The old man showed a hint of interest. "What was your great-grandfather's name?"
"Alok Ashbound," Ansh replied.
Hearing the name, the old man's eyes flickered with emotion. "Is he still alive?"
Ansh shook his head.
The old man sighed softly, a trace of sorrow passing through his face. But he quickly composed himself. "No… I am not your great-grandfather. He was my grandson."
Ansh's eyes widened. "Wait… so that means you're my great-great-great-grandfather?"
The old man straightened slightly, pride evident in his voice. "Indeed. I am your ancestor."
Ansh nodded slowly. "Okay… got it."
Then he coughed lightly. "So… great-great-great—"
The old man raised a hand. "Just call me 'Ancestor.'"
"…Right. Ancestor," Ansh corrected himself. "So why am I here? And how did you even bring me into this pendant?"
The old man nodded. "That is something you must understand carefully. What I am about to tell you is extremely important."
Seeing his serious expression, Ansh also became attentive.
The old man began explaining.
As he spoke, Ansh's expression gradually changed—from curiosity… to shock.
What he was hearing sounded like something straight out of a fantasy novel.
But deep down, he knew—
it was real.
Because it explained everything.
His family.
The pendant.
Even the strange changes happening in the world.
According to the old man, the Ashbound family did not originate from this world.
They came from a place far beyond—deep within the universe itself.
The universe, as he described, was divided into five layers: the Outer Space, which acted as the boundary; the Inner Space; the Innermost Space; the Lower Space; and finally, the Center Space—the core of everything.
The key difference between these layers was something called "Essence."
This Essence was a fundamental energy emitted from the core of the universe. It was what allowed worlds to evolve… and the beings within them to grow stronger and live longer.
The world Ansh lived in existed in the Outer Space—the layer with the lowest concentration of Essence.
That was why humans here were weak.
Why their lifespans were short.
Why true power seemed nonexistent.
But when a world accumulated enough Essence…
it would ascend.
And when it ascended to the Inner Space—
everything would change.
The world would evolve.
And so would its inhabitants.
The old man looked directly at Ansh.
"And that," he said slowly, "is exactly what your world is going through right now."
Ansh's eyes narrowed.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The abnormal animals.
The natural disasters.
The strange changes across the world.
It wasn't random.
It was evolution.
The old man continued, "My consciousness has been in slumber for countless years. But now that the Essence in this world has begun to rise… I have awakened."
He paused.
"And that is why… I brought your consciousness here."
Ansh stared at him, his heart racing slightly.
For the first time—
he realized something.
His life…
was about to change completely.
A further old man explained to him the purpose why he called him here, It was related to his family.
The old man's expression grew solemn, the faint glow around him pulsing as if reacting to the weight of what he was about to reveal.
"The Ashbound Family… was not born in this world," he said slowly. "We originated from a realm far beyond this one—within the Inner Space of the universe, where essence flows richly, and power is not a privilege… but a necessity."
Ansh listened in silence, his usual casual demeanor gone.
"In that world," the old man continued, "every being, upon reaching the age of eighteen, is blessed by the System—a manifestation of the universe's will itself. It grants each individual an ability, a path… a chance to reach their peak."
He paused.
"But our first ancestor… was different."
Ansh frowned. "Different how?"
The old man's eyes darkened.
"When he turned eighteen… the System did not bless him."
"…What?"
"It did not recognize him," the old man said, his voice low. "To the System, his very existence was an error."
A heavy silence followed.
"The reason," he continued, "was the bloodline he carried. A bloodline so unnatural… that even the will of the universe rejected it."
Ansh felt a chill run through him. "Rejected? Then how did he even exist?"
The old man let out a faint breath.
"That is precisely why our bloodline is called… forbidden."
The space around them flickered faintly.
"Our ancestor was not blessed… because he did not need to be."
Ansh narrowed his eyes.
"He possessed a power that did not come from the System… nor was it bound by its laws. A power that allowed him to do what no other being in the universe could."
The old man raised his hand slowly.
"He could dominate… the spirits of the dead."
Ansh's heart skipped a beat.
"Not just any spirits," the old man added. "But the spirits of monsters—creatures born from chaos, rage, and ancient forces. When others killed such beings, their essence would scatter back into the universe."
"But when we kill them…" Ansh muttered.
The old man nodded.
"We bind them."
A faint pressure filled the space.
"We seize their spirit, break their will, and force them into submission. Their power becomes ours. Their strength, their abilities… even their evolution."
Ansh's expression turned serious.
"That sounds… broken."
"It is," the old man said without hesitation.
"Every monster has a natural limit—an invisible ceiling set by the laws of existence. No matter how strong they grow, they cannot surpass it."
His gaze sharpened.
"But our bloodline… shatters that ceiling."
The glow intensified.
"When we bind a spirit, we do not just inherit its power—we liberate it from its limits. And in doing so… we become something beyond what the universe intended."
Ansh clenched his fists slightly.
"So that's why the System rejected him…"
"Yes," the old man replied. "Because our power defies balance. It is not a gift… it is a violation."
He took a step closer.
"But understand this—our ancestor was not weak because he lacked the System."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"He became something far more terrifying than those who were blessed."
Ansh exhaled slowly. "Then what happened?"
The old man's expression darkened again.
"At first, he was ridiculed. Cast aside. Treated as a failure."
A pause.
"But when he began hunting…"
The space trembled faintly.
"…everything changed."
"He killed his first monster—and bound its spirit."
"Then another."
"And another."
His voice grew heavier with each word.
"With every battle, he grew stronger. Not gradually… but exponentially. The more he fought, the more he devoured, the more he evolved."
Ansh's eyes widened slightly.
"He broke through realms others could not even touch."
"But like others where the system helped them to become strong at minimum time, We needed time, We took another path that was used by many other powers, Cultivation' Our Ancestor developed his own Cultivation technique that used the spirit of the dead as a foundation, The more spirit we bind, More powerfull we became,"
"But unlike the system it took time, defecation and patience,"
Taking a deep breath, He continued with pride.
"But ultimately we ascended, Waged war after war,"
The old man closed his eyes briefly.
"And that… is when the world noticed."
Ansh already knew what came next.
"They feared him," he said quietly.
The old man opened his eyes.
"They feared us."
A deep silence followed.
"The Kings saw him as a threat. Sects branded him a heretic. Even the System's followers declared him an anomaly that must be erased."
His voice dropped.
"And so… they united."
Ansh's jaw tightened.
"Our clan was hunted," the old man continued. "Not for what we did… but for what we could become."
Images seemed to flicker faintly in the white void—shadows of war, flames, and falling figures.
"We fought. We resisted. And for a time… we dominated."
A bitter smile appeared.
"But even monsters can be overwhelmed… when the entire world turns against them."
The glow dimmed slightly.
"One by one… our people fell."
"Betrayals… ambushes… massacres."
"Until nothing remained… but fragments of our bloodline."
Ansh's voice was low. "And… we're one of those fragments."
The old man nodded.
"Yes. Your lineage… is one of the last surviving branches."
A long silence stretched.
Then the old man's gaze sharpened once more.
"And that is why I brought you here."
Ansh looked up.
"The world you live in now… is changing," the old man said. "The essence is rising. Your world is beginning its ascension toward Inner Space."
Images of disasters, evolving beasts, and chaos flashed faintly.
"The balance is breaking. Creatures will evolve. Powers will awaken. And soon…"
His voice turned grave.
"…this world will no longer be the safe place you believe it to be."
Ansh remained silent.
"You have already seen the signs," the old man continued. "Abnormal beasts. Natural disasters. Distortions in reality."
A pause.
"This is only the beginning."
Ansh took a deep breath. "So… what do you want from me?"
The old man looked directly into his eyes.
"Take responsibility."
The words landed heavily.
"You are not just a businessman. Not just a fighter."
"You are a descendant of the Ashbound Clan."
The glow around them surged faintly.
"Our bloodline flows within you… stronger than it has in generations."
Ansh's expression hardened.
"And your journey begins now."
"You will hunt," the old man said. "You will bind. You will grow."
His voice carried both weight and expectation.
"You will rebuild what was lost."
Ansh's fists clenched tighter.
"And one day…"
The old man's eyes burned with a faint, ancient fire.
"You will stand where our ancestors once stood."
A pause.
"Not as a survivor…"
"But as the one who brings our clan back to its rightful place."
The white void trembled slightly.
"And when that day comes…"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"The world will remember… why we were feared."
Silence followed.
And for the first time since entering this strange space—
Ansh felt it.
Not confusion.
Not disbelief.
But something far more dangerous.
Purpose.
The old man continued, explaining the true nature of Ansh's power in geater detail.
He spoke of how spirits could be bound—how, upon killing a creature, Ansh could seize its essence, suppress its will, and force it into submission. But such power was ot without limits.
"A vessel can only hold so much," the old man said calmly. "You cannot bind endlessly. The number of spirits you control will depend on your own strength. As you grow, so too will your capacity."
Ansh listened carefully, his expression focused.
"But remember this," the old man added, his tone turning grave. "A spirit cannot exceed its master."
Ansh frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"If the spirit you attempt to bind is even one tier above your current level," the old man said, "it will not submit fully. And if you somehow manage to force the binding…"
He paused.
"…it may break free."
A faint pressure filled the air.
"And when it does," he continued, "it will not simply escape—it will turn on you."
Ansh's eyes narrowed.
"The stronger the spirit, the greater the risk. Control is not guaranteed… it is enforced. And if your will falters, even for a moment…"
The old man's gaze locked onto his.
"You will be the one that gets hunted."
"It can't be exceeded by a major relam
In our world, power is divided into Major Realms (big leaps in existence) and Minor Stages (progress within a realm).
Each realm represents a fundamental evolution of the being, not just strength.
And every minor stages you cross would let you bind more spirit, And it would increase even further when you cross a major relam.
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