Chapter 77: Grace Valentine, and the return of Chysis

The training room was silent.

No windows, no distractions—only the dull, dry sound of impact echoing at regular intervals. Grace Valentine moved with precision, each strike calculated, every step adjusted to the limits of her body. There was no excess in her movements, no wasted effort. It was direct. Efficient.

She stopped for a second, took a deep breath, then resumed.

One strike, then two, twenty, thirty, six hundred. They were fast and precise, moving at a surreal speed. The air around her vibrated faintly under the pressure of repeated impacts against the reinforced training target.

That was when she felt a familiar aura.

Grace halted mid-motion without hesitation and immediately turned. As soon as she confirmed who stood behind her, she straightened her posture and bowed respectfully.

"Master," she said firmly. "I missed your presence."

Chysis stood a few steps behind, observing without any sense of urgency. Her gaze briefly swept across the room before returning to Grace.

She let out a short sigh.

"You’re still too formal," she said simply. "Relax a little."

Grace returned to a neutral stance, though little else about her changed.

"I’m training," she replied. "I can’t relax."

Chysis gave a small nod.

"You can. Just not all the time," she said. "If you only push, eventually you break."

Grace didn’t argue. She simply listened.

A brief silence followed before Chysis continued.

"So?" she asked. "What did I miss?"

Grace took a few seconds to organize her answer, as if filtering what mattered.

"Things are... stable on the surface," she began. "But there are a few irregular points."

Chysis crossed her arms, waiting.

Grace continued.

"Your grandson has been absent for a few weeks," she said. "He hasn’t been attending practical classes."

Chysis didn’t react immediately.

"Absent how?" she asked.

"Not officially," Grace explained. "He still responds when contacted. But he refuses to participate in any standard training."

A brief pause.

"When questioned, he said he won’t train with ’children’ and that he’s undergoing isolated training."

Chysis let out a quiet hum.

She didn’t seem surprised.

"Arrogant, just like his mother," she commented.

Grace gave a small, simple laugh and nodded. "Yes. But the timing is unusual."

Chysis didn’t respond to that.

Grace continued with her mental notes.

"About Natasha..." she said, her tone shifting slightly. "The condition has officially been declared incurable."

This time, Chysis remained silent longer.

"Confirmed?" she asked.

"Yes," Grace replied. "All known methods have failed. There are no active protocols left."

Chysis closed her eyes for a moment. There was no dramatic reaction—just a heavier sigh.

Grace continued.

"Serafall has left," she said. "She declared she will search for a solution on her own."

Chysis opened her eyes again.

"Of course she did. She can’t accept things as they are—especially after Natasha stayed with her during Victor’s birth. She won’t let her best friend die," she murmured.

Grace nodded, pausing briefly before continuing.

"The Nightshade Clan remains under direct central surveillance," she said. "No significant movement so far, but monitoring has been reinforced."

Chysis gave a slight nod. "They won’t act for now," she commented. "They’re waiting."

"Most likely," Grace agreed.

Another short silence followed.

"And the Cross Family?" Chysis asked.

Grace didn’t hesitate. "On the brink of collapse," she replied. "They’ve lost influence, resources, and political support in recent weeks."

Chysis let out a quiet breath through her nose.

"Took long enough," she said.

Grace didn’t comment.

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Chysis looked at her again, now with a bit more attention.

"And you?" she asked. "How are you progressing?"

Grace didn’t answer immediately.

She remained silent for a moment, as if evaluating her own response before saying it out loud—something unusual for someone typically so direct.

"...It’s evolving," she said at last.

Chysis tilted her head slightly.

"That’s it?" she asked.

Grace didn’t repeat herself.

Instead, she stepped aside, moving away from the center of the room. Her gaze shifted forward into the empty space, as if preparing something.

"I refined the control," she continued, now more specific. "It’s no longer just direct generation."

Chysis didn’t interrupt.

She simply watched.

Grace raised one hand.

At first, it seemed the same as always.

Ice.

Condensed cold.

The temperature around them dropped almost imperceptibly, the air growing denser, heavier.

But then—

It changed.

Instead of forming solid structures immediately, the ice dispersed before fully taking shape, spreading into the air like a fine mist—almost invisible at first glance.

But it wasn’t ordinary vapor.

The mist began to expand slowly into the space ahead, occupying area rather than forming fixed volume. Tiny glimmers cut through the ambient light irregularly, like microscopic fragments suspended in the air.

Grace moved her fingers slightly.

The mist responded.

And then—

The training target in front of her was struck.

Not by a single blow.

But by hundreds.

Thousands.

Fine cuts appeared simultaneously across the reinforced surface, tearing through the material at multiple points without any visible pattern. The sound wasn’t that of impact, but of something being continuously worn down—as if ground apart by something barely visible.

After a few seconds, Grace closed her hand.

The mist vanished.

The air returned to normal.

The target... did not.

It was marked by shallow cuts across its entire surface, as if it had been struck from every angle at once.

Silence.

Chysis analyzed the result without haste.

"...Cutting mist," she said, more as an observation than a question.

Grace nodded.

"It requires more control," she explained. "But it covers a wider area and bypasses surface defenses. It doesn’t rely on direct impact."

Chysis kept her gaze on the target for a few more seconds.

Then she looked back at Grace.

"Good," she said.

No exaggeration.

No unnecessary praise.

Just direct acknowledgment.

"Your abilities are advancing."

Grace maintained her posture.

But didn’t respond.

Chysis crossed her arms.

"Especially considering you haven’t undergone Blood Ascension yet," she continued. "And you’re already developing your own variations."

She paused briefly.

"That usually only happens afterward."

Grace nodded slightly.

"I know."

Chysis narrowed her eyes just a little.

"So it’s not just raw talent," she said. "You understand what you’re doing."

"I’m trying," Grace replied.

Chysis let out a quiet breath.

"Keep it up," she said. "But don’t limit yourself to control."

Grace looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

Chysis made a small gesture with her hand, indicating the space around them.

"You’re refining what you already have," she explained. "That’s good. But you’re still playing within the same rules."

Grace fell silent, absorbing it.

"When your Ascension comes... that might change," Chysis continued. "Or it might lock you in place."

A brief pause.

"Depends on how you get there."

Grace nodded slowly.

"...I understand."

Chysis uncrossed her arms.

"You’re ahead of most," she said. "But that doesn’t mean you’re ready."

Grace didn’t seem offended.

Nor surprised.

"I know."

Chysis gave a small nod, as if that was enough.

"Then continue," she said.

Grace repositioned herself.

Breathed.

And without another word—

She resumed training.