I drifted beneath the cloud layer of Asura, suspended in the true vacuum of the Void within the [Glimpse]. Above me, the resort was a glittering ceiling of jade and light, oblivious to the machinery beneath. But here, in the subspace basement of paradise, the air — if you could even call it that — thrummed with a frequency so deep it vibrated in the conceptual marrow of my soul.

  Below me lay the engine room of the entire archipelago.

  A ribcage the size of a mountain range curved out of the darkness, bones made of fossilized, translucent starlight. They pulsed with a rhythmic, low-frequency hum that sounded like the heartbeat of a dying star. The mana runoff from the resort above — the distilled, purified essence of thousands of high-tier cultivators, the waste water of the spas, the excess from the training arrays — poured down through the clouds in massive, luminescent waterfalls.

  The liquid light hit the bone and lit up, running through the skeletal structure like blood in veins. The complexity was staggering. It was a three-dimensional map of runes and flows that acted as the structural lattice for the entire planetoid.

  But it wasn’t dead.

  My [Void Perception] traced the flows. The mana wasn’t rotting or stagnating; it was circulating. The skeleton was a cage, yes, but also a life-support system. The curvature of the bones supported the entire local laws of physics and essence.

  “It’s not an artifact,” I whispered in the void-state, my spectral hand brushing against a current of raw energy thick enough to be physical. “It’s a recovering patient.”

  The sheer scale of the being made my [Void-Star] spin with a mixture of hunger and profound respect. Even dormant, the ambient pressure of its existence warped the local gravity. Tier 10? Probably higher before whatever happened. This was an ancient thing that had decided to turn its sickbed into a five-star hotel to pay for its medical bills.

  I drifted closer, navigating the dangerous currents. To anyone else, this would be blinding. To me, within the Void, it was just complex geometry. But as I neared the sternum — a massive ridge of bone ten miles long — I felt the heat.

  Not temperature. Conceptual friction.

  Something here was rubbing against the fabric of reality. It felt like sand in a gear. A grinding, agonizing dissonance that was being muffled by the millions of gallons of mana pouring over it.

  “Magnificent, is it not? The way the light catches the fractures?”

  The voice didn’t come from my ears. It bloomed in my mind like a warm sunbeam breaking through winter clouds — gentle, weathered, and utterly unbothered by the fact that I was technically trespassing.

  I spun around, my instincts flaring but finding no hostility to latch onto.

  Standing on a rib bone the size of a highway was an old man.

  He didn’t look like a cosmic entity. He didn’t glow with divine light or wear armor made of stars. He looked like a gardener who had wandered off the path to check the roots. He wore a simple, unadorned yukata of white cotton stained with soil. He had messy white hair that defied gravity, and deep laugh lines etched around eyes the color of swirling nebulas.

  He held a wooden watering can that dripped constellations instead of water, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like the ambient chime of the Hanging Gardens upstairs.

  “Welcome, Void Walker,” he spoke aloud this time, his voice a soft baritone that resonated with the bones beneath us. He offered a small, polite bow. “You gaze quite deeply for someone on vacation. Most guests look at the flowers, not the bedrock. I must say, it is rare to receive visitors here.”

  I froze.

  In a Glimpse, I was essentially a probability wave. To recognize it, one had to have a powerful, Ascended Domain and an affinity for Time. My Perception pinged rapidly — he definitely had the capability of truly seeing me, yet his intent showed no hostility at all.

  “You can see the simulation,” I stated, keeping my [Void-Star] tight but non-aggressive.

  “I see some indicators, and intent,” the old man corrected gently, setting down his watering can. It floated a few inches off the bone, caught in the subjective gravity. “And yours is full of wonder. Just like mine once was. It is quite interesting to see a wielder of Gluttony that wants to understand rather than only consume. Most succumb to the desire at your Tier.”

  Gluttony? Was he referring to the bracelet?

  He gestured to the colossal skeleton beneath us with a sweep of his arm, a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire world.

  “This is the inconvenient truth of the Zenith. The spa water, the gardens, the singing flowers… it is all just bathwater for these old bones. It keeps the marrow moist and the joints from creaking too loudly.”

  I floated down, landing on the rib opposite him. My feet hovered on a cushion of gravity mana to avoid touching the pure starlight.

  “You’re the owner,” I deduced, watching the way the mana naturally curled around him like a pet cat seeking warmth. “And the Patient.”

  “I am Borvo,” he introduced himself, bowing again with a grace that spoke of eons of practice. “Current Caretaker. Former… well, many things. Now? I am simply a retired cloud-watcher and part-time hydro-engineer.”

  I looked closer at him. Through the lens of the Void, I could strip away the friendly grandfather facade.

  Underneath the gentle smile and the gardening clothes, there was a jagged, screaming line of agony. It radiated from the massive crack in the sternum below and echoed perfectly in his spiritual form.

  It was a pain so profound it warped the air around him. It felt like watching a star trying to hold itself together while being torn apart by a black hole. It was a constant, deafening shriek of existence that never paused, never slept, never faded.

  And yet, his aura remained calm. Kind. There was no resentment in him. Only an infinite, weary patience.

  “You’re in pain,” I said softly, the realization hitting me harder than any attack. “Excruciating pain. The cracks in the bone… they are leaking corruption. The resort water is soothing it, but it’s not healing it. It’s just drowning out the scream.”

  Borvo stopped smiling for a microsecond. A flash of ancient weariness passed through his nebula eyes — the look of someone who has carried the sky for so long they have forgotten what it feels like to stand up straight.

  Then, the gentle smile returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time.

  “Oh, that?” He waved a dismissive hand, as if swatting away a fly. “Do not worry yourself, young master. It is just a scratch. A spicy memory from five thousand years ago. It was a brother of your Curse weapon actually. Nasty business. It doesn’t heal. It just… complains. We filter the complaints, divert the noise, and enjoy the view. It is a manageable burden.”

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  He tapped his chest, then pointed upwards toward the resort where Anna was currently meditating.

  “Besides, you are helping! You agreed to it, after all.”

  I blinked. “I agreed?”

  Borvo chuckled, a warm sound. “It is in the contract. Section 4, Paragraph 9, sub-clause C: ‘Guests agree to participate in the passive bio-resonance exchange protocol wherein their excess mana is utilized for foundational stability of the host entity’s Inner World Projection.’”

  My eyes widened. It was almost imperceptible, a section of the contract written in tiny font. I laughed, it reminded me of the jokes we saw in fiction back on Earth, before the Confluence. The pieces clicked into place. The lush biomes, the perfect weather, the responsive mana.

  “Inner World Projection,” I breathed. “The entire archipelago… the resort… this isn’t a planet. This is your Inner World. You projected it outwards onto reality.”

  “Indeed,” Borvo nodded, leaning on his spectral watering can. “It is hard to keep an Inner World stable when the core is cracked, you see? If I kept it inside, I would implode. So, I pinned it to the planet’s crust and invited powerful friends to come stabilize it with their healthy auras! Symbiosis! You get hot springs and Gravity Dojos; I get life support! If the flow stops… well…” he made a soft, whistling sound and fluttered his hands. “Dissolution.”

  “I wondered why the contract was on actual paper,” I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. “You needed our consent to use our mana as structural support.”

  “It is impolite to not ask,” Borvo smiled. “But come now, don’t look so grim. You did not come down here to burden yourself with my old stories. I merely came here to see who was Perceptive enough to sense us through the floorboards. Now, are you satisfied? Nothing to see here, just an old man soaking his feet.”

  He turned to pick up his can, dismissing his own suffering with a terrifyingly casual grace.

  I didn’t move.

  My [Void-Star] pulsed. Not with hunger, but with resonance.

  Through the Void, I could feel the texture of his aura. It was warm. Benevolent. He had spent five thousand years in agony, and instead of turning bitter or consuming others to heal himself, he built a garden. He built a place where people could come to be happy, even if their happiness was also a bandage for his wound.

  That kind of will… that kind of kindness… in my experiences so far, was very rare.

  “I suspect the healers you called couldn’t do much,” I said, drifting closer to the massive fracture in the bone below, ignoring his dismissal. “They tried to add mass to a wound that rejects reality. They tried to fill a void with substance.”

  Borvo paused. He turned back slowly, his expression curious.

  “They did. The greatest Ascendants of three sectors. They poured rivers of gold and green into the crack. It only fed the dissonance. Why?”

  I activated my [Void Perception] to its absolute maximum. I pushed past the first two layers of the lattice, past the light, the bone, and looked at the Structure within the Deep.

  To normal sight, it was a crack. To me, it was a tangle.

  The Curse hadn’t just cut the bone; it had cut the timeline of the bone. It had tangled the past, present, and future into a discordant knot that was screaming in constant, frictional agony.

  “Because it’s not a real wound,” I whispered, floating down until I was inches from the darkness oozing from the rib. “Not even a Concept. It’s a syntax error in the code...”

  Borvo walked closer, stepping off the rib and walking on the air as if it were solid ground. He peered at me, his eyes twinkling with fascination.

  “Code?”

  “I can access the Deep,” I explained, looking up at him. “And I think I can help.”

  Borvo looked at me. He looked at his chest. And then he laughed — a soft, warm sound.

  “You are kind to offer, little butterfly. Truly. But I am an Ascended Tier 10. You are… a very shiny Tier 8? I can’t really tell, your Veiling is truly impressive and I wouldn’t offend an esteemed guest with probing tendrils. The Curse’s feedback alone would evaporate your consciousness. Don’t worry about me. I have endured this long; I will endure a little longer.”

  “I’m not asking to simply heal you,” I said, extending my hand toward the darkness. “I’m asking to untie the knot.”

  Borvo hesitated. He studied me. It felt like he was looking into my Soul, seeing the swirling abyss there. He sensed my intent. No arrogance. No transaction. Just the professional itch of someone seeing a mistake they knew how to fix, and the empathy of someone who knew what it was like to be broken.

  “You… genuinely believe you can,” Borvo murmured. “You really see something the Luminous Magi didn’t?”

  He sat down in the air, crossing his legs. He gestured to the wound with an open palm.

  “Very well, Void Walker. Be my guest. But if you start to burn… pull back. I would hate to end the path of such a promising Soul.”

  I nodded.

  I closed my eyes in the simulation.

  I summoned [Phoenix Rebirth]. But I inverted the flow. Instead of projecting a future body to heal myself, I reached into the concept of Before.

  I accessed the [Void]. I shrank my awareness down, diving into the microscopic space between the strings of reality.

  Here, the “Sound” of the wound was deafening. It was static. Chaos. A billion screams of physics being violated every microsecond.

  I pushed my [Nullifying Veil] to envelop the specific knot I was targeting, creating a zone of absolute silence.

  “Eat,” I commanded the [Void-Star’s Hunger].

  I didn’t eat the bone. I didn’t eat the mana.

  I ate the Event.

  I consumed the residual echoes of the Curse strike that were stuck in a loop. I acted as a trash-can for the paradox.

  Then, I reached for the strings with [Apex Mana Authority].

  In the Deep Void, they were impossible to manipulate before my lessons with Syntheia. And they were especially difficult here. They carried the weight of a god’s history. It felt like trying to bend steel with my mind. My mental mana reserves tanked instantly. The simulation began to flicker. The pain of the connection lashed back at me, trying to unravel my existence.

  Straighten.

  I pulled.

  I grabbed the thread of probability from five thousand years ago — the reality where the bone was whole — and I spliced it into the present.

  Align.

  The Void accepted the command. Because there was no rule saying I couldn’t do it.

  One of the many knots unraveled.

  The discordant scream of the injury dropped out of existence in that specific spot.

  A single, hairline fracture on the titanic rib — maybe three feet long on a wound spanning miles — didn’t heal. It just… stopped being broken. It reverted. The oozing darkness vanished, replaced by smooth, pristine starlight. The mana flow became laminar, smooth, silent.

  I pulled back, gasping, my spectral form flickering violently.

  I opened my eyes.

  The fracture in that spot was gone.

  I looked at Borvo.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  The wise old man stood frozen in the air. The watering can drifted from his grip, dissolving into light as he lost focus. He stared at the healed spot on the ribcage.

  He drifted down, his hands trembling. He touched the spot. He ran his fingers over the smooth starlight bone.

  “It… it’s quiet,” he whispered.

  The voice wasn’t the gardener’s voice anymore. It was deep, resonant, and echoed with the weight of centuries of silence breaking. Tears of pure nebulous light formed in his eyes.

  “The echo,” he breathed. “The ache… it is silent there. For the first time in five millennia… silence.”

  He turned to me. His nebula eyes swirled violently, galaxies colliding in sudden, overwhelming hope. He looked at me not as a tourist, but as a miracle.

  “You stitched the Void,” Borvo whispered, looking at my fading form with awe. “But how? To control the mana within the Deep…”

  “Like I said,” I panted, my consciousness rapidly destabilizing as the Glimpse reached its limit. “Pain is just a notification. You just have to know how to swipe it away.”

  “Who… who are you?” Borvo asked, stepping forward, his aura flaring with gratitude.

  “A tourist,” I grinned weakly, wiping the blood from my nose. “And I think I’m going to need a longer pass.”

  [Skill Evolution Pending.]

  [Mythic Concept detected.]

  I faded into the darkness, leaving a god staring at his own partially healed scar, realizing that his contract had just yielded a very unexpected dividend.