Chapter 46: Eggs, Evolution, and Early Conversations
In which breakfast is served, serious talks are had, and Stormmane develops a taste for toast
Morning crept over Gilded Hollow in warm golden light, catching on tiled roofs, polished signboards and the distant city wall until the whole place looked far more cheerful than any settlement had a right to look this close to the end of the world. Shops were already opening along the main roads. Gloomimps swooped between rooftops carrying parcels twice their own size, Roadstreakers rumbled sleepily toward whatever passed for morning work among creatures with wheels built into their bodies, and a round, plush-looking Mirthbear had established a street cart outside the nearest square where it sold honey buns while wearing an apron covered in little bees. Across from it, an insect-like Shellspark waved four arms enthusiastically beneath a sign advertising Wing Polish, Shell Waxing and Therapeutic Antenna Massage. Caelan paused long enough to read the last service twice before deciding there were mysteries in this world he did not need to solve.
He had managed several hours of sleep after returning from his midnight walk with Luminel, which was more than he had expected. Stormmane had apparently managed considerably more. The lion warrior emerged from the little house looking rested for the first time since the battle with Arachne, his golden mane brushed back, his single remaining arm stretching over his head as blue sparks crawled lazily through his fur. Luminel floated beside him with his damaged wing bound close to his body, relying almost entirely on magic to remain airborne. Caelan wore his usual blue-and-white cultivation robes, golden ornaments catching the morning light, with no reason to summon the Azure armor inside Vellum's peaceful territory. His body still ached beneath the robes, but high-grade cultivation garments had already repaired every tear from the previous day's travel and looked irritatingly pristine compared with everyone else's battered condition.
Stormmane sniffed.
His ears rose.
"Toast."
Caelan looked at him.
Stormmane looked back with complete seriousness.
"You can smell toast from here?"
"I have priorities."
Luminel sighed. "Yesterday your priorities involved surviving an ancient spider."
"And today they involve toast. That's called progress."
Caelan started toward Eggshell Haven. "He's learning."
By the time they reached Vellum's restaurant, Stormmane had become sufficiently interested in breakfast that he was walking half a step ahead of Caelan, which Caelan privately considered the strongest evidence yet that the lion was recovering.
Eggshell Haven was already busy. Lanterns still floated overhead despite the sunlight pouring through the windows, waiters moved between tables carrying steaming plates, and the enormous cracked-egg building smelled of fried rice, spices, eggs, toasted bread and something sweet enough to make Yuto visible from across the room simply by following the direction of his stare. Renji was serving drinks with the expression of someone who had accepted the existence of his bow tie without forgiving it. Yuto followed several steps behind him carrying a much smaller tray while Michael fluttered over his shoulder wearing his ridiculous little bow tie with considerably more enthusiasm. Daichi emerged briefly from the kitchen with flour on one cheek, saw Caelan's group entering and pointed toward an empty booth.
Vellum Goldvein sat behind the front counter with a ledger open before him.
His glowing golden eyes lifted.
"Ah. The freeloaders."
Caelan stopped.
"You specifically gave us a week."
"Yes. A week of freeloading."
"Then perhaps improve the contract."
Vellum's eyes curved pleasantly. "Excellent. You're learning already."
Stormmane walked past both of them.
"Toast."
Vellum watched him go.
"I like him."
Breakfast arrived quickly. Fried rice, eggs, thick slices of buttered toast, fruit and a pink pudding that quivered whenever anyone looked directly at it. Stormmane ignored everything except the toast. He took one piece. Then another. Then a third.
Caelan watched.
"You've eaten meat almost exclusively since I've known you."
Stormmane bit into another slice. "I was ignorant."
Luminel cautiously sampled the pink pudding.
He stared at it.
Caelan raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
"It tastes like berries."
"That's encouraging."
"And something I regret."
Caelan chose the rice.
Renji joined them once the morning rush slowed, sliding into the booth and immediately pulling the little bow tie loose around his neck. Daichi arrived several minutes later after apparently escaping the kitchen through legitimate means rather than simply abandoning his post. He sat heavily beside Renji and drank an entire cup of water before speaking.
"So," Daichi said. "You wanted to talk?"
Luminel nodded.
"About your Virtue Sigils."
Both boys became more attentive.
Caelan leaned back while Luminel took the lead. This was his world and his system; pretending otherwise merely because Caelan possessed better combat instincts would have been foolish.
"You've both awakened Sigils," Luminel said. "But neither of you has properly understood what yours responds to yet."
Renji glanced toward Alex, who lay near the booth with his white-and-blue fur spread across the floor. Clark had claimed the cooler tiles beneath Daichi's side and looked as though removing him would require heavy machinery.
Renji looked back at Luminel.
"Alex has been different."
"How?"
"More focused." Renji considered his words. "He trains even when I don't tell him to. He's watching me more too."
Alex opened one eye.
"I always watch you."
Renji looked at him.
Alex closed it again.
Renji continued, "And I've been..." He hesitated. "Thinking about everyone more."
Daichi looked deeply surprised.
Renji gave him a look.
"Not like that."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
Daichi wisely drank his water.
Renji folded his hands together. "Yuto especially. But not only him. Haruto. Shun. Misaki. Everyone. Before, I always thought protecting Yuto meant making sure I was strong enough. Now..." He looked around the table. "That doesn't feel like enough. If I want him safe, I have to trust the people around me too. And I have to be someone they can trust."
Luminel smiled faintly.
"There."
Renji frowned. "There what?"
"Your Sigil."
A soft glow came from Renji's Resonance Linker.
The symbol within it brightened briefly.
"Loyalty," Luminel said. "Not blind loyalty. Not obedience. The kind that comes from deciding someone matters enough that you stand with them even when doing everything alone would feel safer."
Renji looked down at the glow.
Daichi gave a small smile.
"That fits."
Renji immediately looked uncomfortable with being complimented.
"Your turn."
Daichi's smile disappeared.
"My turn?"
"Yes."
Daichi straightened.
"Clark has been training more."
Clark lifted his head.
"Because Alex keeps waking me up."
Alex's eye opened again.
"You're slow."
Clark looked offended.
Daichi ignored both of them. "I've been thinking about responsibility."
Luminel waited.
Daichi looked down at his hands.
"I always thought being responsible meant knowing the right thing. Studying. Preparing. Having first-aid supplies. Knowing what people should do in an emergency."
Renji's expression softened slightly.
"But out here, knowing something doesn't automatically make you useful." Daichi rubbed his thumb across his palm. "Sometimes I've known what was wrong and still frozen. Sometimes everyone else made the decision before I did. Sometimes I kept thinking about what could go wrong until somebody else had already acted."
Clark had stopped pretending not to listen.
Daichi continued, "When we were alone after the black hole, I realized Renji was younger than me and still carrying all that worry about Yuto. I kept thinking I should make things easier for him somehow. Even if all I could do was cook, take watch or find supplies."
He glanced toward the kitchen.
"And apparently acquire debt."
Renji snorted.
Daichi ignored him.
"I think responsibility isn't about always knowing what to do. It's doing whatever you can do when someone is relying on you."
His Linker glowed.
Luminel nodded.
"Responsibility."
Daichi stared at the symbol.
"So that's mine?"
"It appears so."
Daichi seemed oddly relieved.
Luminel floated onto the table.
"Your partners respond to those virtues because the qualities already exist in you. The Sigils don't manufacture them."
Renji looked toward Alex.
"Does that mean we can evolve them?"
"Eventually."
Daichi immediately leaned forward.
"To Adult?"
"Your Resonance Linkers can force a one-stage jump to Adult before natural evolution conditions are met. You've known that much for a while."
Luminel's expression became more serious.
"But what happened with Michael was different."
Yuto had returned carrying another plate and slowed when he heard his partner's name.
Michael followed.
Luminel continued, "Hope fully resonated. The Virtue Sigil pushed Michael past the Linker's ordinary limit. Juvenile to Lumiel, then onward into Archoniel, an Elite-stage form."
Renji looked at Yuto.
Yuto gave a small wave.
Luminel turned back to Renji and Daichi.
"If your Sigils awaken strongly enough under the right circumstances, Alex and Clark may be capable of the same kind of double-stage bypass."
Daichi stared.
"Elite?"
"Temporarily."
Renji's gaze went to Alex.
Alex lifted his head properly now.
"But don't misunderstand," Luminel said. "You cannot sit here thinking very loyal thoughts until Alex becomes Frostclaw."
Renji almost smiled.
"And Daichi cannot make a checklist titled Things That Make Me Responsible and expect Clark to become Stormtusk."
Daichi slowly lowered the hand that had been drifting toward his pocket.
Caelan noticed.
"You were going to make a checklist."
"No."
"You absolutely were."
"I like lists."
Luminel sighed. "The Sigils answer when the virtue becomes real enough to matter. You won't know the moment in advance."
Daichi looked thoughtful.
"If Alex and Clark eventually reach Adult naturally..."
"Their baseline rises," Luminel said. "Which means the Linker and Sigil have higher stages to force them toward. Natural growth matters more than shortcuts."
Caelan nodded.
That fit everything they had already learned from Stormmane.
The lion had reached Adult without borrowed evolution.
His strength was his now.
Luminel looked around the table.
"Arachne overwhelmed us because we met her wounded, scattered and unprepared. That does not mean we will always meet her that way."
Renji gave Alex a long look.
Daichi did the same with Clark.
For the first time, neither seemed to be thinking merely about surviving their next encounter.
They were thinking about becoming ready for it.
Stormmane ate another piece of toast.
Daichi noticed.
"How many of those have you had?"
Stormmane looked down.
Then toward the empty bread basket.
"Not enough."
After breakfast, Daichi and Renji returned to work.
Yuto followed, carrying a tray while Michael proudly delivered wrapped napkins one at a time despite the fact that he could easily have carried several. Vellum passed through the dining room supervising everything with his usual relaxed efficiency, occasionally correcting an employee's arithmetic, approving an order or informing a customer that shouting did not constitute a valid discount strategy.
Caelan remained at the booth for a while.
He watched Gilded Hollow through the window.
Creatures came and went.
Some were rough enough that, anywhere else, Caelan would have expected violence within minutes.
Here they bought breakfast.
Talked.
Worked.
Complained about prices.
Lived.
Caelan tapped one finger against his cup.
Luminel noticed.
"What?"
"I've been thinking too narrowly."
Stormmane stopped examining the final piece of toast.
"That sounds dangerous."
Caelan ignored him.
"I've been thinking about Arachne as a problem of strength."
"She is a problem of strength."
"Not only that."
Caelan nodded toward the window.
"This city is full of fighters."
Luminel followed his gaze.
"Some."
"Potential fighters."
"Many."
"And all of them have reasons to keep this city standing."
Luminel's expression changed as he understood.
Caelan continued, "We don't need everyone to become stronger than Arachne. We need enough people willing to make her battle difficult."
Stormmane leaned forward.
"You're building an army?"
"No."
"A militia?"
"No."
"A cult?"
Caelan stared.
Stormmane raised his remaining hand.
"Just checking."
Caelan looked back toward the street.
"Allies."
That word felt more accurate.
He had spent most of his life learning that strength attracted attention. Fear could control people. Reputation could discourage enemies. But neither was the same thing as having someone choose to stand beside you.
He already knew that.
He had known it in Heavenly Flame Sect.
Somehow, after awakening in this world and becoming obsessed with understanding himself, the Archive, his evolving abilities and the threats around them, he had begun treating nearly every problem as something his own strength needed to solve.
It didn't.
Not every time.
Luminel smiled faintly.
"You intend to make friends with Gilded Hollow."
"I intend to know the people living here."
Stormmane swallowed the last bite of toast.
"Start with the Gloomimps."
Caelan looked at him.
"Why?"
"They already like you."
"No, they don't."
"They laughed when you walked past."
"That's not the same thing."
Stormmane's ears twitched.
"For Gloomimps, it might be."
Luminel gave an amused little shrug.
"They respect mischief."
Caelan considered that.
Stormmane continued, "Roadstreakers respect speed."
Luminel added, "Scrapreavers respect toughness."
Caelan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So each group has a language."
"Essentially."
Stormmane stood.
Caelan looked at him.
"Where are you going?"
"To find more toast."
The war with the Gloomimps began with fruit.
Specifically, a fruit peel.
Caelan placed it on the edge of the stone fountain where three Gloomimps regularly gathered to comment loudly on the clothing choices of everyone passing through the square.
He then sat twenty metres away drinking tea.
Luminel hovered beside him.
"This is beneath you."
"Probably."
One Gloomimp fluttered backward while laughing at a passing Brutehorn's hat.
Its foot landed on the peel.
The creature spun once in midair, hit the fountain rim and landed rear-first in the water.
There was silence.
The other two stared.
Caelan sipped his tea.
The soaked Gloomimp slowly turned.
Its yellow eyes found him.
Caelan raised his cup.
The second Gloomimp began laughing so hard it fell out of the air.
The first pointed at Caelan.
"You."
"Me."
"Oh, you're finished."
Caelan smiled.
Apparently that meant the negotiations had begun.
By lunch, someone had tied tiny bells to every tassel on Caelan's robes. He did not discover them until he crossed the restaurant and produced enough jingling to attract the attention of half the dining room.
By mid-afternoon, Caelan retaliated using nothing more exotic than wind. Five Gloomimps attempted to open the roof of their little hideout and were met by a perfectly timed gust that launched a bucket of harmless blue slime directly upward.
It came down.
Mostly on them.
A little on Stormmane.
Stormmane stared at Caelan.
Caelan looked at the ceiling.
"It was the wind."
"I watched you move your hand."
"The wind responds to gestures."
Stormmane wiped slime from his mane.
"You have declared war on me as well."
The Gloomimps retaliated that evening.
Caelan returned to the house and discovered that every piece of furniture had been tied to the ceiling.
Luminel floated beneath a suspended chair.
"Impressive."
"How did they get inside?"
Stormmane pointed toward the window.
"It was locked."
"They are committed."
The next morning, Caelan found confetti inside his boots.
He responded by hiding whistles inside several fruit baskets that screamed whenever lifted.
The Gloomimps countered with fake spiders placed throughout the house.
Stormmane nearly destroyed a wall.
That particular prank was unanimously declared unacceptable.
By the third day, half the street had begun watching.
Some creatures placed bets.
Vellum put up a sign in Eggshell Haven:
NO SLIME. NO GLITTER. NO PRANK WARFARE WITHIN DINING AREAS. VIOLATORS PAY CLEANING FEES.
Caelan found the sign entirely reasonable.
Eventually, he ended it.
The lead Gloomimp and six companions fluttered into the square one evening expecting retaliation.
Instead Caelan stood beside the fountain holding a wooden box.
The lead creature squinted.
"What's that?"
"A peace offering."
"Trap?"
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
Caelan handed it over.
Inside were false coins, collapsible cups, whistles, harmless smoke pellets, trick ink, spring-loaded insects and several items Caelan had purchased after asking a shopkeeper what Gloomimps considered funny and immediately regretting how detailed the answer became.
The Gloomimps stared.
The leader picked up a false coin.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
It narrowed its eyes.
Caelan continued, "If we're going to spend our time annoying one another, we may as well do it as friends."
The Gloomimp looked at the others.
One whispered something.
Another snickered.
Finally the leader tucked the box under one arm.
"We're still calling you Bell-Prince."
Caelan glanced at the tassels on his robes.
"No."
"That's not negotiable."
Caelan sighed.
"Fine."
The Gloomimps erupted into delighted laughter and flew away.
Stormmane appeared beside him.
"You succeeded."
"Apparently."
"They will torment you forever."
"I suspected there was a cost."
"Everything has a price in this city."
Caelan looked toward Eggshell Haven.
"Vellum would approve."
The Roadstreakers required considerably less negotiation.
They required speed.
Caelan found their usual gathering place near Gilded Hollow's inner circuit: a broad paved road designed to circle much of the city, banked through several corners and reinforced strongly enough to survive creatures whose idea of transportation involved being transportation.
A dozen Roadstreakers were parked along the starting stretch when Caelan arrived. Their mechanical bodies varied wildly—some narrow and sleek, others broad and armored, all built around wheels, engines and glowing lines of internal energy.
One looked him over.
"No wheels."
Caelan looked down at himself.
"Observant."
Another revved its engine.
"You here to watch?"
"Race."
There was a silence.
Then several engines coughed.
One Roadstreaker laughed.
"You?"
"Yes."
"On foot?"
"Unless you'd prefer I borrow your wheels."
The laughter stopped.
The leader rolled forward, blue energy flickering around its engine housing.
"One circuit."
"Fine."
"No attacks."
"Obviously."
"No interfering with another racer."
"Agreed."
"Movement techniques allowed."
Caelan's smile became slightly more interested.
"Are you sure?"
The Roadstreaker leader revved loudly.
"Try to keep up."
Luminel and Stormmane watched from beside the starting line.
Stormmane held a steamed bun.
"How badly is this going to go?"
"For them?" Luminel asked.
"Yes."
"Very."
The signal sounded.
The Roadstreakers launched.
Engines screamed through the square.
They crossed the first hundred metres almost instantly.
Caelan remained at the starting line.
Several spectators shouted.
Stormmane took another bite.
Then Caelan moved.
Stellar Movement.
He vanished.
The Roadstreakers reached the first bend at extraordinary speed.
Caelan appeared beside their leader.
The creature's glowing eyes widened.
Caelan ran parallel to it for three steps.
"Nice road."
Then he accelerated.
He didn't use the maximum output his Adult body could produce. There was no reason to. Even restrained, Stellar Movement turned the city into streaks of stone and gold around him. He crossed a wall without slowing, ran several steps along the side of a building when the road curved beneath him, pushed off the roof of a low market hall and landed back on the circuit.
The Roadstreakers tried.
To their credit, they tried very hard.
Caelan reached the finish line first.
He stopped.
Turned.
Waited.
The leader arrived several seconds later, brakes screaming as it slid sideways to a halt.
More Roadstreakers followed.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
The leader's engine ticked softly.
"What are you?"
Caelan considered the question.
"Aetherkin."
"That does not explain anything."
"I'm discovering that."
The Roadstreaker stared at him.
Then its engine roared.
Every Roadstreaker around it joined in.
The sound became deafening.
Stormmane looked toward Luminel.
"Is that approval?"
"I think so."
The leader rolled beside Caelan.
"Again tomorrow."
Caelan smiled.
"Fine."
By sunset, several Roadstreakers had already begun arguing over who would beat him first.
Caelan suspected he had acquired another group of allies.
Or rivals.
Sometimes the distinction was largely administrative.
The Scrapreavers were different.
They did not care about pranks.
They did not care about races.
They cared about whether someone could take a hit, give one back and continue standing afterward.
Fortunately, Gilded Hollow's Scrapreaver community possessed an Elite-stage fighter large enough to actually attack Caelan without Destiny itself refusing to cooperate.
The creature looked as though someone had constructed a warrior from the wreckage of several motorcycles and then taught it bodybuilding. Heavy metal plating covered its torso and limbs, exhaust pipes rose behind its shoulders and one enormous mechanical fist was nearly the size of Caelan's upper body.
It slammed that fist into the training ground.
Stone erupted.
Caelan moved aside.
The Scrapreaver roared happily.
"THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"
Caelan landed several metres away.
Stormmane charged from the opposite direction, lightning flashing through his mane as he drove his shoulder into the Elite Scrapreaver's side.
The larger creature barely moved.
Stormmane bounced.
He landed on his feet.
"Again."
The Scrapreaver laughed.
"GOOD CAT!"
Stormmane's eye twitched.
Caelan activated a modest portion of the Myriad-Star Fate Body.
Stars appeared beneath his skin and robes.
The Scrapreaver saw them.
Its engine growled louder.
Caelan stepped forward.
The next punch came fast enough to crater the ground where he had stood.
Eyes of Fate had shown it to him before the shoulder even shifted.
He moved inside the attack.
His palm struck the Scrapreaver's chest with a controlled pulse of enhanced force.
The mechanical giant slid backward.
Metal feet carved twin trenches through the training yard.
The watching Scrapreavers went silent.
Their champion looked down at the marks.
Then at Caelan.
Its grin widened.
"AGAIN!"
Caelan smiled back.
That one, at least, spoke a language he had understood long before arriving in this world.