The next day had come, and Ares continued where he had stopped the previous day. Presently, he was absorbing the mana in the environment into his core, like waves of sound bouncing off walls—the mana released from his core was sent to his limbs and back to his core in an endless, pulsing rhythm.
"Too bad the mana in this environment is a bit lacking. It's taking longer to refine the mana as it's not at its purest." Ares' concentration had been pencil-sharp, his infant body trembling with the effort of channeling energies far beyond his physical form. Sweat beaded on his tiny forehead as he pushed himself beyond normal limits. "I need to gather strength early—my days at the nursery will be hellish. Every young master in the nursery, regardless of age, would go through brutal training that would break lesser souls."
He paused in his thoughts as it seemed his concentration was beginning to fracture like cracked glass. The mana flow stuttered, threatening to backfire and burn his delicate channels. He gritted his teeth—or what teeth an infant could have—and continued with renewed determination.
"Seeing as infants cannot fight, I will be subjected to seclusion in the elemental shrines every day until we turn three. We would go through a merciless cycle: milk at dawn, seclusion in the shrine until noon, then milk before more seclusion until the darkness of night swallows us whole."
He paused again, his small hands clenching involuntarily as dread crept into his thoughts like poison. "The scary parts are the shrines... the way they were described in the book, they seemed like chambers of torment disguised as training grounds. The babies would be placed on a cold stone podium that centered the shrine, while around them the raw elements would rage—fire that could char flesh, ice that could freeze blood, lightning that could stop hearts. The goal was for the child's body to absorb the natural energy of these elements and see which would awaken to them."
Ares noticed that though he was not fast, the pace at which he absorbed mana had increased substantially. His core glowed faintly through his translucent infant skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat. "That's why I have to master this absorption technique perfectly. Just like with mana—if you leave it on the surface, it merely tickles, but if you draw it deep into your being, you become one with its power. If I don't learn to absorb energies from elements like fire, ice, or lightning without being consumed by them... I don't even want to imagine what horrors await. The author never mentioned what happened to those who failed."
Ares continued to absorb mana as visions of his brutal future at the nursery danced behind his closed eyelids—flames licking at tender skin, frost biting through tiny bones, electricity crackling through defenseless nerve endings. While he was lost in these nightmarish thoughts, he didn't notice that Beatrix had already lifted him in a protective embrace, her warmth a stark contrast to the coldness of his fears.
"My love! You're hungry now, aren't you?" Her voice was like honey, sweet and soothing.
Ares' attention snapped back to reality as he cutely babbled, "Ooh!" The sound escaped before he could stop it, and immediately he felt embarrassment flood through him like hot shame. His carefully maintained concentration shattered completely, and his mana absorption ceased with an almost audible snap.
"Oh, what's that? You're hungry... hahaha, you can eat now." Beatrix playfully cooed as she gently placed her nipple to his mouth. Ares was reluctant at first—his pride warring with his infant body's needs—but hunger eventually won. He suckled at her breast while his mind raced with revelations.
"Beatrix is my mother... I really didn't give it deeper thought before, but this means I've truly shattered the original storyline." Ares thought as he continued feeding, the warm milk a stark reminder of his vulnerable state. "She was Alaric's forbidden love—the woman he could never marry due to the poisonous politics between the Eisenklinge family and the empire. In the novel, she was murdered by Alaric's wife Cassia, who was consumed by jealousy and desperate longing for her husband's affection that would never come."
Ares, despite his complex thoughts, couldn't help but instinctively grab his mother's index finger like any child would, his tiny hand wrapping around it as he gradually fell asleep. His last conscious thought was a fierce vow: "Beatrix... no, mother... don't worry. In this life, you will be a queen, not a victim."
Beatrix, noticing her baby had fallen into peaceful slumber, carefully laid him back in his cradle before adjusting her clothing. She walked over to meet Junia, who had been sitting quietly in a corner beside Matilda, her loyal servants watching over the scene with knowing eyes.
"Junia! Come with me," Beatrix commanded softly, her voice carrying an undertone of urgency.
Junia bowed respectfully as she agreed, and both women left the room, their footsteps echoing ominously as they headed toward the main castle where darker machinations awaited.
– – –
Inside the castle, Cassia could be seen gliding through a shadowed hallway like a specter seeking its prey. She stopped before a particular room, her hand trembling slightly as she raised it to knock.
"Sigmund, dear, it's mother. Are you in?" Her voice carried forced sweetness that barely concealed underlying desperation.
After several tense seconds, the door was pushed open to reveal a young boy who looked to be ten years old. He possessed the trademark obsidian black hair cascading down his shoulders like a dark waterfall. Though he had mostly inherited his father's severe features, he retained his mother's long, silky hair that seemed to shimmer even in the dim light. His obsidian black eyes were like twin voids that seemed to see through everything.
This was Sigmund Eisenklinge—Alaric's firstborn son and heir to the Eisenklinge family throne. He had the same aloof expression as his father, observing his mother with those penetrating obsidian eyes that seemed to judge her very soul. Sigmund was so ethereally beautiful that he could easily have been mistaken for a girl, which only added to his intimidating presence.
"Oh, you are no fun!" Cassia cried out, her mask of composure cracking as her son proved to be as emotionally distant as her husband. Alaric only cared about training, fighting, and more training—the only times he showed genuine concern were when family honor was at stake or when it came to Beatrix. When thoughts of that woman crossed her mind, Cassia bit her lip hard enough to taste blood before continuing to speak to Sigmund.
"Congratulations on graduating from the family's camp!" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. In the brutal hierarchy of the Eisenklinge family, after their hellish time at the nursery, children would take a mere month to rest at their parents' court before being thrust into the family's military camp until they turned twelve. After their twelfth birthday, they would be sent to serve the empire for three grueling years before returning to their families at fifteen—if they survived.
Sigmund had just completed his time at the family camp and would soon face the empire's trials. "Your father says you'll be leaving in a week. Don't you think it's unfair that you don't want to spend even a little time with your mother?" Her voice cracked with barely contained emotion.
Sigmund's expression remained frustratingly aloof before he released a weary sigh that seemed far too mature for his young age. "Mother! I don't have time to waste on sentimentalities. I must cultivate my mana—I will soon reach the middle stages of intermediate rank, and I cannot afford any distractions."
Sigmund was a training fanatic like the rest of the accursed Eisenklinge bloodline. Cassia felt her heart burn like acid when he closed the door behind him with cold finality. She had desperately wanted more time with her son, but all he desired, like his father, was endless training and the pursuit of power.
She turned back toward her lonely chambers, her footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty corridor, saddened and enraged by how her family continued to slip through her fingers like water. In the darkness of the hallway, her shadow seemed to writhe with malevolent intent, and her eyes glinted with dangerous thoughts of the woman who had stolen everything from her.