They were transported to his sector with a snap.
Literally.
The two of them dropped smack into the middle of a crowded avenue and were almost turned into spiritual pâté under the wheels of a floating cart — or whatever that thing was, clearly inspired by Back to the Future on crack. Around them, figures in Hellenic robes rushed by like they'd just escaped a themed Greek museum and were late for Socrates' TED Talk.
And, as usual, the interdimensional GPS glitched.
"Shit… a little warning next time, would be nice!" Cael grunted, still trying to remember how to breathe. Next to him, the blond dusted himself off like a tourist who'd slipped into the wrong puddle.
Zero heroism this time.
"Could we, I don't know… land at the same height at least?" he continued, glaring at the floor like it owed him an apology. "Not to criticize your portal, but… I'm totally criticizing it."
"Insolent!" Eliyah puffed up his chest like a peacock.
"But seriously, where are we now, you lunatic?"
"My sector! The Eighth!" he announced, with the confidence of someone who thought he drew the multiverse map while balancing it on a porcelain plate.
"Wanna know how we got here?"
"…Not really?" Cael frowned, already bracing for another metaphysical monologue that needed a rewatch to fully understand.
"A shortcut! A flaw. That's actually why I chose the eighth sector."
Silence.
More silence.
The kind of silence that screams: "Explain it, damn it."
"Because flaws are natural access points. Cracks. Breaches. Scars in the fabric of reality. Everyone avoids them. Me? I made them my front door! Took me two hundred and three years to chart and align every path!"
He said it like that was a perfectly reasonable thing to claim.
"Two hundred and… what?"
"Yeah. Wasn't easy. A time vortex almost swallowed me once. Got stuck in a loop where I could only say the word 'tea.' Eighty-seven years of that.
Then it got better…"
Cael just blinked, his brain trying not to freeze from poetic mysticism overload.
"So what are you, like a spiritual plumber or a glitch interior designer?"
Eliyah smiled.
Or at least tried to. It looked more like a threat wearing a face.
"Me? Eh… I just get tired walking. Flying. Etc."
Cael stared at him with a mix of distrust and pity — the kind you feel for a limping pigeon in a city square.
"…Wait. You chose this place out of laziness?"
"Exactly!"
He said it with pride, like he'd just invented a new religion.
"But it's a laziness with a taste for chaos. Best combo ever!"
He said it with the same sparkle in his eye as someone selling miracle pills on afternoon TV.
Cael returned the look with the weariness of someone who once bought a get-rich-quick course and ended up selling Tupperware on a street corner.
"Chaos vibes, huh… I'm starting to see why the universe is a multiversal dumpster fire."
"I take no responsibility for the side effects of genius," Eliyah said, arms spread like he was announcing an opera.
Cael just sighed. He'd accepted that "normal" had been left behind — like, three planes of existence ago.
"…You're giving me strong Zeca Urubu vibes."
"Zeca what?"
"Cartoon reference."
Then he squinted. "Also, how the hell do you speak Portuguese, blondie?"
"Language? No one speaks anything here. Everyone understands everyone. It's the language of the soul."
He shrugged like it was more obvious than breathing.
"Almost a perfect world, right?"
"Almost. Would be perfect if there were no assignments."
As they walked, Cael finally started paying attention to the surroundings.
The place looked like a medieval RPG brought to life: fruit stalls, clan banners made of fabric, golden coins clinking in the air.
Way too many people pretending eternity made sense.
"This place stuck in time or what?"
"Let's say the Lord forgot to update the server,"
he said, casually stealing an apple from a stand.
The vendor hissed — but that was it.
"The Intermediary got stuck in the Middle Ages. But nothing here is really ours.
Money? Theater.
Jobs? Disguise.
People die and need something to do.
Some folks have been dead ten thousand years and still pretend they're alive.
They study, trade, open shops… just to invent purpose until the soul finally evaporates."
"…And how long does that take?"
"Fifty, maybe a hundred thousand years. Sometimes more."
"Jesus Christ.
You bust your ass eighty years alive just to get an eternal internship?"
"There's no hell, if that's what you're asking. Everything's neutral.
Die and land here. Hitler or Gandhi."
"…What a disappointment."
It was almost offensive how sincere Cael sounded.
"Alright, alright…"
Eliyah yawned, like he'd recited this speech more times than the universe had spun.
"Anyway, let's go. Gotta introduce you to your trainer. And explain the rest of the shitshow."
"…Wait, not you?"
"Me? You're nuts."
He burst out laughing.
"I run this madhouse! You need someone weaker to train you… if it's me, I'll kill you by accident!"
"…Weaker, huh."
That had cosmic screw-up written all over it.
And yeah — called it.
They walked to the sector's heart, directly beneath a massive tower that pierced the skies of the immaterial plane.
They passed through a gate so big it looked like it weighed a few metric tons…
and stepped into a wide, beaten-earth arena — perfect for training.
Or public executions.
Hard to tell.
"…We're screwed."
Cael walked straight into the most terrifying dude he'd ever seen:
A bald, wall-sized unit of a man with a stone-cold face, wrapped in a white cloak bearing the infinity symbol on his chest.
The kind of guy you don't want to run into in a dark alley.
"This is Asael Dagan, one of the newly promoted Inner Wall Guardians!"
Eliyah announced, thumping the man's chest like testing a vault.
The brute gave a faint grin — the kind that says "I snap bones before breakfast."
Cael prayed he wasn't today's breakfast.
"You, big guy, will train this… creature.
Make him capable.
So a higher-tier guardian can pick up from there.
Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Man of few words.
"Introduce yourself — let's pretend we're civilized."
"Er… I'm Asael."
"Hey. I'm Cael.
Anomaly, as you guys call it…"
He tried to mask the awkwardness with a crooked grin.
At least he had nerve.
"Jesus… how old are you?"
"Forty-five."
That didn't track.
The guy looked older.
And less powerful?
"…And you, blondie?"
The teasing tone made Asael arch an eyebrow.
He just called my superior blondie?
That was more offensive than a groin kick.
"Twenty-one. Why?"
"And how the hell are you stronger than him?"
He blinked, genuinely confused — like he'd just found another bug in the system… besides himself.
"Because my Echo lets me rebirth whenever I want."
Eliyah chuckled.
"When a wrinkle shows up… I reset my phoenix form!
I've done it a thousand times.
The teenage phase is annoying, but hey…"
What the hell… this guy's a maniac.
As Cael looked to the side, he saw Asael staring back — stone-faced.
Great. He hates me already.
"Echo this, Echo that… what even is that?"
"Well, the Echo is…"
Eliyah scratched his chin, clearly not in the mood.
"You explain it, darling."
He tossed the flaming hot potato without shame.
The blond pretended to answer, then stepped aside like, "Nope, this one's yours."
"Echo is the expression of the soul," Asael answered, looking up like he was quoting an ancient creed.
"The embodiment of your will.
All Guardians, Shadows, and gods have one.
They're the manifestation of human spirit.
Thanks to them… we exist."
"And how the hell do I get one? I'm human, man!"
"That's the thing… you were," Eliyah cut in, excited like a teacher explaining an unsolvable paradox.
"You were human. But now?
You're not fully physical, not fully spiritual.
You've become a hybrid.
Half flesh, half soul.
Which makes you… special."
"An anomaly," Cael repeated — half shocked, half flattered.
"Exactly!"
Eliyah grinned.
"Asael's gonna help you awaken your Echo, understand it, control it, shape it.
Training. Techniques. You know… technical stuff."
Cael took a deep breath.
Training with a walking mountain?
Perfect!
And when he turned back, Asael was there.
Arms crossed.
Solid as a mountain.
Dripping testosterone.
"I'll teach you discipline… and how to use your Echo for good.
But first…"
A red aura flared around the brute, like a bonfire ready to erupt.
"…Tell me…
What is your determination?"