NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Ch.9: Setting Sail
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- Princeton, New Jersey, USA -
- January 14, 1936 -
The morning was crisp, the winter air carrying a lingering chill as Aryan stood by the window, sipping the last of his tea. The faint aroma of spices still clung to the air, a small comfort amidst the preparations for his departure. Today marked the beginning of a new chapter—one that would take him across the ocean, into the heart of the empire that had once sought to control his homeland.
His gaze flickered to the stack of letters on his desk, neatly arranged in the same order he had left them. Invitations from some of the most prestigious universities in the world. He had considered them carefully and now, the decision was made.
Oxford's offer intrigued him the most—not just for its academic prestige, but because of the subtle undertones hidden within the words. The British were watching him, likely trying to assess his capabilities, perhaps even test him. He had no intention of avoiding their gaze. Instead, he would step directly into their world and see for himself what they had planned.
He had the degrees, the knowledge, and more than enough power to handle whatever came his way., as long as they weren't unreasonable powers that he couldn't handle as of now. And once he was done, he would return to India. It had been too long since he had last seen his family—his friends. The memories of his past life had fully merged now, indistinguishable from the present. No longer were there two Aryans; only one remained, with a single purpose guiding him forward.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Young Master, everything is ready."
Aryan turned to see Raghav standing in the doorway, his usual composed demeanor unchanged despite the weight of the moment. He had handled most of the arrangements, ensuring their departure would go smoothly. The apartment had already been taken care of, their belongings packed. There was nothing left to do but leave.
"Good," Aryan said, setting his cup down. "Let's go."
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The drive to the port was uneventful, the city slowly stirring to life around them. The Poert of New York and New Jersey was bustling with activity by the time they arrived, passengers and workers moving about in an orchestrated chaos.
Traveling by air was out of the question—ticket prices were exorbitant, even for someone of his means. A cruise ship was the better choice, offering both comfort and time to refine his skills during the journey.
Raghav moved ahead, speaking briefly with the port officials before gesturing for Aryan to follow. Their ship, a grand vessel bound for Europe, loomed ahead, its sleek frame cutting through the morning fog.
As they boarded, Aryan took one last look at the American coastline. It had been a place of learning, of growth, but it was time to move forward. His first destination: Paris.
Dr. C.V. Raman was expecting him there. The two of them had been invited to the Sorbonne together, and Aryan intended to personally thank the man who had supported him at every step.
A new journey had begun.
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- Atlantic Ocean -
- January 17, 1936 -
The salty breeze carried a crisp chill as Aryan leaned against the railing, watching the distant coastline of France come into view. The Port of Le Havre was still a few hours away, but after days at sea, the sight of land was a welcome change.
The journey had been peaceful, giving him time to both enjoy the modest luxuries of the a respectable cruise and refine his abilities. While others on board spent their days indulging in fine dining and leisurely games, he had been focused on something far more valuable—his power.
His energy control had advanced significantly. Every night, he practiced absorbing different types of energy, pushing his reserves to new heights. Heat, kinetic, even the subtle ambient energy from the ship's engines—he experimented, testing how efficiently his body could store and redistribute them. The results were promising.
The biggest improvement? He could now sustain two shadow clones for 3-4 hours. What was once a strain had become manageable, doubling his potential for training, reconnaissance, and—more importantly—business.
But training wasn't the only thing that had occupied his time.
The dungeon, even at Tier-2, had proven far deeper than expected.
Though he lacked the 150 MP required to unlock a Tier-3 portal, the Goblin Village in the dense forest still held plenty to explore. The more he ventured in, the clearer it became—this was not a simple hunting ground.
Gold trinkets, silver and copper coins, intricately carved jewelry—the goblins had been looting merchants. And not just any merchants. The variety of currency he found, some designs eerily reminiscent of ancient human civilizations, hinted at something bigger.
If these goblins were raiding humanoid traders, then there had to be towns, cities, or even an entire civilization lurking somewhere in this dungeon world. The idea sent a thrill through him. This world was real. It wasn't just a simulated hunting ground—it was alive, with its own history and economy.
And for now, the treasure would serve another purpose.
He had already formulated a plan: his shadow clones, disguised with illusions, would enter black markets across Europe and sell the loot. With enough care, he could obtain a mix of currencies from all over the continent, and then investing all the money in various shell companies and lucrative businesses he planned to operate, he could already imagine it becoming a constant source of income for him. Money wouldn't be a problem for a long time.
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- Port of Le Havre, France -
A deep horn from the ship signaled their approach. The Port of Le Havre was getting closer. Soon, he would set foot in France, where Dr. C.V. Raman awaited him in Paris.
He straightened, the corners of his lips tugging into a small, confident smirk.
The ship docked smoothly at the Port of Le Havre, the crisp morning air filled with the sounds of seagulls and the chatter of dock workers going about their business. Aryan stepped off the gangway, his shoes meeting solid ground for the first time in days. France. It had been a long journey across the Atlantic, but now, the real work began.
Raghav followed closely behind, carrying a small trunk with their essentials. The rest of their belongings would be handled by porters, but neither of them liked relying too much on others. Aryan adjusted his coat as he took in the scene around him—bustling merchants, passengers disembarking, and port officials moving with efficiency.
"Young Master, the train station isn't far," Raghav said, glancing at the small pocket watch he carried.
Aryan gave a nod. "Let's not waste time, then."
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- Paris, France -
The train ride to Paris was smooth, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks blending with the quiet conversations of the other passengers. Aryan used the time to scan a newspaper, catching up on recent events. The world was shifting—Germany's movements were becoming more aggressive, tensions rising in Europe.
But for now, his focus was elsewhere.
By late afternoon, they arrived at Gare Saint-Lazare, one of Paris' grand railway stations. The air was colder here, the city alive with its usual blend of elegance and industry. Paris was timeless. Even with the political undercurrents brewing, the streets held an undeniable charm—cafés lining the boulevards, the scent of fresh bread wafting through the air, the distant hum of street musicians.
Their destination wasn't far. Dr. C.V. Raman had chosen a modest hotel, preferring simplicity over extravagance. Aryan respected that. He had little interest in luxury accommodations himself.
The concierge recognized Dr. Raman's name immediately, directing them to his room on the second floor.
Aryan knocked lightly, and within moments, the door opened to reveal Dr. C.V. Raman himself—his sharp eyes lighting up with recognition.
"Aryan! You've made it!" The physicist's voice carried warmth, his smile genuine. "Come in, come in!"
Aryan stepped inside, Raghav following quietly. The room was simple yet comfortable, a small desk covered in notes and research papers—a testament to the man's dedication.
"You must be tired after your journey," Raman continued, gesturing for them to sit.
"A little," Aryan admitted, settling into a chair. "But nothing I can't handle."
Raman chuckled. "Of course not. A young man who conquers academia at your age wouldn't be so easily worn down." He leaned forward, his expression turning more serious. "I must say, Aryan, what you have accomplished is remarkable. To be invited here at such a young age, to stand before great minds and present your work—you have made India proud."
Aryan inclined his head. "I appreciate that, sir. But there's still much to do."
"There always is," Raman agreed. He tapped a stack of papers. "Your research—truly fascinating. Your insights on energy manipulation and material sciences go far beyond what most scholars are even considering. It's no wonder these universities are eager to have you."
They spent the next hour discussing Aryan's research papers—theoretical applications of energy absorption, structural reinforcements using exotic materials, and the intersection of science and esoteric forces. Aryan kept things grounded in what the world could accept for now, but the conversation was engaging nonetheless.
Eventually, the long journey caught up to them. Dr. Raman, ever the disciplined scholar, insisted they rest. "Tomorrow is important. We should be at our best."
Aryan agreed. He bid the professor goodnight and returned to his own room.
As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he exhaled slowly.
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