Ariel stood by the window, his newly forged katana still gleaming in his hand as he contemplated his next move. The sunlight streaming through the glass cast long shadows across the expensive carpet, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful, almost too peaceful.
Then he heard them.
Footsteps.
Running footsteps, rapid and urgent, echoing down what must have been a long hallway outside his room. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP. The sound grew louder, closer, more frantic with each passing second. Someone was sprinting toward his room with purpose.
'What now? Did someone sense the energy from my awakening? Is this going to be a problem already?'
The footsteps reached his door and stopped abruptly. Silence hung in the air for a heartbeat. Then came a knock, three sharp raps against the heavy wood.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
"Young master?" A feminine voice called from the other side, breathless and worried. "Young master, are you alright? May I enter?"
Ariel dismissed his katana with a thought, the weapon dissolving into blue light and flowing back into his core. He needed to appear normal, or at least as normal as possible given everything that had just happened.
"Yes," he said, his voice steady despite his internal uncertainty. "Come in."
The door opened smoothly, and a woman stepped through.
She was striking. Tall, probably around five feet eight inches, with long black hair pulled into a practical braid that fell over her shoulder, the end tied with a blue ribbon. Her eyes were golden, sharp and intelligent, framed by thin spectacles that gave her an air of scholarly competence. She wore what appeared to be a combat uniform, dark blue and gray with armored sections over vital areas, practical yet elegant. A sword hung at her hip, and her overall bearing spoke of someone capable and disciplined.
But what caught Ariel's attention most was her expression. Concern, worry, and something almost like fear played across her features as her eyes swept over him, checking for injuries or signs of distress.
She bowed immediately upon entering, hand over her heart in what seemed to be a formal gesture. "Young master, I apologize for the intrusion. I sensed a massive wave of mana emanating from your chambers and came immediately to ensure your safety."
'Right. The core awakening. The shockwave of energy. Of course someone would sense that.'
Before Ariel could respond, she straightened and moved closer, her eyes scanning him with professional efficiency. "Are you injured? Are you feeling any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?" Her questions came rapidly, one after another. "You've been ill for so long, young master. When I felt that surge of energy, I feared you were under attack or that something had happened to worsen your condition."
She reached out as if to check his temperature or examine him physically, but stopped herself, remembering propriety. Her hands hovered uncertainly before dropping back to her sides.
"I'm fine," Ariel said, trying to project calm confidence despite having no idea who this woman was or what their relationship should look like. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is actually better than it's been in a long time."
The woman's golden eyes narrowed slightly, studying him with increased intensity. Then her gaze shifted, moving past his physical form to something deeper, something he couldn't quite understand.
Her eyes widened.
She could sense it. He realized that in the same moment her expression changed. She could perceive the mana flowing through his meridians, could see the energy that now danced around him in controlled streams invisible to normal sight but clear as day to someone with cultivation ability.
"You..." she whispered, her voice catching. "Your core. You've... you've awakened."
The words hung in the air, heavy with significance.
Then, to Ariel's complete surprise, she dropped to her knees.
Not a casual kneel. A full, formal position, head bowed, hand over heart, the posture of absolute respect and fealty. When she looked up, her golden eyes shimmered with tears she was clearly trying to hold back.
"Young master Ariel," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "I formally greet you as a true cultivator of the Crowcrest bloodline. Congratulations on your awakening. This servant is honored beyond words to witness this moment."
Ariel stood there, somewhat frozen by the display. The raw joy in her expression, the genuine happiness that radiated from her, it was almost overwhelming. This woman, whoever she was, cared about his awakening with an intensity that spoke of deep personal investment.
"You can... stand up," he said, feeling awkward about having someone kneel to him. "Really, it's fine."
She rose smoothly, but the smile on her face remained, transforming her entire appearance from merely attractive to genuinely beautiful. "Forgive me, young master. I simply... after so many years, to finally see you awaken. I cannot express my gratitude to the heavens adequately."
Ariel nodded, trying to maintain composure while his mind raced. He needed information, needed context, but asking too many obvious questions would reveal that something was wrong with his memories.
Then, as if responding to his need, the memories came flooding in.
---
A younger version of himself, maybe ten years old, standing in a massive courtyard while an older woman with stern features examined him critically.
"Again," she commanded.
The young Ariel tried to channel mana that wouldn't come, tried to perform a basic circulation technique that his body simply couldn't execute. Sweat poured down his face from the effort of attempting the impossible.
Behind the instructor, other children his age performed the same techniques flawlessly, their small hands glowing with elemental energy. They whispered to each other, pointing at him, laughing behind their hands.
"Useless."
"Defective."
"The sick prince."
A younger version of this same woman, Lyra, stood at attention nearby. Her face remained carefully neutral, but her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she watched him fail again and again.
---
Another memory. Ariel was older now, maybe fourteen. He sat alone in a grand dining hall, eating breakfast at a table designed to seat thirty. The other seats remained conspicuously empty.
Lyra stood behind him, her presence constant, her face revealing nothing.
"They're meeting without me again," young Ariel said quietly, more statement than question.
"The family council often convenes at irregular times, young master," Lyra replied diplomatically.
"They're discussing who should be the next heir now that Father is dead and I'm dying." His voice was flat, accepting. "They don't bother hiding it anymore."
Lyra's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. What could she say? It was true.
---
More memories cascaded in rapid succession.
A family gathering where relatives he should have known gave him pitying looks or avoided him entirely. Conversations that stopped when he approached. Whispers that started the moment he passed.
Training sessions where instructors went through the motions of teaching him techniques he couldn't perform, their eyes empty of hope or expectation.
Medical examinations by family healers who shook their heads and spoke in hushed tones about mysterious illnesses and inevitable decline.
And through it all, one constant presence. Lyra. Always there. Always watching. Always serving despite the shame his weakness brought her.
Another memory, sharper and more painful.
Lyra standing before a group of other attendants, all of them pointing at her, mocking her.
"Still serving the defective prince?"
"Such loyalty to someone who will be dead within the year."
"You could request reassignment. Serve someone actually worthy of the Crowcrest name."
"I serve young master Ariel," Lyra said, her voice cold as ice. "And I will continue to serve him. Your opinions are irrelevant."
One of them, a smug looking man, stepped closer. "He can't even awaken his core. He's seventeen and still mortal. Face reality. Your devotion is wasted on someone who will never amount to anything."
Lyra's hand moved to her sword. "Say one more word and I'll remove your tongue."
The man backed away, recognizing genuine threat when he saw it.
---
The final memory crystallized with painful clarity.
He was lying in bed, feverish and weak, while healers worked over him. His grandfather stood nearby, a towering figure with white hair and eyes that held the weight of transcendent power.
"Will he survive?" the old man asked, his voice rough with age and authority.
The head healer hesitated. "The sickness is unlike anything we've encountered, Primarch. It attacks his cultivation pathways specifically, preventing core formation while slowly draining his life force. At this rate... perhaps another year at most."
His grandfather's face remained impassive, but something flickered in those ancient eyes. Grief? Frustration? Resignation?
"Continue treatment. Spare no expense." The Primarch turned to leave, then paused. "He is my grandson. My son's only child. While he lives, he will be cared for as befits his station."
After he left, young Ariel opened his eyes slightly, catching sight of Lyra standing in the corner. She met his gaze, and in that moment, he saw her determination.
'I won't let you die alone,' her expression said without words. 'Even if everyone else has given up, I haven't.'
---
Ariel gasped slightly as the memories settled, integrating with his consciousness. Everything made sense now. The context, the relationships, the dynamics he'd been missing.
Lyra. His personal attendant since birth, assigned to him as was tradition for all Crowcrest family members. She was C rank high, exceptional for someone from a lesser bloodline sworn to serve the main family. She'd endured years of mockery and pity for remaining loyal to someone everyone believed would die young and powerless.
And now, seeing him awakened, actually achieving what everyone said was impossible, the joy in her face was genuine and earned.
"Lyra," he said, testing the name on his tongue, watching her eyes light up at being addressed directly. "Thank you. For everything. For staying."
She bowed again, deeper this time. "It is my honor and privilege to serve you, young master. I have never doubted you, not for a single moment."
'Liar,' Ariel thought, but not unkindly. 'You probably doubted plenty of times. But you stayed anyway. That's what matters.'
More memories surfaced, these about the family structure itself.
The Crowcrest family was not simply a bloodline but an entire power structure, a hierarchy as rigid as it was complex.
At the apex stood the Primarch. The absolute head of the family, the final authority on all matters. Currently, that was his grandfather, a transcendent stage cultivator whose power was legendary. The position required S rank minimum, and transcendent was preferred. The Primarch's word was law within Crowcrest territory.
Below him were the Pureblood Crows. The direct children of the Primarch. His grandfather had ten children total. Nine remained living. These were the inner circle, the decision makers, the ones who shaped family policy and controlled major resources. Each was powerful in their own right, though none had reached S rank except Ariel's father.
Then came the Blood Crows. The grandchildren of the Primarch, children of the Pureblood Crows. This was the largest group, comprising dozens of individuals of varying talent and power. They held important but secondary positions within the family structure, managing territories, leading military units, overseeing business interests.
Below them were the Lesser Crows. Extended family members whose bloodline was more diluted, whose talents were inferior. They made up the bulk of the family's military force, serving as officers, specialists, and elite troops. Still far above ordinary cultivators, but distinctly inferior to those of purer blood.
And then there was one position that stood apart. Crown Crow. The designated heir to the Primarch position. The next generation's leader.
That title belonged to Ariel.
Not because he'd earned it. Not because he was qualified. But because his father had been the previous Primarch, and tradition demanded the position pass through direct lineage when possible.
His father had been exceptional. An S rank cultivator in his prime, beloved by the family, respected across the kingdom. When he'd taken ill with the same mysterious sickness that now afflicted Ariel, the entire family had mourned. When both he and his wife had died within months of each other, leaving only a young son behind, the tragedy had shaken the Crowcrest clan to its foundations.
The title of Crown Crow had passed to Ariel automatically, but it was an empty honor. Everyone knew he was dying. Everyone knew he'd never awaken. Everyone knew the position would need to be redistributed eventually.
His grandfather couldn't leave the Primarch position vacant, and none of the remaining Pureblood Crows had reached S rank, the minimum requirement for family head. So the old man had resumed his former position, postponing the succession crisis while his grandson slowly faded.
Except now that grandson had awakened. Now everything had changed.
Another memory surfaced, this one from just months ago.
A conversation overheard from an adjacent room. Voices he recognized, aunts and uncles discussing his inevitable death with clinical detachment.
"Three months at most, the healers say."
"Good riddance. The boy is an embarrassment."
"We'll need to address the Crown Crow situation immediately after he passes."
"Surely Father will name one of us. He has to. We can't have the position empty."
"He's sentimental about his son's bloodline. He might try something foolish."
"Like what? The boy is dying. There's no saving him."
"Still, we should prepare. Have our people ready to make the case for each of us."
Young Ariel had sat on the other side of the wall, listening to his relatives plan for his death like it was a business meeting. Lyra had found him there an hour later, still sitting in silence, face expressionless.
She'd said nothing. Just sat beside him until he was ready to move again.
---
The memories stabilized, and Ariel found himself back in the present, looking at Lyra who waited patiently for him to speak, her golden eyes still bright with happiness.
His grandfather had ten children now, plus the memory of his father made eleven. None of them liked him. He was an inconvenience, a complication, a dying child whose mere existence delayed their ambitions.
The only family member who'd shown him genuine warmth was his grandmother. She'd visited when she could, brought him books, told him stories. Small kindnesses that meant everything to a lonely child.
"Young master?" Lyra said gently, noticing his distant expression. "Are you certain you're alright? Perhaps you should rest. Awakening is taxing on the body and mind."
Ariel shook his head, coming back to full awareness. "No. I'm fine. Actually, I need to see my grandmother. Can you take me to her?"
Lyra's expression shifted to mild surprise. "The matriarch? Of course, young master. She will be overjoyed to see you, especially now that you've awakened. She's been so worried about you during your illness."
"How long was I sick?" Ariel asked, realizing he didn't know how much time the original inhabitant of this body had spent bedridden.
"You've been confined to your chambers for two weeks this time, young master. The fever was particularly severe. The healers were concerned you might not recover." Lyra's face showed remembered worry. "But you're clearly well now. Better than well. You've achieved what we've all prayed for."
Two weeks. He'd been unconscious or delirious for two weeks. No wonder she'd been concerned about the energy surge.
"I'll need appropriate clothing to visit her," Ariel said, looking down at himself. He was still wearing the simple nightclothes he'd awakened in, hardly suitable for a formal visit.
Lyra brightened immediately, professionalism taking over. "Of course, young master. Allow me to select something appropriate for you. As Crown Crow and now an awakened cultivator, your appearance must reflect your station."
She moved to the massive wardrobe that dominated one wall, opening its doors to reveal an extensive collection of fine clothing. Her hands moved efficiently through the options, selecting pieces with practiced ease.
"We'll dress you properly for a visit to the matriarch," she said, pulling out various garments and laying them on the bed. "Something that shows respect but also demonstrates your new status as an awakened cultivator."
Ariel watched as she worked, noting the care she took in choosing each piece. This was clearly routine for her, something she'd done countless times before. But this time, her movements carried extra energy, extra purpose. She was dressing not a sick child but a proper young master.
She selected a black outfit as the base. A high collared shirt in fine material that felt like silk but had subtle protective enchantments woven through it. Over that, a jacket in the same black, fitted perfectly to his transformed physique, with silver embroidery along the collar and cuffs in patterns that suggested the Crowcrest clan symbol. The pants were tailored, comfortable but elegant, tucked into black boots that rose to mid calf.
"Arms up, young master," Lyra instructed, and Ariel complied, allowing her to help him dress.
The process was strange. Having someone else dress you. But the memories provided context. This was normal. Expected. Personal attendants handled these tasks for family members. It was neither unusual nor inappropriate.
As she worked, adjusting fit, fastening clasps, ensuring everything sat perfectly, Ariel found his mind wandering to the larger situation.
He was Crown Crow. Heir to the Primarch position. But he was also an unknown quantity now. Everyone had written him off as dead or dying. His sudden awakening would shock the entire family, would disrupt whatever plans they'd been making.
Some would be genuinely happy. His grandmother certainly. Maybe a few others who'd known his father.
But most? Most would see him as a threat. A complication. Their path to power now blocked by someone who was supposed to be dead.
'I need to be careful. I have power now, but I'm still inexperienced, still learning. And I'm surrounded by people who have every reason to want me gone.'
"There," Lyra said, stepping back to admire her work. She adjusted the collar slightly, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle, then nodded with satisfaction. "Perfect. You look every bit the Crown Crow, young master."
She guided him to the full length mirror, and Ariel saw his reflection in full formal attire for the first time.
The black outfit contrasted sharply with his pale skin and dark hair. The silver embroidery caught the light, creating subtle patterns that drew the eye. The fit was flawless, emphasizing his new height and build without being ostentatious. He looked noble, powerful, dangerous.
Combined with his transformed features, the red undertones in his eyes, the aura of power that now clung to him naturally, he cut an impressive figure.
'Not bad. Not bad at all.'
Lyra produced a long coat from somewhere, black with silver accents, reaching nearly to his knees. "The final touch," she said, helping him into it. "The outer coat bearing the full Crowcrest insignia. Only members who have awakened their cores are permitted to wear this."
The coat settled over his shoulders, and Ariel felt the weight of it, both physical and symbolic. This wasn't just clothing. It was a statement. A declaration that he belonged, that he had earned his place.
Lyra fastened the coat's clasps, each one bearing the Crowcrest symbol in miniature. When she finished, she stepped back and bowed formally.
"Young master Ariel Crowcrest, Crown Crow of the family, awakened cultivator and bearer of the ancient bloodline. You are ready."
Ariel looked at his reflection one more time, memorizing this moment. The transformation from worthless dying child to this. From powerless to powerful. From dismissed to dangerous.
"Then let's go," he said, turning from the mirror to face Lyra. "Take me to my grandmother. It's time the family learned that I'm not dying anymore."
Lyra's smile was radiant as she moved to the door. "It will be my absolute pleasure, young master. Follow me."