Valeris looked thoughtful. "So he took them to serve as energy sources for when he reaches the Galaxy-level?"
"Not just that," Asher replied, his tone sharpening with gravity. "In the Galaxy Rank, cultivators don’t always form their own galaxies from scratch. Some do. But others—especially those with foresight—fuse foreign galaxies into their core. That’s the real edge. By binding to existing galaxies that already possess unique energy laws, they gain access to entire systems of power that operate differently from their own."
Freya frowned. "But... why start so early? Galaxy Rank is still three full realms away, isn’t it? And not everyone’s like you, Asher. For most, it takes hundreds of thousands of years to even approach that level."
Asher nodded slowly. "True. But for him, it was never about now. It was always about preparing for a future only he believed he’d reach. Except... it wasn’t just foresight."
He leaned forward slightly, gaze narrowing. "Leon had a unique ability—his strength increased with the number of people under his rule. The more subjects who acknowledged him, the more powerful he became. So this wasn’t just long-term planning. It was killing two birds with one stone."
He raised one finger. "First, by gathering those galaxies, he created a reserve of raw power—each one holding its own Laws, each ready to be fused into his core once he broke through."
Then another. "Second, by ruling them—by earning the loyalty or fear of billions—he directly increased his cultivation strength even before reaching Galaxy Rank. It was both a foundation and an engine."
Veyra slowly exhaled, something in her expression shifting, as if seeing a larger design behind the myth. "So... he wasn’t just building for later. He was becoming stronger now while laying the groundwork for later."
"Exactly," Asher said with a quiet nod. "It’s not just about the future. It’s about compounding power in the present, too."
They all nodded, the weight of his words settling around them.
Then Catherine asked softly, "Will you do the same?"
Asher shook his head. "For now, no. I’m planning to rest with my family for a few years. After that, we’ll leave Volarisa and travel to the outer fringes—uncharted systems where ascension is freer. Less interference. Fewer rules."
"And when that happens," Freya asked quietly, "will you take our galaxy with you?"
Asher looked at her, then the others. "Yes. I want to bring it with me. Because once you ascend beyond a certain level, if your galaxy’s left behind... someone stronger can claim it. It becomes a dangerous gamble. I’d rather fuse it into my core—or keep it protected near me—than leave it unguarded."
He paused, voice softening. "And more than anything... I want my family with me. Wherever I go. I don’t want to walk the end alone."
"Don’t worry," Freya chimed in with a sly grin, stretching her arms behind her head, "no matter how strong you become, I’ll still be there to help you with your night activities."
This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
Asher blinked, then gave her a long look—equal parts amused and exasperated—as the others burst into laughter. Freya just winked, clearly proud of herself.
"You really can’t go one serious moment without ruining it, can you?" he muttered.
"Why would I?" she replied sweetly. "You’re cute when you’re flustered."
The next few days passed like a dream, and soon the group found themselves back on vacation—this time at a place called T’ark. Though the name sounded like a park, it was far more than that.
T’ark was an undersea sanctuary, hidden beneath a mile of crystal-blue ocean and protected by one of the most powerful barrier formations in the sector. To the outside world, it appeared as nothing more than a strange ripple across the seafloor—but to those allowed within, it was a vibrant realm teeming with marine life, energy-rich reefs, and the soft whisper of old, forgotten power.
Asher, Valeris, Freya, Veyra, and Catherine descended in a private bubble vessel forged of adaptive soul-glass, watching in silent awe as vast shapes swam just beyond the protective veil. Colossal beasts the size of islands drifted lazily through the water—serpents with glowing fins, whale-like leviathans etched with natural runes, and swarms of needlefish that glimmered like lightning in the deep.
"It’s beautiful," Valeris murmured, her eyes fixed on the gentle sway of a coral bloom pulsing with faint red light.
"They say parts of this reef feed directly on fragments of broken Heart Cores," Catherine added. "Weaker ones that fall from failed cultivators or abandoned realms."
Freya raised a brow. "So this sea... digests shattered ambition?"
"Something like that," Asher replied, glancing toward a glittering trench where specks of red light flickered like candle flames. "But it doesn’t waste anything. Even failure becomes part of something living."
They soon arrived at one of T’ark’s central platforms—a transparent dome built directly into the ocean floor, where paths of light guided them through glowing trails. Vendors sold soulfruit smoothies, and exotic pets blinked curiously from containment spheres. All around them, travelers lounged in floating beds or dove into dream-like pools connected to deep-sea meditation chambers.
Veyra dipped her hand into one of the pools and gasped. "It’s like the water’s alive."
"It is," Asher said, settling beside her. "T’ark filters soul energy through the sea. It helps you relax. And if you’re sensitive... sometimes you get visions of past lives."
Freya leaned in, smirking. "Any visions of me?"
Asher didn’t even pause. "Just one. You were a sea slug. Very determined. Clung to my leg."
Freya recoiled in mock horror as the others laughed.
The day passed in a blur of wonder. They explored caverns filled with memory fish—creatures that reflected thoughts through bioluminescent pulses—and rode gentle current lifts to deeper chambers where old-world melodies played from carved stone shells.
The following days unfolded like silk—soft, seamless, threaded with laughter, quiet, and a kind of unspoken healing. Every hour spent in T’ark’s sanctuary peeled away burdens they had carried across lifetimes—realms, wars, and tangled bloodlines.
This wasn’t just rest.
T’ark itself was no ordinary park. What first seemed like a serene coral reef world was, in truth, an underwater sanctum forged by soul cultivators of old. Its underwater mountains and current tunnels were hand-shaped into meditative sanctuaries, law-attunement gardens, and chambers of marine life that responded not to force—but emotion.
Every corner held something new.
One morning, Catherine wandered off and discovered a hidden cove shaped like a blooming lotus—its petals carved from translucent coral, threaded with glowing soulstones. She stood still as the water shimmered around her, lit by soft-pulsing soullights drifting in and out of the coral folds like fireflies.
"This is..." she whispered, brushing her fingers along the petals, "...beautiful."
Asher stood beside her, hands folded behind his back. "This cove was built for cultivators on the edge of breakthroughs. It balances mind, heart, and core. They say it reflects your inner stillness... or the lack of it."
She glanced sideways. "And what does it reflect for you?"
He didn’t answer with words. He simply sat beside her in the water’s warm embrace—warm despite being underwater, dry despite the currents. Silence wrapped around them, not as distance—but as shared peace.
Elsewhere, Valeris floated slowly through a memory garden of water-vines that sang. Actual music. Each note shifted based on her mood. At first, they sang tight, somber tunes—cold and lonely. But as she let go, drifting weightless, the melody shifted. Softened. Grew warm.
She was still giggling when Freya appeared, riding a giant sea turtle like a war steed, a crown of kelp on her head and arms flung wide like a ridiculous undersea empress.
"All hail Queen Freya of the Floating Tavern!" she declared.
"What happened to your bathhouse empire?" Valeris asked dryly.
"Bankrupted," Freya shrugged. "Overinvested in sponge wine and trident massage chairs."
Asher and Catherine arrived moments later, and soon the entire group was steering turtles in slow, lazy circles through glowing schools of jellyfish that rose like petals from a dream.
But the most unexpected surprise came on the third evening.
They found a small coral hut, perched at the reef’s edge. It looked like a humble vendor stall—but it floated slightly, suspended just above the current. Inside sat an old monkey sage—half-spirit, half-prankster—his eyes beady and mischievous as he stirred bubbling jars of wild elixirs. Each bottle shimmered with a different hue: silver-sapphire, kelp-green, glowing rose-gold.
"What’s this?" Veyra asked.
The monkey grinned, chattered, and held up a sign:
Mer-Pills – Turn into a mermaid (or merman) for 6 hours. Tail and singing included. Warning: uncontrollable fin-flips may occur. No refunds.
Freya immediately bought six.
"Nope," Valeris said, stepping back.
"Oh yes," Freya said, grabbing her arm. "We’re doing this."
And so, thirty minutes later, the most bizarre—and magical—part of their vacation began.
One by one, they dove into the deepest pool, each popping a strange "Mer-Pill" into their mouths. At first, nothing. Then a tickle in the spine. A ripple through their veins. And suddenly—transformation.
Catherine gasped as her legs shimmered, fused, and reformed into a breathtaking sea-glass tail in shades of deep pink and gold. Freya chose violet, her tail etched with glowing markings and a matching spiral-shell top. Valeris stared down at her sleek, storm-grey tail in disbelief. "I swear, if you tell anyone I look good in this—"