Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 148: Chapter 143: The Grinding

Location: Pavilion - Training Halls

Time: Day 572-574/211 (Subjective/Actual) - Days 1-3

Realm: Lower Realm (Doha)

Hour four.

Jayde’s hands trembled from essence depletion despite the three Qi replenishment potions she’d already consumed. Sweat soaked through her training clothes, making the fabric cling uncomfortably to her skin. Her head pounded from the concentration required to maintain borrowed essence flowing through meridians that—despite being universal—still found channeling Terracore and Radiance fundamentally exhausting.

The Earth Dragon Ward flickered around her, brown-gold sphere pulsing with that living rhythm Green had taught her. Thirty-seven seconds this time before it collapsed, essence dispersing like smoke in the wind.

”Better,” Green said from where she stood ten meters away, arms crossed and expression carefully neutral. ”But not good enough. You’re at thirty-seven seconds. You need thirty minutes minimum. Possibly forty.”

She moved closer, studying Jayde with clinical precision.

”Take five minutes. Drink another potion. Eat something—your body needs fuel as much as your cultivation needs Qi. Then we drill again.”

Jayde collapsed onto the training floor, every muscle aching in ways that had nothing to do with physical exertion. This was meridian fatigue—the kind of exhaustion that came from channeling essence types her body wasn’t naturally attuned to, no matter how universal her channels supposedly were.

”This is impossible,” she muttered, accepting the food bar Green handed her. ”Four hours, and I’ve barely improved past forty seconds.”

”Four hours yesterday,” Green corrected. ”Four hours this morning. Eight hours total practice time, and you’ve gone from three seconds to thirty-seven. That’s exponential improvement by any reasonable standard.”

The healer sat beside her, close enough to offer support but far enough to maintain professional distance.

”Most cultivators would need weeks to reach where you are now. You’re doing it in days because you have advantages they don’t—universal meridians, divine heritage, a bond with a silver dragon who can channel earth essence effortlessly.”

Green’s voice softened slightly.

”But that doesn’t make it easy. Universal meridians mean you can channel anything, not that channeling everything comes naturally. You’re forcing your body to work with essence types it’s never touched before. Of course it’s exhausting.”

She stood, offering Jayde a hand up.

”Five minutes are over. Back to drilling.”

***

Hour seven.

The Ward held for fifty-three seconds before Jayde’s concentration shattered and the spell collapsed. Progress. Real, measurable progress that made the hours of grinding feel almost worthwhile.

”You’re fighting the pulse,” Green observed, circling Jayde like a predator studying prey. ”The Ward wants to breathe—you keep trying to control each breath manually. Stop. Set the rhythm at the start, then let it maintain itself.”

”I don’t know how to just ’let it maintain itself,’” Jayde snapped, frustration bleeding through her usual control. ”If I’m not actively managing it, the spell falls apart.”

”Because you haven’t truly internalized the pattern yet.” Green stopped circling, standing directly in front of Jayde. ”Right now, you’re thinking about the Ward. Every pulse, every essence flow, every structural element. That’s conscious control, and conscious control can’t be maintained for thirty minutes straight.”

She tapped her own chest.

”The Ward needs to become unconscious. Automatic. Like breathing—you don’t think about each breath, you just breathe. Your body knows how. The spell needs to reach that same level of integration.”

(Like breathing. Right. Just make something completely foreign feel as natural as breathing.)

”How?” Jayde asked, genuine curiosity cutting through exhaustion.

”Repetition.” Green’s answer was brutally simple. ”Cast it until your meridians remember the pattern without conscious thought. Until establishing the rhythm is as automatic as your heart beating. There’s no shortcut. No clever technique. Just drilling the spell into your body’s memory through sheer repetition.”

She gestured to the training floor.

”Again. And this time, once the Ward is stable, close your eyes. Stop watching it. Trust that it’s working and focus on something else—count backwards from one hundred, recite poetry, whatever. The Ward maintains itself while your conscious mind is elsewhere.”

Hour twelve.

Jayde held the Ward for three minutes and forty-seven seconds while reciting every regulation from the Federation’s tactical combat manual she could remember. Her eyes were closed. Her conscious focus was entirely on remembering obscure rules about ammunition storage and weapon maintenance.

And the Ward pulsed steadily around her, brown-gold sphere breathing with that living rhythm, maintaining itself through pattern rather than active control.

When she finally opened her eyes, Green was smiling—small and proud and genuinely impressed.

”There,” the healer said softly. ”That’s it. That’s what you needed to find. The Ward as automatic reflex rather than deliberate construction.”

Jayde let the spell collapse, exhaustion finally catching up with her in ways that made standing feel impossible.

”Three minutes forty-seven seconds,” she said, her voice coming out rough. ”Still nowhere near thirty.”

”You’re at the breakthrough point.” Green helped her sit before Jayde’s legs gave out entirely. ”Going from consciously controlled to automatically maintained—that’s the hard part. Now it’s just endurance training. Building up how long your meridians can sustain the channeling without depleting completely.”

She handed over yet another Qi replenishment potion.

”Rest for an hour. Eat a real meal. Let your meridians recover. Then we drill endurance—seeing how long you can hold the Ward when you’re not thinking about it at all.”

***

In Jayde’s pocket, Takara had been observing everything with the careful attention of someone who’d spent five thousand years learning to recognize when people were being pushed past their limits.

Twelve hours of continuous training with only brief breaks. Most cultivators would have collapsed by hour six. The fact that Jayde was still conscious, still determined, still improving despite obvious exhaustion...

Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it, he thought with reluctant admiration. She inherited more than just phoenix blood from her mother. She got that absolute refusal to quit, even when quitting would be the sensible option.

He needed to speak with Isha soon. The Thunder Core Ward spell would provide critical protection for her cultivation foundation during the battle. He could give Isha the formula—let the ancient artifact present it as recovered Luminari knowledge. That conversation needed to happen later, before the training schedule became even more intense, and finding privacy grew impossible.

***

Day two, hour three.

”Ten minutes,” Green announced as Jayde maintained the Ward while sparring with summoned training constructs. ”You’re holding a defensive barrier, dodging attacks, and maintaining spell structure simultaneously. This is excellent progress.”

The constructs—human-shaped essence formations Green had created—attacked with swords that would hurt if they connected, but couldn’t cause permanent damage. Jayde dodged, her body remembering White’s brutal combat training even while her mind focused on keeping the Ward stable.

Brown-gold sphere pulsing steadily. Not flickering. Not wavering. Just breathing with that living rhythm she’d finally learned to trust.

”Twelve minutes,” Green called. ”Your Qi reserves?”

”Seventy percent,” Jayde replied, surprised by how much power remained. ”The Ward’s not draining as fast as it used to.”

”Because you’re not fighting it anymore. Efficiency increased exponentially once you stopped micromanaging every essence flow.”

The constructs intensified their attacks—three coming from different angles simultaneously, forcing Jayde to actually think about defense rather than just going through practiced motions.

And the Ward held.

”Fifteen minutes. How do you feel?”

”Tired but stable.” Jayde blocked a sword strike with her forearm, the Ward absorbing the impact without her even thinking about it. ”I think I can keep this up.”

”Then we test that theory.” Green’s expression shifted into something almost predatory. ”Twenty minutes is your target for today. If you reach it, we move to the next phase—learning Earth Dragon Strike while maintaining the Ward. If you don’t reach it, we drill until you do.”

(No pressure. Just perform or keep training until I collapse.)

”Understood.”

The constructs attacked harder.

***

Day two, hour nineteen.

Twenty-three minutes.

Jayde held the Earth Dragon Ward for twenty-three continuous minutes while Green peppered her with questions designed to split her focus—math problems, cultivation theory, requests to recite poetry, anything to prove the Ward was truly automatic rather than just appearing stable.

And it held.

Brown-gold sphere pulsing with that heartbeat rhythm, adapting to attacks, flexing under pressure, surviving through flexibility rather than rigidity, exactly the way Green had promised it would.

When the spell finally collapsed from Qi depletion rather than lost concentration, Jayde didn’t feel defeated. She felt triumphant.

Twenty-three minutes. Not quite the required thirty, but close enough that achieving it felt inevitable rather than impossible.

”Tomorrow,” Green said, handing over a meal rather than another potion—real food, substantial enough to address the caloric deficit from hours of intensive training. ”Tomorrow, we add Earth Dragon Strike. You’ll learn to cast offensive spells while maintaining defensive ones. Build the skill set layer by layer until everything works together automatically.”

She studied Jayde with something that might have been concern mixed with approval.

”You’re doing well. Better than I expected, honestly. Most students would have quit by now. But you’re still here, still determined, still improving despite how brutal this training is.”

”Because I don’t have a choice,” Jayde said simply. ”Quit means death. Not just my death—Yinxin’s death. Possibly planetary extinction if the worms spread. So I keep going until I can do what needs to be done.”

Green nodded slowly.

”Then rest tonight. Actual rest—sleep, recovery, let your meridians heal. Because tomorrow gets harder. The Ward was just a foundation. Now we build everything else on top of it.”

***

Across the training hall, Yinxin and Isha worked on the purification spell with equal intensity. Silver light danced around the dragon as she practiced weaving life and death together in patterns that made reality itself uncomfortable.

[How’s it going?] Jayde sent through their bond as she ate, too tired to actually walk over to Yinxin.

[Terrifying,] the dragon replied honestly. [This spell... when I cast it, thousands of lives will end. Even if they’re parasitic lives that deserve ending, even if it saves Doha, I’ll still be the one who killed them. I can feel what that will do to me.]

[You don’t have to do this,] Jayde reminded gently.

[Yes, I do.] Yinxin’s mental voice was firm despite the fear threading through it. [For the same reason, you’re training until you collapse. Because someone has to. Because the alternative is worse.]

A pause, then the dragon’s presence warmed with affection.

[We’ll survive this. Both of us. And then we’re taking a very long vacation somewhere that doesn’t have psionic parasites or extinction-level threats.]

(I’ll hold you to that.)

***

Later that night, after Jayde had finally been released to sleep and the training hall was quiet, Takara slipped from Jayde’s sleeping quarters and found Isha reviewing training notes in the library.

[We need to discuss additional protection,] Takara sent privately, his small kitten form padding silently across the floor. [She’s making excellent progress on the defensive spell, but she’ll need more than just the Ward when the actual battle begins.]

[Agreed,] Isha responded, his nine tails moving in thoughtful patterns. [What did you have in mind?]

[Thunder Core Ward. Lightning Panthera technique for protecting the Crucible Core during catastrophic essence drain.] Takara sat, wrapping his tail around his paws. [It won’t stop the psionic attacks, but it’ll keep her cultivation foundation intact even if everything else breaks. Prevents permanent crippling.]

Isha’s presence brightened with interest.

[I’m familiar with the theory - Luminari scholars studied Lightning Panthera protective magic extensively. But I’ve never seen the actual spell formula. You could teach it?]

[I can give you the complete formula,] Takara confirmed. [You teach it to her. Claim you found it in your archives or remembered an old Luminari technique. She doesn’t need to know it came from me.]

[You’re certain you want to remain hidden?] Isha’s voice carried a gentle questioning. [Lady Ala sent you to protect her. Contributing directly would be easier than working through intermediaries.]

[Lord Fahmjir’s orders were explicit - keep her alive, but do not reveal myself unless absolutely necessary,] Takara said firmly. [The Beast King was very clear about maintaining cover. Lady Ala requested protection, but both she and my lord want minimal interference with the child’s development. I’m here to ensure survival, not to become another complication in her already chaotic life.]

He paused, his blue eyes reflecting something that might have been concern.

[Besides, even if Lord Fahmjir hadn’t given explicit orders to maintain cover, this isn’t the time,] Takara continued, his mental voice carrying an edge of frustration. [She’s already under tremendous pressure, preparing for a battle that could kill her. The last thing she needs is political complications or questions about Upper Realm involvement. My orders are to keep her alive - revealing myself now would only distract from that goal.]

He paused, blue eyes reflecting something complicated.

[I follow my lord’s commands. When - if - he gives permission to reveal myself, I will. Until then, I’m just a rescued kitten.]

Isha’s tails swished with approval.

[You care about her. More than just mission parameters.]

[She saved a dragon family and contracted them as equals rather than slaves,] Takara said simply. [She treats Reiko like precious family, despite him being a shadowbeast cub most would fear. She’s earned consideration beyond cold tactical calculation.]

[Then I’ll introduce the Thunder Core Ward tomorrow as a Luminari technique I remembered,] Isha agreed. [Send me the formula. I’ll study it tonight and present it as my contribution to her survival.]

Takara sent the spell structure through their mental link - intricate patterns of lightning essence designed to protect cultivation foundations when everything else failed.

[Thank you,] he said quietly. [For understanding why I need to stay hidden.]

[Thank you for trusting me enough to work through rather than around,] Isha responded. [Now get back to her quarters before she wakes and wonders where her ’adorable rescued kitten’ has gone.]

Takara returned to his role with practiced ease.

Just a fluffy white kitten.

Nothing more threatening than that.

Even if the lie was becoming harder to maintain, the more he watched her push herself past reasonable limits in the name of protecting others.

***

Across the training hall, Isha and Yinxin were deep in discussion about the purification spell, silver light dancing around the dragon as she practiced weaving essence in patterns that made reality itself shiver.

And in Jayde’s pocket, Takara watched everything with the careful attention of someone who’d spent five thousand years learning to recognize when people were pushed past their limits.

She’ll break if they’re not careful, he thought with concern. The training schedule is brutal even for experienced cultivators. For a fifteen-year-old, no matter how talented...

But then Jayde reached through her bond to Yinxin, asking for more Terracore essence, and the dragon responded immediately with warmth and encouragement flowing through their connection. Not servant to master. Not tool to wielder. Partners. Equals caring about each other’s wellbeing.

Takara had watched that dynamic for days now, and it still fascinated him.

In five thousand years of life—in countless inherited memories passed down through Lightning Panthera bloodlines spanning tens of thousands of years—he had never seen a cultivator treat contracted beasts the way Jayde did. Yinxin wasn’t a weapon to be deployed. Reiko wasn’t a guard animal to be commanded. They were family. She worried about their comfort, their happiness, their emotional states as much as their combat effectiveness.

The only comparable relationship he’d ever witnessed was between Lady Ala and Lord Fahmjir.

Two beings of immense power who chose partnership over dominance. Who respected each other’s autonomy while working toward shared goals. Who genuinely cared about each other’s wellbeing beyond strategic value.

And even that comparison wasn’t quite right, because Ala and Fahmjir were both ancient entities of relatively equal standing. Jayde was a fifteen-year-old child treating creatures who could kill her effortlessly as beloved family members deserving of dignity and choice.

It shouldn’t work. By every precedent Takara knew, contractors who granted that much autonomy to their beasts ended up dead when the beasts inevitably prioritized their own interests over their wielder’s survival.

But Yinxin would die before letting harm come to Jayde. Reiko was fiercely protective despite being barely more than a cub. And somehow, that loyalty existed not because of binding contracts or fear of punishment, but because Jayde had earned it through genuine care and respect.

Unprecedented, Takara thought, watching Jayde successfully hold the Ward for nearly a minute while Yinxin sent encouragement through their bond. In all my years, in all the memories I carry, I’ve never seen this. A human treating beasts as true equals. Not tools. Not servants. Family.

He understood now why the Beast King had chosen him specifically for this protection mission when Lady Ala made her request. Why Lord Fahmjir had been willing to accept the significant political risks of sending one of his elite guard to the Lower Realm.

This child was doing something that hadn’t been done since the age of gods and mortals living side by side. Building genuine partnerships across species boundaries. Treating cultivation beasts with the same dignity and respect typically reserved only for powerful entities like Ala and Fahmjir themselves.

If she survived—if she could be protected long enough to fully develop—Jayde might actually change how the realms viewed human-beast relationships entirely.

Worth protecting, Takara concluded, settling deeper into his adorable disguise. Not just because Lady Ala asked. Not just because Lord Fahmjir commanded. But because what she’s building here... it matters.

***

For now, he watched Jayde attempt the Ward again and again, each attempt lasting slightly longer than the previous one, her determination evident in the set of her jaw and the sweat beading on her forehead.

Stubborn, Takara thought with reluctant admiration. Absolutely, completely stubborn. Just like her father, I suspect.

The thought made him pause.

He’d never met Pyratheon, the Phoenix Lord who’d somehow created life with a World Spirit. But he’d heard stories from those who had—tales of a being so stubborn, so absolutely convinced of his own correctness, that he’d made the impossible happen through sheer refusal to accept that some things couldn’t be done.

Jayde had definitely inherited that particular quality.

Whether that would be enough to survive what was coming...

Takara supposed they’d find out in ten days.

For Jayde’s sake—and for the sake of the planet depending on her success, and perhaps for the sake of what she represented for future human-beast relationships—he hoped that stubborn determination was enough.