Two years old, and Ashen had officially graduated from "baby" to "toddler" in everyone's eyes.
His vocabulary now exceeded a hundred words, carefully expanded to seem impressive but not impossible. He could run without falling, climb onto furniture with ease, and engage in simple conversations that delighted his parents and siblings.
To the outside world, he was a bright child developing slightly ahead of schedule. Gifted, certainly, but not suspiciously so.
Inside, he remained Takeshi Yamamoto—a thirty-two-year-old reincarnated soul methodically learning everything possible about cultivation, politics, and the world he'd spend his life navigating.
Today marked a significant milestone: his first formal lesson.
Aldric had decided that two years old was appropriate to begin basic instruction, starting with fundamentals that all noble children learned. Not cultivation—that had to wait until after awakening—but foundational knowledge about the world, language, mathematics, and proper behavior.
Ashen sat in a small classroom within the family quarters, designed specifically for teaching young children. The room had low tables, cushioned seating, and walls covered with educational illustrations.
His tutor was Master Corvin, an elderly scholar who'd served the Silverion family for decades. The man had taught all of Ashen's siblings their early lessons and now sat across from his youngest student with patient expectations.
"Young Master Ashen," Corvin began, setting several objects on the table between them. "Can you tell me what these are?"
There was a wooden block, a small book, a toy sword, and an apple.
"Block," Ashen pointed to each in turn. "Book. Sword. Apple."
"Very good. Now, can you count them for me?"
"One, two, three, four."
Corvin made a note in his journal, expression neutral but Ashen detected approval. "Excellent. Your vocabulary and counting skills are well-developed for your age. Let's try something more challenging."
The tutor pulled out a slate board with letters written on it. "Do you recognize any of these symbols?"
Ashen had been carefully studying the written language of this world during his library visits with Seraphina. The alphabet had twenty-six characters, similar to English but with different forms, and the grammar structure borrowed elements from multiple language families.
He pointed to several letters. "A. B. D."
"Can you make the sound each letter makes?"
Ashen did, pronouncing each clearly. Corvin's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Someone has been teaching you already."
"Mama reads to me," Ashen said simply, which was true even if it dramatically undersold how much he'd learned.
"The Duchess has done well. Reading is foundational to all other learning." Corvin set aside the slate and pulled out a picture book. "Let's see how much you've absorbed. Can you identify these words?"
The book showed simple images with words beneath them. Cat. Dog. House. Tree.
Ashen read each one aloud, keeping his pronunciation slightly imperfect to maintain age-appropriate presentation. Too perfect would raise questions.
The lesson continued for an hour, covering basic concepts that Ashen already understood completely but pretended to learn for the first time. Corvin was thorough and patient, explaining things clearly and checking comprehension at each step.
"You're remarkably bright, young master," Corvin concluded at the end. "We'll continue with reading and basic mathematics. Once you've mastered fundamentals, we'll move to history and geography."
After the lesson, Seraphina arrived to collect Ashen.
"How was his first day?" she asked Corvin.
"Exceptional, Duchess. He's already reading simple words and counting to twenty. His focus is unusual for a two-year-old—most children this age struggle to sit still for an hour."
"That's wonderful to hear." Seraphina looked down at Ashen with pride. "I knew you'd do well, sweetheart."
They walked through the castle together, Ashen holding his mother's hand. Seraphina seemed thoughtful.
"You're growing up so fast," she said softly. "It feels like just yesterday you were a tiny baby, and now you're reading and learning from Master Corvin."
"I like learning," Ashen said, which was true. Knowledge was power, and power was freedom.
"I'm glad. Education is one of the greatest gifts we can give you." They reached the garden where Lyra was supposedly tending to Pip, though "tending" might have been generous given Lyra's chaotic approach to responsibility.
They found Lyra teaching the essence rabbit to jump through a small hoop, apparently convinced this was important training.
"Look! Pip can do tricks now!" Lyra demonstrated, holding out a treat. The rabbit hopped through the hoop and collected his reward. "Isn't he brilliant?"
"Very impressive," Seraphina said with gentle amusement. "Though I'm not sure essence rabbits need trick training."
"All creatures benefit from mental stimulation. It's good for his development."
Pip noticed Ashen and immediately hopped over, sitting by his feet expectantly. The rabbit had developed a strong attachment to Ashen over the past few months, always seeking him out when he visited the garden.
Ashen crouched down and petted Pip's soft fur, feeling the faint essence signature the rabbit naturally produced. Over time, he'd noticed Pip's essence capacity had grown slightly—the rabbit was naturally advancing from F-Rank Novice toward F-Rank Advanced, a progression that would take years but was happening nonetheless.
Even the smallest creatures followed cultivation principles, advancing through diligent absorption of ambient essence and time. It was fascinating to observe in such a simplified form.
"Pip really likes you," Lyra observed. "More than he likes me, honestly, and I'm the one who feeds him."
"Maybe he senses something," Seraphina suggested. "Animals are often perceptive about essence signatures. Ashen might have a naturally calming presence."
Or Pip instinctively recognizes that I have a Primordial-grade physique and bloodline, making my essence signature fundamentally different from normal humans. But I'll let them think it's about personality.
That afternoon, Ashen encountered Reikan in the library. His eldest brother was researching something, surrounded by thick tomes that looked far more advanced than anything in the children's section.
Reikan glanced up when Ashen entered with Mira. "Ashen. I heard you started formal lessons today."
"Yes," Ashen replied simply.
"How did it go?"
"Good. Master Corvin taught me letters."
"He's a patient teacher. Taught me when I was your age too." Reikan studied Ashen with that distant, analytical expression he always wore. "Mother says you're reading already. That's early."
"I like books."
"Books are valuable. They contain knowledge that took others lifetimes to accumulate." Reikan turned back to his research. "Keep studying. Intelligence matters more than strength in the long run."
It was perhaps the most personal thing Reikan had ever said to Ashen. His eldest brother remained distant and dutiful, focused on his future role as Duke, but there was advice in those words—a kind of acknowledgment.
Mira led Ashen to the children's section where he spent time with picture books, continuing his careful study of this world's knowledge while appearing to simply enjoy colorful illustrations.
Evening brought the family together for dinner. Kael was enthusiastically describing his breakthrough to D-Rank Peak, which had apparently happened during afternoon training.
"The essence flow suddenly clicked," he explained, gesturing animatedly. "Everything I'd been working toward just... aligned. I can feel the difference already—more power, better control, faster recovery."
"Congratulations," Aldric said with genuine pride. "D-Rank Peak at twenty-five is excellent progress. A few more years and you'll reach C-Rank."
"That's the goal. I want to hit C-Rank before thirty."
"Ambitious. But achievable if you maintain current pace."
Elara was less impressed. "While you were breaking through cultivation ranks, I successfully negotiated a five percent reduction in ore import costs. That'll save the territory thousands of gold annually."
"Both accomplishments matter," Seraphina mediated. "Kael's strength protects us, Elara's administration sustains us. We need both."
"I know, I know. Just pointing out that paperwork has value too."
Ashen ate his dinner quietly, listening to the family dynamics play out. Kael and Elara had this ongoing rivalry about whose contributions mattered more—strength versus intellect, warrior versus administrator. It was never hostile, more like siblings competing for parental approval even though both already had it.
Lyra was absent tonight, apparently on another forest expedition that would probably result in her bringing home some creature or plant that would terrify the servants.
Reikan ate in silence, occasionally contributing when directly addressed but mostly observing. The heir, maintaining appropriate distance while still participating in family life.
And Ashen, the youngest, watched and catalogued and learned. Each dinner was a lesson in family dynamics, political thinking, and the casual display of cultivation achievement that shaped noble society.
After dinner, Aldric stopped Ashen before he could follow Seraphina back to his rooms.
"Walk with me for a moment, son."
They went to Aldric's private study, a room Ashen had only visited a handful of times. It was filled with maps, reports, and weapons displayed on walls—the working space of someone who commanded territories and armies.
Aldric sat in his large chair and gestured for Ashen to sit across from him. At two years old, Ashen's feet didn't touch the ground from the adult-sized chair, but he sat straight and attentive.
"Master Corvin gave me his assessment of your first lesson," Aldric began. "He said you're unusually bright. Advanced reading, strong focus, excellent comprehension."
Ashen waited, unsure where this was going.
"I'm pleased, of course. Intelligence is valuable, and you clearly have it. But I want to make sure you understand something important." Aldric leaned forward, his expression serious but not harsh. "Being gifted comes with pressure. People will expect more from you, compare you to others, judge you by higher standards."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"I don't want you to feel that pressure from me or your mother. You're two years old. You should be allowed to learn and grow at your own pace, without weight on your shoulders that you're too young to carry. Understand?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Good." Aldric's expression softened. "I'm proud of you. Not because you're smart or talented, but because you're my son. That doesn't change regardless of what you achieve or don't achieve."
The words carried weight that Ashen felt keenly. His father was trying to protect him from the expectations that came with being exceptional, trying to give him permission to just be a child.
If only Aldric knew that Ashen had already placed far heavier expectations on himself than anyone else ever could.
"I understand," Ashen said quietly. "Thank you, Papa."
Aldric smiled and stood, lifting Ashen easily. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. You have another lesson with Master Corvin tomorrow."
Back in his room, after his parents had said goodnight and left him in the peaceful darkness, Ashen stared at the ceiling and thought about the day.
First formal lesson. Kael's breakthrough. His father's protective words. Reikan's unexpected advice. The continued growth of Pip the essence rabbit.
Small moments, daily progress, gradual accumulation of knowledge and relationships.
This was the foundation stage. Everything he learned now, every connection he made, every bit of information he gathered—it all contributed to the person he'd eventually become.
The person who'd be strong enough to handle cosmic threats while everyone else remained oblivious to the danger.
The system pulsed once.
[PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION SYSTEM]
═══════════════════════════════
No techniques detected.
═══════════════════════════════
Still dormant, still waiting for the day when he'd actually learn martial techniques that could be amplified and tracked.
That day was coming, but not yet. First came more knowledge, more preparation, more careful construction of the person he needed to be.
Thirty-six months until awakening.
The journey continued, one lesson at a time.