The cosmos stretched endlessly, an ocean of darkness punctuated by glowing stars, swirling nebulae, and the fractured remnants of forgotten worlds. In this infinite abyss, where the weight of time and space crushed all who dared to exist, a lone figure drifted effortlessly.
He wasn't bound by gravity. He wasn't propelled by wings or energy. He simply moved, cutting through the void as if space itself bowed to his presence.
Zhuo floated with an easy, almost lazy grace, his hands tucked behind his head as he gazed at the vast universe before him. His white clothes—simple yet bloodied and torn—fluttered slightly, though there was no wind in space. A silent testament to the battles he had once fought, the wars he had survived.
If anyone else were here, they would have thought he belonged to this place. That he had always been part of the void.
And maybe, in some ways, he was.
A cold silence ruled this region of space, stretching endlessly in all directions. A silence that devoured lesser beings whole.
Not just anyone could wander these parts.
No divine barriers. No planetary protections. No sanctuary.
Here, in the abyss between existence and oblivion, only the strongest beings dared to set foot.
And even among them… few would fly so carelessly.
The horrors lurking in the dark—creatures older than planets, things that feasted on celestial bodies and twisted reality at a whim—watched him.
But none of them moved.
None of them lunged.
Not because they couldn't.
But because they knew better.
They had seen what happened the last time one of them had tried.
Even now, the scars of that battle remained—a fractured nebula in the distance, where an entire system had been torn apart in an instant.
Zhuo had barely lifted a finger.
That wasn't to say he was alone in his abilities.
Somewhere out there, in the farthest reaches of the cosmos, there were others.
Beings who could do what he was doing now.
A handful of existences who could fly freely through the void, unshackled by fear.
They, too, could wander the abyss without flinching, standing toe to toe with the cosmic nightmares that lurked in its depths.
But they were few.
And none of them were here now.
Only Zhuo.
Drifting.
Taking his time.
Enjoying the view.
"Man, it's been a while."
His deep voice broke the silence, echoing through the vast emptiness like a whisper against the fabric of space.
He twisted his body midair, rolling once just for the hell of it, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Flying was fun.
Teleporting? Not so much.
Sure, he could arrive on his home planet in the blink of an eye—just a flick of his finger, and he'd be there.
But where was the excitement in that?
No sense of journey. No gradual build-up.
It was like skipping to the last page of a book without reading the chapters before it.
Completely and utterly boring.
So, he flew.
Not out of necessity, but because it felt real.
He let himself feel the weight of the cosmos.
The distant gravitational pull of celestial bodies. The light hum of cosmic radiation. The silent push of the universe itself.
And somewhere, buried beneath it all—a pull.
A faint, unmistakable tug on his soul.
His home.
Earth.
It was calling him.
His expression softened ever so slightly as he stared at the distant, glowing sphere.
"Heh. Been a long time, hasn't it?"
The void offered no response, but that was fine.
Zhuo had never needed an answer.
With a small stretch, he let out a satisfied sigh and continued his flight, completely and utterly unbothered.
Behind him, hidden in the shadows of dying stars, the ancient horrors of the abyss remained frozen in place.
Watching.
Waiting.
After what felt like minutes, hours, or maybe even mere seconds—time was a meaningless thing in the void—Zhuo's homeworld finally came into view.
A distant sphere of blue and green, suspended in the dark tapestry of space.
He slowed his flight, letting himself take it in—the swirling clouds, the shimmering oceans, the vast continents.
It was exactly how he remembered it.
And yet… something felt wrong.
There was a subtle, almost imperceptible distortion in the space around the planet. A presence.
Something unnatural.
Zhuo narrowed his eyes. His instincts, honed over countless battles, whispered a warning.
At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, a mere refraction caused by planetary energy, but as he drifted closer… the shape became clear.
A translucent dome, stretching over the entirety of the planet—and beyond.
His brows furrowed, a flicker of irritation flashing through his eyes.
"…A barrier?"
His voice was barely above a whisper, but in this silent expanse, it carried weight.
A barrier meant many things.
It wasn't just a defense. It wasn't merely protection against cosmic threats.
A barrier was also a cage.
And whoever had set it up had locked his entire planet inside.
Zhuo's lips curled downward slightly. He wasn't angry.
Not yet.
But there was something about seeing his homeworld trapped like this that left a bad taste in his mouth.
His dark eyes reflected the golden runic inscriptions flowing across the surface of the dome—ancient glyphs of restriction, woven with divine precision.
It didn't simply enclose the planet.
It extended past the atmosphere, past the orbits, past the moon itself.
A vast, unseen force tethered the very fabric of space around Earth, ensuring that nothing could leave.
Like an invisible prison, wrapped in an illusion of normalcy.
No one would suspect they were trapped… until they tried to leave.
Zhuo hovered just beyond the shimmering edge of the barrier, arms crossed, staring at it like it was a mildly interesting piece of abstract art that he just couldn't understand.
At a glance, it looked simple.
A thin, translucent dome of energy wrapped around the planet, pulsing faintly, almost like it was trying to act natural.
If Zhuo hadn't known better, he might've mistaken it for some low-tier celestial's half-hearted attempt at a planetary shield.
But he did know better.
And this was anything but ordinary.
Zhuo slowly extended a hand, tapping the air in front of him.
Nothing.
He raised an eyebrow.
Tried again.
Still nothing.
"...Huh."
The barrier didn't reject him. Didn't push him back.
Instead, it just sat there, existing.
Like some smug little forcefield that refused to acknowledge his presence.
Now that… was new.
Zhuo narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't just a barrier.
It was aware.
Not in a "bow before me, mortal" kind of way—more like the unsettling, side-eye glance you get from someone who's pretending not to notice you but definitely notices you.
Yeah. That kind.
Zhuo floated there, arms still crossed, as the silence of space stretched around him.
Then, he sighed.
"Alright. Who the hell put my planet in a cage?"
He wasn't mad.
Yet.
But there was an undeniable sense of irritation creeping in, like someone had locked him out of his own house and left a passive-aggressive note on the door.
And worse, whoever did this wasn't weak.
That alone ruled out most of the usual suspects.
Zhuo clicked his tongue, his fingers tapping against his arm as he thought.
Then a thought struck him.
"Was it… his doing?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
If it was who he suspected—then this wasn't some random divine being flexing their control over planetary travel.
This was calculated.
Deliberate.
And worst of all… annoying.
Zhuo ran a hand through his already-messy hair and sighed again, this time louder.
"That bastard's not the type to do things for no reason…"
Now, the real question was—what the hell was the reason?
Because Zhuo wasn't the kind of guy to just ask politely.
And whoever set this up?
They were going to explain it to him.
Whether they liked it or not.