Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 101: Father

Chapter 101: Father

Elius muttered, "what is that?"

His breath came out ragged.

Sweat soaked his back.

The room was still dark. Morning was just beginning to stretch its fingers across the skyline outside.

"It’s just a nightmare," he whispered to himself, wiping his forehead. "Just a dream..."

But something in his chest still thudded. That strange kind of fear that clung to the bones.

He sat up.

Stretched.

Then stood.

By the time the sun peeked through the window, Elius was already downstairs, quietly eating a reheated bowl of stew his mother must’ve left for him.

The taste was dull today, not because the food was bad, but because his mind was too cloudy to care.

After finishing, he stepped into the shower.

The water was hot, almost scalding.

Just the way he liked it. He let it burn away the last lingering sensations of the nightmare.

The feeling of falling.

The echo of screams.

The gaze of something ancient and hateful.

Once he stepped out, dried, and got dressed in his standard Academy High uniform, he moved toward the front door.

"Goodbye, Mom," he said, brushing his fingers through his slightly damp hair. "I gotta go to school."

His mother, Shannon, now back to her usual warm self, smiled from the kitchen. She looked like a different person from last night—like the gloom had never touched her. Her voice was gentle.

"Take care, sweetheart. Be careful."

He gave a small nod.

Then stepped outside.

The day was warm. A rare, clear sky. Birds chirped on the apartment balconies. Some distant civilians were going about their day. Shops opened. Drones buzzed overhead doing safety patrols.

But something... felt wrong.

Elius walked to the usual pickup spot.

The place where the dimensional phasing bus should have appeared.

It didn’t.

He checked the time.

On schedule.

He checked his location.

Correct.

He waited.

The wind picked up slightly, brushing through the trees and stirring his coat.

Still, no bus.

Elius furrowed his brows.

"Strange..." he muttered.

But he didn’t leave.

He waited.

And waited.

The sidewalk warmed under the morning sun. Sweat started to bead at his temple. Birds came and went.

A cat meowed nearby.

Civilians passed him with confused glances. Maybe wondering why a Super Academy student in full uniform was standing alone on a public street corner.

Still, no bus.

Minutes turned to tens of minutes.

Then longer.

Elius crossed his arms.

His heartbeat steady, but his intuition—his cultivator instincts—began to whisper. Something was... off.

He turned his head to the left.

Nothing.

To the right.

Nothing.

Sky above.

Clear.

Ground below.

Still whole.

So where the hell was the bus?

The silence stretched longer and longer.

Elius, standing on the lonely street corner, kept glancing left and right, but there was still no bus, no dimensional warping, no shimmering gate to Academy High.

Only the normal flow of the city’s morning life, which now seemed to him unbearably slow.

His instincts screamed at him.

It started as a faint itch at the nape of his neck.

Then, all the tiny hairs along his arms and back began to prickle and stand on end, like a tide of invisible electricity brushing against his skin.

Something was wrong.

No, it wasn’t just wrong.

It was very wrong.

He narrowed his eyes, muscles tensing under his uniform. His flying swords hadn’t yet materialized, but his Qi was already subtly circulating under the surface of his body.

Ready to explode outward at a moment’s notice.

Then—

SWOOSH!

Before he could even think, an overwhelming force wrapped around him from behind.

It wasn’t hands exactly—it was more like a pressure. Like a portion of space itself had seized him by the waist and shoulders and yanked.

In the span of less than a heartbeat, the scenery around him blurred.

The ground vanished.

The sky twisted.

His stomach dropped into his feet.

Buildings, trees, streets—they all melted into streaks of meaningless colors. It was like being pulled through a cyclone, only there was no wind, only a brutal, merciless speed.

Elius’s eyes widened in shock as another violent SWOOSH! tore through the world, and suddenly—

BAM!

He was somewhere else again.

And again.

And again.

Each time it happened, he felt like he was being shoved through a pane of glass, snapping through space itself like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

It was so fast. So wrong.

His head spun. His ears rang.

His entire sense of direction shattered into pieces, and for the first time in a long time, Elius felt like he had no control.

"Who can even do this?" he thought, gritting his teeth as another violent lurch threw his body sideways through some invisible gate. "What kind of ability is this?! Is this teleportation? Space manipulation? Who—who’s doing this?!"

His mind screamed for answers even as his instincts screamed for survival.

Who could be powerful enough to seize him like a doll and hurl him through reality itself?!

Elius squeezed his hand shut, gathering Qi at the tips of his fingers. He had no time to form a sword or channel techniques properly, but he could stabilize himself.

With sheer force of will, he enacted a Martial skill he’d learned from the last dungeon—Gravity Manipulation.

He reached out, grasping at the very air itself as if he were digging his fingers into invisible stone.

Reality tugged back against him, resisting, but he forced a small sphere of stability around his body. He could breathe—he could think—he could move.

He twisted midair, gritting his teeth hard.

Another Martial skill flared in his mind—Armor Distribution.

Thin, hardened Qi plates shimmered briefly across his limbs and chest, reinforcing his body against any sudden impact.

"No more," Elius growled internally. "No more getting dragged around like a toy."

Another violent spatial jerk tried to wrench him again—but this time, he pushed back.

He evaded.

In a split-second move, Elius shifted his center of gravity and floated upward in the empty air, avoiding the strange clutching pressure that had been tossing him around.

There was a moment—a heartbeat—of stillness.

For the first time since the assault began, Elius could think.

Then—

A sneer.

It came from his right.

A low, rumbling, amused sneer that sounded both impressed and slightly mocking.

Elius whipped around toward the sound, his golden eyes sharpening into blades.

But there was nothing there.

Only the air.

Only the faint afterimage of someone—or something—moving faster than human eyes could follow.

"Who—" Elius started to shout—

SWOOSH!

Another brutal pull.

He couldn’t resist it this time.

The world twisted one last time.

The ground blurred.

The sky spun.

And then—

He was dropped.

Not harshly.

But not gently either.

WHUMP!

Elius landed in a low crouch, boots digging into soft earth.

He immediately spun to face his surroundings, hands raised, his Qi cycling violently through his dantian and out to his extremities. His flying swords materialized behind his shoulders, hovering like silent sentinels.

He stood on a pristine, grassy plain.

Green fields stretched out in every direction.

The air smelled clean. The sky was open and deep, a perfect blue.

No city noise.

No buses.

No civilians.

No school.

Nothing.

Only him.

And a shadow.

A shadow that stood at the edge of the field, just far enough that Elius couldn’t make out the figure’s face, but close enough that he could feel the pressure rolling off them like waves from a storm.

The figure walked forward, each step deliberate, heavy, as if they owned the very ground they tread upon.

Elius tensed.

His swords floated in tighter formation.

His Qi burned hotter, ready to explode into attacks.

He was ready to fight.

He was ready to kill, if he had to.

"Who are you?!" Elius barked, his voice sharp enough to split the field’s silence.

The figure didn’t answer immediately.

It just kept walking.

Boots crunching over the soft grass.

Each step felt heavier than the last, like the air itself was bowing under the pressure of their presence.

Elius swallowed once, but didn’t back down.

The figure came closer.

Elius could see more now—broad shoulders. Thick, muscular arms that strained slightly against the sleeves of a simple, civilian T-shirt.

Tactical pants. Heavy combat boots caked in dust. No armor. No superhero uniform. Just the casual strength of someone who didn’t need symbols to prove who they were.

And sunglasses.

Reflective sunglasses that caught the light and gleamed like twin suns.

The man stopped a few meters away.

Elius’s heart skipped a beat.

The jawline.

The posture.

The presence.

The thick golden hair, though shorter, though rougher, though a little messy from the wind.

It was unmistakable.

His heart stuttered.

He stared.

"Father?!" Elius mumbled in a stunned, disbelieving voice, his swords lowering a fraction without his permission.

The man said nothing but grinned.