The dining hall was draped in silence, the soft clinking of silverware against porcelain the only sound that interrupted the stillness.
Valen sat at the long, polished table, his parents, Marcellus and Isolde, seated across from him.
The air was thick with unspoken tension, and though the meal was laid out in front of them, no one seemed particularly focused on eating.
Isolde's amethyst eyes flicked toward Valen with a mixture of maternal concern and quiet suspicion.
Marcellus, on the other hand, remained more composed, his sharp gaze studying his son with a practiced intensity.
Valen met their eyes evenly, his expression a perfect mask of calm. He had anticipated this moment—the inevitable scrutiny, the subtle probing for the truth about what had really happened during the ritual.
"How are you feeling, Valen?" Isolde finally broke the silence, her voice soft but laced with worry.
Valen took a deliberate pause, as if considering his answer. "Weaker, perhaps, but alive. The experiment… took more from me than I expected."
Marcellus set down his goblet, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your injuries seem… deeper than just physical, son. Let us check."
Without waiting for his response, both of his parents extended their mana, subtle waves of energy emanating from them as they scanned his body.
Valen remained still, his face impassive, though inwardly he prepared himself for their reactions. He felt the gentle pulse of their mana probing his veins, searching for the familiar hum of his Primordial Core.
But there was nothing.
The silence that followed was deafening. Marcellus and Isolde exchanged a look, their expressions tightening.
Valen could see the faint flicker of alarm in his mother's eyes, while his father's stoic mask cracked just enough to show a trace of disappointment.
"Your core," Marcellus began, his voice steady but edged with concern, "it's not there."
Isolde's face paled, and her hand moved instinctively to cover her mouth, stifling a gasp. "Valen, this is…"
"I know," Valen interrupted, keeping his tone composed, even though the gravity of his loss was undeniable.
"The energy I was experimenting with was beyond anything I had ever encountered. I lost control, and the backlash… it was too much. My Primordial Core couldn't handle it, and it completely shattered"
Isolde's eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "But to lose your cultivation entirely…" Her voice trembled slightly, but Valen could hear the effort she was putting into staying composed.
Marcellus remained silent for a moment longer, his sharp blue eyes never leaving Valen's face.
"This changes things," he said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of reality. "Without your core, without your cultivation, your position—"
"I will regain my power," Valen cut in smoothly, his voice calm but resolute. "I've already begun formulating plans. There are… other ways."
The room fell into another tense silence as his words lingered in the air. Valen could sense his father's disappointment beneath the surface, but Marcellus had always been pragmatic. What mattered to him wasn't how power was gained, only that it was gained.
"Other ways?" Isolde asked quietly, her voice a fragile thread of hope. "What do you mean?"
Valen offered a faint, reassuring smile. "I've learned much in my studies. The experiment may have cost me my core, but I gained new insights—new paths that I can follow. I may not have my cultivation now, but that does not mean I am powerless."
Marcellus leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with renewed interest. "What paths are these?"
Valen thought, careful not to reveal too much. He needed to maintain control of the narrative. "I can't explain everything yet, Father. But trust me, the power I seek is beyond anything we've ever imagined. It will take time, but I will rise again."
His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of his parents spoke. Valen could see the doubt flickering in Marcellus's eyes, but he also saw the flicker of curiosity, the glimmer of intrigue that always accompanied the mention of power.
Isolde reached out, placing a gentle hand over Valen's. "We trust you, Valen. And we will do everything in our power to help you. If there are resources you need, or—"
"I appreciate it, Mother," Valen interrupted, his voice softer now. "But for now, I need time. This is something I have to handle myself."
Marcellus's eyes hardened slightly, but he nodded. "Very well. Just know that we are here to support you. The loss of your core is not insignificant, but as you said, there are other ways. We will also search for methods to help you recover your strength."
Valen inclined his head, offering a small smile. "Thank you."
As the meal continued, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but the undercurrent of tension remained.
Valen could feel his parents' eyes on him, their concern masked by their faith in his abilities.
But even as they discussed trivial matters, Valen's mind was already racing ahead, planning his next move.
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Later that night, Valen sat alone in his private chamber, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows across the walls.
He stared into the flames, his thoughts a whirl of calculations and strategy. The meal with his parents had gone as expected, and though their concern for him was genuine, he knew that they were troubled by his loss of cultivation.
In their eyes, he had taken a step back—a significant one.
But Valen felt none of the guilt that might have weighed down a weaker man. The lies he had told, the deception he had woven—it was all necessary.
His parents couldn't know the truth. Their focus needed to remain on the immediate, on the visible losses, while he continued to work in the shadows, weaving his path toward something far greater.
He clenched his fist, feeling the absence of mana in his veins, the hollow emptiness where his Primordial Core had once thrummed with power.
For most, such a loss would be devastating, but Valen felt no despair. He had already accepted the sacrifice, and in its place, he sensed something new.
Whatever he gained stirred again, not mana, but something deeper—more ancient. It was still undefined, but Valen could feel its potential, waiting to be unlocked.
He didn't need to rush it; this power would be studied in time and even if it turns out to be deceptive.
He had Nyx. The system remained silent but present, a constant reminder that he was never truly without guidance.
And if there was anything he had learned from his past life, it was that power could come in many forms.
Standing from his chair, Valen moved to the window, gazing out over the darkened landscape of the Aetheris estate.
His reflection in the glass seemed sharper, more focused. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with new challenges, but Valen felt no fear.
His ambitions hadn't faltered, not even for a moment.
He had lost his cultivation, yes. But this will not become a cause for his downfall, Never.
As the wind stirred the trees outside, Valen allowed himself a small, cold smile.