The next day arrived on the wings of a warm breeze.
Far below, the clouds drifted like rivers of white silk, undisturbed by the world's chaos. The rising sun spilled soft gold across the distant mountains, its rays crawling up the stone walls of the manor and warming its halls.
Matteo stepped outside, dressed in comfortable black training clothes—barefoot, hair tied loosely behind him. The cool air brushed his skin, clean and biting.
He found the old man already waiting beneath a tree in the upper courtyard, gazing at the horizon with his hands clasped behind his back.
The old man turned slowly.
His golden eyes scanned Matteo once, then gave a small nod.
"Yes, that will do."
Without another word, he turned and began walking. Matteo followed in silence.
As they strolled through the frost-dusted gardens, passing trees with crystalline branches and glowing blue leaves, the old man spoke.
"Say, boy. You've never used any supernatural abilities before, have you?"
Matteo shrugged. "None. Even my 'enhanced vision' was more like a passive effect. I couldn't control it."
"Hmm... Then we'll have to start from the roots."
They stopped beneath a tree that shimmered faintly with light. Its leaves pulsed in slow rhythms, soft blue with silver veins, like they breathed.
"This is called a Cradle Tree. It serves as a natural catalyst for stabilizing Aether—and in your case, awakening the Rune's flow. Since time isn't on our side, we'll accelerate the process with its help."
The old man gestured toward its trunk.
"Lean your back against the tree."
Matteo complied. The bark was cold against his spine, like resting against the bones of winter itself.
A sudden chill flooded into his body, slipping through his veins like water under ice. It pooled around his lower abdomen.
"Do you sense anything?"
"Yeah," Matteo murmured, his eyes fluttering half-closed. "A cold stream... just below my belly button."
"Good. That's your dantian. Now… focus on that energy. Try to gather it in one place. Empty your mind. Let the breath guide it."
Matteo tried. He really did.
But the cold stream didn't move. It was like trying to steer fog with a rope.
He furrowed his brow. Tried again. Again. Sweat beaded on his neck.
"Don't force it." The old man walked over and placed a hand gently against Matteo's chest. "Let me give you a push."
Warmth pulsed into him. The cold stream quivered—then began to move in orderly ripples.
"Think of it like breathing," the old man said. "Inhale. Feel where it flows. Exhale. Guide it gently."
Matteo stilled his thoughts. No theories. No logic.
Just breath.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
And slowly, like a stream gaining direction, the cold current moved with his breathing.
The sound of rustling leaves.
A bird's distant cry.
The press of bark against his back.
The wind whispering through the garden.
All of it became part of the rhythm.
For the first time, the energy inside him responded.
The old man's brows lifted slightly.
"Hoh… What an interesting way of adapting. Making energy flow part of your breathing…"
"Humans truly are peculiar. But effective, I'll give you that."
---
Morning quickly became Afternoon...
The sun climbed above the manor. Golden light poured across the inner courtyard.
Matteo remained seated, energy swirling faintly around his form now, his breathing steady and natural.
But he wasn't alone.
Poke.
He twitched slightly.
Poke. Poke.
Tiny feet pattered around him.
Soft giggling. A warm breath by his ear.
And then—suddenly—tiny arms wrapped around his neck.
"Bwuthur!!" Yurisha's voice echoed like bells. "You're still sitty! Why you do that??"
Matteo opened one eye slowly.
"…Training."
"You look funny! Like a fwower!"
She clung to him, now seated cross-legged in his lap like he was some kind of throne.
"…You're a distraction."
"I'm a pwincess!" she declared proudly.
He sighed. "…Princesses don't drool on people."
Yurisha gasped. "Yurisha doesn't dwool!!"
"Then what's this on my sleeve?"
"That is a huggie curse!"
"…That's not a thing."
"It is now!"
Matteo shook his head with a faint smile.
Somehow, the little menace made the long hours more bearable.
---
Evening rolled by...
The skies above darkened into twilight.
A small fire flickered in the courtyard as Matteo flipped a cut of seasoned meat over a metal grate. The smell of spices and char filled the air.
The old man watched from his usual seat near the steps, arms crossed as the scent reached his nose.
"Hmm... Smells better than my usual stew."
"That's because your usual stew is—no offense—unbearably bland." Matteo replied calmly.
The old man raised an eyebrow. "You insult your teacher quite quickly."
"Just returning the favor for earlier. Besides, if I'm training here, I might as well be useful."
He plated the meat, garnished it with roasted herbs, and set it on the low table in front of the old man and Yurisha.
The girl took a bite.
"Mmm!! Tastes like happy!!"
Matteo smirked. "Guess I win this round."
The old man chewed thoughtfully. "...Perhaps."
The fire crackled. The wind whispered.
For one peaceful moment, despite what was coming, the world felt right.