The Author's Draft-Chapter 35: Return II

Aiden wanted to collapse right there on the floor and sleep for a week.

But he forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled but held.

"System," he said quietly. "How long was I gone?"

[Almost two weeks.]

Two weeks. He’d been in the cultivation world for a month and a few weeks, and only two weeks had passed here. Time dilation was strange.

Aiden’s phone sat on his desk, the screen dark. He picked it up and saw the notifications immediately.

Seven missed calls and twelve text messages. Most of them from his parents.

His stomach dropped as he opened the messages.

*Mom (a week ago): Aiden, are you alright? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Call when you can.*

*Mom (5 days ago): you must be very busy, do find time to visit.

*Mom (2 days ago): Aiden?*

*Mom (1 day ago): Your father and I are worried. Please respond.*

*Dad (1 day ago): Son, your mother is concerned. Let us know you’re okay.*

*Mom (1 day ago): Aiden, please. Just send a text.*

The messages grew more worried with each one. The last was from this morning.

*Mom (3 hours ago): If we don’t hear from you by tonight, we’re coming over.*

Guilt twisted in Aiden’s chest. He’d been so focused on surviving in the cultivation world that he’d completely forgotten about the real world. About his parents, about the fact that disappearing for two weeks without contact would terrify them.

"Shit."

He needed to respond. But first, he needed food. Real food, not spirit beast meat or dried rations or whatever he’d been eating for the past week in the mountains.

His stomach growled in agreement.

Aiden walked to his tiny kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. Instant noodles, canned soup, some questionable pasta that might be past its expiration date.

He settled on instant ramen, filled a pot with water, and set it on the stove. While waiting for it to boil, he pulled out his phone and started typing a response.

*Aiden: Hey Mom. Sorry for not responding. I was dealing with some work stuff and I missed notifications. I’m fine. Everything’s okay.*

Not entirely a lie. He had been dealing with "work"—if you counted surviving assassination attempts and fighting King Realm cultivators as work.

He hit send and set the phone down.

The water boiled as he dumped the noodles and seasoning packet in, stirred, and waited the requisite three minutes. The smell alone made his mouth water. After weeks of spirit beast meat that tasted like leather, even instant ramen seemed like a gourmet meal.

When it was ready, he poured it into a bowl and carried it to the small table near his window. His TV sat on a cheap stand across from the table, unplugged since he rarely used it.

Aiden plugged it in and turned it on, wanting background noise. Something normal, something to remind him he was back in the real world where the biggest threats to people like him were bills and deadlines, not cultivators trying to kill him cause they thought he had some Heaven-Defying treasure.

The TV flickered to life, showing some afternoon talk show. He ignored it and focused on eating.

The ramen was amazing. Hot, salty and normal.

"System," Aiden said between bites. "I’ve been meaning to ask. How do I replenish my energy here? In the real world?"

[Spirit energy does not naturally exist in your world.]

[However, you can absorb ambient Mana from dungeons and gates and convert them to spirit energy.]

[Alternatively, you can purchase cultivation resources through the system shop when it unlocks using points earned from missions.]

"So I’d have to go into dungeons to cultivate?"

[Correct. Or return to narrative worlds where spiritual energy is abundant.]

Aiden nodded slowly. That made sense. His world didn’t have qi floating around naturally. But dungeons—rifts in reality that spawned monsters—those had energy he could use.

’I’ll have to start dungeon diving if I want to maintain my cultivation here.’

He was about to ask another question when the TV cut to an emergency broadcast.

The hunter gossip talk show vanished, replaced by a serious-looking news anchor.

"We interrupt this program for a breaking news alert," the anchor said, her expression grave. "We’re receiving reports of a twin dungeon break in the Whitechapel district of East London. Emergency services are on the scene, and evacuation procedures are underway."

Aiden’s attention shifted to the screen. Twin dungeon breaks were rare—two gates opening simultaneously in the same area. It meant double the monsters, double the danger.

"Authorities are advising all residents to evacuate immediately," the anchor continued. "Hunter guilds have been notified and are en route. If you are in the Whitechapel area, please leave calmly and follow the instructions of emergency personnel."

The broadcast cut to live footage from the scene.

The scene was total chaos. Two massive rifts hung in the air like tears in reality, pulsing with dark energy. Monsters poured out—dozens of them, maybe hundreds. People ran in every direction. Police tried to set up barricades and hunters in combat gear rushed toward the gates.

And in the middle of it all, Aiden saw something that made his blood run cold.

A woman at the barricade screaming at the guards, and trying to push past them.

The camera zoomed in for a moment—just a brief close-up before panning away.

But it was enough.

Aiden recognized her instantly.

His mother.

Her face was twisted with fear and desperation. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She kept trying to get past the barricade, fighting against the guards holding her back, screaming something the camera didn’t pick up.

Then the broadcast cut back to the news anchor.

"Again, residents are advised to evacuate immediately—"

Aiden was already moving.

His bowl of ramen hit the floor, noodles spilling across the tile. He didn’t care. His phone was in his pocket, as he grabbed his keys from the counter.

’Dad. She was screaming about Dad. He’s still in there.’

His parents lived in Whitechapel. Had lived there for twenty years. And if his mother was at the barricade screaming about her husband—

Aiden’s heart pounded. His hands shook as he reached for the door.

Then he stopped.

His eyes fell on the black demon mask sitting on his desk. The one he’d grabbed and wore during the Westfield dungeon break. The one that had hidden his identity when the video went viral.

He grabbed it without thinking and pulled it on.

If he was going into a dungeon break, he couldn’t do it as Aiden Jus. Not when everyone wanted information about the mystery hunter.

Aiden ran out of his flat, the door slamming behind him.

His father was trapped in a twin dungeon break.

And he was going to get him out.