The golden dust of the Singularity had dissolved back into his core, but the ripple it left inside Ethan had not faded.
He sat cross-legged again, this time with slower breath, eyes half-lidded. The world around him—no, the feel of the world—had changed. The garden still shimmered with moonlight, but now he could sense its rhythm. The beat of stillness. The pause between falling petals.
He didn't command his power now.
He listened to it.
The Grimoire hovered silently. No more instructions. No more analysis. This was something it couldn't guide him through — only witness.
Cultivation in the Saint Realm wasn't about increasing power. It was about understanding that power was already there. All of it. Sleeping inside him.
He reached inward.
There — the seal. Barki's restraint still lingered, glowing softly over his heart, keeping most of his Primogenitor essence locked. But the Saint Realm… it wasn't about unlocking everything at once.
It was about alignment.
