Chapter 1
After a night of passion, Edmund Gray found himself in a state of disbelief—he was pregnant. The child growing inside him was unlike anything the world had seen before; it might not even be human. In the year 2525, humans had relocated to the Shadowrealm, a place where they existed on the margins, while the proud Orion Blackwoods ruled with an iron fist, the undisputed titans of the universe. Despite their immense power, however, their race was facing a staggering crisis: for millennia, no new life had emerged. The birth rate had plummeted to a trickle. One day, stricken with overwhelming nausea, Edmund couldn't hold it in any longer: “Ugh...” The moment the unsettling energy emanated from his belly, panic set in across miles of Shadowrealm terrain. The Orion Blackwoods froze, their blood running cold, and then erupted into a frenzy of excitement. After centuries of waiting, they were on the brink of discovering a new life! They were desperate to know one thing: whose child was this? --- Later on... The cultured and sophisticated Alaric Stone declared with an air of authority, “Only I can offer this child the finest education the universe has to offer.” Richard Hawke, the world's richest man, responded with an easy grin, “The kid will carry my name; I could pluck the stars from the sky if that’s what it takes.” Leonard Hart, a powerhouse in both physical and political might, shot back in irritation, “Seriously? Have some decency, man. Back off from someone else’s partner!” In the year 2525, humanity had settled in the Shadowrealm, their status diminished and vulnerable, while the Orion Blackwoods, powerful and haughty, maintained their dominance. Yet, despite their lofty position, the absence of new births had become a dark shadow over their legacy. And now, amidst the uncertainty of existence, Edmund Gray, a human, was about to bring forth a child that could rewrite the fate of both races. This singular new life—perhaps not even human—held the collective hope of Shadowrealm, leaving all the Orion Blackwoods questioning: whose child would it truly be? This story, with its light-hearted yet vibrant tone, invites readers to savor the sweetness of a little life amidst a vast cosmos. The destinies of two disparate races hang in the balance—the stakes are high, but hope glimmers like a distant star.
Chapter 2
“What’s got you crying, kid?” “It’s all my fault. If my brother doesn’t wake up, I might as well die too…” “What kind of nonsense is that?” The noise was unbearable. Edmund Gray felt a throbbing in his head. He remembered the accident—no time to react, just a deafening crash, and then darkness. But now, where was he? Was he still at the crash site? He opened his eyes, but the expected chaos of the scene didn't reveal itself. Instead, he stared up at a dim, cluttered ceiling, a strange, musty odor wafting in the air. Two incessantly chattering people loomed nearby. “Can you please be quiet?” he struggled to say, his voice gravelly and weak. His words seemed to act like a switch, cutting the clamor short. Instantly, a man and a woman rushed to his bedside. “Lao Er!” the woman exclaimed. “Bro!” the man animatedly added. Both fell onto him like they'd just been given a lifeline, and the sudden weight made him feel like he could faint any moment. “Are you okay?” the woman asked, an urgent edge to her tone. “I—” Edmund struggled. He extended a shaky hand toward her, trying to connect. She grabbed it tightly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Is there anything you want to say to Mom? Just say it.” With all his strength, he managed, “Don’t smother me like that. I can’t breathe.” The woman’s face froze in shock. “Mom, you’re gonna crush him!” the man, Eli, interjected with a nudge. “…” The woman, clearly flustered, straightened up but still eyed him anxiously. “Lao Er, are you okay? Why aren’t you saying anything?” With the pressure off, Edmund took a labored breath. “My head hurts a bit.” “Then let’s get you some medicine right away,” she said. The room was cramped, dim, and the only thing filling his view besides the woman was a bowl of bright green liquid that occasionally bubbled ominously—like it was straight out of a sci-fi nightmare. Strangely, he heard a voice in his head: “Big Brother, it’s time for your medicine.” He held his head in disbelief. “I think my headache has calmed down a bit.” But the woman remained worried, still intent on forcing him to drink the concoction. Thankfully, Edmund was quick on his feet. He faked a chest pain, dodging the terrible fate for a moment longer. Eli, who had remained at the edge, piped up, “Bro, are you hungry?” Edmund felt a twinge of emotion; hunger had been the very thing that had driven him out that fateful night, just to be knocked down. He might be in an odd situation, but he was still starving. “Hang tight, I’ll get you some food,” Eli declared, and with that, both of them exited the small space. Alone at last, Edmund sat up on the edge of the bed, beginning to survey his surroundings. The ceiling loomed dark overhead, stacked with an assortment of bizarre, colorful glass orbs. This place was a total madhouse. The only source of light came from the walls. No bulbs or lamps, just some soft illumination bleeding through the cracked surface—very odd indeed. Before he could process much more, Eli bounded back into the room, his steps careful as though he were carrying something precious. “Bro, Mom says you need to eat to recover. This is rich in vitamins!” As he spoke, Eli produced a test tube filled with a shimmering, green liquid that bubbled as he jostled it. Edmund paused, eyeing it warily. “Is this hell?” Eli blinked, confusion dancing in his big dolly eyes. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” Edmund speculated, tossing out the suggestion like a grenade. “So now I’m stuck here drinking poison every day?” At that, Eli stepped back, visibly alarmed. Edmund smirked, convinced he’d struck a nerve. “It really is, isn’t it?” Eli turned on his heel and bolted, shouting, “Mom, I think Bro lost it!” “…” What a ridiculous situation. After a flurry of panic and a boatload of Eli’s chatter, Edmund finally grasped his situation. He was Edmund Gray—a food blogger who had gone out late one night just for a snack, only to wind up in a bizarre twist of fate. And this wasn’t Earth. According to his ‘mother’—Harold Reed, who seemed to be a stand-in for the actual job—the planet had become uninhabitable three hundred years prior. Humanity had been forced to evacuate the solar system, embarking on an arduous journey until they were adopted by extraterrestrial beings. They had landed on Duskveil, a highly developed core planet in the galaxy, where humans were now living—but as second-class citizens. Their status was lowly, their position precarious. Overall—things were tough. Edmund processed that information, his heart sinking as Harold noticed his despondence. “Lao Er, what’s the matter?” she asked gently. After a moment of silence, he said, “I was just thinking, does this mean I've got to drink that green sludge forever?” What kind of suffering was this? Harold blinked, her brow furrowing for several seconds before responding, “Well, I can always go find you some vegetables.” A light shone in Edmund’s eyes. “Yes! I want to eat!” If it meant meals in his future—food meant hope. No matter how low was his standing, wasn’t he still just a regular guy back on Earth? In a way, this was just a new form of humble living. No big deal.
Chapter 3
After a brief pause, Isabella Burn finally returned, carrying a plate of boiled potatoes. “Here, dig in,” she said with a bright smile. Edmund Gray stared at the offering, speechless. A plate of vegetables, yes, but it was just a plain ol' potato. It really was just a potato—smooth skin, a golden hue, giving off that unmistakable potato scent. But really, why was it just a potato? Couldn't they at least have sliced it up or done something—anything—more interesting with it? Harold Reed, sitting nearby, chuckled, mistaking Edmund's silence for astonishment. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a little saved up. Even with just veggies, it should last us a couple of meals. Go on, eat.” With a heavy heart, Edmund took the plate. “Mom.” “Yes?” “I really need you to fill me in on everything that’s been going on here.” He felt a dull ache in his stomach, which had nothing to do with food. “Especially what our life is like now.” Harold’s expression shifted as she grasped the weight of his words—her son had truly lost his memory. Through her calm yet shaky narration, Edmund began to understand why someone as powerful as Orion Blackwood would take in vulnerable Earthlings. The reason was surprisingly simple. Because they were food lovers. Earthlings might not possess many impressive traits, but when it came to cooking, they were unparalleled. Every variety of vegetable seed could be transformed into delicious cuisine, which was a huge hit even among the intergalactic elite, especially Orion Blackwood. Edmund sighed. “Isn’t that a good thing? If we have seeds, can’t we just plant them in bulk?” Harold shot him a look. “The seeds we have are Earth varieties. Change the environment and atmosphere, and the survival rate drops significantly. Besides, the batch that managed to survive was from our ancestors—high-tech researchers who knew little about farming.” A sinking feeling gripped Edmund. “So what you’re saying is…” “Many seeds have failed to sprout due to the light and environmental conditions,” Harold lamented. “Some veggies, like potatoes, managed to grow, but those crops come with taxes—we can hardly afford to eat them.” Now it started to make sense. Edmund blinked, his mind racing. “But with alien tech so advanced, can’t they cultivate crops in bulk?” Harold let out a small laugh, tinged with disbelief. “Their food has always been nutrition liquid; they have no clue about farming.” For the current humans, agriculture was vital for survival. Without that layer of necessity, they’d be in even deeper trouble. Edmund pondered this. “Speaking of which, Mom, how did I get hurt?” At this, Harold's face fell into an awkward silence. He guessed it wasn't a pleasant story. “Oh, it’s nothing serious. Your mom will figure out the money situation,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, exuding warmth and resilience. “Just focus on getting better.” That had to mean it was something significant. Edmund scanned their modest home, finally realizing just how tight their finances were. “I get it,” he nodded slowly. “I think I need to rest.” Harold took a step back, a hint of urgency in her tone. “Make sure to finish the potato, and I’ll step out for a bit.” Nodding, Edmund accepted this plain food, knowing it was better than the nutrition liquid he had once consumed. He took a bite while connecting to the so-called information wristband to learn more about this new world. The device felt like it was embedded in his very bones, lying dormant until called upon. When summoned, a sleek black smart band appeared on his wrist. Harold had instructed him: “Just think it, and it’ll work.” With a small, tentative thought of “information search,” a search box materialized in his mind. Unlike modern browsers, the interface was an AI simulation, a glowing orb asking, “How can I assist you?” “Search for currently cultivable vegetable types,” he instructed. The orb blinked and presented information, complete with illustrations. Expecting a long list, he scrolled, only to find the selections painfully short. Wheat, potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, pumpkins… “Twenty-five.” After counting, despair washed over him. In his past life, he was both a food enthusiast and a chili fanatic, but seeing the list without a single chili pepper left him gasping for air. And the current human method for preparing food was all about boiling. How unremarkable. Just as he was about to succumb to hopelessness, he noticed a different page—“Seed Acquisition.” “Tell me about seed acquisition,” he demanded. “If your farming achievements elevate you to ‘Excellent Farmer’ status, you gain the rights to cultivate new varieties.” The orb replied. “Additionally, your tax burden decreases.” Looking closely, Edmund’s heart raced as he spotted chili peppers on the first page. So it wasn't that they didn’t exist. They just hadn’t been cultivated yet. “Okay, okay!” he said, energy surging through him. “How do I become an Excellent Farmer?” He was itching to get his hands dirty, ready to build a prosperous society—he believed in the dignity of labor, after all.
Chapter 4
For a moment, Edmund Gray felt as if he’d stumbled into a surreal dream. Luna Frost just stared at him, her silence heavy with doubt. "You’re stuck," he snapped, irritation bubbling beneath his skin. Finally, Luna spoke, her tone crisp. “To qualify as an excellent farmer, you need to meet two conditions.” Two conditions? That sounded manageable. “First: your household savings must reach 100,000 Star Credits.” “Second: a Duskveil residency,” she added matter-of-factly. Edmund blinked, confusion swirling in his mind. The savings were understandable, but what was this nonsense about residency? “How do I get a Duskveil residency?” Luna paused again, her expression shifting to one of disbelief, as if questioning his intelligence. “Just tell me already,” he growled, frustration thumping in his chest. She spoke quickly, almost like she was reciting a formula. “To obtain Duskveil residency, there are two requirements: One, you must make a special contribution to Duskveil. Two, your household must produce at least ten tons of vegetables each year.” Edmund felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over him. “Guess that counts me out.” “Not necessarily,” she replied, a hint of sympathy in her voice. “Really?” His eyebrows shot up, intrigue replacing the anger he had felt moments before. “What do you mean?” “You could marry an Orion Blackwood. Then you could acquire a Duskveil residency and leave Peacehaven to live in the affluent upper district, Skyhold.” Her voice dripped with implication. As a race relegated to the underground world of Peacehaven, humans were essentially second-class citizens. In stark contrast, the Duskveil people thrived in Skyhold, the pinnacle of wealth, technology, and luxury. Edmund’s lips curled in disbelief. “Are you joking? I’m a guy. You really expect me to marry someone?” Luna replied with maddening calmness, “Well, given your circumstances, your chances of success in marriage are about 20%. As for getting pregnant…” He couldn’t help but bite. “And that chance is?” “Zero percent,” she stated flatly. “Statistical data shows that if you manage to marry an Orion Blackwood, you’ll get the residency. But even if you could conceive, no new life has been born in Duskveil for over a century. You’d essentially be the world’s beacon of hope.” Edmund was taken aback. “A century? Sounds like their species may be on the brink of extinction.” “Don't worry,” Luna assured him. “Duskveil has the highest level of technology, including cloning and body regeneration. Especially for powerful races like the Dragonkin, or the lineage of Edmund Hart. They can live for hundreds of years without a hitch.” “Why has there been no new life?” he pressed, still puzzled. Could it be that everyone on this planet was infertile? That seemed beyond comprehension. “Orion Blackwoods are naturally strong and adept. The superior the breed, the harder it is for them to bear children.” She gave a pointed example. “Take the Dragonkin and the Crimson Court. It’s a cosmic reality—they struggle to produce offspring, even over centuries.” Edmund frowned, processing her words. “You’re not implying something about humans, are you?” “Humans tend to have single births rather than multiples. It suggests you’re already a higher tier,” she countered gently enough to keep the mood light. Somehow, her logic clicked with him, almost. “Well, let’s skip the theoretical nonsense for a moment,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s there to do for fun? Any live streams or something I can check out?” Luna efficiently redirected him to the most popular entertainment channels, and the first thing that caught his eye was food live streams. In a place obsessed with culinary delights, Duskveil thrived on showcasing the latest in gourmet cuisine. Scrolling through the endless options, he found an array of food, from nutrient pastes to various meat dishes, but no vegetables in sight. As someone who used to be a blogger, Edmund felt his curiosity peak. Diving deeper into the channel, he lost track of time. Hours later, he found himself hungry again. Attempting to rise, he stumbled, a violent cough wracking his body, clawing at his lungs and making him feel every bit the shambles he was. “Edmund,” a voice called, and Lucas Byrne appeared at the door, rushing to support him. He coughed, cheeks flushed. “I’m fine.” Lucas carefully helped him back down. “You’re not. You need to rest and stop trying to get up.” “Really, it’s nothing.” He locked eyes with his younger brother, determination flooding his veins. “Tell me what happened. How did I get hurt?” Lucas hesitated, his gaze shifting away. A sharp pain of anxiety tinged the air. “Is it just the three of us here?” Edmund asked, searching his brother’s face. Lucas nodded slowly and spoke. “Dad passed away a long time ago. Mom has always taken care of us.” The confirmation hit like a stone, settling heavy in Edmund’s chest. At this point, he looked merely in his twenties, but his body felt frail and fragile. “Your injuries came while you were trying to protect Mom,” Lucas added, filling the silence. “Go into more detail,” Edmund demanded. So, with brevity, Lucas recounted their family's hardships. In Duskveil, the law of survival was in full swing—especially in Peacehaven, where money and power ruled above all else. Those with wealth commanded the most influence. But for those like them, students barely scraping by, the burden fell solely on their mother, Fiona Reed—a single woman struggling against the tide. How much can one person really provide? It truly was a sobering reality.
Chapter 5
Gareth wasn’t bad-looking for a kid who’d just lost his father, yet that didn’t stop trouble from finding him. Coming home from school one day, he stumbled across a group trying to force his mother into handing over something she clearly didn’t want to give. Without thinking, he jumped in to fight them off, but let’s just say his slender, pale frame didn’t exactly scare anyone, and he got beat up pretty badly for his trouble. “Dude, those guys were totally out of line,” Gareth's younger brother, Edmund, said, worry etching deep lines on his face. “They even came back demanding we pay medical bills!” “What?” Edmund’s eyes widened in disbelief. “It’s because you stepped in to help Mom,” Gareth muttered, irritation bubbling under the surface. “Now she’s scared of them, so she just handed over cash.” “That’s ridiculous! No one can just demand money like that,” Edmund shot back, trying to climb out of despair. “But their family’s tight with an Orion,” Gareth explained, the weight of the situation settling in. “In Peacehaven, they practically run the place.” “Seriously?” Edmund shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. “Is Orion power really that insane?” A twisted smile creased Gareth's lips. “At school, humans can’t even study alongside Orions. Mess up? You’re out. Orions? Just a little slap on the wrist.” Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. Edmund had jumped into a future that felt darker than any nightmare. Their home was little more than a shell, the walls bare, and all they had was a mother who was barely holding it together as threats loomed larger. And Gareth? He still had school to think about. Until now, it had just been Edmund—physically a mess, barely able to move, reduced to dreaming of better days while lying useless in bed. “What a terrible hand to be dealt,” he thought bitterly. His eyes drifted over to Gareth, finally really seeing him for the first time. The kid was skin and bones, flushed with the sickly pallor of someone who’d seen too much too soon. No more than twelve, he wore ragged clothes, the kind that screamed poverty. “Hey, bro, you’re not gonna, like, die on me, right?” Gareth asked timidly, his voice cracking. Edmund forced himself to smile. “Come on, what could happen? I’m fine… just a little cough, that’s all.” Then he promptly coughed, deep and ragged. Gareth gently patted his brother’s shoulder, frowning. “I don’t want to go to school anymore.” Edmund wiped away an unshed tear. “What nonsense is that? If it’s one of us skipping out, it’ll be me—that’s just how it is. You can’t just drop out and run away.” “But look at you,” Gareth pointed out, helplessness mixed with doubt. “You can’t even get out of bed.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Edmund insisted, his voice firm. He wasn’t one to give up easily. Today, he had seen a glimmer of hope on a food channel—a way to make money off an online cooking stream, but they required something special, something tasty. “Food,” it all came back to food, didn't it? Just then, Gareth walked back in, “Mom’s got a potato cooking for you. Pretty sure that’s all we’ve got left.” “I’ll help,” Edmund said, pushing himself awkwardly up from the bed. In the kitchen, the view didn’t get any better. Sparse furnishings, and somehow still clean, made the small space feel even more suffocating. The tiny living room held just a worn-out couch and a single window letting sunlight spill in, bringing an ounce of warmth to the otherwise bleak space. The kitchen was more like a glorified cupboard. A couple of bottles of nutrition gel lined one shelf, and on the counter sat a lonely potato and a single ear of corn. “What do you want to eat, bro? Mom can whip up anything you want,” Gareth offered, his voice hopeful. “No, it’s all good,” Edmund said, already deep in thought, examining the corn and potato as if they were precious gems. “I’ll make something myself.” At first glance, both tasted ordinary, but he knew he had to elevate them somehow. Stir-frying was out of the question; no spices or flavorings here. As he scanned the room, something in the corner caught his eye: a barely full basin of oil sitting ominously, left behind after yesterday’s potato sale. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing. Gareth walked over, puzzled. “That’s just leftover oil from yesterday’s machine. It’s not useful now, Mom’s been meaning to throw it away.” “Oil…” Edmund felt a spark of excitement igniting in him, a thought forming. “Mom, can I use that corn too?” Gareth’s eyes widened, worry lurking there. “Wait, Mom needs it for me…” Edmund rushed to assure them. “Trust me, I swear I’ll make us a feast and get us on our feet again. I’ll make sure we eat vegetables every day.” Gareth’s mom took a breath, the weight of motherhood carrying cracks of exhaustion. Seeing that determination was another delightful surprise. “Okay, just a little. Don’t waste it, alright?” Edmund’s spirits soared as they helped him grind the corn into powder and sliced the potato into thin strips, looking like agile fingers ready to dance through the kitchen. Gareth and their mom exchanged puzzled looks over what seemed like a reckless use of food, but Edmund just smiled. “Trust me, you’ll see.” Gareth was a little concerned; ever since Edmund woke up, the kid had acted a little off, but if he was finding joy where there hadn’t been any, who was he to crush that? With the potato strips coated in the cornmeal, and a sizzling pan of oil ready, Edmund carefully dropped them in, watching as the oil started to bubble, filling the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. As the minutes ticked away, the scent filled the small home, drawing Gareth in closer, stomach rumbling. Nothing had ever smelled this good. “Almost done,” Edmund announced, fighting off his own anticipation as he fished the crispy golden fries from the fryer. He slid a plate over and offered a pair of chopsticks. “Here, try these.” Gareth hesitated, but hunger won out. He took a bite, and all at once, his eyes went wide. The crispy coating shattered with the first taste, revealing the soft, fluffy potato beneath. “That’s incredible!” he exclaimed, delight shining on his face. Their mother couldn’t resist either; she came over and popped one into her mouth, shock lighting up her features as well. Edmund knew he had succeeded now. Feeling bold, he pulled out his holo-comm and started recording, noting down how it tasted and the look of the dish, preparing to upload it to the streaming platform. If those fries could make the cut, maybe they could turn this ratty existence into something a little better. He still had so much to prove, but just for a moment, that little kitchen turned into a bastion of hope amidst the chaos.
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