The pre-dawn hours were my favorite time for private training. The estate was quiet, the servants not yet stirring, and the soft gray light provided just enough visibility to practice without drawing unwanted attention. I made my way to the secluded grove I'd discovered behind the eastern gardens, a place where ancient oak trees formed a natural circle that seemed perfect for cultivation work.
Edwin had been with us for three weeks now, and while his integration into our group had gone smoothly, it had also made me more aware of the gaps in my own development. Watching him struggle with basic sword forms that felt elementary to me was a constant reminder of the knowledge I carried—and the physical limitations that prevented me from fully expressing it.
My mana core thrummed with Yellow Stage energy, refined and dense but still frustratingly limited. At eight years old, my body simply couldn't support the kind of advancement I knew was theoretically possible. Every time I pushed too hard, I felt the strain in my bones and muscles, the warning that I was approaching dangerous territory.
'Patience,' I reminded myself as I settled into the meditation posture that had become second nature. 'Foundation first, speed second.'
But patience was difficult when I could see the techniques I wanted to master floating just beyond my reach, when I knew that with a more mature body I could already be working toward Green Stage instead of carefully strengthening my current foundation.
I began the circulation pattern I'd adapted from my previous life—a complex technique designed to maximize efficiency while building sustainable core expansion. The mana moved through my channels in precisely controlled flows, gathering at key points before distributing throughout my system.
The sensation was both familiar and frustrating. In my prime, this same technique had allowed me to maintain peak efficiency even during extended combat. Now, with my reduced capacity and still-developing channels, it felt like trying to channel a river through a garden hose.
But there were benefits to starting with such a young body. The mana pathways were more flexible, more adaptable to different techniques. With careful cultivation, I could potentially develop channels that were more efficient than anything I'd achieved in my previous life.
'Think of it as an opportunity,' I told myself as I increased the circulation speed slightly. 'Building the perfect foundation from the ground up.'
My core pulsed as the mana circulation reached its optimal rhythm. Yellow Stage energy swirled and compressed, slowly but steadily increasing in density and purity. The process was methodical, requiring complete focus and careful control of both breathing and mental state.
This was real cultivation—not the flashy displays of power that filled adventure stories, but the patient, disciplined work that formed the foundation of true strength. It was also mind-numbingly boring for anyone not intimately familiar with the theory behind it.
As the minutes passed, I felt the familiar pressure that indicated progress. My mana channels were expanding incrementally, accommodating increased energy flow. My core was becoming more efficient, processing raw mana with greater refinement. Most importantly, I could sense the gradual strengthening that would eventually allow me to attempt advancement to Green Stage.
'Still months away,' I estimated, monitoring the rate of change. 'Maybe longer, if I want to avoid destabilizing the foundation.'
It was a sobering realization. Despite my knowledge and experience, the fundamental limitations of a developing body couldn't be circumvented. My previous life had taught me patience, but that didn't make the waiting less frustrating.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my concentration. I opened my eyes to find Edwin standing at the edge of the grove, looking uncertain about whether he should intrude.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I couldn't sleep and thought I might find you here. I didn't mean to interrupt your training."
I dispelled the mana circulation and gestured for him to join me. "It's fine. How did you know where to look?"
Edwin approached carefully, his eyes taking in the grove's natural amphitheater formation. "I've been having trouble sleeping since I arrived. Sometimes I walk around the estate early in the morning, and I've seen you coming this way several times."
"Trouble sleeping because of nightmares?" I asked gently.
Edwin nodded, settling onto the grass beside me. "Not nightmares exactly. Just... thinking about things. About what's happening back home, about whether Father is safe, about what it means that I'm here instead of there."
"That's a lot for anyone to think about, especially at night when everything seems worse than it really is."
"Is that why you train so early? To avoid thinking about difficult things?"
I considered how to answer that. Edwin was perceptive for his age, and he deserved honesty even if I couldn't share the complete truth.
"Partly," I said. "But also because early morning is when the mana flows are most stable. Less interference from all the daily activities that disrupt natural energy patterns."
Edwin tilted his head with interest. "Mana flows? I don't understand."
"It's... complicated. But basically, mana exists everywhere around us, and it's constantly moving and changing based on what people are doing. Early morning, when most people are asleep, the ambient mana is calmer and easier to work with."
"Could you teach me?" Edwin asked hesitantly. "I've never done any mana cultivation before. Father always said I was too young, that it was something to start when I turned ten."
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. Edwin was intelligent and trustworthy, but teaching him would require explaining concepts that were far too advanced for someone my apparent age to know.
"I could show you some basic sensing exercises," I said carefully. "Nothing advanced—just learning to feel the mana that's already in your system."
Edwin's eagerness was immediate and infectious. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Of course. But you have to promise to go slowly and never try to push beyond what feels comfortable. Mana cultivation can be dangerous if you rush things."
"I promise," Edwin said solemnly.
Over the next hour, I guided Edwin through elementary mana sensing techniques. I was careful to present everything as things I'd "read about" or "figured out through experimentation," rather than demonstrating sophisticated knowledge.
Edwin proved to be a capable student. He had good body awareness and the kind of focused concentration that mana work required. More importantly, he followed instructions carefully rather than trying to improvise or show off.
"I think I can feel it," he said after several minutes of focused breathing. "Like a warm spot in my chest?"
"That's your mana core," I confirmed. "Right now it's probably Red Stage, which is normal for someone your age. The goal isn't to make it bigger right away, but to learn to sense it clearly and understand how it connects to the rest of your body."
"This is incredible," Edwin breathed, his eyes closed in concentration. "I can actually feel the energy moving when I breathe. It's like there's a whole other part of me I never knew existed."
"That's exactly what mana awareness should feel like," I agreed. "But remember what I said about patience. This is about understanding and sensitivity, not power."
"I understand," Edwin replied seriously. "Thank you for teaching me this. I know it's probably something you could have kept to yourself."
His gratitude was genuine and touching. In the political environment he'd grown up in, knowledge was often hoarded as a source of advantage. The idea that someone would share valuable information freely was apparently novel.
"Friends share what they know," I said simply. "That's how we all get stronger together."
As we concluded the session and prepared to return to the main house for breakfast, Edwin seemed more relaxed than I'd seen him since his arrival.
"Lance," he said as we walked, "can I ask you something personal?"
"Sure."
"Why do you train so hard? I mean, you're already incredibly skilled for someone our age. Sir Marcus says he's never seen natural talent like yours. But you still get up before dawn to practice by yourself."
It was a perceptive question that cut to the heart of my motivations. How could I explain the weight of previous failure, the knowledge that strength was never enough, the desperate need to be better this time?
"Because being good enough isn't good enough," I said finally. "There are always going to be challenges that require everything you have and more. The only way to be ready for them is to always be pushing yourself to improve."
Edwin nodded thoughtfully. "Father says something similar. That the moment you think you're strong enough is the moment you become vulnerable."
"Your father sounds wise."
"He is. But sometimes I wonder if there's room for anything else in that philosophy. Like friendship, or fun, or just... being a kid."
I looked at Edwin, seeing the conflict between duty and desire that was already shaping his young life. "There has to be room for those things. Otherwise, what's the point of being strong?"
"What do you mean?"
"Strength without purpose is just destruction. If you're only training to be powerful, you'll end up becoming the kind of threat that other people need to be strong enough to stop. But if you're training to protect the things and people you care about..." I gestured toward the estate around us, toward the family and friends who made this place home. "Then strength becomes something worth having."
Edwin was quiet for a long moment, processing what I'd said. "I never thought about it that way. Father always talks about duty and responsibility, but not much about what we're actually trying to protect."
"Maybe that's something you can figure out while you're here. What's worth protecting, what's worth fighting for."
"And what's worth getting up before dawn to train for?"
I grinned at him. "Exactly."
As we reached the main house, where the rest of the household was beginning to stir, I reflected on the morning's conversation. Teaching Edwin had been valuable not just for him, but for me as well. Explaining basic concepts had forced me to articulate principles I'd taken for granted, and his questions had highlighted assumptions I hadn't examined in years.
More than that, though, the conversation had reminded me why I was pushing myself so hard. Not just to reclaim lost power, but to be worthy of the friendships and family I'd found in this new life.
'Tomorrow morning,' I decided, 'I'll continue working on circulation efficiency. And maybe Edwin will join me again.'
The thought of having a training partner, even one who was just beginning his journey, was more appealing than I'd expected. Sharing knowledge didn't diminish it—if anything, it made the cultivation process feel less isolated and more purposeful.
As we entered the main house and made our way toward the dining hall, Edwin's improved mood was immediately apparent to everyone we encountered. The staff smiled more warmly, Celia bounced over to ask about our early morning walk, and even Mother noticed the change when she joined us for breakfast.
"You seem more settled today, Edwin," she observed. "I hope you're beginning to feel at home here."
"I am, Your Grace," Edwin replied. "Lance has been teaching me some things about... about finding peace in routine."
Mother's eyes met mine across the table, and I saw approval there along with a hint of curiosity about what exactly I'd been teaching. But she didn't press for details, trusting that whatever I was doing was beneficial.
"I'm glad to hear it," she said simply. "Peace of mind is the foundation of all other growth."
The rest of the day passed pleasantly, with lessons, training, and the kind of casual interaction that was slowly becoming natural between our small group. But I found myself looking forward to the next morning's training session with more anticipation than usual.
Teaching Edwin had reminded me that strength shared was strength multiplied, and that the best foundations were built with the help of others.
It was a lesson worth remembering as I continued my own long journey toward the power I would eventually need.