The eastern pavilion was where his dance lessons where to take place. The sound of classical music as Grim tried to lead Princess Liora through the basic steps of the court waltz. She was three years older than him and slightly taller.
"One-two-three, one-two-three," the dance instructor called out, tapping her cane on the floor. "Lord Ambrose, your must straighten your back! You are leading, not following!"
"Yes, Madam Verity," Grim called out, trying to hold his arms in the proper position while remembering the steps. His muscles were still aching from morning training, which had been brutal as his father was in a mood.
"You're doing well," the princess whispered encouragingly. "Much better than yesterday."
That wasn't saying much. Yesterday he'd stepped on her toes no fewer than twelve times.
"This is such a waste of fucking time," Grim thought irritably. Every hour spent on dancing was an hour he could have been practicing sword techniques or cultivating.
[Court dance is its own form of combat,] the voice in his head commented. [The battlefield simply involves silks instead of swords.]
The princess stumbled and Grim tightened his grip to hold her up. She looked up at him with a smile, her cheeks turning pink.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Something strange happened then... a brief flutter in Grim's chest. For a moment, the princess's smile seemed like the only thing Grim thought about.
"What the hell was that?" he thought, confused by his own reaction.
[Interesting,] the voice noted without elaboration.
"Enough!" Madam Verity announced, mercifully interrupting the moment. "We will continue tomorrow. Lord Ambrose, practice your footwork before our next lesson."
Grim stepped back and bowed formally to the princess. "Your Highness."
"Will you stay for tea?" she asked, clearly hoping to extend their time together.
"Unfortunately, I have sword practice with my father," Grim replied, which wasn't entirely a lie. He did have practice, just not for another hour.
The princess looked disappointed but nodded. "Of course. Your training is important." Then, almost hesitantly, she added, "I heard Lord Julius Luminaris's children will be attending my birthday ball."
Grim's eyebrows rose slightly. "The twins?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "It's their first court appearance. They're our age—eight years old. The boy has dual affinity for earth and light, while his sister has pure light affinity."
"Great," Grim thought. "More Luminaris brats with light affinity to deal with."
"Mother says we must be... diplomatic," the princess continued, clearly choosing her words carefully. "Despite recent... tensions."
"Of course," Grim agreed blandly. "Diplomacy is always important."
What the princess was too polite to say was that after the wine incident in the throne room, Julius Luminaris had been making barely veiled threats against House Ambrose. Nothing actionable, just enough to keep tensions simmering.
As Grim left the pavilion, he wondered how the princess knew about this. She was only eight, yet she seemed surprisingly well-informed about court politics. Perhaps the Empress involved her daughter more than one might expect.
Rather than heading directly to sword practice, Grim took a detour through a secluded garden to gather his thoughts. The past five days had fallen into a new routine: morning physical training with his father, afternoons split between dance lessons and sword practice, and alternating nights of deep cultivation or recovery.
Last night had been a recovery night, which meant tonight he would continue his dual cultivation. His mana heart had started at 80% capacity after years of steady practice, and his first attempt at dual cultivation had pushed it to 85%—progress that should have taken months achieved in just one session. After two more cultivation nights with recovery days in between, he'd reached 95%.
He hadn't told his father about this breakthrough. Something held him back, an instinct that said this advantage was best kept secret for now.
The afternoon sword practice went as expected—more drills on the Ethereal Mist technique, which Grim was now able to maintain for almost a full minute. His father seemed pleased with his progress, though it was always hard to tell with Rowan's reserved demeanor.
"You've been unusually focused this week," Rowan commented as they put away the practice swords.
"I've been thinking about what you said about foundation," Grim replied carefully. "How everything builds upon it."
Rowan nodded approvingly. "Good. Many young practitioners rush toward flashy techniques without properly developing their base. Your patience will serve you well."
If only his father knew how quickly he was actually advancing. But patience had its uses, even in deception.
After dinner, Grim retired to his room early, claiming fatigue from the day's activities. Once alone, he settled into his now-familiar cross-legged position on the bed and closed his eyes.
The process of dual cultivation came more naturally now. Where before he had struggled to grasp both water and light mana simultaneously, now he could feel them responding to his call almost eagerly, like old friends returning to a familiar gathering place.
[Your control is improving,] the voice noted as Grim directed the dual streams of purified mana toward his heart. [The efficiency of your filtration has increased by approximately 22% since your first attempt.]
That explained why each session seemed to yield greater results. As his skill improved, so did the quality and quantity of mana he could process.
Tonight, Grim focused on completely filling his mana heart. At 95% capacity, he could sense a growing pressure, as if the heart was being stretched from within. Not painful, but noticeable—a sign that he was approaching its limits.
Time slipped away as he sank deeper into the cultivation trance, his consciousness narrowing to the flow of mana and the steady expansion of his heart's capacity. Hours passed unnoticed, the world outside his mind fading to irrelevance.
As he approached the final threshold, the pressure intensified. This was the part most cultivators found challenging—pushing a mana heart to its absolute limit without causing damage to the surrounding pathways.
[Proceed with caution,] the voice warned. [The final 5% requires precision.]
Grim slowed his intake, carefully monitoring the balance between expansion and stability. One misstep could set back his progress by weeks or even cause permanent damage to his cultivation base.
95%... 98%... 99%...
He was so close now he could practically feel each fraction of a percentage as his heart strained against its natural boundaries. With excruciating care, he guided the last traces of dual-purified mana into place.
100%.
A clear, resonant chime sounded in his mind, like a perfect crystal bell being struck.
[Congratulations! Mana Heart capacity reached 100%!]
The voice's tone had changed, becoming momentarily more formal, almost mechanical.
[This is a significant achievement, particularly given your age and the timeframe. Would you like details on restarting your mana heart?]
"Restarting?" Grim thought, his concentration broken by confusion. "What does that mean?"
But before the voice could answer, Grim's exhaustion caught up with him. The week of intensive cultivation, combined with his regular training and the princess's dance lessons, had pushed his five-year-old body to its limits. His consciousness faded, and he slumped forward on the bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.