Veil of Aether

“You’re quite brave to present yourself before me. And alone, no less. Do you think I wouldn’t eradicate your existence where you stand?”

“Brave?” He gave a faint laugh. “You give me far too much credit, King Cronus. At most, I hold a certain indifference toward my own life.”

“And that makes you believe I wouldn’t kill you where you stand?”

“Feel free to. I’ll even admit it myself. I’m the cause of many of your recent… experiences. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to end me.”

Cronus’s eyes narrowed.

“Hm?”

“That is,” the young man added calmly, “if you can.”

“What makes you say that?”

The pressure in the room shifted.

It became suffocating, crushing, especially to someone at the Recruit stage of cultivation. The air itself seemed to weigh a thousand tons.

“Is it because your king is an Ascendant Realm cultivator?” King Cronus asked coldly. “Is that what gives you this confidence?”

The young man ignored the oppressive force bearing down on him.

“King Pharaoh has no bearing on my actions. He doesn’t even know I’m here. You can likely imagine why.”

His gaze did not waver.

“And if anything, he would be the least of your concerns if you harmed me.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“Forget about you. If you so much as raise a finger a fraction of an inch the wrong way, your fading consciousness wouldn’t even comprehend how your entire kingdom instantly vanished before you passed away.”

“Is that the hand you were planning to use to kill my wife, Khenu?” Cronus asked calmly.

The pressure in the room vanished at once, returning to normal. He rested his head against his palm and stared steadily at Kei Y.

Kei Y did not look away.

“It’s a shame she killed herself,” he said evenly. “She didn’t suffer as long as I hoped she would. Though I suppose her mental collapse counts as a form of torture. So I’m not too disappointed I didn’t get to use a friend’s hand to finish it.”

Cronus exhaled slowly.

“I truly cannot find it within myself to fault you,” he said after a moment. “You and your friend were minding your own business. It was my kingdom that started all of this.”

A faint laugh escaped him.

“And the premise?” He shook his head. “They believed themselves far more talented than the likes of you.”

This time, his laughter grew louder. It was not joyful. It was hollow. Bitter. Almost disbelieving.

Spoken aloud, the truth sounded absurd.

He had watched Kei Y fight Wukong and Izanami, two Recruits far more gifted than Dione, and defeat them both. That reality alone had stripped away any illusion.

His participants had been fools.

His stepdaughter most of all.

The others had been spared. Kei Y had let them live.

But Dione’s arrogance had driven her to a fate she could not endure.

And in the end, she chose death herself.

Cronus laughed again, the sound cracking at the edges.

Kei Y remained silent, watching the self-deprecating, pained laughter of the King of Greece without interruption, allowing him to empty himself of it.

“To give her some credit,” Kei Y said calmly, “she was difficult to fight. If not for her teammate’s arrows, countering her gravity alone would have been troublesome. And the heat from those golden scales… it nearly forced me to transform.”

He paused briefly.

“It was impressive. Beyond what I was capable of achieving at the time.”

Cronus did not interrupt.

“Despite how I felt about her,” Kei Y continued, “that fight taught me a great deal. About Fire Force. About Heat Force. My combat runes evolved because of it.”

His gaze remained steady.

“If anything, I can no longer say she had no value. In terms of strength alone, she earned the right to bear the title of Crown Princess.”

A faint exhale followed.

“It’s unfortunate her arrogance and her tongue did not match that strength.”

The words were not cruel.

They were measured.

An acknowledgment, not an apology.

“Sigh… so what brings you here of all places?” King Cronus asked, his tone steady now. “Should you not be preparing for the final match?”

His eyes sharpened slightly.

“If you believe what you’ve shown so far is enough to handle your opponents, allow me to dispel that illusion quickly. I would be impressed if you even managed to make that Specialist you seem to have taken issue with draw his sword.”

He leaned back slightly.

“Defeating him is a far taller mountain than you assume.”

A brief pause followed.

“And that is even more true of their leader. Though he remains in the Recruit class like yourself, his capabilities are… unsettling.”

Cronus’s voice lowered.

“To the extent that even a Commander of Realms such as myself feels small when comparing talent.”

It was not praise.

It was a warning.

“I’m not too worried about those three,” Kei Y said calmly. “Whether I win or lose doesn’t matter much to me.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“But I will defeat and humiliate that noisy chicken. That much you can be certain of.”

Cronus’s brow twitched slightly.

“And I’ve yet to show the full extent of my capabilities. I still have… several hidden talents.”

There was no arrogance in his tone. Only quiet certainty.

“But as for why I’m here…”

Kei Y’s body began to shine.

A deep abyssal blue light emerged from him, layered with silver-violet undertones like moonlight cast over a midnight sea. Subtle teal currents rippled through the glow, the aura fluid yet heavy with presence.

Cronus’s brow lifted.

For a Recruit to wield a healing-aligned force with such density was no small matter.

“I’m here to collect on the promise you made,” Kei Y continued evenly. “The one about repaying me for your wife tearing my entire arm off.”

Cronus hummed softly.

“Is this about the former Crown Prince and his eyes? Pharaoh is far stronger than I am. What makes you think I would possess the means to heal his son if he does not?”

Kei Y tilted his head slightly.

“For someone with a minor Time Force, you belittle yourself quite a bit.”

The temperature in the room shifted instantly.

Cronus’s eyes widened, and for a fraction of a second, his pressure surged violently, threatening to crush the Kei Y.

“It is not difficult to deduce,” Kei Y added calmly. “My eyes are rather useful.”

His Kaleidoscope eyes activated.

Fragments of shifting, multicolored geometry spiraled within his irises. Cronus found himself staring into a moving puzzle.

“They truly live up to their ranking among ocular skills,” Cronus admitted quietly.

“I suppose they’re decent for what they do,” Kei Y replied with a small shrug.

Cronus stared at him.

“You truly have no understanding of the value those eyes hold, do you?”

“Not a single clue,” Kei Y answered far too quickly.

Cronus narrowed his gaze.

“Even if their ranking only applies within Mortal Realm ocular classifications, their value extends well into the Ascendant and even Divine Realms.”

Kei Y blinked.

Internally, his thoughts spiraled.

Only Mortal Realm ranking?

That old hag and that vegetable-making idiot had me thinking I was set for life.

I’m beating those two senseless when I’m strong enough.

Unfortunately for him, his face betrayed everything.

Cronus watched the subtle shift in expression, the faint tightening of the jaw, the flicker of irritation.

The King of Greece almost laughed again.

“You are dangerously ignorant,” Cronus said calmly.

“I’ve been told that since before I could speak or understand what was being said,” Kei Y replied, waving the comment away casually.

Cronus almost choked on his own breath.

The boy in front of him was fifteen.

“I don’t know why you insist on hiding your Time Force capabilities,” Kei Y continued evenly, “but I need your help to reverse the temporal damage on his injuries.”

His Tideborne Eclipse Force stirred faintly around him, the abyssal blue glow flickering with silver undertones.

“With my Tideborne Eclipse Force alone, I can’t fully restore his vision. If I had reached him sooner, his eyes would have been fine. But scars have already formed across the ocular tissue. At this point, I’m limited in what I can repair.”

Without hesitation, Kei Y dropped to one knee.

He bowed his head.

“I owe you this regardless. And it is a worthwhile opportunity to earn the grace of an Ascendant Realm cultivator.”

Cronus watched him carefully.

“I will assist,” Cronus said slowly, “on one condition. Answer one question truthfully.”

Kei Y already knew what he wanted to ask.

Before Cronus could speak, the wind stirred.

It wrapped around Cronus’s body like an invisible current.

Cronus frowned slightly, feeling the air brush across his skin.

It took him several seconds.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Then realization dawned.

“The wind…” Cronus said quietly.

“No matter how we manipulate perception,” Kei Y replied, “existence itself does not lie.”

His gaze remained steady.

“From the moment we entered the tournament grounds, I wrapped the wind around everyone within my radius.”

Cronus did not interrupt.

“I first noticed her while she was among your delegation. It felt odd. The wind did not cling to what my eyes saw.”

He paused.

“It curved around empty space.”

Cronus’s expression darkened.

“Given the coverage of the current, it felt as though it was wrapping around someone much larger than what was visually present.”

Cronus inhaled slowly.

“But her appearance?” he asked. “Sensing displacement is one thing. How did you conclude the rest?”

Kei Y shrugged faintly.

“If someone goes to that extent to alter their physical size, they likely aren’t satisfied with their appearance either.”

A slight pause.

“Mostly, I was being petty. The rest was a fortunate guess.”

Cronus stared at him for several seconds.

“Heh.”

A hollow laugh escaped him.

“My world collapsed because of your pettiness. I suppose I truly have not seen everything.”

Kei Y, meanwhile, was lost in a different thought.

Strange.

He had been physically close to her many times. He had felt her figure with his own hands.

Yet only the wind had revealed the distortion.

That anomaly lingered in his mind.

Cronus waved a hand dismissively.

“Go. I will come shortly to assist your friend. Allow me a moment to grieve.”

Kei Y stood.

“Grieve on your own time. The longer my friend waits, the worse the damage becomes. The harder it will be for you to reverse.”

Cronus’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The boy had just pressured a King.

And he was correct.

What’s more, ever since Kei Y said it, no matter how hard Cronus tried, he couldn’t understand what he meant by, “existence itself does not lie.”

“One more question,” Cronus said at last. “You don’t owe me an answer. Consider it humoring a grieving elder. When you said ‘existence itself does not lie’… is that how you view cultivation?”

He frowned slightly.

Kei Y smiled faintly.

“Haven’t you been paying attention to the tournament? One fight in particular made what I said very clear.”

Cronus went silent.

He replayed the battles in his mind.

Then one scene surfaced.

His eyes widened.

The bottleneck in his cultivation trembled.

The space around Cronus subtly shifted as Time stirred faintly around him. Had this world not still been confined to the Second Expanse, he would have broken through into the Ascendant Realm at that very moment. And the quality of that breakthrough would have far surpassed the standard path.

Kei Y did not waste the opportunity.

His Kaleidoscope eyes activated silently, analyzing the residual fluctuations of Time Force as best as he could.

By the time Cronus’s awareness stabilized, a few faint new fragments had already settled within the swirling geometry of Kei Y’s irises.

Then Kei Y spoke suddenly.

“If I were you, I’d pay special attention to that kid.”

Cronus looked at him.

“Because of what he did? Or is there another reason?”

Kei Y shrugged lightly.

“I don’t know. I’m just saying I have no particular reason to pay attention to him. Neither does anyone else.”

A brief pause.

“But you, in particular, should.”

“For what reason?”

Kei Y looked away.

“Consider it advice meant to ease your grief.”

It wasn’t long before Cronus and Kei Y arrived at Pharaoh’s private quarters.

The atmosphere inside was heavy.

Everyone was present.

Kei M lay on the bed, his eyes wrapped in bandages.

Conversations died the moment Cronus entered.

Confusion flickered across several faces, but seeing him walk in beside Kei Y, they held their questions. There had to be a reason.

Kei Y ignored them.

He walked straight to Kei M and began removing the bandages.

The moment the scarred tissue around Kei M’s eyes was revealed, several of them flinched.

The damage was severe. The skin around the sockets was twisted and pale, the remnants of burned and ruptured tissue barely stabilized.

Mia did not react.

She sat alone in the corner, hugging Olly tightly, her knees pulled to her chest. She had not moved since they brought him in.

She refused company.

Her eyes were hollow.

“Alright, big guy,” Kei Y said calmly. “Do your thing.”

All eyes shifted to Cronus.

He stepped forward without speaking.

Then his cultivation unfurled.

Time itself seemed to grow heavier in the room.

He placed his hand gently over Kei M’s eyes.

Aether flowed outward in slow, deliberate waves.

“I can only reverse a few hours at most,” Cronus warned quietly.

“That’s all I need,” Kei Y replied.

Cronus nodded.

Then the Chronos Minor Force stirred.

The scarred tissue began to regress.

Layer by layer, the damage receded as though unseen hands were pulling the thread of the past back into alignment.

Burned flesh softened.

Ruptured veins sealed.

Destroyed ocular tissue reformed according to the state it had once been.

Oceanna watched closely.

“It’s rare to see a pure Time-aligned minor force,” she murmured.

Cronus did not look up.

“It is the Chronos Minor Force,” he said evenly.

Fine distortions shimmered across Kei M’s face as seconds were peeled backward with surgical precision.

Then Cronus withdrew his hand.

“That is the furthest I can take it safely.”

The scars were gone.

The skin smooth.

The eyelids whole once more.

Now only the eyes themselves remained.

Cronus had rewound time just far enough for the optic nerves to regain partial function. The retinal tissue had stabilized. Blood flow had normalized.

But restoration was not completion.

There was still work to be done.

The room was silent.

In the corner, Mia slowly lifted her head.

Cronus stepped back.

A sudden gust of wind burst from Kei Y.

It carried focused heat.

“Operational field.”

The wind swept the area clean in an instant. Dust vanished. The air stilled.

Within moments, the space around the bed was sterile.

In his hand, an opaque scalpel formed, its blade refined and sharpened by compressed wind, edges vibrating at a microscopic frequency.

Several of the others stiffened.

Kei Y did not hesitate.

From within his sleeve, he withdrew a pair of thin needles, their tips coated in a pale solution.

He inserted them deliberately along precise points around Kei M’s neck and temples.

Kei Y said calmly. “He won’t feel anything.”

He had developed the mixture himself.

After witnessing Auserre collapse from shock that day, he began studying pain response and nerve interruption. Once he confirmed the compound worked reliably on creatures, he tested it on humans as well.

Some would argue those humans were unwilling participants.

Kei Y would argue the results were satisfactory.

Modern surgical anesthetics did not exist here.

So he improvised.

He had already learned that Healing Force alone was not a universal solution. Restoration without precision could cause more harm than good.

His Tideborne Eclipse Force flickered faintly as he leaned closer.

“I can repair structure,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself. “But clarity requires refinement.”

The wind steadied.

The scalpel lowered.

And the room held its breath.

Kei Y made his first incision.

Then he began.

The process was slow and deliberate. The wind-forged scalpel in his hand shifted fluidly, reshaping itself into whatever instrument he required. Blade. Hook. Fine probe. It was possible because it was formed through Creation Force.

He had no machines to monitor vitals.

So he improvised.

A thin layer of wind spread across Kei M’s body, brushing over skin, pulse points, and breath. The currents fed information back to him. Heart rate. Blood flow. Subtle muscular tension.

He calculated everything mentally.

Throughout the procedure, Tideborne Eclipse Force flowed steadily into Kei M’s body, maintaining vitality and stabilizing damaged tissue as Kei Y worked.

Time passed.

At last, he withdrew the final instrument and stepped back.

He rewrapped Kei M’s eyes carefully.

When he turned around, his hands and sleeves were stained with blood.

The others stared at him in tense silence.

Kei Y exhaled.

Then he gave them a small smile and a thumbs up.

“He’ll need time to recover,” he said calmly. “But he will see again. It’s just going to take a while.”

The tension in the room loosened all at once.

Cronus stepped forward.

“Allow me to assist further,” he said evenly. “Consider it an apology for my participants’ actions.”

He inclined his head slightly toward Pharaoh and the Crown Prince.

“I hope my kingdom has not irreparably damaged our relationship.”

Without waiting for ceremony, Cronus placed his hand gently over Kei M’s eyes once more.

This time, he did not rewind.

Time around the wounded area accelerated.

Healing sped forward.

Hours of recovery compressed into moments.

The air shimmered faintly.

Then Cronus withdrew his hand.

“King Cronus, thank you for helping my brother. I won’t forget this for as long as I live.”

Zeus bowed deeply, lowering his head all the way to the ground.

Cronus looked at him differently now, his earlier conversation with Kei Y lingering in his thoughts.

“Well,” Silvie muttered as she walked up beside Kei Y, “that’s not something I expected to see.”

“Kinda awkward, knowing what’s supposed to happen between those two,” Kei Y replied under his breath. “You don’t think we just changed the mythos, do you?”

Silvie gave him a tired look.

“At this point? I wouldn’t be surprised by anything.”

Pharaoh stepped forward.

“King Cronus,” he said solemnly, “despite the conflicts between our kingdoms, your willingness to aid my son means more than I can express. Consider the matters of the past settled.”

Cronus’s expression remained composed, but his gaze lingered briefly on Zeus… then flicked once toward Kei Y.

With Kei M’s eyes restored, the immediate crisis passed.

Cronus departed soon after.

That left only one matter ahead of them.

The final match of the tournament.

They had a few days before it began. Auserre and the others offered to intensify their training for Kei Y, Mia, and Silvie.

The three declined gently.

This time, they would prepare in their own way.

So they parted.

Each walked a different path.

Mia returned to Auserre’s training grounds.

She stepped into the koi pond without hesitation and sat at its center, water rippling softly around her.

She closed her eyes.

And meditated.

Elsewhere.

“This is a pleasant surprise, young one.”

Siddhartha opened his eyes beneath the vast tree of his Domain. Golden light filtered through layered leaves, reality around him quiet and balanced.

“What brings you here, Sanu?” he asked calmly.

“I have a few days before my final match,” Silvie said. “I was hoping you would help me prepare.”

Siddhartha studied her quietly.

“What do you wish to gain from me?” he asked. “Your talent is extraordinary. Even I find it surprising.”

Silvie did not hesitate.

“Let’s be honest. I won our fight too easily. Even in your condition at the time, you had the means to push me to the brink. If things had continued, you might have won.”

Siddhartha smiled faintly.

“My chances would have relied mostly on our cultivation gap. In the end, forfeiting was the correct choice. It would have been an unfair advantage.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Knowing this, you still wish for my guidance?”

“Yes.”

A simple answer.

Siddhartha watched her for a moment longer.

Then he nodded.

Silvie shifted into a combat stance, ready to fight.

Siddhartha raised a hand lazily.

“It is not I who will train you.”

The air trembled slightly.

A figure materialized before her.

Nekhtem.

His eyes locked onto Silvie, calm and unreadable.

Silvie blinked once.

“…Is there a purpose to this?”

Siddhartha folded his hands once more and leaned back against the tree.

“You lack something,” he said.

“Your talent surpasses mine. Perhaps it surpasses anyone I have seen.”

His voice remained steady.

“But talent is not comprehension.”

He gestured slightly toward Nekhtem.

“If you wish to grow, then grow through him.”

“Let us see whether, by the time your match begins, you are satisfied.”

With that, he closed his eyes again.

Meditation resumed.

Silvie inhaled slowly.

If this was Siddhartha’s method, she would respect it.

Nekhtem clasped his hands behind his back.

“Are you ready, Sanu?”

Silvie reached up and removed the scarf from her head.

It unraveled midair, threads separating and reforming into a hovering tome behind her.

Mythbloom Codex.

Instead of activating its offensive constructs, she let it hover open behind her.

The pages turned.

Blank.

Waiting.

Kei Y had a similar idea for himself.

After politely “negotiating” compensation from Pharaoh for representing the kingdom, he vanished.

Some time later, he reappeared in Amunar.

Back in the markets.

He walked the familiar streets, stopping at stalls, purchasing several ordinary materials.

Along the way, applause broke out.

Vendors clapped.

Old shopkeepers cheered.

Children pointed excitedly.

The boy who once looked like he might collapse from starvation, ribs visible beneath torn cloth, now stood as a finalist in the Tournament of Kingdoms.

The warmth that spread through him was quiet….

He left the market with his supplies tucked away and headed toward his old work site.

The moment he stepped in—

“Oh look,” one of the cooks called out loudly, “the mighty Viper King has returned to bless us peasants with his presence.”

A few others joined in with exaggerated bows.

Kei Y chuckled.

“If you clowns spent half as much time improving yourselves as you do gossiping, you might actually be able to lift something heavier than a soup ladle.”

The words were met with roaring laughter.

They surrounded him immediately, clapping his back, ruffling his hair, congratulating him on making the final round.

“You know,” one of them began dramatically, “we’ve been starving ever since you left—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Kei Y had already pulled out a feast.

This time, the aroma was richer, deeper.

The scent alone nearly made a few of them cry.

They lunged.

A sharp crack echoed through the site.

Several men dropped instantly, bricks bouncing harmlessly off their skulls as Kei Y dusted his hands.

“What are you, animals?” he said flatly. “Line up. You know the drill.”

The unconscious ones groaned as the others snapped into formation immediately.

Old habits.

Everyone lined up properly.

He served each portion evenly.

As they ate, they talked.

“Who would’ve thought that scrawny kid would end up like this?”

“Yeah, and Anubis too. That boy shocked all of us.”

“Especially beating Veylor. That was something.”

They spoke with pride.

Kei Y listened quietly.

While they ate, he noticed something else.

A few cooks stood off to the side.

The ones who had once reported him.

The ones who had looked down on him.

They were staring at the food.

Trying not to.

Failing.

Too proud to step forward.

Too hungry to look away.

They didn’t notice when he vanished.

They only realized when he appeared beside them.

Holding plates.

They flinched.

“You know,” Kei Y said casually, handing them the servings, “asking for help won’t kill you.”

They stared at him nervously.

“No need to draw lines between you and them,” he continued. “Food doesn’t care about rank.”

He gestured toward the group.

“Go. Sit. Eat. Talk. Might learn something.”

For a moment, they hesitated.

Then slowly—

They went.

And the line between them blurred.

After finishing what he came to do, Kei Y returned toward the others.

One person was missing.

He found him in a training chamber.

Lightning cracked softly through the room.

Zeus stood alone.

“Some slave you turned out to be,” Zeus said without looking at him.

Kei Y snorted lightly.

“What can I say? Everyone has their talents. Hard to show them off if you don’t have the right stage.”

Zeus glanced over.

“I’m still disturbed by the message left for me at the foundry.”

Kei Y shrugged.

“That was your brother. I only knocked your men unconscious. He was the spiteful one.”

A pause.

“If it were me, I’d have just set you on fire and gone about my day.”

Zeus huffed faintly.

“What brings you here?”

Kei Y stepped forward and sat cross-legged on the ground.

He placed several paper talismans around him in a loose circle.

Verdant Volt runes ignited along his arms and legs.

Green lightning crackled outward.

The air hummed.

“That thing you did when fighting Hercules and Ares,” Kei Y said calmly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Zeus turned fully now.

“Was wondering if you’d teach me a bit.”

Zeus studied the verdant lightning swirling around him.

“There’s wind mixed into your lightning,” he said slowly. “Why dilute lightning’s essence by adding something else to it?”

The green arcs snapped and curved, cutting clean lines through the air.

Kei Y tilted his head slightly.

“Dilute?”

The day of the final match arrived.

The arena was silent.

Amunar stood opposite Jerusalem.

“You actually showed up,” the Specialist scoffed. “If you’re harboring even the faintest delusion of winning, you’d best discard it now.”

Kei Y glanced at him lazily.

“You know, for a chicken, you’re surprisingly prideful. And you talk far too much.”

A faint ripple of laughter passed through the stands.

The Specialist’s eye twitched.

“Tsk. Forget me. Forget the other Specialist. Our Crown Prince alone is enough for the three of you.”

His gaze sharpened.

“You think you’re special because you’re talented? Do you have any idea how rare it is to wield an Echo? Much less as a Mortal Recruit?”

The arena barrier flared.

The match began.

Kei Y vanished.

So did his opponent.

But there was a difference.

Kei Y disappeared by choice.

His opponent disappeared because he was taken.

—

Across the arena—

Wind folded inward.

Space twisted like fabric being pulled through a ring.

Kei Y stepped out of the current.

His foot was already descending.

The Specialist slammed into the ground beneath him.

The stone shattered outward in violent fractures.

Kei Y’s heel pressed down on the back of his opponent’s head, grinding it into cracked stone.

Dust rose.

Silence followed.

“An Echo at the Mortal Realm?” Kei Y asked mildly.

He leaned down slightly.

“What’s so special about that, Michael?”

Michael’s eyes were wide.

Confused.

Panicked.

“What the—?”

He had no memory of moving.

One moment he had been standing.

The next—

He was under someone’s foot.