Ashford Estate. The Morning After.
Cael was already dressed and moving by the time the first light crept through the windows.
He'd slept perhaps three hours. It wasn't enough, but anticipation made rest impossible. Today, everything changed.
The message had arrived at dawn: Elder Quan had secured the final ingredients.
Cael left Sera sleeping—she needed the rest far more than he did—and made his way to the eastern wing where the Eighth Elder maintained his workshop.
Elder Quan was a weathered man in his seventies, one of the few Ashford elders who'd reached the Calamity realm. His specialty wasn't combat but medicine—he managed the family's modest apothecary and handled procurement of alchemical supplies.
"Young Master." He bowed as Cael entered. "Everything you requested is here."
A wooden case sat on the table between them. Cael opened it, examining the contents with a critical eye.
Moonveil Grass. Starlight Honeysuckle. Abyssal Root. Three more ingredients he didn't bother naming aloud.
All present. All acceptable quality.
"The cost?" Cael asked.
Elder Quan's expression flickered. "Significant, Young Master. The Abyssal Root alone required... considerable negotiation."
Translation: it had cost a fortune.
Cael had expected as much. These were Rare-tier ingredients—not the rarest by any means, but far beyond what a border-town family typically handled. His personal savings, accumulated over seventeen years of birthday gifts and small allowances, had been completely drained.
Worth it.
"Thank you, Elder Quan. Your discretion in this matter is appreciated."
The old man bowed again, curiosity evident in his eyes but wisdom keeping his mouth shut. Whatever the young master wanted these ingredients for, it wasn't his place to ask.
Cael's Private Quarters. Alchemy Chamber.
Every cultivator residence of note included a small refinement room—a space warded against energy fluctuations where pills could be crafted or techniques practiced without disturbance.
The Ashford version was modest. A single furnace of decent quality. Basic ventilation arrays. Nothing impressive.
It would have to do.
Cael spread the ingredients across the workbench, reviewing the process one final time.
The Genesis Restoration Pill was a Fourth-rank creation—normally requiring a Pill Master of equivalent rank to produce. Such individuals were rare, respected, and commanded fees that could bankrupt minor noble houses.
But the Verdant Pill Sovereign had designed this particular recipe to be achievable with Third-rank ingredients and sufficient skill. A loophole in the normal rules of alchemy, born from genius-level understanding of medicinal theory.
Still, Cael thought, I've never actually refined anything before.
The Elixir Sovereign's Compendium contained more than recipes. It held techniques, principles, theoretical frameworks—essentially a complete alchemical education compressed into a single inheritance.
But knowledge wasn't the same as practice.
Start small. Build confidence. Then attempt the real thing.
He began with Second-rank pills.
Restoration Draughts. Energy Capsules. Basic healing medicine that any competent alchemist could produce in their sleep.
The first batch emerged flawless.
Not just successful—flawless. Every pill bore spiritual patterns on its surface, indicating quality far above the baseline. One pill showed seven distinct marks. Three showed five. The remainder showed three.
For a first attempt, it was absurd.
The Compendium's techniques are remarkable, Cael noted clinically. The refinement method alone probably doubles efficiency compared to standard approaches.
He moved to Third-rank pills. Slightly more complex. Greater demand on mental energy and spiritual control.
Again, success. Again, quality exceeding expectations.
Cael allowed himself a small smile.
Time for the real test.
The Genesis Restoration Pill required precise timing, exact temperature control, and spiritual energy manipulation that pushed the boundaries of what a Resonance-realm cultivator should be capable of.
Cael had two advantages.
First: his transmigrator soul. Seventeen years of living with memories from another world had done something to his consciousness—expanded it, strengthened it, made his mental energy denser than typical cultivators at his level.
Second: the Abyssal Genesis Codex. The cultivation method didn't just accelerate his progress; it refined the quality of his spiritual energy, making every wisp more potent and controllable.
Combined, these factors let him operate at the edge of what should be possible.
Edge being the operative word.
Halfway through the refinement process, Cael felt the strain.
His mental energy was draining faster than anticipated. The furnace's temperature fluctuated, requiring constant adjustment. The ingredients resisted integration, their essences fighting against the artificial fusion he was trying to achieve.
Hold it together.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His hands trembled slightly over the furnace's control points.
One batch. I only have materials for one batch. Failure is not an option.
Forty minutes passed.
An hour.
An hour and a half.
The spiritual pressure in the room spiked—
And then settled.
「Refinement complete. Four pills produced.」
「Quality assessment: Two High-grade. One Mid-grade. One Low-grade.」
「No pattern-marked pills achieved.」
Cael slumped against the workbench, breathing hard.
Not perfect. The lack of spiritual patterns meant these pills were functional but not exceptional. A true Pill Master would have achieved better results.
But they would work.
That was all that mattered.
He gave himself ten minutes to recover, then gathered the pills and made his way back to the bedroom.
Sera was awake when he entered, sitting up with the maid's assistance. Her eyes widened slightly at his appearance—disheveled, exhausted, practically swaying on his feet.
"Cael? What happened? You look terrible."
"Romantic." He managed a tired smile. "I need you to dismiss your maid for a moment."
Sera hesitated, then nodded to the servant. The girl bowed and retreated, closing the door behind her.
"What's going on?" Sera asked once they were alone.
Instead of answering immediately, Cael sat beside her on the bed, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
"I have a question first," he said. "One that might seem strange."
"...Alright."
"Do you want revenge?"
Sera went very still.
"Revenge," she repeated quietly.
"Against the ones who did this to you. The Azure Sanctum. Their Saintess. Her guardian."
For a long moment, Sera didn't respond. Her gaze dropped to her hands—pale, thin, trembling slightly even at rest.
"I'm not a saint," she finally said. "I know some people would tell me to forgive. To let go. To find peace." Her jaw tightened. "I can't. What they did to me... I'll carry that hatred until I die."
"But?"
"But I'm realistic." She laughed bitterly. "Look at me, Cael. I can barely walk. My cultivation is gone. Even if I somehow recovered, the Azure Sanctum has Overlords. What could I possibly do against that?"
"What if you could recover?"
Sera's head snapped toward him. "What?"
Cael produced the pills from his pouch—four small spheres that glowed faintly with contained energy.
"These are called Genesis Restoration Pills. Fourth-rank medicine designed specifically to repair damaged innate gifts." He held them out to her. "If you take these, your Divine Marrow will regenerate."
Sera stared at the pills like they might bite her.
"That's... that's impossible. My Spirit Core was shattered beyond repair. Pill Masters—real Pill Masters—told my family there was nothing anyone below the Divine rank could do."
"They were wrong."
"Cael, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but—"
"Sera." He caught her eyes and held them. "I'm not guessing. I'm not hoping. I know these will work. The only question is whether you trust me enough to try."
She searched his face for... something. Deception, maybe. Pity. The cruel optimism of someone who didn't understand her situation.
She found none of those things.
Just calm certainty. Absolute confidence.
And beneath that, something warmer. Something that looked almost like... faith. In her.
Sera took the pills.
"If this is some elaborate joke," she said quietly, "I will find a way to haunt you from beyond the grave."
"Noted."
She swallowed the first pill.
The effect was immediate.
Warmth flooded through her body—not the harsh heat of combat techniques or the cold burn of her former cultivation, but something gentle. Nurturing. Like sinking into a hot spring after years in the cold.
And then she felt it.
Deep in her core, where shattered fragments of her Divine Marrow had sat dormant for two years, something moved.
The pieces were drawing together.
Slowly. Painfully. Like watching a broken mirror reassemble itself shard by shard.
"Cael—" Her voice cracked. "This is—how is this—"
"Don't talk. Focus on guiding the energy. Let your body do the work."
He helped her lie back, arranging pillows to support her, then took her hand in his.
"I'll be right here."
The process took a full day.
Cael fed her the remaining pills at intervals, each one accelerating the reconstruction. He watched her vital signs, monitored her breathing, adjusted her position when she grew restless.
He didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Barely moved.
Come on. Work. Please work.
Midway through, Sera's face contorted in pain. The final stages of marrow regeneration were apparently excruciating—bone-deep agony as spiritual structures that had been dead for years roared back to life.
She didn't scream. Didn't beg for it to stop.
She just gripped Cael's hand hard enough to leave bruises and endured.
Iron spine, he thought again. This woman has an iron spine.
The Next Morning.
Sera's eyes opened.
For a moment, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling. Then, slowly, she sat up.
No assistance needed.
No pain.
No trembling.
She looked down at her hands—steady now, strong—and felt the energy coursing through her body. Cultivation. Real cultivation, flowing through channels that had been empty for so long she'd forgotten what fullness felt like.
First-stage Calamity.
Her realm had returned.
"Cael."
He was slumped in a chair beside the bed, clearly having kept vigil all night. At her voice, his eyes opened.
"How do you feel?"
Instead of answering, Sera moved.
She crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. Wasn't tentative. Two years of despair, of emptiness, of believing she would never be whole again—all of it poured out in a single moment of overwhelming emotion.
When she finally pulled back, there were tears streaming down her face.
"How?" she whispered. "How did you do this? Those pills—a recipe like that doesn't exist. I know it doesn't exist. My family searched everywhere—"
"I have my secrets." Cael tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe someday I'll explain. For now, just know that I meant what I said yesterday. You're my wife. I take care of what's mine."
Sera laughed—a real laugh, bright and startled and full of something she'd thought she'd lost forever.
Hope.
"You're impossible, Cael Ashford."
"So I've been told."
That Night.
This time, when Sera reached for him, Cael didn't stop her.
She was healed now. Whole. Strong enough to handle whatever came next.
And after everything she'd been through—the abandonment, the despair, the miraculous restoration—she needed this. They needed this.
A proper beginning to their marriage.
The details weren't important. What mattered was the connection. The trust. The unspoken promise that they were in this together, whatever "this" turned out to be.
When dawn came again, they lay tangled in silk sheets, exhausted in the best possible way.
Sera's head rested on Cael's chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.
"I have a confession," she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"My family was wrong about what I had."
Cael raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"They called it a Spirit Core. Said I was born with spiritual bone that gave me Sovereign potential." She shifted, looking up at him. "But I've felt this energy before—before it was destroyed. And what's inside me now... it's different. Stronger. The quality is higher than it used to be."
Cael smiled.
"That's because it's not a Spirit Core, Sera. It never was."
"...What?"
He cupped her face in his hands, holding her gaze.
"What you have is called a Divine Marrow. Specifically, a Frostborn Divine Marrow. It's a tier above Spirit Cores—rarer, more powerful, and with far greater potential."
Sera's eyes went wide. "Divine Marrow? But—that would mean—"
"It means you don't just have Sovereign potential, wife." Cael's smile sharpened. "You have the foundation to become an Overlord."
The silence stretched for several heartbeats.
Then Sera started laughing—half-hysterical, half-joyful, unable to process the magnitude of what she'd just learned.
"My family," she gasped between laughs. "My family threw away an Overlord-potential heir because they couldn't tell the difference between a Spirit Core and Divine Marrow."
"Their loss."
"Their loss." She buried her face in his chest, shoulders shaking. "Oh gods. Oh gods. When they find out—"
"They won't."
Sera looked up, confused.
Cael's expression had hardened.
"Not yet. Not until we're ready. The Sterling family abandoned you. The Azure Sanctum crippled you. When the time comes, they'll learn exactly what they threw away—but it will be on our terms, not theirs."
He pulled her closer.
"For now, we build. We grow stronger. We have children who'll inherit your bloodline and my... advantages. And when we're ready..."
"We make them regret everything," Sera finished, her own eyes turning cold.
"Exactly."
She kissed him again—softer this time, but no less intense.
"I think I'm going to like being married to you, Cael Ashford."
"The feeling is mutual, Sera Ashford."