Orion and the Primordial System

The city of Nythros, where Icarus lived, was one of the few vibrant spots in the Hipnus Galaxy. Famous for its cultural diversity and for being home to several lineages of spiritual cultivators, the city was a true microcosm of the energies that flowed in the mortal planes. Ancient buildings of dark stone mixed with more recent constructions, erected by cultivation masters who used their skills to shape spiritual materials.

The sound of hammers and conversations filled the streets, where merchants and artisans offered everything from rare herbs to spiritual artifacts. On every corner, it was common to see cultivators, warriors and even sages dressed in the costumes of different clans, all in search of power, exchanges, or masters to perfect their techniques.

Icarus lived in the simplest neighborhood, where young people and orphans helped each other as best they could. His routine was disciplined. At dawn, he was already up and warming himself up with a series of sword movements. Taking special care with each movement, he tried to compensate for the limitations imposed by the injury to his Spiritual Origin, practicing with an intensity that made sweat soak his clothes, even in the early morning cold.

After his initial training, Icarus would often cross the main market to buy groceries. The local merchants already knew him well and, despite his youth and the somewhat taciturn air he carried, he was respected by the community. Some vendors even offered him fruit or bread at lower prices, moved by their admiration for his dedication and resilience.

In the afternoon, Icarus always sought a place further away from the city, near the old walls, where he could practice cultivation techniques without attracting too much attention. That was his time of deep meditation, in which he tried to stabilize his spiritual energy, fighting against the barriers imposed by the injury to his Origin. Sitting on the cold earthen floor, he felt the subtle flow of the World's Spiritual Sea, trying to capture any spark that might strengthen his essence. Despite everything, he still believed that somehow he could recover.

At night, the city took on a new life. The central square was lit by spiritual lanterns that floated gently in the air, casting a pale, otherworldly glow over the faces of the inhabitants. Around the bonfires, bards and storytellers enchanted the crowd with ancient legends, and Icarus would sometimes stop to listen. It was at these times that his mind wandered to the times when his family was still alive, and he dreamed of the day when he could honor his parents' legacy and overcome his limitations.

On days when he felt stronger, Icarus would go on small missions, often hunting smaller creatures in the nearby forests to sell valuable materials to local merchants. Every battle, however small, was a risk; his body and spiritual energy were far from ideal. But he could not afford to give up, and he faced each struggle with an almost insane determination.

Nythros was, for him, a home and a prison at the same time. The city reminded him of his losses and limitations, but it was also the stage for his daily struggle. He knew that, somehow, he was still destined for something greater, and each day was a small victory in his long battle to recover what fate seemed to have taken from him.

Life in Nythros for Icarus was even harder because of the contempt of the young masters of the great families. Being an orphan and living in a simple way, he had become an easy target for the sons of powerful and wealthy clans, who saw him as someone inferior and despicable, unworthy of any honor or respect. To them, Icarus was nothing more than a boy with empty dreams, someone who had already been spiritually wounded and who would never reach the same levels of power as them. It was inevitable that whenever he passed through the markets, squares, or near the training gates, he would eventually cross paths with these arrogant young men.

One particularly gloomy afternoon, after an exhausting morning of training, Icarus was walking back home with some supplies he had managed to buy with the little money he had. Suddenly, he heard familiar and irritating laughter all around him. They were young men in fine clothes, with emblems of their clans embroidered on their robes, symbols of wealth and status that most of the city recognized and revered. Leading the group was Darian, the son of the leader of one of the most respected clans, who always made a point of teasing Icarus whenever he saw him.

"Look who's here… the 'fallen genius'," Darian sneered, stopping in front of Icarus and crossing his arms with a smug smile. His friends laughed, encouraged by the chance to humiliate someone who was already in a difficult situation.

"Shouldn't you be training, Icarus? After all, it seems you're still stuck in the first spiritual rank," Darian continued, with a tone of false sympathy, while the others laughed louder. "Wouldn't it be better to give up and get a real job? Maybe sweeping the streets… that would be within your reach."

Icarus felt his face heat up with embarrassment and anger, but he tried to ignore them, walking past the group to continue on his way. However, before he could move away, one of the young men pushed his basket, knocking his supplies to the ground.

"Oh, sorry, Icarus. I didn't know you were so sensitive," another young man scoffed, pretending to be innocent. "Maybe we should pay for this food. After all, you need it more than we do," he said, while laughing disdainfully, knowing that Icarus would never accept their charity.

Crouching down, Icarus began to gather his things from the floor, not giving them the pleasure of an answer. But inside, he felt the humiliation growing like a flame. He remembered who he was, his promises and his potential before the injury at the Spiritual Origin. But even there, suffering the scorn, he kept his face firm.

"Someday," he thought, "this will end. And I will be the one to turn it around."

When he had finally gathered all his items, Icarus stood up and looked directly into Darian's eyes, without fear. This gesture made the laughter cease for a brief moment. The intensity of his gaze was something they had not expected from someone in a lower position.

"Laugh while you can," Icarus murmured, his tone firm and determined. "Because the world goes around."

With those words, he turned and went on his way, leaving the rich and powerful young men behind. The anger he felt was fuel for his training. And that day, at dusk, he trained even harder, promising himself that one day he would show them all that underestimating him was the biggest mistake they could have made.

---

The sky was spectacular that night, an endless tapestry of galaxies and stars that cast vivid hues over the dusk. The horizon was tinted with oranges and purples, and scattered clouds reflected these cosmic glows, giving the sky a vibrant and almost mystical texture. Orion, dressed in an elegant black kimono with deep red details, remained silent, immersed in thought. Looking at the galaxies and the countless life forms spread across the cosmos, he felt a touch of melancholy at being away from his beloved wife. The multiverse seemed to pulse around him, but at that moment, the immensity was a void.

His eyes were lost in the details of space, in the complexity of each planet, star and nebula that made up that universe. But his contemplation was interrupted when he noticed something unusual: a colossal, distant and deformed face emerged amidst the stellar void. The creature's features expressed a cruel and cold hatred, which was fixed directly on Orion. The creature was immense, vaster than many galaxies, and its presence made the very space around it twist.

"Hmm... a monster from the Void?" Orion muttered to himself, his voice calm in the face of the immense being that stared at him.

With a slight and almost careless nod, Orion decided to use the minimum of his powers to deal with the creature. The air around him vibrated as the Dao of Space-Time manifested itself, enveloping the creature in a matrix that made the very reality around it unravel as if it were a scroll being slowly rewritten. Time around the monster froze, the concepts and laws that sustained the creature shattered and dissipated, trapped in a perpetual instant. Then the Dao of the Void took action, restoring the area to its primordial state of Nothingness, dissolving any trace of energy that might have sustained the creature's existence. Finally, the Dao of Creation filled reality once more, restoring space to its original state, as if the monster had never existed.

All of this occurred in mere milliseconds, an instant that barely disturbed the silence of the cosmos, but the threat had vanished completely. Orion, without further distraction, turned his gaze to the multiverse, observing its countless ramifications and possible futures. Sensing a new disturbance somewhere in the universe, he decided to act.

Concentrating, Orion dissolved his body into stardust, an ethereal glow of light that streaked across the fabric of space. Within seconds, he reappeared on an advanced world whose technological and spiritual level placed it high on the mortal planes. The city below him was dazzling, with metallic buildings that touched the sky, covered in pulsating lights that resembled the stars themselves. Flying vehicles streaked through the air, crossing the horizon in coordinated patterns, and an almost tangible spiritual energy filled the air, suggesting a level of mastery few worlds had achieved.

--skip

Orion landed gently on the tallest tower, watching the hustle and bustle below. The breeze carried a mix of exotic scents and sounds of the people's activities. His eyes turned to the horizon, where the setting sun cast long, golden shadows. He still didn't know exactly why he had come here, but he felt a connection, a destiny that called to him.