Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas

Chapter 13: ch- 13 The Tree of Eternity and the sleeping beauty

It was his Spiritual Universe.

Empty at first glance. Boundless space stretching in all directions. But in this emptiness, at the very heart of it all, stood a towering, divine presence.

The Tree of Eternity.

Its colossal canopy stretched endlessly, branches spreading like galaxies in bloom. Its roots curled deep into the core of this universe, anchoring reality itself. The Tree was no mere spiritual metaphor—it was a living manifestation of William’s dominion over space, time, and life.

This sacred being was part of William’s deeper self. A reflection of his past incarnation as Kallus—the wielder of cosmic authority, the master of existence and flow.

At the base of this divine tree lay a radiant domain—a celestial garden, vibrant and serene, teeming with beauty that defied mortal language. Blossoms that shimmered with temporal hues swayed gently in the void, untouched by wind.

And within that ethereal garden, resting upon a bed of luminescent petals and soft vines, lay a woman.

Sleeping peacefully.

She was breathtaking.

Her form graceful, her presence overwhelming yet calm. Sharp features sculpted like starlight, yet soft with elegance. Flowing green hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of life essence. Her gown—deep emerald—flowed with natural elegance, woven from materials unknown, ethereal in texture, and so refined it would shame an empress’s wardrobe.

Even in slumber, her beauty commanded the world around her.

She was Elsaa, the Spirit of Creation, William’s Martial Spirit, his eternal companion, and the truest partner he had ever known.

No construct.No weapon.No servant.

She was a being born of divinity and imagination, of soul and cosmos—a consciousness that had grown with him, battled beside him, and now slept within him.

A deep sense of warmth—tinged with faint loneliness—rose in William’s chest as he gazed upon her from within his spiritual core.

"...Still sleeping," he whispered again.

But he smiled faintly.

Because she was here.

And when she awakened—when Elsa, Spirit of Creation, stirred again from her divine rest—the stars themselves would feel her presence.

William shook his head slowly, though a faint smile lingered on his face.

With a simple act of will, the landscape of his spiritual universe shimmered—his consciousness settling beneath the immense canopy of the Tree of Eternity. Here, in the heart of his soul, he reached out with presence alone, and his will manifested as guidance over the entire cosmic expanse.

His eyes softened as they landed upon the woman still resting in the flower-laced garden.

"Wake up, Elsa," William called gently, his voice edged with careful familiarity. "I’m back."

The emerald-haired beauty, lying gracefully on her bed of celestial blossoms, shifted slightly. Her eyes flickered—just once—before settling shut again.

She remained still.

Sound asleep.

William’s mouth twitched in mild irritation. He sighed. "Ugh... seriously?"

With another shake of his head, he called out again—this time, louder. "Wake up, Elsa. I said I’m back!"

This time, the slumbering beauty stirred more noticeably. Her eyelids fluttered lazily before she pushed herself up with a slow, languid yawn, stretching like a cat basking in the sun.

Sitting up, she blinked around the glowing garden with sleepy confusion before her gaze landed squarely on the only other presence in the realm.

William.

Still half-asleep, Elsa rubbed her eyes, pouting softly. "Why are you waking me up, huh...? Let me sleep just a bit more..."

Her voice was drowsy, her tone more annoyed than angry.

William groaned audibly. Of course, she wasn’t fully awake yet. If she had been, she would’ve laughed at his discomfort. But now?

She was just grumpy.

Muttering under his breath, loud enough only for her to hear, he said, "Don’t blame me for what happens next. I gave you a fair chance..."

Elsa, barely conscious, tilted her head. "Huh...? What are you—"

Snap.

William’s fingers clicked, and a shimmering sphere of water materialized above Elsa’s head. Hovering innocently. Quietly.

She looked up at it, puzzled.

Still dazed.

Still dreaming.

William’s brows twitched. Still not awake?

With a resigned sigh, he snapped his fingers again.

Splash!

The sphere exploded—drenching Elsa in a downpour of cold water that splashed across her floral bedding and instantly ripped her from the last threads of sleep.

"Aaaaah—WILLIAM!!" she shouted, bolting upright.

Sputtering and soaked, her eyes locked on the now clearly smirking culprit across the garden.

The Spirit of Creation, now very much awake, was not amused.

And William? He braced himself with a chuckle.

Because now, she was fully awake.

William heard Elsa’s sudden shout echo across the spiritual garden. Instead of reacting with concern, he simply shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Why are you shouting at me like that, Elsa?" he asked faintly, voice dipped in mock innocence. "I was just waking you up from your deep, peaceful sleep."

Elsa stared at him, deadpan. Unimpressed. Unconvinced.

"You... you little piece of—" She caught herself mid-sentence, exhaling sharply and muttering more to herself than to him, "Control, Elsa. Control. Don’t say things you’ll regret."

But her restraint didn’t last long.

"You, William—you—dumped a freezing bubble of water on me while I was asleep. Who does that? And then you ask me why I’m shouting, all while grinning like some smug emperor of idiocy? Hmph!"

William’s smirk only grew wider, clearly unfazed.

"I had no choice," he said with exaggerated sincerity, placing a hand over his heart. "I tried waking you in the most gentlemanly way possible. Twice, mind you. But you—you dared to ignore me. I had to escalate."

Elsa’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"No choice?" she repeated, her tone rising with frustration. "No choice?! You clearly enjoyed it. I can see it on your face right now!"

William, ever the troublemaker, kept smiling. "Oh no, no, no—I didn’t do it on purpose," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Totally not intentional. Definitely not."

"As if I’d believe that," Elsa scoffed, crossing her arms with a dramatic huff. "Hmph."

There was a brief silence as the two stared at each other—her eyes blazing with faux fury, his glowing with playful defiance.

Then William gave a short, amused chuckle.

"Still grumpy, I see."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Still insufferable, I see."

And just like that, the tension began to melt. Not completely—but enough for the scene to slip back into their familiar rhythm: chaos and calm, irritation and affection, all wound together in a bond forged through countless lifetimes.

And just like that, the two of them fell into their familiar rhythm—bantering back and forth for quite a while, trading jabs with all the ease of those who’ve shared lifetimes. It was lighthearted, chaotic, and, for a moment, it felt as though nothing had changed.

But that moment didn’t last.

Elsa, having had enough of the teasing, tilted her head and asked something that immediately erased the ever-present smirk from William’s face. It was subtle—but not subtle enough to escape her sharp eyes. She noticed. Of course she noticed.

Her voice dropped its playful tone as she folded her arms and asked, quietly but firmly, "Why are you here, Will?"

William froze, but said nothing.

"You were supposed to be going through a controlled reincarnation," she continued, eyes narrowing. "In a universe with no such thing as cultivation. A world governed purely by science and technology. That was the whole plan."

Her gaze held his as she added, "And based on my internal clock... it’s only been twenty-two, maybe twenty-four years since you began your reincarnation. If everything went perfectly, you shouldn’t even have access to your spiritual realm yet—let alone this much power. Which means..."

She paused for emphasis, her voice now lined with tension.

"Something happened, didn’t it? What went wrong, William?"

Her emerald eyes pierced into his soul like twin blades of truth, folded arms adding a weight to her demand that even William couldn’t ignore.

The man in question felt a cold wave run through his spine. This—this was the very conversation he had been dreading.

William, the once-smirking immortal who had toyed with divine beings and commanded cosmic fleets, now swallowed down a lump in his throat—a dry gulp powered more by guilt than by anything else.

Nope. Not real saliva, he told himself. Just my imagination.

He opened his mouth, then immediately regretted it.

"Umm... well, what happened was... see, I was... and then there was this thing... with the—uh, the sandwich...?"

Even as he rambled random words, his mind desperately scrambled to construct a convincing explanation. But he’d forgotten one crucial fact:

Elsa was quick. Too quick. And she could smell the panic in his nonsense.

Her brow arched sharply. "What... are you even saying?"

"I—uh..."

"Speak. Directly. Now," she said, cutting through his stammer like a blade. "Will. You. Promised no more secrets between us. What happened?"

William let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his golden-streaked hair.

This was going to be a very long conversation.

"Well... it all happened like this," William began, his voice carrying a weight only Elsa could fully understand.