Emerging out of the shelter yet again, he was glad to see that everyone was alive and well. Sylas was already doing some sort of elaborate exercise with his sword, practicing all sorts of elaborate movements that he'd learnt over who knows how long. Some of them he even recognised.
Anvil was busy changing the bandages on his wounds, with Galahad in a deep sleep next to him. He was snoring exceedingly loudly, but he didn't seem to care. Gracia was once again training in the skies with bob, still gaining better control of her abundance of power, while Ki Song was tending to the camp fire in the centre. There were a lot of unreasonably large chops of meat surrounding it.
Apart from the sleeping Galahad, they all noticed that he was awake. Sylas just scoffed, and got right back to his training routine, while Anvil simply nodded, and continued right on with his work. Everyone else on the other hand, at least greeted him.
"Do you have a recovery attribute or something? Because that's the only way to explain.. this.."
The scars on his body were very much present, stacked on top of his older previous ones, but every single one of them had been healed perfectly. They did not cause him an ounce of pain nor any discomfort.
"I do have something like that I guess. Anyhow, we need to plan what to do next."
"Don't you want to eat first? You've been sleeping for 2 days straight. You're always asleep even. Are you sure you're not narcoleptic?"
"Uh. Narco.. what? Never mind, I'm not really hungry."
She completely ignored him.
"You've barely eaten ever since we left that city. You need to eat something! It'll be a problem if you under perform in the middle of a fight because you're hungry!"
He kept trying to insist that he was fine, but she just wouldn't stop bickering at him about nutrition. In the end, he gave in.
"Fine whatever. No need to nag."
He walked over to the camp fire, and picked up one of the thick chops of meat by the bone. Examining, he admired that it had a nice crisp brown texture to it.
'It looks decent unlike back then at least. Thank god she's the one cooking this time. I don't even wanna think about that vile thing Cassius made...'
He shivered at the thought of that gross looking soup from days ago. He could still hear it squelching in his mind.
Shaking his head, he took his first bite into the meat.. His teeth sunk in, breaking through the browned exterior into the juicy centre. A faint crackle of sear gave way to the soft resistance of muscle fibres, releasing a burst of juices that coated his tongue.
And yet, no matter how much he tore into it, he couldn't taste a thing.
'...'
Truthfully it had been this way for a long while now, but he dismissed it thinking that it was just because he was eating in small portions. Now however? It was incredibly obvious that the food had no taste.
Or maybe the problem was him. Not once had he felt a hint of hunger ever since inheriting this lineage, and now he knew for certain that he couldn't taste anything at all.
'There's probably more I'm missing.'
Regardless, he kept eating. He didn't want her to worry about him.
Gracia looked over at anvil, who seemed mostly done with changing his bandages. She then asked him,
"Aren't you going to eat too?"
Without even making eye contact with her, he replied,
"I will later."
Sylas silently stabbed his sword into the earth, before casually walking over to him, and wrapping his arm tightly around Anvils neck. He then dragged him over to the campfire before sitting down with him abruptly.
He tried to resist, but his still fresh wounds didn't allow him a lot of leeway.
"Don't be like that Vale. If we want to get out of here in one piece, then we need to get to know each other at least."
He bluntly responded,
"I recall asking you not to call me that."
Sylas just rolled his eyes,
"Yeah... I don't care."
Grabbing two of the chops, he shoved one into Anvils hand before digging into his own. Reluctantly, Anvil ate his in silence.
The scent of freshly roasted meat rose into the air, thick with the smoky bite of char and the richness of sizzling fat. It drifted lazily, carrying with it a warmth that clung and lingered, until it reached the sleeping Galahad. The aroma slipped into his nostrils, subtle at first, then irresistible—savoury, primal, and alive with promise.
His breath deepened instinctively, chest rising as if to drink it in, as the weight of his sleep began to break apart. The hunger it stirred was stronger than slumber and pulled by the savoury perfume, his body awoke, eyes fluttering open, awakened not by sound or touch, but by the power of scent alone.
He shot up instantly, his eyes quickly falling upon the ring of well roasted chops surrounding the blazing fire. Ignoring everyone else, he leapt forward towards it like a wild beast.
"FOOD!"
The palm of Ki Song's hand slapped against his face. Abruptly sending him flying into the wall.
"Have some manners you barbarian."
**
Everyone was sitting around the fire, having already finished most of the food. This place was cold, so this was the only source of heat for all of them.
Epsilon was sat in-between Ki Song and Galahad, while Smile Of Heaven floated nearby. Bob had wandered off to do his own thing, but Epsilon really didn't care. He'd only start looking for him if he was gone for too long.
Sylas was sitting on the complete other side of the fire on his own, while Anvil was sitting in-between him and Galahad. He wasn't sitting too close to either of them, nor was he too far. He was in a spot that really wasn't within speaking distance, but in a way that he still associated with them.
Oddly, Sylas was sitting on the complete opposite side from Gracia.
'Did something happen between them?'
He dismissed it anyhow. It wasn't his problem to interfere.
A strange silence hung between each of them. Some newer members like Galahad and Anvil were unintentionally added to the Cohort, so they were supposed to use this time to let them adjust before discussing what to do next like Sylas said.
However, there was nothing going on, and even the person himself who suggested it wasn't doing anything to help.
Sighing, Epsilon looked at the red slap mark on Galahads cheek. He was still caressing it gently, even flinching from the pain every once in a while. Looking at it, he just giggled lightly.
"If I was at full power, she wouldn't've even landed it in the first place!"
Ki Song just snickered,
"Sounds like a bunch of excuses."
"Hey! I'm not kidding! You already know that when I summon my clones, I split a part of my power and share it with them. Even my memories grow weaker the more I split. Usually I have to dismiss the clone myself for me to get back my power, but if the clone dies, it will take more time for my power to come back. My memories on the other hand, are weakened permanently if the duplicate is destroyed!"
"Well that's no good then, how are you going to fight without any decent weapons?"
He just snorted, before extending out his hand to summon a memory. The white strings of translucent light already began to manifest, as they weaved themselves into a long red pole with the heads of golden dragons on each end.
"I made sure to bring a bunch of spares just in case."
Still there was another issue. Epsilon asked him,
"Since Sylas 'Killed' a lot of your clones earlier, exactly how strong are you right now?"
"Currently I'm at about 2/5ths of my original strength. It should take around a week for it to comeback for good."
This would affect the cohorts formation quite a bit. Galahad would be useless for the time being, but now that they had Anvil, he could be replaced for a while. Until then he would have to be protected.
'Never thought a Legacy could be deadweight till today.'
Remembering how quickly Sylas was tearing through them, Epsilon recalled that the original Galahad was dead. The one eating and sitting next to them, was one of his clones.
"Aren't you a clone too?"
"Depending on how you look at it, I guess I am. There really isn't a difference though, since we all share the same memories and personality."
His Aspect was certainly powerful, but also very technical with it coming with its own limitations. If he wasn't careful, he could grow so weak that just the slightest breeze in the air could send him flying away.
It was also pretty terrifying. The real him was dead, and yet, he seemed perfectly sane. Epsilon thought to ask him how he felt about it.
'But he'd probably say "I don't care, as long as I can fight I'm happy" Or something like that.'
For a while, silence slowly crawled back. But it was not as a tense as before, now there was a faint sense of unity and comfort between some of them.
Not wanting to lose this mood, Gracia abruptly said,
"Anyway, I'm surprised that you didn't go running off by yourself. Why did you even wait for us to catch up?"
He quickly replied,
"My father taught me that fighting with friends was more fun than fighting by yourself."
Everyone froze. It was such a delightful, yet out of character answer for him. It was hard to imagine Galahad following anyone else's advice, but then again, it was his father. That man was the leader of the Wuxing clan, and was also a member of Immortal Flames Cohort. He must've had his own methods to discipline him.
"Awww that's actually kind of sweet."
Sylas face grimaced the moment she said that. But rather than getting angry, he held back his frustration and tried to deviate the topic to something else.
He openly asked,
"What do you guys know about the gods?"