When the war was happening in Aetheleon and in the earth:
The morning sun, filtered through the humid air of the Hong Kong hills, cast long, golden streaks across the luxurious master suite. The air conditioning unit provided a steady, peaceful hum, a manufactured calm that Rayn relied upon.
Rayn was awakened by a sweet, familiar voice echoing softly through the room. A woman—his mother, Valerie—came into his view. Her black hair, freshly brushed, framed a serene face, and the light fragrance of dandelion spread gently throughout the room, a scent Rayn unconsciously associated with safety.
Rayn slowly stirred, his dark eyes still blurred with sleep. He saw her clearly: she was wearing a comfortable white silk shirt and deep blue shorts, her attire reflecting the relaxed wealth of the estate.
Valerie came to Rayn's bedside, sitting gently on the edge of the imported mattress. She placed a tray holding two steaming mugs of coffee on the bedside table. She then took Rayn's head in her hands, carefully moved it toward her, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
"Good Morning, Dear," she said, her voice rich and melodic.
The gesture, the scent, and the voice fully anchored Rayn in the moment. "Good Morning, Mom," Rayn replied, managing a slight smile. "It's quite incredible that you got up this early to prepare the coffee."
Valerie took her own cup and they shared the ritual, the simple act of drinking coffee together a rare slice of domestic normalcy.
The door burst open without a knock. Ken, Rayn's younger brother, with a shock of untidy black hair and bright, impatient dark eyes, followed the rich aroma of the freshly brewed coffee. "Mother, where is my coffee?"
Valerie chuckled, gesturing to the tray. She poured the third cup for Ken and, just as she had for Rayn, gave him a kiss on the forehead. She then left the room to manage the estate, the dandelion scent lingering in her wake.
Ken immediately sprawled out on Rayn's immense bed, already starting to scroll through his phone.
Rayn sighed, shaking his head. "Hey, I already told you not to sleep in my bed. I don't like it."
Ken, used to his brother's fastidiousness, ignored him. Rayn let the issue drop. The small transgression wasn't worth the energy. He finished his coffee and rose from the bed, moving toward the vast, open windows overlooking the sprawling hills. The vacation was supposed to be relaxing, but for Rayn, it was an imperative to observe and maintain control.
The Shenzhen skyline, usually the beacon of Rayn's hyper-efficient existence, had been traded for the quiet, humid sprawl of their family estate in the hills outside Hong Kong. Rayn wasn't there for relaxation; he was there for observation—a passive, constant vigilance against the unpredictable.
Valerie's Estate, a sprawling, modern masterpiece of architecture, all infinity pools and imported granite, was Rayn's current anchor. Valerie, who he assumed was using her maiden name for this life, had insisted on this 'mandatory family holiday' to celebrate Rayn's latest financial triumph. She was already out on the veranda, directing the staff with the serene, effortless control of a queen managing her court—a trait Rayn recognized and respected.
Rayn, now dressed in comfortable linen clothes, sat on a balcony, reading a physical book—a dense, academic volume on Qing Dynasty trade routes. This was his version of 'unwinding': absorbing complex, historical data to predict future societal patterns and identify any weak points in this dimension's stability.
The environment was lush and quiet. The air was thick with the sweet, tropical scent of jasmine, overlaid with the low, almost imperceptible hum of concealed, highly advanced security systems. Rayn used his downtime to run silent, real-time diagnostics on the estate's defenses, ensuring the complex web of mundane sensors and reinforced structures was impervious to any form of chaotic intrusion. This stable fortress of normalcy was his greatest shield.
The engineered peace was shattered by the sound of an aggressive electronic melody erupting from the multimedia room. Ken, Rayn's younger brother, burst onto the veranda, his face flushed and his clothes damp with sweat from an intense gaming session. A look of intense frustration was etched across his face.
"Rayn!" Ken shouted, throwing himself dramatically into an expensive wicker chair. "It's the Hangzhou investment—the bio-fuel micro-organism project! It's crashing! They lost the stabilization data!"
Rayn didn't even flinch, keeping his gaze momentarily locked on the Qing trade routes. "Did you lose your remaining 25%?"
"No, I pulled it out yesterday, just like you said," Ken admitted, begrudgingly. "But I was right about the disruptive potential! They hit a breakthrough—a new microbial synthesis that optimizes energy transfer—but they couldn't control the variables. They just called, the entire lab is quarantined. Total failure!"
Ken was vibrating with the frantic energy of a true speculator. "See, Rayn? I told you it was revolutionary! If I had stayed in, I could've influenced the stabilization phase! I understand the vectors of chaos!"
Rayn finally marked his page and set the heavy book down. His fierce Red eyes met Ken's—sharp, steady, and entirely devoid of panic. "You are confusing high potential with sound strategy, Ken. This is why you must learn the value of Earth's rules."
"But you always talk about reading the 'underlying vectors of instability'! Why wouldn't you risk a tiny fraction of Aether Capital's resources on this? It could have been revolutionary!" Ken cried out, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"Because stability demands patience, Ken," Rayn said, his voice flat and controlled. "That project was fundamentally flawed. It lacked a secure framework. The 'disruptive potential' you chase is often a façade for uncontrolled variables. My algorithms spotted that lack of stable containment long before the microbial synthesis became unstable."
Rayn leaned forward, his voice lowering to a precise, almost clinical whisper. "I need you to survive here, little brother. I need you to learn to operate perfectly within this world's mundane logic. We have enough chaos in our life. we build a stable fortress of finance and normalcy. Do you understand? Your financial discipline is the most effective shield we have."
Valerie, seeing the intensity of the brothers' discussion, glided over to their table, her presence radiating a calming authority.
"Oh, Ken, are you arguing with your older brother about money again?" she asked, her voice light, yet possessing a subtle finality that instantly silenced Ken. "Rayn, dear, you work too hard. You should be using this holiday to relax, not to lecture your brother about 'financial architecture.'"
She placed a hand gently on Rayn's shoulder. "I worry about you, Rayn. You're never truly present. Sometimes, when you look out the window at the city, you look like you're seeing something else entirely."
Valerie's words, though simple, pierced Rayn's defense. He was pulled, not by his own will, but by a sudden, jarring psychic force. Deep in his thought process, a sudden, violent vision erupted.
He was no longer on Earth. He was plunged into a landscape of broken stone and swirling elemental energy—a massive war was happening on a world he instinctively didn't knew it as Aetheleon. He saw people fighting, creatures of pure power colliding, the landscape consumed by fire and ice. He didn't know the combatants, but the raw scale of the conflict was overwhelming.
These memories are coming toward me and I can't take it anymore! Rayn thought desperately, a cold fear gripping his heart. Are these memories fatal or are they real?
Later that night, as Rayn was finally falling asleep, the visions returned, more focused this time. He was instantly teleported into a purely black realm mixed with swirling gold—a high-level psychic space.
A figure, looking like gray smoke condensing into a humanoid shape, stood a short distance from Rayn.
Rayn, recognizing the shape from an earlier, fleeting dream, immediately remembered the encounter and asked: "Hey, you are the one that came into my vision a few days ago!"
The smoke person pulsed, its voice echoing in Rayn's mind, "Yes. And I want to meet you soon."
Before Rayn could ask more questions—who are you, where is this place—the smoke figure abruptly disappeared, and Rayn was violently ejected from the vision.
He jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. Almost instantly, Valerie and Ken—woken by his sudden movement and scream—came rushing into his room, their faces etched with concern, hugging and comforting him.
In that moment of grounding physical contact, Rayn had only one thought, pushing out all calculations of business and money: What is this war? Where is it happening? Why am I getting these visions? And who is that smoke person?
The entire barrage of thoughts had no rational answer in Rayn's meticulously constructed Earth reality, and he was consumed by the desperate need to find the truth.