Chapter 24 — Knowledge, Bad Ideas, and New Clothes
Morning arrived in Luminel's hidden domain with an almost insulting degree of peacefulness. Golden sunlight filtered through the enormous trees and broke against the faint shimmer of the barrier overhead, birds—or things sufficiently birdlike that nobody had yet bothered arguing about the distinction—called somewhere in the branches, and the smell of hot breakfast drifted across the clearing. After two weeks of being chased, struck, thrown, exhausted, healed and then informed that they were going to do it all again tomorrow, the children had developed a considerably greater appreciation for meals during which nothing tried to kill them. Haruto was enthusiastically describing the previous night's absence of Renji and Shun as a "secret adventure" despite Renji repeatedly insisting that nearly being eaten by two Adult-stage Aetherkin did not qualify as entertainment. Daichi was asking increasingly worried questions about whether either boy had suffered internal injuries. Misaki had already checked them both herself and was now trying to stop Yuto from feeding Michael half his breakfast under the table, while Airi complained that the entire conversation was ruining what had otherwise been a perfectly pleasant morning.
In the middle of all that noise, Shun sat staring at the Virtue Sigil of Knowledge.
His spoon had been suspended halfway between his bowl and his mouth for long enough that Tesla had begun watching it with concern.
The Sigil looked deceptively simple. Orange-gold light moved faintly through the symbol whenever Shun turned it between his fingers, no brighter than the glow of morning through amber. Yet since Renji had handed it to him the previous night, Shun had barely been able to stop thinking about it.
Knowledge.
Of course it was Knowledge.
If anyone in the group had been asked to guess which virtue would belong to Shun, they would probably have reached the answer before he'd finished opening his laptop. He had spent much of the last month trying to understand this world when everybody else had been primarily concerned with surviving it. He wanted to know why Aetherkin evolved, why the Grand Archive created systems and guardians, why the world had been destroyed and rebuilt repeatedly, why their Resonance Linkers worked, why Virtue Sigils could violate normal evolutionary rules, why several of them remembered fragments of an Aetherkin battle from childhood and, particularly irritatingly, why Caelan could be scanned as an Aetherkin while looking and behaving disturbingly like an actual human cultivator.
The problem was that Shun had begun wondering whether wanting all those answers was necessarily a good thing.
He rolled the Sigil between two fingers and remembered conversations that had gone wrong because he'd kept asking after everyone else clearly wanted to stop answering. He remembered Renji withdrawing into himself when Shun had tried to understand exactly why he became so protective of Yuto. He remembered Haruto becoming defensive when Shun had dissected one of his decisions as though leadership could be solved like a mathematical problem. He remembered Airi giving him a particularly memorable look when he had once begun speculating about whether the children's bonds with their partners were naturally occurring emotional relationships or something deliberately engineered by the Grand Archive.
In retrospect, that last one might have been partly because he'd used the phrase controlled interpersonal variable while talking about people's feelings.
Airi had told him that only Shun could make friendship sound like laboratory equipment.
He still wasn't certain she had meant it affectionately.
Shun lowered his gaze.
Was there something wrong with needing to understand things? Would he be easier to deal with if he could simply accept that some questions did not need answers? He could imagine it in theory: Shun Nakamura, ordinary boy, capable of observing a mysterious dimensional phenomenon without immediately wondering about its underlying mechanism.
The image lasted approximately three seconds.
It was horrifying.
He almost smiled.
Curiosity itself wasn't the problem. Without curiosity, none of them would understand the Linkers. They might never have learned the rules governing temporary evolution. They would not have known how much time differed between worlds or how to use half the support functions Luminel had shown them. Shun's questions had saved them before, and if they were ever going to understand what the Cult of the Last Silence intended to do with the Nullborn, questions would probably save them again.
But questions could also hurt.
Knowledge without consideration could turn another person into a puzzle rather than a person.
That, Shun realized, was the distinction he'd been circling.
He didn't need to become less curious. He needed to become better at deciding how to be curious. There were truths worth pursuing immediately, truths that needed patience, and truths that belonged to other people until they chose to share them. Knowledge could illuminate something, but the person carrying the lamp still had to decide where to point it.
The Sigil warmed between his fingers.
Shun looked down.
Its light had grown brighter.
"Interesting."
Tesla leaned closer. "Have you solved it?"
"I don't think a Virtue Sigil is a problem you solve."
Tesla's antennae shifted.
"That may be the wisest thing you've said all week."
Shun gave him a wounded look. "That's a remarkably insulting compliment."
"I learned from Airi."
At the sound of her name, Shun glanced automatically across the table.
Airi happened to look back.
Their eyes met.
Shun immediately looked down at his breakfast.
Tesla made an amused clicking sound.
"Don't."
"I said nothing."
"Your face did."
Shun pushed his glasses higher and finally took the spoonful of food he had forgotten about several minutes earlier.
A faint smile remained.
The Sigil of Knowledge had not chosen him because he already possessed every answer.
Perhaps it had chosen him because he would never stop looking for them—and now needed to learn which questions deserved more than intelligence alone.
By the time breakfast was finished, the group had moved from food to the rather less comforting question of what they intended to do next. Their two weeks of training had made them stronger, their teamwork was considerably better, and several of them now possessed Virtue Sigils, but none of that had removed their actual problems. Cipheron was still somewhere inside his inverted pyramid, Eidon still controlled much of the surrounding territory, and the Cult of the Last Silence had not politely agreed to suspend its activities while the children improved their footwork.
Haruto had drawn a rough map in the dirt with a stick, though the usefulness of the map was disputed because Ryu had accidentally stepped on one corner and Haruto had responded by adding a mountain that nobody remembered existing.
"We need to deal with Cipheron," Haruto said, tapping the pyramid. "He lied to us, tried to trap us, and he has information we need."
"And a fortress," Daichi reminded him. "A fortress filled with traps, weapons and systems designed by an extremely intelligent Aetherkin who already knows what we can do. Just mentioning that for context."
Airi adjusted the brim of her pink cowgirl hat. "Thank you, Daichi. Somehow I'd almost forgotten the horrible part."
"Safety matters."
"You say that like Haruto understands the word."
"I understand it."
Renji looked at him.
Haruto pointed the stick at him. "Don't."
Misaki hid a smile behind her cup.
They had gone through several ideas when a small hand rose from beside Renji.
Everyone stopped.
Yuto was sitting upright, blond hair still slightly untidy from sleep, with Michael perched beside him.
"I have an idea."
Renji immediately looked suspicious.
This was not because Yuto was unintelligent. Renji simply regarded any sentence beginning with I have an idea from his eight-year-old brother as something that ought to undergo professional inspection before being allowed near reality.
"What idea?" he asked carefully.
Yuto glanced around the circle. "Eidon could help us."
Silence.
Haruto slowly lowered the stick.
Daichi's glasses slipped down his nose.
Airi blinked.
Renji stared at his brother.
"Yuto."
"Yes?"
"Eidon is trying to kill us."
"I know."
"He has sent armies after us."
"I know."
"He personally nearly killed us."
Yuto nodded patiently. "I know that too."
Renji seemed briefly troubled by the possibility that this had not discouraged him.
Shun leaned forward instead. "Explain what you mean."
Yuto looked relieved that somebody had asked.
"Cipheron doesn't like Eidon, right?"
"That would be an understatement," Shun said.
"And Eidon doesn't like Cipheron."
"Also correct."
"So if they're both our enemies..." Yuto hesitated, arranging the thought as carefully as he could. "Couldn't we make them fight each other?"
Nobody spoke for a second.
Then Daichi slowly removed his glasses.
"That..."
Airi looked at him.
Daichi cleaned one lens on his shirt.
"...might actually work."
Renji turned. "You're encouraging him?"
"I'm evaluating it!"
"You just said it might work."
"Those are different things."
"Not to an eight-year-old."
Yuto frowned. "I'm right here."
Misaki rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. "And it was a clever idea."
Yuto brightened instantly.
Renji looked betrayed.
Misaki gave him an apologetic smile that did not look particularly apologetic.
Daichi leaned over Haruto's increasingly questionable map. "We don't ask Eidon for help. Obviously. That would be insane. But if we could somehow provoke him into attacking Cipheron's pyramid, the two sides would have to deal with each other. That creates an opening for us."
Shun's attention sharpened immediately. "Cipheron's external defence systems are the largest problem. During a major attack, he'll have to divert energy and processing resources toward defending the pyramid. If I can access part of the outer network during that distraction, I might be able to identify the control system he used to trap Aetherkin inside."
Haruto grinned. "So Eidon smashes the front door for us."
"Preferably while standing very far away from us," Daichi said.
Airi frowned. "This sounds exactly like one of those plans everyone calls brilliant immediately before something explodes."
"Something probably will explode," Haruto admitted.
"That wasn't reassurance."
Renji studied the map.
"If Eidon realizes we're manipulating him, we have two Elite-stage enemies instead of one."
"Which," Daichi added, "I would like entered into the official record as a bad outcome."
"We don't have an official record," Haruto said.
"We should."
Shun ignored them. "Yuto's idea is still workable. Eidon already has a reason to hate Cipheron. We wouldn't need to persuade him to fight. We'd only need to give him a reason to attack at the right time."
Renji looked toward Yuto.
His brother was smiling.
Renji sighed, reached over and ruffled his blond hair.
Yuto grinned wider.
"Good idea."
The praise came so quietly that Haruto nearly missed it.
Yuto didn't.
Caelan, who had been sitting a little apart from the table with Raikōmaru beside him, had remained silent throughout most of the discussion. His expression suggested mild amusement, but his eyes had been moving between everyone in the circle, following reactions rather than merely listening to words.
Now he spoke.
"I'll lure Eidon."
Several people turned at once.
Daichi looked horrified.
"No."
Caelan raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't asking."
"You should be."
"Eidon is the obvious choice."
"He's Elite."
"I noticed."
"He can actually attack you."
Caelan's smile widened slightly.
"That makes him more interesting."
Daichi stared at him.
"This is exactly the sort of statement I spend my life trying to prevent."
Haruto laughed.
Misaki did not.
She leaned forward, maroon eyes narrowing. "Don't treat it like a game. He nearly killed us before."
The lightness in Caelan's expression faded a little.
"I know."
Misaki held his gaze for another second before nodding.
That was enough.
She did not tell him not to go. Caelan knew his own abilities better than she did, and somebody had to draw Eidon toward the pyramid. But if he was going to volunteer, she was going to make very certain he understood that she expected him to come back.
Renji crossed his arms. "How exactly are you planning to make Eidon chase you?"
Caelan considered the question.
"Insult him."
Haruto immediately grinned.
Airi groaned.
Shun adjusted his glasses. "That is distressingly plausible."
Raikōmaru looked up at Caelan.
"Can I help?"
"No."
"What if I insult him too?"
"No."
"I'm very creative."
"That's what worries me."
Yuto giggled.
The circle gradually tightened around the rough map as the plan grew more detailed. Shun began assigning likely approach routes. Daichi insisted on fallback points. Misaki argued for a rescue contingency in case anyone became trapped. Renji focused on keeping the group together during the infiltration, while Haruto repeatedly suggested increasingly direct solutions until somebody reminded him they were attempting a distraction rather than declaring war on the entire region.
It was dangerous, complicated and dependent upon several hostile beings behaving approximately as expected.
In other words, it was beginning to resemble most of their plans.
But for the first time in days, they had a direction.
And the original idea had come from the youngest person at the table.
Yuto looked rather pleased about that.
The discussion had barely ended when Luminel appeared over the table carrying a measuring cord.
This would ordinarily not have been alarming.
After two weeks under Luminel, however, everyone had learned that completely harmless objects could become instruments of suffering if he was sufficiently creative.
Haruto immediately leaned away.
"What is that?"
"A measuring cord."
"I can see that."
"Then why did you ask?"
Haruto narrowed his eyes.
Luminel floated past him and stopped in front of Daichi.
"Stand."
Daichi stared.
"Why?"
"Because I asked."
"Is this training?"
"No."
"Will anything hit me?"
"No."
"Will I have to run?"
"No."
Daichi stood immediately.
"Excellent."
Luminel began measuring his shoulders.
The others watched.
Airi's suspicion grew.
"What are you doing?"
Luminel glanced at her.
"Correcting an oversight."
"What oversight?"
He gestured broadly toward the children.
"That."
Nobody understood.
Luminel sighed.
"You've been wandering around this world for more than a month wearing almost exactly the same clothes you arrived in."
Everyone looked down.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as this extremely obvious fact finally received the attention it deserved.
Haruto's blue shirt had been stitched in several places, and one orange star on the sleeve was now missing half a point. Renji's red jacket had survived remarkably well but bore enough repaired tears to prove Alex's earlier observation that dignity could only accomplish so much. Shun's orange shirt had patches at both elbows. Daichi's white shirt had stopped being entirely white some time ago despite repeated washing. Misaki had repaired one knee of her jeans herself. Yuto's overalls had several carefully sewn patches, and even Airi's beloved western-style dress and poncho had accumulated repairs she had previously preferred not to discuss.
Airi looked horrified.
"Why did nobody say this sooner?"
Renji looked at her.
"You complained about it yesterday."
"Complaining and acknowledging the full scale of a tragedy are different things."
Daichi examined his sleeve.
"Actually, from a hygiene standpoint—"
"Don't," Haruto said.
"I was going to say we've been washing them."
"Good."
"But repeated exposure to—"
"Daichi."
"Fine."
Luminel rolled his eyes.
"I had several sets made."
That changed the mood instantly.
Airi stood so quickly her stool nearly tipped.
"You what?"
Luminel pointed toward the dojo.
"Travelling clothes. Durable fabric, reinforced seams, enough sets that you can change occasionally like civilized beings."
Airi was already walking.
"Where?"
"Inside."
She accelerated.
"Airi," Shun called.
She did not hear him.
Or chose not to.
Flora hurried after her.
Haruto looked at Luminel.
"You got us clothes?"
"For the seven of you, yes."
Haruto glanced toward Caelan.
"What about him?"
Luminel looked at Caelan's clothes, then back at Haruto.
"Have you somehow failed to notice that his clothing is nothing like yours?"
Haruto looked again.
Caelan's travelling garments had survived desert sand, battle, long journeys and two weeks of Luminel's training without developing the steadily worsening collection of tears and patches visible on everyone else's clothes. They were cultivation garments of the Heavenly Flame Sect, made for a wealthy cultivator who expected his clothing to survive considerably more punishment than ordinary fabric. Dirt rarely remained on them for long, minor damage repaired itself, and the material itself carried protective properties that made comparing it to an ordinary shirt somewhat unfair.
Caelan took another bite of breakfast.
"My clothes are fine."
Airi, who had paused long enough to hear this from the dojo doorway, looked back at him.
"You've been wearing the same thing for more than a month too."
"Yes."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"No."
Airi stared at him.
Caelan looked down at his clothes.
"They clean themselves."
Airi's expression became deeply offended by the universe.
"What?"
"And repair themselves."
There was silence.
Haruto looked at the tear in his sleeve.
Then at Caelan.
"That's cheating."
"I didn't make them."
Shun's attention immediately sharpened.
"They self-repair?"
Caelan realized his mistake.
"Shun."
"What mechanism—"
"No."
"Formation arrays? Material memory? Ki-responsive fibres?"
"No."
"Could I inspect—"
"No."
Shun looked genuinely disappointed.
Luminel floated toward the dojo.
"Caelan doesn't need new clothes. You do."
Airi pointed at Caelan as she followed.
"I want self-cleaning clothes."
"You are getting ordinary clothes."
"This world has failed me."
Within minutes the carefully planned morning had been interrupted by something none of them had expected to become quite so exciting: clean clothing.
The sets were laid out inside the dojo, each pile adjusted for its intended wearer rather than forcing everyone into identical uniforms. Luminel had apparently paid more attention to their preferences than anyone had realized.
Haruto's travelling outfit preserved the colors he clearly liked: a durable blue short-sleeved overshirt with orange detailing over a lighter yellow high-collared undershirt, reinforced brown travelling shorts with more useful pockets than before, fitted gloves and sturdy blue-and-white shoes built for running over uneven terrain. His goggles had not been replaced—Haruto would probably have objected if anyone tried—but Luminel had supplied a stronger blue headband beneath them.
Haruto held up the shorts.
"More pockets."
Daichi sighed.
"Please don't fill all of them with food."
"No promises."
Renji's clothing was simpler: a black high-collared travelling shirt, fitted white trousers reinforced at the knees and a new red jacket light enough for movement but thick enough for cold nights. It was practical without looking particularly rugged, which suited him perfectly.
Alex inspected it.
"Acceptable."
Renji looked at him.
"It's my jacket."
"I shall have to look at it frequently."
"Fair."
Shun received an orange travelling shirt with sleeves that could still be rolled back, darker olive shorts, light gloves with reinforced fingertips so he could continue typing and handling equipment, and sturdier shoes bearing the same lightning-like pattern he already favored. More importantly, the clothes included several protected pockets and straps sized specifically for his laptop equipment.
Shun stared.
"Luminel."
"Hm?"
"There's a padded compartment."
"Yes."
"For the laptop."
"Yes."
Shun looked genuinely moved.
Tesla leaned toward Renji.
"I believe this may be the happiest he has ever been."
"I heard that."
Daichi's new clothing was the plainest, partly because that was what he preferred: a clean white travelling shirt beneath a light blue outer layer, dark blue trousers, strong boots and several practical internal pockets. There was even a small compact medical pouch strapped at the waist.
Daichi opened it.
Bandages.
Disinfectant.
Several empty containers for medicinal compounds.
He looked at Luminel with unexpected emotion.
"You included first-aid supplies."
"You're the one who uses them most."
Daichi adjusted his glasses.
"Thank you."
"Don't start crying."
"I'm not crying."
"Good."
"I may organize them."
"Of course you will."
Yuto's new clothes were bright and simple: green travelling overalls over a soft light-green shirt, white-and-green shoes built for running, and a short hooded outer layer for cold weather. Michael immediately crawled into the hood.
Yuto laughed.
"That's mine!"
Michael settled deeper.
"Apparently not."
Misaki's outfit retained her tomboyish style. Her yellow sleeveless high-collared top had been replaced with a sturdier version designed for travel, worn over a light inner layer for protection from weather. She received reinforced blue trousers rather than anything restrictive, red gloves, dark travelling shoes with crimson details and a blue cap resembling the beanie she already favored. Her Resonance Linker pouch sat securely against her belt where she could reach it quickly.
Misaki moved her arms experimentally.
"Good."
Haruto looked offended.
"That's it?"
She glanced over.
"What?"
"You get new clothes and just say 'good'?"
"They fit."
Airi had rather more to say.
Luminel had apparently made the wise decision not to attempt transforming her into a practical little soldier. Her new travelling clothes still resembled the western style she loved: a red travelling dress shortened enough not to catch on undergrowth, worn over fitted shorts, a lighter buttoned poncho with fringe, brown belt with a polished golden buckle, gloves with wrist straps and sturdy brown-and-white boots. Her large pink cowgirl hat had been cleaned and repaired rather than replaced.
Airi inspected herself from every angle.
Then inspected herself again.
"Finally."
Luminel stared.
"You're welcome."
"I hadn't finished."
"That was gratitude?"
"The stitching is excellent."
Luminel appeared to reconsider several life decisions.
Flora clapped happily.
Shun, from the other side of the room, looked at Airi for slightly too long before abruptly becoming extremely interested in one of his sleeves.
Tesla noticed.
Tesla always noticed.
There were spare shirts, underclothes, socks and secondary travelling sets as well, enough that the children no longer had to wash the same outfit every evening and pray it dried before morning. Small travelling packs had been included too, with bedroll straps, protected compartments for Linkers and enough room for food and basic supplies.
Daichi looked around at the piles.
"How long have you been arranging this?"
Luminel shrugged.
"A while."
Misaki smiled.
"Thank you."
The words were simple, but she meant them.
Luminel looked away.
"You needed them."
Haruto grinned as he adjusted his goggles over the new headband.
"Still. This is great."
One by one, the others added their thanks.
Even Airi.
Eventually.
Luminel endured this for several seconds before looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"You're travelling into dangerous territory, not attending a festival. Check the packs. Break in the boots. Don't complain to me tomorrow because somebody decided new shoes didn't need testing before a long journey."
Daichi nodded solemnly.
"He's right."
Haruto groaned.
"Of course you'd say that."
"Blisters can become infected."
"We've survived monsters."
"Infection does not become less real because something with claws tried to eat you."
Caelan remained near the doorway in the same clothes he had worn before, arms loosely folded while he watched the entire affair with growing amusement.
Raikōmaru wandered over.
"You're not getting anything?"
"No."
"Not even a cloak?"
"I have clothes."
Raikōmaru looked at the immaculate fabric, then at Haruto's discarded shirt with its repaired sleeve.
"Your clothes are unfair."
"So I've been told."
The old outfits were eventually gathered into a pile. Some would be kept as spares after repairs; others had reached the point where even optimism could no longer reasonably be called a sewing technique. Seeing them together made the past month suddenly visible in a way that counting days had not. Dirt stains that would never quite disappear. Torn fabric. Replaced buttons. Stitching done around campfires. Damage from claws, thorns, stone, heat and simple wear.
More than a month away from home.
For the children, that meant more than a month since they had opened their own wardrobes, slept in their own beds or changed clothes without first checking whether something outside wanted to eat them.
Misaki was helping Yuto with one stubborn overall clasp before checking whether Shun had actually packed food alongside his laptop equipment. Renji pretended not to care whether the new jacket suited him while Alex assured him, entirely unnecessarily, that it did. Haruto had already discovered every pocket in his shorts and was considering what could fit inside them. Airi was giving Flora a detailed explanation of why travelling clothes did not have to mean surrendering standards. Daichi was organizing the medical pouch exactly as everyone had predicted.
Caelan watched them.
He did not share their problem.
His own clothes came from a civilization where a wealthy cultivator did not expect to replace an outfit because of ordinary dirt, weather or a few battles. The garments had been made to endure, to clean themselves and recover from minor damage. To him, that was normal.
What wasn't normal was the expression on Yuto's face because he had a clean new set of clothes.
Or the way Airi seemed genuinely happier simply because she could finally put the battered red dress she'd arrived in aside.
Luminel floated near Caelan.
"You look thoughtful."
Caelan glanced at him.
"They're excited about clothes."
"They're children."
"So am I."
Luminel gave him a long look.
Caelan smiled.
"Technically."
"Technically is doing a great deal of work there."
Caelan looked back at the others.
"They've spent long enough surviving," Luminel said quietly. "Sometimes people need something ordinary."
That, Caelan understood.
Not because he needed new clothing himself.
Because he remembered home.
Han Shuren ensuring everything in his residence was in order whether Caelan cared about it or not. Lin Rue fussing over entirely ordinary things in a way that became irritating only until he had been away from them long enough to miss it. Chen Hao complaining about his training habits. The Sect Head finding time to speak with him despite responsibilities that should have made such small matters irrelevant.
Small things mattered more when they disappeared.
Caelan's expression softened for only a moment.
Then Haruto shouted from across the room.
"How many knives do you think I can fit in these pockets?"
Daichi nearly dropped the medical pouch.
"No knives!"
"Why not?"
"Because you're Haruto!"
"That's not a reason!"
"It's an excellent reason!"
Caelan laughed.
The ordinary moment would not last.
Eidon was still waiting.
Cipheron's pyramid still stood.
Their ridiculous plan still depended on Caelan irritating an Elite-stage enemy badly enough to make him attack another Elite-stage enemy.
But for the moment, the children were arguing over pockets, boots and whether Michael had permanently claimed Yuto's hood.
That was fine.
Tomorrow they could go back to saving worlds.
Today, at least for a little while, they were allowed to enjoy having something clean to wear.