Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas

As the thought settled in her mind, she couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

"What a strong lady I am," she mused dramatically, sniffing like a tragic heroine.

("Strong lady my foot," William would have said. "What suffering? All I ever did was tease and tickle you—and now you're acting like I committed war crimes! You're making me sound like a villain here! I'm not a bad person, alright?!")

Sadly for him, William had no idea what fate he had unknowingly set into motion that day—nor how terrible it would be for him.

Especially since the one orchestrating it was someone many in the Federation casually assumed to be his wife.

Elsa wasn't about to give William a chance to speak—not even a word. She knew if he opened his mouth, he might say something reasonable, something that would calm her down, something that would make her give in. And she absolutely refused to miss this opportunity. She was determined not to back down.

Besides… she'd already made popcorn.

Wouldn't it be a total waste to let it go uneaten? That would be a crime. A sin, even. That's what she told herself, anyway.

Trying to sound both confused and sincere—as if she weren't the one orchestrating the entire scene—Elsa turned to William and said, "I'm sorry, Will. You'll just have to bear with this. For the popcorn's sake."

She said it like she was reluctantly following some divine law of snack preservation. Like she had no real choice in the matter.

William blinked. "What popcorn?"

But before he could say anything else, Elsa snapped her fingers. A portal ripped open beneath his feet, and he fell through it with a shout.

It wasn't until he was mid-fall that it clicked. "Damn you, Elsa! Just you wait—I'll get my chance too!"

Hearing his voice echo through the air, Elsa froze. She paled slightly. Did I go too far…?

But the hesitation passed in seconds. She shrugged and muttered, "Whatever. It's not like he can do anything right now. He's got enough to keep him busy. He'll forget."

Snapping her fingers again, a large screen shimmered into existence in front of her, showing William standing in the middle of a vast, open plain. Slowly, a variety of monsters began to emerge from the edges—packs of wolves, crocodiles, massive snakes, spider-lions, and other horrors creeping toward him.

William glanced up, eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Elsa tilted her head, enhanced the sound, and summoned a plush chair behind her. She sat down lazily, pulled on a pair of 3D goggles, and finally reached for her perfectly buttered popcorn.

Munching happily, she watched as William fought for his life.

Though not in the literal sense, William was indeed fighting for his life there. And Elsa, while not actually taking revenge, was certainly making the most of the situation to tweak things for her own amusement.

What Elsa was doing wasn't random either—it was something she and William had previously discussed. He just hadn't realized it until now, and that's what triggered his frustrated shout about having his time soon.

The thing they had discussed was how William's current body was unfamiliar to him—because, in truth, it wasn't his real body. It was merely an extension of his original one.

The reason he wasn't using his original body wasn't simple. It wasn't that he didn't want to—it was that doing so would have destabilized the universe itself. His true form had evolved to such a level that its manifestation would ripple across reality, damaging not just the universe but the entire multiverse. William had surpassed all known limits, reaching the absolute pinnacle of existence—becoming something beyond the realms of understanding.

No one, except Elsa, had ever come close. And even she hadn't done it on her own. Though she was indeed formed from the fragments of all creation, it was her special connection to William that allowed her to stand beside him.

But here's the problem: if William used his true body, the consequences would be catastrophic. That body was indestructible, and its aura couldn't be contained. Even now, sealed and suppressed, it felt as if his power resisted being restrained—barely held in check.

That was why he had to create a new body—a manifestation of the original, but one designed to absorb back into it once he fully unlocked his self-sealed powers. More than that, he wanted to start from the bottom again. To struggle. To rise on his own terms.

This new body allowed that. It was stable enough to contain fragments of his true power without destroying the fabric of this universe. Unlike the last one, where he had been born into being, here he had to build himself from scratch—not out of choice, but out of necessity. He had no other option.

The reason his current body was "powering up"—recovering fragments of his original power—was simple: it was never truly separate. This vessel was a physical manifestation of his true form, and it was reviving through a kind of feedback loop. His original body, acting as a source, was unintentionally fueling the process.

Though this new body was designed to be stable and adaptable—even capable of evolving into different forms—the feedback, however small compared to the source, was already starting to overwhelm it. William hadn't yet gained full control over this vessel, and signs were emerging that the power flow was destabilizing its internal structure. His lack of control was becoming a serious risk.

If he didn't act soon, this vessel—though only a manifestation—could be lost. And that mattered. It was crucial to the journey William had chosen, a path he truly wanted to walk. To prevent the vessel from breaking apart under the sheer pressure of the feedback power, he needed to achieve full synchronization with it. Anything less than 100% control, and his internal energy could spiral out of control with every surge of feedback.

There was also the issue of inefficiency. Though he could channel some power with limited precision, it wasn't enough. Certain abilities—especially creation, which he would need in the near future—required complete mastery over his internal energy. Without that, he couldn't wield those powers safely or effectively, no matter how much the vessel evolved or how strong the feedback from his original body became.

And there was a third concern: feedback backlash. The power kept coming, and without control, it could overwhelm him. If left unchecked, the probability of a catastrophic rupture—of him literally exploding—was far too real.

To address it, he had spoken with Elsa. After a long discussion, they agreed on the only solution: training. He had to fight—again and again—pushing himself, using his abilities constantly, until he was fully in sync with this body.

Just as the two of them were discussing how to begin—where to start, and what method to follow—they came to the same conclusion: there was only one efficient path forward. This approach wouldn't just push William's current body to its limits; it would also accelerate the integration of the feedback power he was receiving. In a short span of time, it could bring him to full control—100% synchronization. That was the key to stabilizing his vessel, and without it, the feedback would eventually become a major threat, if not a fatal one.

By confronting this issue now, he could finally shift his focus back to the larger plan ahead.

But just as they were about to begin the training they'd mapped out, they were interrupted—by a call from Grand Admiral John Watcher of the Human Federation. It was a call they had been expecting, though it had taken longer than anticipated, which was why they had turned to training in the meantime.

Now, the moment had come. The Federation had reviewed William's proposals and the gifts he'd sent as a gesture of goodwill. The Grand Admiral informed them that every term William had put forward—each one surprisingly generous—had been approved by the Federation Council. And more than that, their response carried a clear tone of sincerity.

The call with the Grand Admiral shifted William's focus entirely. He quickly forgot about the training they had just outlined. But while William may have let it slip from his mind, Elsa hadn't. Not even close.

She remembered every detail—and every tease he'd thrown her way over the years. So she saw this training not just as a necessity, but as the perfect opportunity for a little payback. If William thought he could skip out on the plan, he was in for a surprise. Elsa was ready to drag him back into it—and make sure he felt every moment of it.

And that's exactly what Elsa was doing now. She was following through on the decision she and William had made—pushing him into training, forcing his body to adapt. But she was also using it to settle old scores. Every grudge, every joke at her expense, every time he'd teased her over the years—this was her payback.

And she was enjoying every second of it.