I had been reborn.
This world—Solaris—was nothing like Earth. A massive realm, a thousand times larger, where magic and cultivation were real. Spells were weapons. Laws of reality were flexible. Immortality wasn't myth—it was attainable.
I was thrilled.
This was the kind of world I used to read about. Now I lived in it.
But excitement gave way to pressure. At age ten, every child undergoes their awakening. That's when their Martial Spirit manifests—and that spirit determines whether one can cultivate at all.
There were levels to it: Mortal Grade. Earth Grade. Heaven Grade. Saint Grade. And beyond, though no one spoke much about that.
Saint Grade was the peak—unreachable for most. But those who awakened it were destined to stand among gods.
The day of my awakening came. Held in Solaria, the empire's capital, known as the Sun City. As the Valehart heir, expectations were sky-high. Everyone waited to see what I would become.
Inside, I was panicking. What if I had no spirit? It happened—rare, but real. What if I failed before I even started?
But I stepped up anyway.
I placed my hand on the Awakening Crystal. Immediately, energy surged through me. Wild. Unpredictable. I almost yanked my hand away—until a calm voice spoke behind me:
"Don't worry, young master. That reaction is normal."
The elder's voice steadied me.
Then, in a flash—everything changed.
My consciousness was ripped from my body and thrown into a vast field of stars and swirling colors. It was beautiful—but I barely had time to take it in.
A voice echoed from above.
"Master William."
I looked up. A sphere of pure white energy floated in the sky, pulsing and flickering.
"Who… who are you?" I asked.
"I am your spirit. Your true Martial Spirit."
"You're what?"
"I am the Spirit of Creation."
Creation.
I couldn't speak. My mind was spinning.
"I don't know everything," the voice continued, "but I know this: I am far beyond any Saint Grade spirit. I could create universes, laws, timelines... when at full power. But something's wrong. I'm incomplete. We're connected—but I've used nearly all my remaining power to bring your soul here… to reincarnate you."
I was stunned.
"You—you're the reason I reincarnated?"
"Yes. Your death awoke me. I sensed potential… and acted. My energy is low now, so I'll sleep for a while. But I've created a second spirit to protect you while I recover. Your body is already altered. Your talent will have no limits."
Then the voice softened.
"Remember, Master… the sky is not the limit."
The light faded. I reached out, desperate to ask more—but it was too late.
I woke up, hand still on the crystal.
But my voice went unanswered.
The Spirit of Creation had already retreated into hibernation, and my consciousness was yanked out of that starry plane.
I woke up in front of the Awakening Altar.
But something was different.
I could feel it—this strange pull radiating from deep inside me. It felt like a black hole had formed in my core, sucking in mana from all around. The effect was immediate. The air began to ripple and distort as if space itself was bending.
The elder overseeing the ceremony snapped his gaze toward me.
So did my father, Leon, and my mother, Elina.
So did the heads of the major clans. Even some elite members of the royal family had their eyes locked on me.
"It's starting," the elder muttered.
"He's awakening… his Martial Spirit," my parents whispered in near-unison, their expressions caught between awe and disbelief.
Normally, when someone awakens, mana surges outward, forming the shape of the spirit as it reveals itself. But this... this was different.
The mana wasn't pouring out. It was being dragged in.
As if the world itself was feeding me.
Everyone present was stunned. No one had seen anything like it—not the elder, not the clan heads, not even the royal observers.
The phenomenon only intensified.
Slowly, my body began to rise—levitating off the ground. Countless multicolored motes of mana gathered around me, swirling into a vortex. The air shimmered. Light bled into brilliance.
It looked like the heavens were responding.
A storm of pure mana formed above me, roaring and swirling like it was tearing through the sky itself. The pull wasn't just on ambient mana anymore—it was yanking mana directly from the people standing nearby.
Even they felt it—their own reserves being drained against their will.
Gasps spread.
The elder squinted, trying to peer deeper into my soul, to see what kind of spirit I was awakening—but something blocked him. A veil. A force too dense to pierce.
His surprise turned to disbelief.
My body, meanwhile, kept absorbing. Mana compressed tighter and tighter inside me, fusing with my bones, my blood, my very being. I could feel it—changing me.
A fundamental transformation.
Then something snapped.
The vortex surged again, bigger, stronger. The ground cracked beneath the altar. Trees bent. The skies trembled. And my cultivation base—nonexistent just seconds ago—began climbing.
Novice Rank 1.
Novice Rank 2.
Rank 3. Rank 4.
The numbers climbed in rapid succession.
Rank 7… 8… 9…
Peak of Novice Rank 9.
Then it stopped.
But the awakening wasn't over.
This was the final stage: the manifestation.
The true form of my Martial Spirit.
The mana pressure rippled outward like a tidal wave. The surrounding energy was compressed again, drawn in violently, until the air in front of me began to shimmer. Slowly, a figure began to take shape—first ethereal, then solid.
And then it arrived.
A mech.
No! A Mecha Martial Sprite!!
Pure white and glowing with icy-blue energy. Sleek, almost serpentine in build. It had a vaguely humanoid structure—but its head resembled a dragon, fierce and regal. At nearly 30 meters tall, it towered above everyone.
A long, dual-bladed sword hung at its waist. One hand already held it, as if ready for war.
The sheer pressure it released made the entire crowd flinch.
This wasn't just any Martial Spirit. It was master-level. Two full ranks above my current level. A terrifying difference.