Michael sat on his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers pressed against his forehead as if trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control. The Galactic Ascension Tournament was no longer a far-off event, no longer a distant rumor. It was a storm gathering right above his head, waiting to swallow him whole. The pressure…the expectations…the unknown monsters he would soon face… all of it pressed against his chest like a merciless weight.
He exhaled sharply.
Floating in front of him, balancing with gentle metallic wing-flaps, was MOMO its spherical body pulsing faintly with soft blue light. A real, physical AI companion, alive in its own mechanical way. Michael reached out and poked the smooth side of MOMO's body.
"MOMO… what kind of enemies am I even expected to face? Who exactly am I up against in this tournament?"
MOMO tilted slightly, wings fluttering in a thoughtful rhythm before its calm, clear voice echoed through the quiet room.
"Michael, across the universe there exists something called the Cultivation Memos for the Seven Paths. These memos summarize how warriors grow, what strengths exist, and which opponents you will encounter."
Michael's eyes sharpened with curiosity. "Seven Paths? Cultivation memos? What does that mean?"
MOMO floated closer, wings humming softly.
"The Cultivation Memos for the Seven Paths are official universal summaries used by every major force to categorize warriors. Listen carefully."
Its body brightened slightly as it listed each Path, voice steady and precise:
"Memo 1 Path of the Weapon Sage.
They refine their weapon and soul as one. Every breakthrough deepens their bond until their weapon becomes a living extension of their existence.
Memo 2 Path of the Close-Combat Warrior.
Their cultivation enhances bone, muscle, blood, nerves everything physical. At the Planet King realm, they can crush mountains with their bare hands.
Memo 3 Path of Space & Gravity Manipulation.
They cultivate spatial awareness and gravitational control. At high realms they bend space, create rifts, even collapse stars. They require extraordinary mental fortitude.
Memo 4 Path of the Illusionist.
They cultivate memory, emotion, soul force, and willpower. High-level Illusionists create nightmare worlds indistinguishable from reality.
Memo 5 Path of Telekinesis.
They cultivate mental force, precision, multi-target control, and long-range awareness. Peak Telekinesis Warriors move cities or crush warships with invisible power.
Memo 6 Path of Elemental Channeling.
They cultivate elemental affinity and fusion. High-level Channelers walk like natural disasters storms, flames, ice, lightning.
Memo 7 Path of the Etherforger.
They cultivate Ether, the base energy beneath matter. They forge Ether armor, Ether blades, Ether blasts, and Ether null zones. Flexible, strategic, and deadly."
MOMO paused, wings slowing.
"And remember, Michael there is also the Law of Path Limitation.
No matter how far you rise, your primary Path always dominates. Secondary paths will never surpass a natural-born master. Even an Eternal Paragon cannot break this rule."
Michael frowned. "So… I'm permanently locked into one Path?"
"Yes," MOMO said gently. "Your soul is bound to ONE origin. And your origin, Michael… is Telekinesis. But because Zorvath sealed it, you must grow using other methods until that seal breaks."
Michael leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Telekinesis… sealed. Just great."
MOMO tapped him lightly with a metallic wing. "Complaining won't change your destiny."
Michael sighed. "Fine. So what about Zorvath's technique? I barely remember anything."
"Oh, you don't remember?" MOMO teased. "That technique cannot be taught. It can only be passed down by someone who mastered all three stages."
Michael blinked. "Technique? Which technique?"
"The Vortex of the Still Spirit."
Michael snapped his fingers. "Right! That one. But I never really understood it."
MOMO fluttered dramatically like it was disappointed. "Obviously. You never even tried the basics."
"So what is it really used for?"
MOMO's tone shifted calm, serious.
"The Vortex of the Still Spirit has three stages. Because Zorvath mastered all three and passed the technique directly to you, you won't struggle with the first stage. And once you master all three, you'll be able to pass traces of it to your disciple one day. That reduces their difficulty."
Michael raised a brow. "Pass it down? After spending years learning it? I'm supposed to just give it away?"
"That is how legacies work," MOMO replied. "A person who receives the first-stage trace will spend 4–5 years learning it. Someone without a trace will spend 10–20 years… sometimes longer."
Michael groaned. "So I have homework."
MOMO circled him once. "Michael, the First Stage isn't about raw power. It's about survival. Imagine a soul attack strong enough to freeze your mind. Instead of piercing you like a burning needle, the Vortex spins it dispersing the pain. Instead of crippling agony, you'll feel a chill, maybe ringing, but you'll remain conscious. While the enemy believes you're defeated… you strike back."
A slow grin crept onto Michael's face.
"Now that sounds useful."
"Then stop sulking and start training."
But before Michael could reply
The door to his room slid open violently.
Kyra walked in without knocking.
Michael scowled. "Kyra—how can you enter my room like that? This is my privacy."
Kyra didn't care. She waved her hand lazily.
"Please. Get out. Lin is looking for you."
Then she turned and walked away as if the room belonged to her.
MOMO hummed, "She has no respect for boundaries."
"Tell me about it," Michael muttered.
They stepped into the corridor of Sector S4–NX, their residence.
Lin was waiting.
Without warning, he pulled Michael into a firm one-armed hug the way older brothers greet younger ones.
"There you are," Lin said. "Come. I'm taking you somewhere."
"Where?"
"You'll see. Hop in."
The hangar opened, revealing Lin's personal starship:
Voidrunner-7, obsidian-black with silver streaks, a model capable of traveling two thousand times the speed of light.
Michael whistled. Fastest ship he'd ever seen.
They entered. Lin tapped a screen.
BOOM
The Voidrunner 7 blasted off, stars stretching into silver streaks. MOMO grabbed onto Michael's shoulder for stability.
Fifteen minutes of hyperspeed later, the ship slowed and descended toward a heavily guarded restricted zone on Helionfall.
Floating rings. Deep canyon-like plates. Guards radiating peak Galaxy Lord aura.
Michael swallowed. How powerful is the Starfall Covenant?
Lin smirked. "You'll understand soon."
At the checkpoint:
"Disciple of Valtherion Draven access granted."
Michael froze when he heard the name.
The guard bowed lightly.
"Welcome to the Echoing Crucible."
Michael's breath caught. "The… Echoing Crucible?"
"One of the Covenant's secret refinement sanctums," Lin said. "Not the highest, but only Galaxy Lords and above can enter normally. Your master's influence gives you access."
Inside, Michael was hit by a breathtaking sight.
Glowing crystalline chambers. Pools of shimmering molten liquid. Warriors submerged in burning refinement baths. Violent energy pulsed everywhere.
Lin gestured toward one basin.
"That's the Crimson Tempest Bath. Strengthens bones, muscles, nerves. Feels like being cooked alive. But once you emerge… physical attacks won't break you easily."
"People bathe in that?" Michael asked.
"You're about to."
"What WAIT
Lin shoved him gently.
Michael plunged into the pool.
AGONY.
Heat shot through his bones like fire-laced lightning. His muscles spasmed. His skin felt like it was melting. MOMO hovered anxiously above him.
"Don't fight it," Lin instructed. "Let it flow."
Slowly… painfully… Michael's body adapted. It was torture yet transformative.
Lin spent hours showing him the other refinement halls:
The Resonant Caverns training instincts through sound waves.
The Star-Fused Hall where gravity crushed arrogance and temper.
The Ether Veins glowing streams where Etherforgers meditated.
Michael absorbed everything.
Night fell.
They returned in the Voidrunner-7, slicing through the Helionfall sky like a ghost.
When they landed in Sector S4–NX, Michael stepped off the ramp steam rising from his skin, bones still vibrating from the bath.
And she was there.
Arata.
Standing outside, arms folded, waiting for him.
The moment she saw him, her expression softened barely before she quickly hid it again.
Michael froze.
"You're back," Arata said softly.
"Yeah," he replied.
Warmth. Tension. Unspoken truth.
Not a confession
but a bond deepening silently, undeniably.
MOMO hovered beside him.
And it saw everything.