The sun was still high in the sky when Aren returned to the Vale estate.
The moment he entered, the servants moved silently around him, offering respectful bows.The children's laughter echoed faintly from the upper halls.Selene sat in the grand garden, sipping tea and embroidering a small handkerchief, her violet eyes lifting the moment she sensed him approach.
He leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to her hair, and whispered,"Today, we start forging steel."
Selene smiled knowingly, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow.
At precisely 4PM, Aren stood in the Vale family's private training grounds — a sprawling courtyard of smooth stone, old enchanted pillars, and distant mountains visible across the horizon.
He wore simple black training clothes, barefoot on the cool ground.His raven hair tied loosely, golden eyes sharp and alive.
Before him stood his family:
Selene, standing graceful but unyielding.
Darian, serious and solemn, already dressed for combat.
Lyra, lively but trying to hide her nervousness under a cheeky grin.
Elara and Mira, both in little training outfits, standing side by side — one serious as a soldier, the other bouncing excitedly on her heels.
They lined up naturally, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.
Aren's gaze swept over them.
"My expectations are simple," he began, his voice calm — but the very air seemed to tighten around them.
"There will be no laziness.No half-hearted effort.You will give everything you have."
He paced slowly before them, barefoot steps echoing softly.
"From today onward, every day, from 4PM to 6PM — you will train. Without exception."
He stopped before Mira, who looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.
"Even you," he said gently.
Mira giggled but straightened proudly, slamming a tiny fist against her chest in imitation of a soldier's salute.
Laughter rippled quietly through the group — even Aren smiled faintly.
Then his expression hardened again.
"The foundation must be built first," he continued."Strength, stamina, flexibility.Before you can sense energy — before you can cultivate — you must have bodies that can withstand the strain."
He turned to Darian.
"And you," Aren said, his voice softening slightly, "already have a strong body. You're no transcendent — but you could level a building with a punch. That's enough for now."
Darian flushed slightly at the rare praise.
"But you lack one thing."
Darian straightened instinctively.
"Continuity," Aren said."The ability to cultivate even as you walk, breathe, fight — without stopping, without needing to sit and focus."
There was a small intake of breath among the family.
It was said — publicly — that only transcendent beings could cultivate while moving, while living.It was considered a divine ability.
Yet Aren continued as if teaching a child.
"You will train with me personally to learn this."
Darian swallowed hard but nodded with fierce determination.
"You will spar with me every day," Aren said, turning away and beginning to stretch his arms loosely."From 4PM to 6PM. No mercy. No holding back."
He glanced back, golden eyes flashing with quiet steel.
"Unless you prefer being a burden?"
"No, Father!" Darian snapped immediately, fists clenching.
"Good," Aren said, satisfied.
He turned back to the rest.
"For now," Aren said, "we begin the basics."
He clapped his hands once.
"Form two lines! Follow me!"
And so began the first day of training for the Vale family.
It started simple:
Light jogging around the courtyard to build endurance.
Basic squats, pushups, and lunges — focusing on proper form, not speed.
Stretching exercises Aren demonstrated himself with alarming grace.
Core strengthening drills — holding plank positions, breathing correctly.
Selene surprised everyone by keeping up effortlessly — her eternal youth, maintained by Aren's own energy, was not merely for appearance.
Lyra groaned theatrically during squats but endured with stubborn pride.
Elara followed every command with grim determination — a tiny mirror of her grandfather's seriousness.
Mira, at first, treated it like a game — racing ahead, showing off, giggling.
But when Aren calmly corrected her, guiding her tiny hands into proper form, she sobered instantly, her little face setting into a serious expression.
There were no harsh words.No yelling.
Just the quiet, relentless pressure of a man who expected — and believed — that those he loved could rise.
Darian's Sparring
While the rest drilled the basics, Aren called Darian to the center.
They faced off, barefoot on the stone.
At first, Darian moved cautiously — striking in basic, powerful forms.
But Aren moved differently —Effortless. Fluid.Guiding each exchange, deflecting, redirecting.
Each time Darian launched an attack, Aren would speak between the blows:
"Breathe with your strikes.""Feel your energy spiral outward, not inward.""Do not think about cultivating. Become cultivating."
The battle became a dance — one where Darian sweated, stumbled, struggled — but also began to understand.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Aren struck no serious blows — but each parry, each redirection, carried knowledge hidden within the movement.
The End of the First Day
As the sun dipped low and the sky blushed into twilight, Aren called the session to an end.
Mira collapsed dramatically onto the grass, groaning.
Elara folded into a sitting position, breathing hard but proud.
Lyra stretched and groaned but grinned at her daughter.
Darian collapsed onto one knee, gasping for air, soaked in sweat.
Only Selene stood quietly, her breathing steady, smiling faintly like a woman who had long since mastered patience and endurance.
Aren stood before them, hands behind his back.
"You did well for the first day," he said.
The family beamed.
"But," he added mercilessly, "tomorrow we begin properly."
A collective groan rose from the courtyard — Mira's especially loud.
Aren smiled.
And deep inside, beneath all his sternness and seriousness,he felt a tiny, fierce flame of hope ignite.
He would prepare them.
He would forge them.
He would build a wall of iron and fire between them and the coming storm.
No matter the cost.