The scorching summer sun illuminates the park and the nearby cathedral. Rows and rows of expensive cars are parked next to it. Inside, the cathedral is sumptuously decorated, perfectly suited to the vast wealth and influence of its current crowd. Stained-glass windows cast vibrant colors around the aisles, filled with distinguished guests—an elite and powerful group of people. The sweet scent of roses and lilies dances through the air from many elaborate arrangements.
Charles Vanlies, the main hero of the event, stands by the altar, his heart pounding with a combination of ecstasy and expectation. Seconds pass, and finally, the moment he has been waiting for arrives. The bride, dressed in flowing silk and lace, walks gracefully toward him, her veil barely hiding the brilliant smile on her face. Every eye in the room focuses on her—the epitome of elegance and splendor. She is escorted by her loving father, his face showing shining wrinkles and a smile.
"How beautiful," one of the guests whispers to another.
As the ceremony continues, Charles glances at his friends and other guests, aware that all eyes are on him and his bride. "Who would've thought," Charles wonders to himself. However, something feels off. Charles's heart feels a sting inside, but he can't pinpoint why.
"Why am I feeling uneasy all of a sudden?"
It is time for the vows to be said. Charles's thoughts are interrupted by the priest. "Bride, groom, you can now say your vows."
At that moment, the big oak doors of the cathedral open with a creaking sound. An unusual silence fills the room as a man enters.
"Thomas?" Charles looks at the newcomer. Thomas is in tatters: his face drawn and very pale. With intense fury, he walks briskly through the hall of benches, his eyes fixed on Charles.
"Thomas," Charles speaks, his voice tinged with concern. "What is happening?"
Thomas makes his way to the altar, his palms shaking. His eyes search the room until they settle on a few faces before finally locking with Charles's. There is visible agony on his face.
"I'm sorry, Charles," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "They've got my family. I had no choice."
Before the sound of even one gasp reaches his ears, Thomas is ripping open his jacket to reveal a vest strapped with explosives. A collective gasp echoes through the cathedral as Charles's heart stops; what had been a moment of joy immediately becomes a nightmare.
"No!" Charles yells and lunges toward Thomas, but it is too late. A blinding flash engulfs the cathedral, followed by the screeching sound of an explosion. Its force rips through the sacred space, reducing everything to rubble. In that disintegrating world, Charles feels searing pain.
In his final moments, a whirlwind of despair and regret sweeps through Charles's mind. Flash of light, followed by darkness. In the void, Charles's soul drifts through an endless abyss. There is no time, no space. Silence is deep... He is weightless, his consciousness floating aimlessly. Days, years, maybe centuries pass. Nothing in this abyss matters until finally, a distant glimmer catches his attention.
Drawn by the light, the soul of Charles rockets through the void. Passing through the veil of eternal darkness, emptiness, and desolation, Charles drifts, timeless and lost. Nobody knows how long it continues until, finally, a ray of blue light pierces his vision.
"What is this place?" he whispers to himself, but no sound emerges. His body is immaterial, a clot of mist or smoke, barely even existing. The new space in front of him brims with starlight, shining in all colors imaginable and unimaginable. There is no up or down; the usual laws of nature don't apply here. However, Charles can walk here. His foot—or what one might call a 'foot'—steps on a ray of light.
He traverses the unknown dimension, exploring every corner. Curiosity takes over him. He grabs a shooting star flying nearby, and a piece of knowledge pops into his head out of nowhere.
"Sword talent? As in swordsmanship?"
Charles can't contain himself and starts catching all kinds of stars. There are countless, all of different shapes and colors. He manages to count seven colors, some more common than others. White—the basic one he encounters the most—is followed by blue, green, purple, orange, red, and finally, golden-yellow.
"White are common grade talents, it seems... Golden ones, I've managed to find only one," Charles thinks, looking at a golden orb in his hand. It is the talent of "Mythic Immortal Root," which grants its user an ability to cultivate Immortality incomparable to others. Enhanced understanding of spells and techniques, in addition to high sensitivity with Qi gathering and refinement.
"This place is connected to a fantasy world, no other explanation for such talents. World of Immortals, monsters, magicians, and gods. A world where power decides everything, where one individual can go against millions..."
Charles's mind is overflowing with images and ideas of the other world, a new one he has never even dreamed about. "If there is a chance to be born again, this world is an ideal choice."
Time passes, and Charles continues experimenting, determined to discover the limits of his abilities. He begins by attempting to combine two talents, taking two white Sword Talent orbs and pressing them together. This requires a significant amount of effort—not physically demanding, but something else entirely. The process of combining stars consumes his mental and spiritual strength.
"It is still a white talent, but more intense..." Charles ponders. "Maybe it will take more..."
He grasps a third white orb and merges it with the others. This time, it turns blue. The result brings a smile to Charles's face, and his investigation continues. Instead of merging the talent stars, he now attempts to create one from scratch. He envisions a sword, recalling the image he had seen in the orb when probing it with his mind.
Failure follows failure, with no change between night and day—only the eternal light of stars. Finally, after thousands of tries, a faint light escapes from Charles's palms.
"White Saber Talent - success!" he exclaims ecstatically, "But it took a while..."
Stars shoot out of Charles's hands, one after another. At first, they are all white, but gradually their colors begin to change until he finally achieves a beautiful golden hue.
"I don't think this is the limit," he muses. "There should be a talent stronger than gold level."
Just then, a loud sound of something cutting through the air interrupts his thoughts. Looking up, Charles sees a shooting star of unparalleled magnificence. Its tail and body merge into a single, enormous rainbow brilliance. A second later he snaps out and tries catching the star, he flies up closer and touches it with his hands, but the star doesn't move. It keeps flying, its trajectory unchanged.
"I don't believe I can't catch you!" he shouts at the top of his lungs and starts pulling again.
The light of the rainbow burns his hand, its heat digs deep into him, as if getting to the very bone that doesn't exist in this astral world.
"Argh!" Charles doesn't stop despite the pain and agony it brings him, instead, it makes him more determined, "Stop!"
Finally, the star starts slowing down. Under Charles's tireless effort, the immaculate rainbow star comes to a halt. He slowly opens up his palm and in there he sees a rainbow orb, colors whirling and interchanging inside. Charles probes it with his thoughts and the next moment the name of this talent surfaces in his mind - Weaver of Fate.
This talent grants the cultivator an unparalleled and godlike ability to perceive, manipulate, and weave the threads of fate and destiny. Those blessed with it are not only capable of understanding the intricate patterns of destiny but can also alter them to a significant degree. All of this information floods Charles's sea of consciousness, making him crave more of such talents.
"Fate and Destiny, truly deserving of the Rainbow grade. Now the question is if I can merge myself with it or..." He isn't able to finish his thought when the rainbow orb shoots towards his chest and disappears.
"So this is how it works," he looks at his body, "In this astral form, I can only store talents inside but never merge with them... Then am I useless here? Just staring at all these stars..."
The man decides not to waste his time sulking over his situation but rather keeps playing around in this mysterious place. He has all the time in the world, and it is a far easier way of spending an eternity in his opinion. With this, his capabilities grow, Charles learns more about the stars, how to manipulate them, and create his own. On his way, he encounters talents of various natures, such as magic, martial arts, and science acumen. However, after the Weaver of Fate, he doesn't manage to find a second one like that.
Charles isn't worried, sooner or later he will find it. That's what keeps him motivated and pushes him forward to explore the dimension. Until out of nowhere, he feels something unusual, something is trying to reach out to him.