Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

A stone's throw north of the Central Mansion, a colossal 100-foot depression occupied the landscape, its broad granite steps descending to a grand wooden stage befitting a concert hall. This was the Immortal Skye Amphitheater.

Carpenters labored tirelessly, hammering, sawing, and milling wood to construct additional bleachers above the recess, as the population of Immortal Skye had outgrown the 3,000-person capacity. Amidst the bustle, they listened to an animated cultivator on stage, encircled by Immortal elites.

"BOOOOOOOM!" Mars reenacted, spreading his arms wide. "You should've seen their faces!"

Laughter filled the air as the group listened to him conclude a humorous tale about pranking Vincent Ramble.

"What's the Sky Plane like, Mars?" Sammy inquired, twirling her dark-brown hair around her finger.

"Hmmm…" Mars hummed, surveying the campus. "It's nothing like this place. It's mainly untouched wilderness or small villages surrounded by farms. Everything is also far smaller; I'm pretty sure Killian's palace is about the size of that mansion by the lake."

"Wait, the mansion is as big as the wealthiest emperor's mansion?" Sammy asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, isn't that crazy?" Mars beamed, captivated. "It's like plane-class artisans built everything here. Your plates could fetch acres of fertile farmland, let alone these clothes," he laughed, pinching his dress shirt. "Seriously—you people wrap your beds in finer toga cloth than barons wear!"

The Immortals stared, astonished. Togas, single pieces of cloth draped over the body and wrapped around the left arm, were not modern clothing. The practical usage highlighted the vast economic disparity between the planes.

"It just has a different vibe," he continued. "It gets super dark at sunset because we can't afford candles, and we don't have that electricity stuff, so there's nothing else to do. But here, it's almost the liveliest time of the day!"

"I don't understand," Brad said, visibly perplexed. "Your people look, talk, and act like us, so I can't understand why they haven't advanced like us when they live longer and are free from disease."


"I'm not really that smart, so I don't know the—wait, that's it!" Mars declared, smacking his fist into his palm. "It's because we're not smart!"

The Immortals hesitated, torn between laughter and tears, as they watched him revel in his epiphany.

"Forgive me!" Sammy exclaimed, making him blush as she giggled. "It's just weird to hear someone say that. Can you explain what 'smart' means?"

"You know… [smart]," Mars murmured, turning crimson before regaining control. "It's like you have a solution for everything here, like cool wood-making tools. We just use wind techniques, and the results showcase how good someone is at cultivating, you know?

You can tell someone's skill in techniques by the quality of their creations and their strength by the materials used, but it's not exactly smart, you know?"

"Forgive me for being forward, but…." Sammy began cautiously. "I keep hearing it can take centuries to earn techniques where you're from. Wouldn't using tools that everyone can use be better?"
"Of course, but we're not smart, remember?" Mars chuckled. "We're not intellectuals like you; most of us lead simple lives tending fields, working basic trades, or serving in the military.

Our sole objective is to acquire better techniques, so we spend all our free time training and cultivating."

"Sole objective?" Brad parroted, blank-eyed and confused with the others. "Why is it so important there? Is it a requirement?"

"Yes, that's it! It's a requirement!" Mars exclaimed, finally finding the words to explain. "Cultivation skill governs EVERYTHING in the Killian empire; it determines your job prospects, your legal status, and even your diet."

A sudden surge of crashing emotions bore into them, hearing the dark underlying message.

"For instance, earth realm cultivators are indentured servants, limited to manual labor like tending fields," he continued. "However, upon entering the sky realm, you gain freedom and can work trades or join the military. Once you reach the heaven realm, you can manage land and people for a lord, and upon becoming a divine realm cultivator, you attain nobility and can govern territories."

It finally clicked for the Immortals: the Sky Plane was still in the feudal ages. While that was shocking, it only got worse.

"I think that's why everyone's obsessed with power," Mars commented. "Everyone is born into servitude and spends years to centuries building strength just to earn their freedom. By the time they earn it, people are all fucked up in the head, you know?"

Twisted.

"Why are you all making those faces? It's not that bad!" Mars protested, noticing their somber expressions. "Besides, I'm a heaven realm cultivator at your age, so you shouldn't pity me. I'm nearly a baron."

"Yes, I meant to ask why you're so young compared to others…." Whitney remarked. "What makes you special?"

Mars' eyes sparkled as she mentioned his age, thrilled someone finally recognized its significance. "I can't reveal too much, but I'll share a bit with you."

Their eyes gleamed with curiosity, eager to learn more about the winsome teenager.

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—August 12th | Immortal Skye Amphitheater—

After Kaze had concluded sharing details about the meeting with Roxy, she nodded. "I'm okay with accepting the request," she announced. "However, I won't leave Mars here alone. He's like family to me, so I'll only go if I can take him—!"

Her words were abruptly cut short as a sharp pain pierced her heart, leaving her clutching her chest on the table.

"Unbelievable," Kaze scoffed in exasperation, his eyes flickering with wrath and vexation. "Tell me, Ms. Grace. What did you expect would happen when you voiced that buffoonish request?"

"Kaze, asking her motivations isn't important," Veronica asserted. "Regardless of her reasoning, she's proven she can't accept this opportunity without betraying us."

The cabinet members met her words with a chorus of assent, openly agreeing upon

"I'll reiterate the nature of the soul pact," the emperor hissed, irate and icy-toned. "It only warns those acting in good faith but risking betrayal; it instantly kills those who aren't."

"If that's the case, then the issue isn't Roxy Grace but Mars Vanity." Jake swallowed, taken aback by his uncharacteristic tone. "Who is he?"

"Please, Ms. Grace." The emperor jeered, presenting the cabinet members with his palm. "Since you've openly sown mistrust in your 'brother' to his rulers, please magnify it."

"Please don't make me introduce Mars as if he's guilty," Roxy swallowed, her eyes quivering. "You know my intentions are good; I was honest to prevent misleading you."

Kaze glanced at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, taking a sharp breath to suppress his urge to berate her imprudence. "Mars Vanity possesses a technique called 'Narrative,'" he explained. "It replays events he's seen and experienced as a video camera. In other words, he has a permanent wiretap."

Shock crashed through the room like a bullet train, leaving everyone reeling. Roxy felt terror, realizing the cabinet members were far more familiar with the concept than she could have imagined. "Is there something similar here?"

"Yes," Kaze chuckled ominously, pulling out a phone, recording a video, and playing it back for her.

"T-This…." she stammered. "It's even more detailed…."

"Correct, and every person in Immortal Skye once owned one," he sneered. "Therefore, every person here knows how foolish your suggestion was."

Roxy could feel their piercing gazes drilling into her soul. "Please understand," she said with a sharp breath. "Mars will die or suffer the same prejudice I am if you don't ease his restrictions. His skill set is a death sentence, and he has deep-rooted complexes that make his actions impulsive or dangerously rigid. He's just a kid; he didn't ask to be in the military, so please show him mercy."

"Abused pit bulls didn't ask to be abused," Sage replied icily. "That doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't put one in a room with your children." Her icy response sent chills down everyone's spines; it was undeniable, so everyone shut down.

CLAP!

The cabinet members turned their attention to the emperor, his expression uncharacteristically resolute and forceful. Everyone sensed that his upcoming words would not be open for debate.

"Do not get distracted by Ms. Grace's doltish display or weakness," Kaze ordered. "Singling out Mars Vanity as dangerous is like arguing against putting that you can't put an abused bear into a room with your children because people abused it."

Sage smirked, satisfied that his interpretation was more scathing than hers.

"Mars Vanity's skill is a double-edged sword we can wield to our advantage," he reasoned. "If he returns, we can assess the situation ourselves rather than trusting others. If he doesn't, we'll know he's dead or has betrayed us, allowing us to act accordingly. That's why I brought this phone today—to explain his skill and recommend letting him go."

Everyone was taken aback and confused. They didn't know why the emperor had forcefully overridden the conversation, but they knew better than to question his decision or ask for details if he didn't provide them. So they nodded, giving their stamp of approval.

"Are you sure about this?" Evalyn inquired, scrutinizing his expression.

"I stand by my word, yes," Kaze responded, his face impassive. "I genuinely believe that sending him is in our best interest and will assume responsibility if he betrays us."

A wave of primal fear washed over Roxy as she caught the chilling glint in the emperor's eyes. She could tell he had another reason for sending Mars on the mission—one unrelated to gathering intelligence.