The Quantum Path to Immortality

The moment Elias crossed the threshold, he felt it—an immense pressure crushing down on his existence.

It wasn't physical pain. His body was fine. But his power, his cultivation base, his Laws—everything was being suppressed by the realm itself. The Infinity Realm enforced its own rules, and those rules declared that he was weak here.

His cultivation base, which had been absolute in the multiverse, suddenly felt small. Like a candle in a hurricane. The Perpetual Horizon Core's unlimited energy? Still flowing, but constrained, limited by principles beyond simple energy generation.

The suppression reduced him to roughly 40% of his multiversal power. Devastating. Crippling.

He tried using his Reality Law to push back against the suppression. It helped, lifting about 20% of the weight off him. His power climbed back to 60% of normal. Better, but still significantly weakened.

Then he activated the aura of his Quantum Law.

The suppression vanished completely.

Not reduced. Not mitigated. Gone. His Quantum Law simply refused to acknowledge the realm's restrictions. Where Reality Law could negotiate with the suppression, Quantum Law operated on principles the suppression couldn't affect. Probability, uncertainty, superposition—these existed outside the framework the realm used to constrain power.

His full strength returned instantly. 100% of his multiversal capability, completely unhindered.

Elias smiled slightly. This was why he'd ascended using Quantum Law instead of the traditional Reality Law method. He'd calculated this might happen—that his unique comprehension would allow him advantages other ascended beings didn't have.

Still, he kept his quantum aura subtle. No point advertising that he'd bypassed the realm's fundamental restrictions. Better to appear weakened like everyone else.

Elias took his first breath in the Infinity Realm and immediately understood why his pills would be worthless here.

The qi was infinite. Absolutely, genuinely infinite. And the quality—a single breath contained more spiritual energy than all the qi in an entire multiverse combined. Dense, pure, perfect.

His Condensed Star Pills, which had made him the richest being in the multiverse? They would be laughable here. Less than worthless—they'd be like offering a cup of water to someone standing in an ocean. Every being here breathed in multiverses worth of energy with each casual inhale.

He adjusted his plans instantly. Pills were out. But he had brought something else that might have real value: Luminite. Mountains of it, stored in his spatial rings. The crystallized essence of collapsed stars, refined through eons of compression.

In the multiverse, Luminite was primarily used as fuel—pure energy for powering arrays and techniques. But its true value lay in something else: it enhanced Law comprehension. Cultivators who meditated while absorbing Luminite found their understanding of fundamental principles sharpening, their breakthroughs coming faster.

Would that property still matter here, where Laws reached infinity? Actually, yes. Perhaps even more so. If anything, beings pursuing infinite comprehension would need all the help they could get. Luminite wouldn't be common here—it was a product of multiversal physics, created through specific conditions that might not exist in the Infinity Realm.

Scarcity plus utility. That was value.

He'd find out soon enough if he was right. (You were wrong.)

The ground beneath his feet was strange—crystallized matter that was both solid and abstract at once. Physical enough to stand on, conceptual enough that it responded to thought. When he focused on it, he could perceive both its material properties and its underlying nature as pure concept made manifest.

Looking up, there was no sky. Instead, he saw overlapping patterns—probability matrices layered over each other, creating a ceiling of infinite possibility. Strange lights dotted the expanse, each one a convergence point where probabilities clustered.

The colors were wrong too. Some were normal. Others existed outside any spectrum he knew—hues that represented mathematical principles instead of light wavelengths. His enhanced perception struggled to process them, settling on approximations his mind could handle.

Everything here felt more real than the multiverse. Denser. More substantial. Like the difference between a sketch and a finished painting. The multiverse was shadow; this was substance.

Distance was flexible here. Time was negotiable. When he took a step, the concept-ground shifted to accommodate however he wanted to move. Temperature and gravity were optional—things he could choose to experience or ignore entirely.

It was alien. Overwhelming. Beautiful in a way that was almost painful to perceive.

But the most significant difference was the Laws themselves.

In the multiverse, Laws had limits. Even at 100% comprehension, there were boundaries to what they could do. Space Law governed distance, but distance had limits. Time Law controlled duration, but time had constraints.

Here, there were no limits.

Space Law encompassed truly infinite space. Time Law touched genuinely infinite time. Every Law reached infinity in its expression—endless, boundless, perfect.

He could feel it in the ambient energy. The Space Law here didn't just govern three dimensions or even seventeen. It governed infinite dimensions, infinite interpretations of what "space" could mean. Time didn't just flow forward or backward—it flowed in infinite directions simultaneously.

A cultivator could spend eternity studying a single Law here and never exhaust its depths. That's what infinity meant in this context—not just "very large" but actually, mathematically, philosophically infinite.

No wonder this place attracted peak beings from across the multiverse. This was where Laws reached their ultimate expression. Where 100% comprehension from the multiverse was just the beginning, the baseline for starting to understand true infinity.

The silence was absolute. Not empty, but expectant. Sound existed only when someone created it. The default state was pure potential waiting to be actualized.

In that silence, Elias detected other presences. Distant consciousnesses scattered throughout the realm. Other ascended beings—some newly arrived like him, others ancient beyond counting. Each one radiated power that would have made them gods in the multiverse. Here, they were just inhabitants.

They would notice him eventually. He needed to understand this place before making contact.

He expanded his senses carefully, mapping the area. He stood in what seemed to be a "landing zone"—a stable region where new arrivals manifested. The environment here was simpler, easier to process. A beginner's area designed for those adjusting to the realm's overwhelming nature.

In the distance, perhaps twenty kilometers away—though distance was more suggestion than rule here—he saw structures. A city, or something approximating one. Buildings that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously, architecture that folded through space in impossible configurations.

That would be his destination. Cities meant information, resources, and people to learn from. More importantly, cities meant commerce. Places to trade, to establish himself, to begin understanding how this realm functioned.

He had Luminite to trade. Whether it had value here remained to be seen, but it was his best option for acquiring local currency and resources.

Before moving, Elias reached through his quantum entanglement to check on his other self. The one still in the multiverse with his family.

The connection held perfectly. Despite the dimensional barrier, despite the vast difference between realms, his quantum link remained stable and instantaneous. Both instances of himself were equally real, equally conscious, experiencing different realities simultaneously.

In the multiverse, his duplicate was having breakfast with Kaelen and Aria. Aria was asking excited questions about what he was seeing. Kaelen was reminding him to be careful, even though both of them knew he was already being as careful as possible.

Here, his ascending self was taking stock of an entirely new realm, preparing to venture into unknown territory.

The promise kept. He hadn't abandoned them. Both versions of him were equally present, equally engaged.

"Everything stable?" his multiverse instance asked through the link.

"Stable. The suppression was handled. Quantum Law negates it completely," his Infinity Realm instance replied.

"Good. Aria wants to know what color infinity is."

Elias looked around at the impossible hues surrounding him. "Tell her it's every color and no color simultaneously. She'll understand."

Through the link, he felt Aria's delighted laughter. She probably would understand—his daughter's comprehension of quantum principles was advancing rapidly.

Satisfied that his family was safe and his connection maintained, Elias turned his full attention to the task ahead.

Elias began walking toward the distant city. He chose to walk rather than use faster movement techniques—he wanted to observe, to learn, to understand this new realm at a measured pace.

As he moved, he noticed details. The way space compressed and expanded based on intent. How time flowed differently in different areas—some regions where seconds passed like hours, others where hours felt like seconds. The pure qi that permeated everything, so dense it was almost visible as a shimmering haze.

This was a realm of true infinity. Not just large—actually infinite. Infinite space, infinite energy, infinite possibility. Everything here existed in ultimate expression.

He passed other newly arrived beings, recognizing them by their confused expressions and tentative movements. They were struggling with the suppression, barely able to move properly, their power reduced to fractions of what they'd possessed in the multiverse.

They didn't notice him. His quantum aura masked his full power, making him appear as suppressed as they were. Just another newcomer struggling to adapt.

Good. The last thing he needed was to stand out immediately.

The city grew closer with each step. He could see beings now—entities moving through the streets in ways that defied normal description. Some walked normally. Others flowed through space like water. A few existed in multiple locations simultaneously, their forms blurred across probability.

All of them radiated immense power. These were peak existences, beings who had achieved what most cultivators could only dream of. And they were just citizens here, going about their daily lives.

Elias checked his spatial rings one more time, confirming his Luminite reserves. Hundreds of thousands of units—enough to buy planets in the multiverse. Would it be enough here? He'd find out.