Chapter 6: Embers of Power
The Valen estate was a quiet place in the early morning. Mist still clung to the cobblestone paths like a veil, and dew blanketed the marble statues of ancestors long dead. Birds chirped in the distance, unaware of the awakening storm beneath their beaks. The sun peeked timidly over the high walls that ringed the estate, casting long shadows like fingers reaching into the past.
Ethan stood on the training ground with his shirt off, golden eyes scanning the space. His breath steamed in the morning air, a contrast to the low thrum of heat humming from his body. His muscles ached—not with pain, but with anticipation.
A week had passed since his confrontation with the would-be assassins and his volatile awakening. The mysterious energy within him had flared violently that night, wiping away three grown men with barely a conscious thought. Since then, it had quieted, like a predator full after the hunt. But Ethan could still feel it beneath the surface—waiting, coiling, listening.
Selene had insisted he remain under constant watch. Not for his safety, but for others'. He'd overheard her the night after the attack, speaking with Darius and several other nobles.
"This boy is no ordinary orphan," she'd said, her tone clipped, but not unkind. "There's something ancient inside him. Something dangerous."
She wasn't wrong.
He threw a punch at the training dummy, the wood splintering from the sheer force. His body, once fragile and regressed, had caught up rapidly—too rapidly. He'd gone from a weak, stunted boy to a muscular, agile young man in the span of mere days. His body evolved faster than any known cultivation path could explain.
And yet, he still couldn't summon mana like the others. Not directly.
He didn't need to.
Ethan moved through the drills Selene had taught him, a hybrid style that combined swordplay, palm strikes, and precise body positioning. But he altered them. Tweaked them. Made them better. Every movement felt more refined, more potent. His energy adapted, refined the muscle memory, optimized every angle.
"Still too rigid."
Selene's voice floated through the mist. She stepped onto the field dressed in tight combat leathers that clung to every curve of her tall, hourglass figure. Her silver-blonde hair was tied back in a loose braid, a single curl trailing over one eye. She moved with the effortless grace of a veteran fighter and the dangerous allure of a seasoned seductress.
Ethan's eyes, despite himself, dipped once—only once—to her hips before snapping back up. He cursed silently. Not now.
"I'm evolving the style," he replied, straightening.
"Oh? And what do you call your version?" she asked, stepping closer. Her scent hit him—smoky lavender with a hint of something electric. His golden eyes flickered.
"Efficient," he answered.
She chuckled. "You're confident."
"I'm correct."
Selene raised an eyebrow, drawing her practice sword from her waist. "Then show me."
Ethan didn't hesitate. He lunged.
The sparring match exploded into motion. Ethan moved like lightning, his body shifting angles and footwork with supernatural precision. Selene parried, barely able to keep up. Her strength lay in experience—decades of combat against mana beasts and rogue cultivators. But Ethan was a storm of new logic. Every strike was data. Every dodge, optimization. His energy adapted with each clash.
And it scared her.
For a brief moment, her foot slipped. His palm struck her shoulder, sending her skidding across the field.
"Yield?" he asked, breath steady.
Selene looked up at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"You're not just dangerous," she said, standing. "You're terrifying."
He didn't respond, but she could see the flicker of pride in his eyes.
---
Later that evening, the estate's great hall was filled with laughter and tension. Lord Darius had called a formal dinner—ostensibly to honor the boy who saved his household from assassination. In truth, it was a pretense to parade Ethan before the noble factions and gauge reactions.
The hall glowed with mana-light chandeliers. Tables laden with roasted meat, glazed vegetables, and fruits from the northern groves lined the marble floors. Guests were cloaked in finery—silks woven with mana threads, rings embedded with minor enchantments, and perfumes that masked the stink of politics.
Ethan sat beside Selene at the main table, his expression unreadable.
Across from him sat Viscount Harven, a thick-jowled noble with cold eyes and an overfed belly. Next to him was his third wife—a stunning, dark-haired woman whose emerald dress barely hid her ample cleavage. Ethan's eyes, despite himself, twitched toward her. She noticed. Smirked.
Selene leaned in, whispering, "Focus."
"I am," he said. "Just not where you want."
She pinched his thigh under the table.
Harven cleared his throat. "So, this is the orphan boy who disintegrated three armed assassins with his bare hands?"
"He's under my tutelage now," Selene replied calmly.
"Curious. What realm is he? Foundation? Innate core?"
Selene didn't answer.
"I'm unaffiliated," Ethan said, finally. "No recognized cultivation path."
Murmurs echoed around the table.
"Then it was luck," Harven sneered. "Or perhaps an artifact? You found something buried in the wilds, boy?"
Ethan smiled coldly. "No artifact. Just raw power."
The dark-haired wife licked her lips subtly. Harven scowled.
"Let me guess—you think you'll become a heavenly realm cultivator next month, hmm?"
"I think I already surpass most early-stage foundation realm fighters," Ethan replied.
Laughter erupted—nervous and dismissive. But Selene didn't laugh. Neither did Darius.
Because they had seen it.
---
That night, as the party died down, Ethan slipped away from the estate.
The forest near the Valen grounds was thick with low-lying mist and pulsing mana. Ethan wandered beneath the trees, drawn by a tug in his chest. The mysterious energy within him had awakened again—this time, softly. Not violently. It whispered instead of screamed.
He followed it.
Eventually, he came upon a clearing where the grass was blackened, and the air shimmered. Something had happened here long ago. Aether, perhaps? A mana beast's death?
No.
He knelt and placed his palm against the soil.
Then, it surged.
Energy erupted through him—not mana, not divine energy. Something else. The cells in his body glowed faintly, and his vision tunneled inward. He wasn't seeing the forest anymore. He was inside himself. Watching his own nervous system shimmer with golden lines.
And then...
He heard a voice.
"You are not a vessel. You are the crucible."
His body jerked. Pain lanced through him, but it was cleansing, like molten glass forging a blade.
When it stopped, he gasped and fell to his knees. The ground beneath him had cracked.
And etched into the dirt were the words:
"The first evolution is complete."
---
Back at the estate, Selene waited in his room, pacing.
When Ethan returned, covered in sweat and dirt, she crossed the space in three strides.
"What happened?"
He looked at her, eyes glowing faintly.
"I think I just unlocked the first gate."
"Gate?"
"My body. My energy. It's evolving. Like a sequence."
Selene stared at him. "You're not supposed to evolve like this. Not outside of cultivation. Not without spirit stones or arrays or..."
"I don't need them."
She looked at him then—not as a soldier. Not even as a woman.
But as someone standing before something they could not control.
"You're going to shatter this world, aren't you?" she whispered.
Ethan stepped closer. The tension in the air snapped like lightning.
"I already have."
Her breath caught. For a moment, the space between them buzzed—not with power, but with something hotter, older. Lust. Curiosity. Awe.
She didn't stop him when he reached out to brush a thumb across her jaw.
"You're dangerous," she murmured.
"And you like it," he said.
"I haven't decided yet."
"Let me help you."
The next moment was a blur of mouths and heat, of stolen moans and hands slipping beneath fabric. But just as quickly, she pulled away, eyes narrowed.
"Not yet," she said. "Not while you're still figuring out what you are."
Ethan smirked.
"But when I do?"
Selene's smirk matched his.
"Then you better be ready."