And just like that, two years passed by in a blink of an eye.
On this day, Sarnath City buzzed with life. Its streets were lined with colorful stalls and vendors loudly advertising their wares.
The scent of spices and freshly cooked food wafted through the air and mingled with the chatter of merchants and city folk alike. It was a market day, and the main square was bustling with activity.
Carter, now after two years of being in this world, fully embodied the role of Ahmoset, walked alongside Uncle Ket, who had insisted on a trip to the market.
Since Carter's arrival in this world, his days had been consumed with rigorous training under Uncle Ket's watchful eye.
Carter was no longer the fresh-faced teen eager to take on the world.
Now, as Ahmoset, he had transformed into a fit and refined young man, possessing the noble polish of a prince and the hardened edge of a bandit.
His once lean frame was now toned, every muscle defined rather than bulky. Over time, Carter had gained more than 23 kilograms of muscle, all due to his dedication and the intensity of Uncle Ket's training.
He also grew a whopping five inches.
From 1.73 meters to a staggering 1.9 meters. This was simply due to him getting a growth spurt.
Over those two years, Uncle Ket would occasionally take Carter to various places in the city.
This rare outing felt like a small reprieve, though he knew the old man likely had his reasons for dragging him out.
"There's more to learning than just fighting," Uncle Ket said with a sly grin, catching the faint look of impatience on Carter's face. "Even you can't deny the value of a day in the market, Ahmoset."
Carter simply shook his head, not bothering with Uncle Ket's antagonistic words as his eyes scanning the lively scene before him.
He had to admit, it was refreshing to see something beyond the walls of their estate.
Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of routine weighing on him. "A day in the market, huh," he repeated, chuckling as they navigated the packed stalls.They continued to move through the streets.
A few hours passed and they managed to buy a couple of useful items, more ingredients for Carter's cooking, and new clothing for him as well since he grew too tall and wide for his old clothes.
He and Uncle Ket wondered to one vendor's stall when a familiar face caught his eye.
She was a girl around his age, standing near a stall with a certain elegance that made her stand out.
His heart skipped for a moment as he recognized her.
Isiara Merai.
The girl the old Ahmoset had once chased after but had never been able to pursue due to her family's disapproval.
For as long as he could remember, Isiara had been a symbol of unattainable beauty in Ahmoset's memories. Her father, a stern and imposing figure, had forbidden Ahmoset from ever courting her. Her family were pretty wealthy merchants who had businesses in two major cities other than Sarnath.
Yet, despite her father's wishes, Isiara had been kind, even friendly, toward him. Over the years, a quiet bond had grown between them. Though not quite romance, it was enough for the young Ahmoset to dream.
Six months before Carter's arrival, she had disappeared from the city without a trace. Ahmoset had searched for her, but every inquiry led to a dead end. He had been left in the dark with nothing but unanswered questions.
Now, seeing her here, Carter felt a pang of nostalgia. Not for himself, but for the young Ahmoset whose memories still lingered in his mind.
There was a faint, almost undetectable shadow of longing there, feelings that didn't fully belong to him. He looked on, feeling slightly detached yet sympathetic to the past owner of his body.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, Isiara looks up, her gaze sweeping across the market before it landed on him.
Recognition flickered in her eyes, and she stared for a moment as though struggling to place him. Then, her expression changed and a flash of disdain crossed her face, her lips now pressed into a thin line.
Carter raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the shift in her demeanor. It took him a moment to realize that she must have mistaken his look of curiosity for one of longing, interpreting his gaze as a projection of Ahmoset's old feelings.
He wanted to tell her otherwise, to explain that he was no longer the same person, but the words stuck in his throat and he decided to just not say anything.
Isiara wasn't alone either. It was the other figure that truly caught Carter's attention, a man whose face he recognized from Ahmoset's memories.
Khafra.
Ahmoset's heart would have skipped a beat at the sight of him, the man he had once sent to prison.
Khafra had been the scourge of Sarnath's streets. He was a notorious criminal known for his ruthless tactics and underhanded dealings.
Two years ago, old Ahmoset had been the one to bring Khafra's crimes to light with unrefutable evidence, leading to his arrest and imprisonment. It was a rare moment of courage, one that had left old Ahmoset both proud and fearful.
Now, Khafra was out of jail, standing in the market square, and looking right at Carter with a smirk that made his intentions all too clear.
Carter's jaw clenched as he faced Khafra, his silence hiding the torrent of emotions within. His hands were balled into fists, his body tense with restraint. If this was the old Ahmoset, he'd been teary-eyed and afraid.
However, this is Carter in the body of Ahmoset. He wasn't afraid at all. Ever since his training, he never had a chance to see just how much he'd improved. Now, seeing Khafra, Carter couldn't help but want to test his strength.
Before he could move forward, however, a sudden force of energy swept over the market square.
Carter felt his hair stand on end as an old man, cloaked in flowing robes, descended gracefully through the air.
He floated, defying gravity, and his expression was cold and calculating as he surveyed the crowd of people below him.
The old man's arrival filled Carter with a mixture of awe and dread. His heart raced with excitement; his suspicions were true—this world truly was not ordinary. This was a world of martial arts—cultivators—beings with powers that stretched beyond mortal comprehension.
But the thrill of this realization was quickly overdone by an ominous sense of foreboding. Carter's sixth sense warned him of the danger directed at him. Then, old man's gaze fixed upon him, sharp and piercing.
The crowd in the square, numbering in the thousands, dropped to their knees in reverence and fear.
Heads bowed, bodies trembling as they pressed their foreheads to the ground. Uncle Ket reached out, trying to pull Carter down with him.
"Hurry and kneel," Uncle Ket hissed urgently. "Boy, don't make your parents' sacrifice be in vain due to pride. Do it quickly."
As Uncle Ket's warning resonated with him, Carter was about to kneel, but it was too late. The old man's eyes had already found him, narrowing with a intensity.
The old man hovered above them, his voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance.
"Mortal," the old man's voice thundered, "why aren't you kneeling?"
The words crashed over Carter like a tidal wave, causing his ears to ring and his vision to blur momentarily. The energy emitted from his voice caused Carter to momentarily be stunned.
A cold sweat broke out across his skin. His instincts screamed at him to submit, to kneel like everyone else, but the very nature of the demand awoke a stubborn defiance in him.
Memories from his old life surfaced—years of fighting for self-respect, refusing to back down from bullies on the football field, or to anyone who tried to put him down. His chest tightened with a surge of rebellion. He had already died once, hadn't he?
What's a second death? It's just grass.
"Why should I? Do you deserve to be knelt to?" Carter asks, a defiant look on his face.
Before the immortal could answer, Uncle Ket stood up and placed himself between Carter and the old man, bowing deeply.
"Respected Immortal," Uncle Ket's voice trembled slightly, yet his resolve was steady. "Please forgive the boy's ignorance. He's young and brash, unaccustomed to the ways of those with great power and the world of cultivation."
The old man's gaze flicked from Uncle Ket back to Carter, a sneer twisting his lips. His hand twitched, and a flicker of fire danced across his fingertips. He raised his hand, leveling it in Carter's direction.
"So," the old man murmured, his voice filled with disdain, "you think yourself above the reverence even an Emperor would afford me?"
Uncle Ket's eyes widened in horror. "Immortal—" he began, but his plea was cut off as a searing stream of fire shot toward Carter, aimed to incinerate him on the spot.
As soon as the old man's fire surged toward Carter, Uncle Ket moved with a speed and power Carter hadn't realized he possessed.
The sound of chains breaking resounded throughout the silent market square as the invisible chains that bound his true strength released an aura that expanded in intense waves, almost rivaling the old man's formidable presence.
Many of the city folk closest to him were blown a few feet away. Even the fire that flew toward Carter was nullified.
The market square fell silent as gasps spread through the crowd, all eyes switched and fixed on Uncle Ket.
"Young Ket is an immortal?" An older woman whispered in shock.
"That man… is he really Ahmoset's uncle? How did we never see this?" another voice murmured with awe and fear on his face.
At this point, everyone who recognized Uncle Ket was in utter shock. For the past twelve years, he had frequently visited, buying many things and becoming well-known to the shop owners in the square.
Seeing him reveal his status as a cultivator brought both surprise and joy. Not only was he a cultivator, but he was also known for his kindness, often paying more than the set price.
At the back of the crowd, an inconspicuous old man's gaze narrowed, his smile fading. "So, the servant was hiding his strength all along," he says to himself, scowling. "You thought you could blend in among mortals and escape notice? How naive."
Uncle Ket returned the look the immortal gave him from above with steely resolve. "My duty has always been to protect the Young Master. You, however, have no respect for the lives you think are beneath you."
The floating old man let out a low, mocking chuckle. "And what will you do with that little strength of yours, servant dog? It's barely enough to stand against me for even a moment."
"If you knew who my elder brother is, even you would have to run away with your tail tucked," Uncle Ket says, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But, I don't like depending on others for my battles."
Without another word, he launched himself at the old man, the ground cracking beneath his feet as the force of his jump sent shockwaves through the square.
High in the sky, blow after blow was exchanged, both men moving with speed and precision that left the onlookers breathless. Mainly because they couldn't even see what was going on, they only felt the aftershocks of their collisions.
Uncle Ket fought fiercelyh, his movement reflecting years of training. But, as the seconds ticked by, his strength began to show decline, and it was clear he was no match for the old man's power.
The old man, now looking bored, raised his hand and an invisible force hit Uncle Ket with enough force to knock spittle from his mouth.
"Enough of this farce," the old man says, sounding bored as a glow appears within his palm.
Uncle Ket staggered back midair, struggling to regain his balance as he eyed the flickering flames in the old man's palm.
He knew what was coming. Still, he straightened his back, back facing Carter and his eyes blazing with determination.
"Uncle Ket, you…" Ahmoset started, but was cut off by a voice in his head.
"Ahmoset," he sent a voice transmission to Ahmoset. "Never kneel. Never bow to cowards like him. Remember… remember your worth and strength." His voice softened. "And at the estate, in the basement… there is something you for you to find. It's your birthright and your personal right."
Carter was dazed. He never knew his uncle had such capabilities. What realm was he to be able to send his thoughts directly to his mind?
The old man scoffed at this upon noticing a mental wave for voice transmissions, amusement flickered in his eyes as he regarded Ket. "Final words for the boy? It won't be long before you both meet in the Duat." He leaned forward, his tone dripping with contempt. "But remember this, servant: your defiance means nothing in the face of power."
Uncle Ket shot the old man a look filled with righteous defiance, even as the flames grew hotter. "If you think cruelty makes you strong, you're the fool here. Power without honor is nothing but poison to oneself."
"Is that so?" the old man smirked, flicking his wrist and sending the flames at Ket. "Let's see if your honor saves you now."
As the flames engulfed Uncle Ket, his face twisted in pain, but his gaze remained locked on Carter, even as his body was consumed by the fire.
Ahmoset wanted to jump forward, to do anything besides stay and watch the man who raised him ever since he could remember burn to death before his very eyes.
Memories flashed by in quick bursts from when he could first remember up until the very present ten minutes ago.
They were just here to buy things for themselves and the estate. However, one encounter changed the fates of both uncle and nephew.
One of Uncle Ket's final words were a fierce whisper, barely audible above the crackling flames searing his skin: "Ahmoset, never… kneel." Even at this moment, Ahmoset felt nothing but indescribable sadness.
Carter had never felt the feeling of losing a close one. Not even a friend or cousin. Yet, the death of a person he barely knew for two years dealt a huge blow to his heart. Within ten breaths, Uncle Ket completely turned to ashes.
To name matters worse, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying the ashes of Uncle Ket into the air, lingering as if in a silent farewell to his young master.
Carter stood still, gazing at the floating ashes, his eyes welling with unshed tears. His expression held a sorrow that resonated deeply with a few mortals in the crowd.
The Immortal had failed to kill Carter, but his cold eyes betrayed a renewed murderous intent.
"Master, let it go," Isiara Nebtawi said softly, her gaze settling on Carter. "He's just a mortal. There's no need to lower yourself to his level."
The Immortal hesitated, pride holding him back. To strike down someone already defeated would be beneath him. Then, to fall killing a mortal twice has already wounded his reputation a bit.
Khafra, burning with resentment, quickly interjected, "Master, we should end this now to avoid this hidden danger later. Who knows what this man could become in the future?"
The Immortal's pride flared, and he smirked. "An inferior commoner without a renka root? He'll never be able to cultivate. His potential was lower than even that beast's."
The Immortal begins laughing derisively. "Spare him? As if he could ever pose a threat to me. Maybe in the next life."
Khafra cursed silently, realizing his words had backfired, while Carter, silent and resolute, bent down with the sheath to the dagger he had at his side and filled it with Uncle Ket's ashes before getting up to leave.
With a mocking glint in his eye, the Immortal remarked, "An ant may dream of the heavens, but how could it ever reach an eagle's wings?"
As Ahmoset walked away, whispers filled the air.
"Ahmoset, the once-great heir, now reduced to an ordinary commoner. A waste of potential."
"The two sons of the Renent family had such promise. One a warrior, the other a scholar, both destined for greatness… until now. At least his brother is still a Connate Expert."
"What use is that? Even Connate Experts must kneel before the Immortal."
The harsh murmurs seemed not to touch Carter. He kept walking, head held low, focused solely on his steps.
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, softer than before. "Ahmoset, wait."
Ahmoset hesitated, and before he could turn, Isiara hurried in front of him, her face softened by sympathy.
She reached out, her hand hovering near his arm but not touching. "Ahmoset," she said, her voice tender. "I'm so sorry… for Uncle Ket. You didn't deserve this."
He met her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, a look of gratitude crossed his face.
But then, her sympathy shifted into frustration. She took a step back, her gaze hardening. "But why didn't you kneel? Do you realize what you could have prevented with one simple act?"
Carter remained steady, his tone calm. "It's not that simple. I choose not to kneel." Then, he started to walk again.
Isiara's patience snapped, her anger flaring. She stepped closer, blocking his path, her voice louder.
"Ahmoset, snap out of this stubbornness!" Her eyes bore into his, as if searching for reason. "I know you. Forget about revenge. It's impossible! You're already sixteen. Far too old to begin training, even if you had a renka root, which you don't! Mortal levels mean nothing against an Immortal!"
Ahmoset stayed silent, his gaze unwavering.
Under his steady gaze, her defiance softened. She looked away, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Yes, we made promises once. And I'm grateful for all you've done for me. Nonetheless, those days are over. We walk different paths now. We can't be together."
Ahmoset's mouth curved in a sad, bitter smile. "You must be mistaken. I'm only talking to you out of respect for someone. You're not qualified enough for me to talk to you. Let alone love."
Fury formed on her face like a mask. "You—" before she continues, Isiara takes a deep breath, remembering that Carter had just gone through a traumatic experience.
She straightened her face, forcing a formal tone. "Khafra and I are leaving with the Immortal tomorrow. I came to say goodbye. There's no point in arguing over things that no longer matter."
"Go on, then," he replied, a note of finality in his voice. "I won't be sending you off. We'll meet again, that you can be sure of."
He moved to pass her, but as they crossed paths, he heard her murmur, "Our paths part here. We are now worlds apart. Mortal and Immortal. We'll never meet again."
Carter paused for a brief moment, but just shakes his head. Then he continued walking, saying nothing more and never looking back.