'Seems like it's too late, but you're lucky. At least you won't have to move…' These were the last words Dyon heard before the bronze doors opened, shining down on his body. He couldn't help but snort at the idea that he was lucky.
'Lucky my a–"
Dyon's thoughts were cut off as he was thrust into a world he immediately recognized as his home. No matter how much time passed since then, Dyon had never called another place by such a title. Not when he survived the events of the World Tournament and not even when he reconquered the Soul Rend Sect.
This home… It was the place he shared with his parents when they were alive.
The streets were paved in concrete, the light posts stood five to six meters in the air, and well-maintained suburban houses, some of which even had white picket fences, lined the culdesac. The atmosphere was seemingly harmonious and peaceful.
