancient and secretive organization—one that had been preparing for the Expanse and Earth’s eventual integration into the multiverse longer than any other group alive. While many in the room held power, there were very few bold enough to claim they stood on equal footing with him.

And despite his youth, everyone here knew he hadn’t inherited his position. He had earned it—through his own actions, knowledge, and strategic brilliance.

Without hesitation, he moved to the seat at the head of the conference table.

Lia followed, her masked presence drawing a few curious glances. She didn’t speak, but her silent confidence, along with the faint aura of force trailing from her steps, made it clear—she wasn’t just some assistant.

She was someone worth watching.

Without wasting a beat, Ren remained the center of attention as he rose from his seat and addressed the room.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he began, voice calm yet commanding. “From the moment this iteration began, each of our organizations became privy—whether directly or indirectly—to the reality of the cultivation world. Some of us come from lineages deeply entrenched in it. For those ancestors, before Earth began showing signs of integration, they made preparations. And we, their successors, have followed in their footsteps… working in the shadows of humanity, preparing in case the trials began during our generation.”

His words struck with clarity, and the room listened in silence, heads nodding as the weight of their own histories surfaced.

“All of us here have our own legacies—our own cultivation methods, resources, secrets, and techniques. Our preparations were made with a shared assumption: that once the first Expanse trial was completed, aether would slowly be introduced into the planet. That the system would awaken gradually. And at that point, those who participated in the trials—some of whom are from our own groups—would return to Earth.”

He paused.

“They were meant to serve as the vanguard. To lead Earth’s integration into the greater multiverse. To push back against the forces waiting beyond our sky. To secure resources. To build power. To make this planet something that can’t be trampled.”

A quiet murmur passed through the crowd.

“Of course,” Ren added, his eyes scanning the room, “I know many of you have your own self-interests at heart. That’s fine. As long as your actions lead to strength, and you understand the lines that cannot be crossed… I won’t interfere. Act as you wish.”

That final statement unsettled more than a few attendees. A few stiffened. Others averted their eyes.

Because everyone here understood the weight behind those words.

Ren wasn’t simply issuing a warning. He was making it clear—his organization had the strength and readiness to enforce those lines. Whether the threat was implied or outright, it didn’t matter.

He could back it up.

And they all knew it.

Lia stood beside him, quietly observing. The man at her side felt like a completely different person from the one she had known.

Before, Ren had always been warm—welcoming, disarming, always smiling no matter who he spoke to. He treated everyone with respect, from interns to executives, and despite officially holding the lowly title of janitor, people across every department held a high opinion of him. His presence brought ease, and his humility made it hard not to like him.

But now?

Now, he radiated authority.

There was no room for casual disagreement, no space for second-guessing. His tone carried weight, and his temperament demanded respect. There was an unspoken warning in every word he spoke—a quiet implication that crossing him wouldn’t end well.

Yet somehow, it all came naturally. He still held that familiar amicable presence, that disarming warmth—but beneath it, there was something unmistakable. A layer of power, of danger, that told you plainly:

Do not push your limits with him.

With all due respect to Ren and the power his organization commanded, the room wasn’t completely silent. Voices still carried through in discussion, heated and uncertain.

“Just what is happening in that trial?”

“How is it possible for aether and the system to be leaking into Earth already, even before the trial-takers return? Does anyone have any records detailing the kind of performance needed for such early integration?”

“You can’t seriously be saying a bunch of random people—people who didn’t even know cultivation existed—outperformed organizations that have studied it for aeons? Surely the results are from those you sent in, not the general masses.”

“But what exactly are those results? Are you implying they’re getting S-rank performance scores in quests and dungeons? Have you lost your mind? Are you even suggesting Apex Bosses were defeated—or worse, killed—by them? Not even the overlords of the universe can claim such feats during their first trials.”

Voices echoed in disbelief, one theory more unhinged than the last, as confusion and speculation swirled through the room. No one could settle on a single explanation for what was happening on Earth or within the trial.

The discussions dragged on for hours, and Lia found herself increasingly out of her depth.

Handling world-scale issues for Cherry Tree was her norm. Natural disasters? Corporate warfare? Political sabotage? That was just another Tuesday. There was a reason she’d been chosen as interim president in Kei and Jenny’s absence. But this?

This was so far beyond her scope that Lia didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, she gave up and grabbed her lunch. A few hours later, she had dinner. More hours after that? She was quietly snacking on dessert, seated in the same chair while madness unfolded around her like a political hurricane.

At some point, a grandmotherly figure who had been seated near Ren made her way over, sensing that Lia felt out of place. She settled beside her without a word, her presence gentle and unintrusive. There was something reassuring in her calm demeanor—like the steady heartbeat of someone who’d seen too many end-of-the-world scenarios to panic over another one.

The old woman offered her a wrapped caramel candy and a small smile. Lia took both with a quiet nod, grateful for the company.

All around them, the discussions continued to spiral as if Earth were on the brink of collapse.

Ren, for his part, made sure Lia wasn’t uncomfortable. He leaned over to check on her every so often, his gaze flicking toward her before returning to the conference. He remained seated, calm and unreadable, listening intently to the endless tide of opinions, arguments, and projections.

In his hands, he absentmindedly folded sheets of scrap paper—creating precise, intricate shapes as if practicing origami. Birds, blades, flowers—one after another.

As if he were folding the chaos itself into something he could control.

At one point, a new voice broke the repetitive churn of voices. Deep, calm, and composed.

“Regardless of what’s happening,” the man began, “this early integration has left all of us unprepared. The system appearing early—and granting random civilians these abilities—has only brought chaos. Some of us were lucky enough to receive our systems early, allowing us to stabilize regions in time. But my government, in particular, is struggling.”

The man who spoke was Commander Graves—the current head of Japan’s military forces and a stoic, widely respected figure among those gathered. His words immediately earned silence.

“Our country’s past has already left us with complex undercurrents—old forces, old beliefs. And now, people who were once outcasts or radicals believe themselves to be chosen. They think they’re messiahs. Gods. Destined to bring change.”

His tone darkened.

“These fools want to play god without knowing what’s really out there. They don’t understand what awaits them beyond Earth’s sky. Until more of us awaken, until more gain their systems and learn control, it will be difficult—no, impossible—to maintain order. We may face uprisings, power grabs, cults, and chaos on a scale we are not prepared for.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over the chamber. Even the boldest factions present had nothing to say in response. Because deep down, they all knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

He was issuing a warning.

"Oh children, what’s to come merely came—it just happened to arrive much earlier than expected," the elderly lady beside Lia said with a soft chuckle. "All this fuss is only going to turn your hair gray faster than it already is."

Despite her age and lighthearted words, no one dared take her lightly. Even the most arrogant voices in the room grew cautious in her presence. She had come alone to represent her family—and that alone spoke volumes.

“Grandma Moriyama,” Ren said without looking up, still folding paper between his fingers. “A few members of your family were taken into the trials, weren’t they? Think any of them have what it takes to become a promising cultivator?”

“Oh, Renny boy,” she said fondly, “I long separated myself from the family’s meddling in those affairs. I can’t say who’s promising and who’s not. All I know is, they have a great legacy to live up to. And unless they want to bring shame to this old woman, they’d better deliver an exceptional performance.”

She laughed as she spoke, her body radiating a sudden wave of pressure and danger that swept across the room. Sweat formed on the brows of even the most seasoned leaders, their composure cracking for a moment.

But she was careful—Lia felt none of it.

To her, Grandma Moriyama was just a sweet, laughing old lady sharing candy and warmth.

Ren, unfazed, kept folding. “I heard Lisa was taken into the trial. Any concerns about her?”

“Oh, that kid?” Grandma Moriyama’s smile widened. “She’s not all that interested in this sort of thing. She’s probably somewhere wood carving, not even realizing she’s supposed to be saving the world.”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“As long as she comes back happy, I couldn’t care less about her performance.”

The conference lasted several days, and by the time it concluded, it felt as though no true progress had been made. None of the gathered families, organizations, or governments could accurately predict the performance of the trial-takers. But one thing became painfully clear—until more of their members received systems and access to force, they had a mountain of work ahead of them.

Back at Cherry Tree Inc., chaos had begun to stir.

A handful of individuals—those who had received their systems early—approached the company with delusions of grandeur. Empowered by their newfound abilities, they believed themselves strong enough to topple a global titan. Blinded by greed, they came with demands. Some sought to claim control of the company, dreaming of unimaginable wealth and power.

They never made it past the front entrance.

Within seconds of their arrival, they were rendered unconscious—slumped at the doorstep, groaning or completely still. They hadn’t even managed to step through the lobby.

Standing above their broken bodies was a lone figure—human in form, but unmistakably tiger-like.

White fur with black stripes covered her arms and legs. Her clawed hands and paws gleamed faintly with force, and her striped tail swayed slowly behind her. Perched atop her head were fluffy tiger ears, twitching slightly in the breeze.

She wore a sleek, unmarked mask—the one Ren had given her days ago.

Lia didn’t say a word.

She didn’t need to.

Her presence alone made the company’s stance clear:

“Your new powers mean nothing here. I’ll guard Cherry Tree myself. Step forward at your own risk.”

Elsewhere, Ren watched the footage from Aegis HQ—his ancient organization’s command center hidden beneath layers of secrecy. A faint chuckle escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the display of power Lia had shown.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” a voice said beside him. “When it comes to training people, I don’t think anyone—past or present—could claim to be better.”

Ren tilted his head slightly, acknowledging the compliment. “Aegis-0… you flatter me too much.”

Then his expression shifted.

“Ouch. Damn your Blade Force. I swear, I’m going to beat some restraint into you next time.”

His assistant flinched subtly, trying to rein in the faint aura as her Blade Force stirred at his words.

“Sorry, sir,” she mumbled.

Order was being maintained. But the true storm hadn’t even begun.