Lucy woke to the gentle warmth of the morning sun. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light filtering into the training room. A low chuckle drew her gaze. Andrew sat cross-legged beside her, his dark eyes sparkling. A teasing smile played on his lips.
She sighed, a slow, comfortable exhalation. Memories of the previous night washed over her, a blush creeping up her neck. Her muscles, though still heavy, thrummed with a new kind of power. She felt… formidable. A cultivator. The thought brought a surge of pride. She stretched, the blanket sliding down her body.
"Morning," she mumbled, pushing herself up. Her mind, still hazy with sleep, focused on a fresh cup of tea and the familiar voices of Eva and Amara. She imagined their surprise when she told them her news. She imagined the excitement. She imagined walking out that door, ready to greet the day.
She started to rise, her bare foot touching the cool stone floor.
Andrew's hand shot out, catching her arm gently. "Whoa there, Foundation Stage cultivator," he murmured, his smile widening into a grin. "Where do you think you're going, butt naked?"
Lucy froze. Her eyes darted down to her unclothed body, then back to Andrew's amused face. A hot flush climbed from her chest, engulfing her cheeks. She barely registered her own nudity with him around, but the thought of parading in front of Eva and Amara, like this…
"Oh," she managed, her voice a humiliated whisper. "Right." The pride she felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a mortified heat. A cultivator, yes, a powerful individual, but wandering around the house in her birthday suit was definitely not the way to announce it. That would be a disaster.
She snatched the blanket back, pulling it around her, feeling like a clumsy child. Andrew's laughter, soft and husky, followed her as she fumbled for her clothes. Once dressed, feeling a little more substantial, she followed him out of the training room.
The aroma of freshly brewed tea and frying plantains wafted from the kitchen. Eva and Amara sat at the small table, chatting animatedly. Eva looked up, her smile warm and inviting.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, her eyes crinkling. "You certainly slept in."
Amara, a bundle of energetic cheer, bounced slightly in her seat. "Good morning, Lucy! Andrew, are you taking forever just for yourself and Lucy today?"
Lucy, still red-faced, mumbled her greetings. Andrew, ever the picture of calm, poured them both tea. They ate in companionable silence, interrupted only by Amara's frequent questions about their training. Lucy found herself unable to meet Eva's gaze, the memory of her near-streaking incident burning behind her eyes.
After breakfast, Andrew rose. "Training calls," he announced, his gaze sweeping over the room. His eyes lingered on Lucy for a moment, a subtle recognition passing between them, then he turned and walked back towards the training room.
Lucy watched him go, a shiver running down her spine. His bones, she knew, were like cast iron. Soon, he would begin forging his organs, taking another monumental step in his cultivation journey. The thought ignited a protective warmth in her chest. She had a long way to go to catch up, but she felt ready. She was a cultivator now. And she would walk through fire if he asked it of her. She would always be there.
It took Andrew another three months. Three months of focused practice, of quiet meditation, of pushing his young body to its absolute limits. Three months until the last flicker of essence settled into the marrow of his bones. He was six years old now, a six-year-old with bones forged to a hundred percent.
Lucy, sixteen, watched his progress, a mix of awe and a quiet determination settling in her own heart. She had made strides in her cultivation. Her power flowed more smoothly now, a familiar current beneath her skin. The academy lessons, once a tedious chore, became a vital wellspring of knowledge she eagerly drank from. She wanted to wring every ounce of instruction from the place before her inevitable graduation. Besides, Andrew would enter the academy soon. She imagined herself guiding him through the labyrinthine halls, a seasoned veteran beside a prodigy. She would be there for him.
Being a sixteen-year-old cultivator was a good achievement. Many of the girls at the academy, even those with promising aptitudes, found themselves stuck. The Body Forging stage, particularly, was a gauntlet. The constant demand on resources, the brutal tests of willpower, often proved too much. Some stayed in the Bone Forging stage for a literal lifetime, their bodies never reaching their full potential.
Andrew was different. An absolute monster, as Lucy often thought with a shake of her head. He had forged his bones to completion at six, an age when most children were barely learning to read. Normal, for those with truly exceptional talent, was twelve to fifteen. Andrew, however, shattered normal.
One afternoon, Lucy found him in the training room, his small frame still and serene. She knew he had finished his last forging, a subtle hum in the very air around him confirmed it. The energy he radiated was palpable, a testament to his innate power.
"You did it," she stated, her voice quiet. A wide smile stretched across her face, mirroring the pride swelling in her chest.
He opened his eyes. They held the depth of ancient wisdom, a startling contrast to his youthful features. "Yes," he replied, his voice calm. He rose, his movements fluid, efficient. There was no wasted effort, no childish clumsiness. His small body held a formidable presence.
"Six years old," she murmured, half to herself. "Bone Forging, one hundred percent."
He shrugged, a dismissive gesture. "It's a start."
Lucy laughed, a delighted sound. "A start? Andrew, most people would kill to be where you are in a much older age."
"Then most people aren't putting in the effort," he countered, his gaze unwavering. "Or they lack the drive. It's simple, really. The more you put in, the more you get out."
She considered his words. Simple, yes, but profound in their truth. She had to admit, his dedication was absolute. He never wavered, never complained. He just… worked.
"What's next?" she asked.
"Organ Forging," he said, his eyes already distant, focused on the unseen path ahead.
Lucy felt a thrill run through her. Organ Forging. An even greater challenge, a more profound transformation. She already knew the theory, but to witness it firsthand, to watch Andrew ascend to new heights of power… it would be an incredible journey.
"I'll keep training too," she declared, a renewed vigor in her voice. "I want to be ready when you get to the academy. I'll show you the ropes."
He offered a small, knowing smile. "I don't doubt it, Lucy."
The Matriarchy representatives arrived a few weeks later, their faces a mixture of expectation and dread. They came to assess Andrew's progress, a routine check that had become anything but. The last report had stunned them. A six-year-old, fully forged bones. Unheard of.
Two women, stern-faced and clad in uniform grey, entered the training room. Their eyes, sharp and assessing, landed on Andrew. He sat cross-legged, a small figure radiating an immense stillness. Eva and Lucy stood to the side, silent observers.
"Andrew," one of the women began, her voice clipped, "the reports state that you have completed Bone Forging. Is that accurate?" Her tone implied disbelief.
He nodded once, opening his eyes. No arrogance, just a calm assertion.
The second representative leaned forward, a subtle shift in her posture. "Remarkable, if true. Most children begin cultivation at eight, after two years of fundamental understanding." A hint of awe laced her words despite her efforts to maintain composure. "And even then, Bone Forging takes years. To achieve this at six… it's unprecedented."
"I simply applied myself," Andrew said. His hands rested lightly on his knees, his posture perfect.
"Applied yourself," the first woman repeated slowly, clearly struggling to grasp the concept. "That's an understatement. We've never seen such aptitude. With this kind of talent, you should be in the Academy, receiving specialized instruction." She gestured vaguely towards Lucy. "Your current arrangements, while quaint, are certainly not optimal for your growth."
Lucy bristled. A flicker of anger ignited in her blue eyes. "I've taught him everything I know," she stated, stepping forward. "He trains with me and pushes me as much as I push him."
Andrew raised a hand, silencing Lucy without a word. He turned back to the representatives. "Lucy is family to me. Her training has powered my progress for years. I wouldn't be where I am without her." His gaze held a surprising depth, a quiet force that left the women momentarily speechless. He was not just a child. He was a force.
"But," the second woman pressed, regaining her footing, "the Academy offers resources no individual tutor can provide. Focused elemental training, advanced techniques, access to master cultivators…"
"I will attend the Academy," Andrew interrupted, his voice even. "When I am seven, like everyone else. I am not rushing my growth." No hint of defiance, just a simple declaration.
The representatives exchanged a look. They had anticipated resistance, perhaps a childish outburst or a plea from his mother. Not this calm, reasoned insistence from a six-year-old who spoke with the authority of an elder.
"Your potential is too great to squander," the first woman tried again, her voice softening, almost pleading.
Andrew merely shook his head. "My potential isn't squandered. It's nurtured. I understand the importance of a solid foundation. I will arrive at the Academy prepared, not rushed."
A heavy silence descended. The women knew an immovable object when they saw one. They also knew a power-in-the-making. To push him further, to alienate him now, would be a mistake. This little guy would become a powerhouse, of that there was no doubt. A male powerhouse, in a world governed by women, would hold incredible sway. They could not afford to be on his bad side.
The first representative sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that spoke of resignation. "Very well, Andrew. We will inform the Academy of your decision. We will, however, continue to monitor your progress closely."
"That is acceptable," Andrew replied, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips.
The women completed their assessment with a weary professionalism. They recorded his answers, performed the required energy readings, and documented his statements. When they left, the training room felt lighter. Eva let out a small breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Lucy, however, remained rooted to the spot, staring at Andrew. "Family?" she finally whispered, a warmth spreading through her.
He turned to her, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "Of course. Who else would put up with my constant demands for training?"