The day of Uncle Kael's arrival had finally come. I'd always been curious about the man. Through Mom, I'd heard countless stories about him over the last few days, and they painted a picture of someone calm and collected.
According to her, Uncle Kael was a man who valued tranquility, balance, and above all else, his love for family. From everything I'd learned, he seemed pretty chill—someone you'd want on your side during tough times.
Despite his calm demeanor, he wasn't someone to be taken lightly. Back when he was a Rank 5 mage, he had managed to hold his own against three Rank 6 individuals simultaneously, fighting them to a standstill. That feat alone would've earned him a place among legends.
It was impressive, no doubt. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the awe surrounding his achievements. After almost nine years in this world, I'd come to understand just how much of an anomaly I truly was.
The sheer number of mana cores I possessed was already absurd, but my soul—my very essence—was on an entirely different level. I couldn't be sure, but I suspected the time I spent in that strange, unknown space before arriving in this world had tempered my soul in ways no one could imagine.
Compared to others, my soul was exponentially stronger. It granted me significant advantages: heightened cognitive abilities, enhanced mental power, and an uncanny capacity to adapt and learn. My already super-evolved body was further amplified by the strength of my soul.
One of the more fascinating perks of my soul's power was the ability to instantly learn any mana art after witnessing it just once. Of course, it wasn't a flawless process. I still needed to fine-tune my technique and practice to truly master the art, but the fact that I could replicate it almost instantly was a gift few could comprehend.
As I mulled over my abilities and what they might mean for my future, a sudden noise interrupted my thoughts.
Above the estate, a massive dark void portal opened, shimmering with eldritch energy. From within the portal emerged a colossal floating airship. Its arrival was both awe-inspiring and intimidating.
The ship descended gracefully, exuding an aura of power and majesty. Its sleek, matte-black exterior gleamed under the sunlight, accented by golden trims that seemed to hum with energy. Yellow shimmering lines along its hull hinted at a formidable barrier system, one that likely made it impervious to most attacks.
The sides of the ship bristled with long-range cannons, each adorned with intricate glowing runic circuits that pulsed rhythmically. Even from a distance, I could sense the raw destructive potential of the vessel. It looked less like a transport and more like a futuristic super-destroyer designed for war.
In this world, such ships were referred to as Light Aerial Transports, powered by the Blightfall AMPV (Advanced Mana-Powered Vessel) system.
I'd seen videos on the Voidnet detailing their capabilities, and they never failed to impress. Even the so-called "light" models like this one were capable of leveling entire nations in my previous world.
What made these machines truly terrifying was their self-sustaining nature. Their regenerative barriers, passive auto-repair systems, and energy-based weaponry made them perpetual war machines. They could draw power from virtually anything—sunlight, kinetic energy, ambient mana—ensuring they never truly ran out of resources.
As I stood there, gazing in awe at the ingenuity of my family's technology, the ship finally landed. Its engines emitted a low, resonant hum as they powered down, and the main ramp lowered with a hiss of pressurized air.
A group of soldiers disembarked first, their movements precise and disciplined. They wore advanced combat armor, their faces obscured by helmets that glowed faintly with runic inscriptions. Each one carried a weapon that seemed both ancient and futuristic, a perfect blend of arcane craftsmanship and modern engineering.
And then, amidst the entourage, I spotted him.
Even without prior introductions, I knew instantly who he was. The aura he radiated was unmistakable.
He stood at approximately six feet tall, his posture relaxed but commanding. His golden hair shimmered like molten sunlight, and his violet eyes glowed faintly, exuding an ethereal presence. His chiseled features and easy smile could probably charm anyone he encountered, and his casual confidence only added to his allure.
Uncle Kael. My mother's younger brother.
He carried himself with an effortless grace that belied his reputation as one of the most powerful mages in the High Republic. Known widely by his moniker, The Zenless Tyrant, Kael Godsky was a figure of legend, both admired and feared.
The title struck me as a bit of an oxymoron. How could someone zen-like and calm earn the title of "tyrant"? The contradiction intrigued me, though I imagined the answer would reveal itself in time.
As he approached, a wide grin spread across his face. "Arax, I presume?" he called out, his voice rich and warm.
I nodded, stepping forward to meet him. "Uncle Kael, I presume," I replied with a smirk.
He laughed, a hearty, genuine sound that instantly put me at ease. "Sharp as a blade already, I see. Your mother's been singing your praises for years now. I was starting to think she was exaggerating, but seeing you now... well, let's just say I'm impressed."
I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at his words. This was a man who had stood against some of the strongest beings in the world just below those monstrous beings at the same rank as my father, and he was impressed by me?
"Your reputation precedes you as well, Uncle," I said. "Mom's told me about your exploits—especially the part where you fought three Rank 6 mages to a standstill."
His grin widened. "Ah, those were simpler times. Back then, I didn't have to worry about my actions and when the most worrying thing was about who the next guy i would fight be. But enough about me. I'm here to help you, not to bask in my own glory."
His tone was light, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words. This was a man who didn't waste time on idle flattery or empty promises.
"Before we begin," he continued, "there's something I need to see for myself."
I raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
He gestured toward the open field behind the estate. "Your potential. Words are one thing, but I need to see what you're capable of with my own eyes."
A thrill of excitement coursed through me. This was exactly the kind of challenge I'd been waiting for.
"Lead the way," I said confidently.
As we walked toward the field, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. This meeting wasn't just about training—it was about proving myself to someone who may as well be my mentor for many days to come. And for the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely eager to see where this path would lead.