Two and a half years old, and Ashen woke to shouting in the corridors.
It was early morning, before dawn, and the castle was never this loud at this hour. He sat up in his crib—still sleeping there despite being capable of climbing out, because maintaining appearances mattered—and listened.
"—eastern border!" A guard's voice, urgent and stressed. "The captain needs the Duke immediately!"
Heavy footsteps rushed past his door. Ashen heard his father's voice, sharp and commanding, issuing orders to prepare horses and alert the territorial guard.
Something had happened. Something significant enough to wake the Duke before sunrise.
The door opened and Seraphina entered, already dressed despite the hour. She looked worried but controlled, the expression of someone used to crisis management.
"Ashen, sweetheart, you're awake."
"What happened?"
She paused, clearly debating how much to tell a toddler. "There's been an incident at the eastern border. Your father needs to investigate. Everything will be fine, but the castle might be busier than usual today."
An incident at the eastern border. That could mean a lot of things—monster attack, bandit raid, territorial dispute with neighboring regions.
But Ashen remembered something from the novel. Around this time in the story's background chronology, before the protagonist was old enough to be relevant, there'd been mentions of early spatial anomalies appearing in various parts of the empire. Small rifts in reality that let through creatures that shouldn't exist.
The first signs of the dimensional instability that would eventually escalate into cosmic threats.
If this was what he thought it was, it represented a significant development.
"Can I come?" Ashen asked, knowing the answer but needing to ask.
"Absolutely not. Your father is taking soldiers and experienced fighters. It's no place for a child." Seraphina lifted him from the crib. "You'll stay here with me and Mira. We'll continue your normal routine."
Through the window, Ashen could see the eastern courtyard where Aldric was already mounted on horseback, surrounded by armed guards. Kael was with him, along with several other cultivators Ashen recognized as the family's military officers.
Whatever the incident was, his father was taking it seriously.
Aldric rode out with his force as dawn broke, leaving the castle in a state of controlled tension. Seraphina maintained her composure, managing the household and territory business that couldn't wait for the Duke's return.
Ashen went through his normal routine—breakfast, morning lesson with Master Corvin, library time—but his mind was elsewhere, analyzing possibilities.
A spatial anomaly at the eastern border. If the novel's timeline was accurate, this would be one of the first confirmed rifts, probably small enough to be manageable but significant enough to confirm that dimensional barriers were weakening.
The question was whether this was natural progression of the story or if his presence had somehow accelerated things. Butterfly effects were unpredictable—even small changes could cascade into larger alterations.
"You're distracted today," Master Corvin observed during their lesson. "Worried about your father?"
"Yes," Ashen admitted, because it was an appropriate response for a toddler whose father had ridden off to face unknown danger.
"The Duke is one of the strongest warriors in the Empire. Whatever the problem is, he'll handle it." Corvin returned to their lesson on basic mathematics. "Now, if I have three apples and I give you one, how many do I have left?"
The day crawled by. Ashen maintained his routine but paid close attention to every scrap of information that filtered back to the castle.
Messengers arrived periodically with reports that Seraphina received in private. Her expression grew more concerned with each message, though she kept her worry controlled when around others.
Elara emerged from the administrative wing looking troubled. "The reports are concerning. Whatever happened at the border, it's not a normal monster incursion."
"What makes you say that?" Seraphina asked.
"The descriptions don't match any known creature types in our bestiaries. And there's mention of spatial distortion—reality itself warping around the incident site."
Reikan joined them, equally serious. "If there's dimensional instability, that could indicate essence corruption. We should alert the imperial authorities."
"Your father will make that decision when he returns," Seraphina said firmly. "Until then, we maintain normal operations and don't spread panic."
Ashen, supposedly playing with blocks nearby, absorbed every word. Spatial distortion, dimensional instability, unknown creatures—all confirming his suspicions.
This was definitely a spatial rift.
The first of many that would appear over the coming decades, gradually increasing in frequency and severity until reality itself became dangerously unstable.
But that was decades away. This rift would be small, manageable, probably collapsing on its own after a few hours or being forcibly closed by Aldric's group. Not a major threat yet, just an early warning sign that most people wouldn't recognize.
Aldric returned as evening fell, looking weary but unharmed. He dismounted in the courtyard and immediately sought out Seraphina, who'd been watching for his return from the castle entrance.
"You're alright," she said with relief, embracing him despite his dusty armor.
"Fine. Everyone's fine." Aldric removed his helmet. "But we have a serious problem."
They convened in his private study—Aldric, Seraphina, Reikan, Elara, and surprisingly, Kael, who'd proven himself capable enough to be included in serious discussions.
Ashen was not invited, of course. He was a two-and-a-half-year-old child who should be in bed, not attending strategy meetings about dimensional threats.
But that didn't stop him from carefully positioning himself in the corridor outside the study, where voices carried through the slightly ajar door.
"—never seen anything like it," Aldric was saying. "A tear in space itself, about three meters across. Creatures came through—things that don't belong in our world. Wrong proportions, wrong essence signatures, fundamentally alien."
"How many?" Reikan asked.
"Seventeen before we managed to close the rift. All dead now, but the fight was difficult. These things were C-Rank equivalent despite having no cultivation we could detect. Pure physical threat and bizarre abilities that defied normal combat logic."
"Can it happen again?" Elara's voice, concerned but controlled.
"The space mages say yes. The rift collapsed, but the dimensional boundary in that area is weakened. There could be more tears, possibly spreading to other locations if the underlying cause isn't addressed."
"What causes spatial rifts?" Kael asked.
"Unknown. The imperial research division might have theories, but it's beyond my expertise." Aldric sounded frustrated. "I'm sending a detailed report to the Emperor tonight. This isn't just a northern problem—if spatial stability is compromising, it threatens the entire Empire."
"Should we evacuate border settlements?" Reikan suggested.
"Not yet. Don't want to cause panic over something we don't fully understand. But increase patrols, establish warning systems, and prepare evacuation routes in case another rift opens."
They discussed logistics and defensive strategies for another hour before the meeting adjourned. Ashen retreated to his room before anyone could discover him eavesdropping.
Spatial rifts confirmed. Unknown creatures emerging from dimensional tears. The timeline matched the novel's background events almost perfectly.
This was the beginning. Not the beginning of the major threats—those were still decades away—but the first concrete evidence that reality's barriers were weakening.
Most people would dismiss this as an isolated incident, maybe a handful of similar occurrences that were concerning but manageable. They wouldn't recognize the pattern, wouldn't understand that each rift made the next one more likely, that dimensional instability was exponential rather than linear.
But Ashen knew. He'd read four hundred chapters describing how these small incidents gradually escalated into existential threats. How spatial rifts went from rare anomalies to weekly occurrences, then daily, then constant tears in reality that let through increasingly powerful entities.
It would take fifty years to reach that point according to the novel. Fifty years of gradual deterioration that most people wouldn't notice until it was too late.
Seraphina came to check on him, finding him apparently asleep in his crib. She kissed his forehead and left quietly, unaware that her youngest son lay awake thinking about cosmic timelines and dimensional collapse.
The next morning brought a visitor—an imperial messenger wearing the Emperor's colors, carrying official correspondence sealed with multiple essence locks.
Ashen watched from an upstairs window as Aldric received the message. The Duke read it in the courtyard, expression darkening with each line.
When he finally lowered the letter, he looked up at the castle as if searching for something. His gaze passed over Ashen's window without seeing him, but there was something in his father's expression—concern, determination, and something else.
Fear, maybe. Controlled and buried deep, but present nonetheless.
Aldric knew this was serious. Even if he didn't understand the full implications, his tactical mind recognized threats when he saw them.
At lunch, the family gathered but conversation was subdued. Aldric eventually explained what the Emperor's message contained.
"There have been similar incidents across the Empire. Seven confirmed spatial rifts in the past month, all exhibiting similar characteristics. The Emperor is establishing a special research division to investigate and developing protocols for handling future occurrences."
"That's good," Seraphina said. "At least we're not facing this alone."
"It also means the problem is widespread. Whatever's causing dimensional instability, it's not localized to our territory."
Ashen ate his lunch quietly, processing the information. Seven rifts in a month. That was actually slower than the novel had described—maybe his memory was imperfect, or maybe his presence had somehow affected the timeline.
Either way, the threat was real and confirmed.
The cosmic countdown had officially begun.
That evening, Aldric spent time with Ashen in the nursery, reading stories before bed. It was a routine they'd established, father and son sharing quiet moments before sleep.
Tonight, though, Aldric seemed distracted. He read the words but his mind was elsewhere, probably still thinking about spatial rifts and dimensional threats.
"Papa," Ashen said quietly. "You okay?"
Aldric looked down at him, expression softening. "I'm fine, son. Just thinking about work."
"Scary work?"
"Sometimes. But that's my job—to handle the scary things so you don't have to."
If only you knew that I'm preparing to handle things far scarier than anything you've faced. But I appreciate the sentiment.
"You're strong," Ashen said simply.
"I try to be. For you, for your siblings, for everyone depending on me." Aldric set aside the book. "But strength isn't just about power. It's also about wisdom, about knowing when to fight and when to seek help, about protecting people even when you're afraid."
He was talking to a toddler, but also processing his own concerns, using parental guidance as a way to organize his thoughts.
"When you're older, you'll face challenges too. Different challenges, but still difficult. Remember that it's okay to be afraid sometimes, as long as fear doesn't stop you from doing what needs to be done."
"I'll remember," Ashen promised.
Aldric smiled and kissed his forehead. "Good. Now sleep. Tomorrow we'll visit Pip in the garden—Lyra says he's learned a new trick."
After his father left, Ashen lay in the darkness thinking about spatial rifts and the long road ahead.
The system pulsed once.
[PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION SYSTEM]
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No techniques detected.
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Still dormant. Still waiting.
But the world was changing, dimensional barriers weakening, cosmic threats beginning their slow approach toward reality.
The timeline was in motion.
And Ashen was exactly where he needed to be—observing, learning, preparing for battles that wouldn't come for decades but required lifetimes of preparation to survive.
Thirty months until awakening.
The journey continued, one dimensional rift at a time.