When Sacral Clone's words faded, Solar Clone only nodded in agreement. For a few silent breaths he simply watched the light spread, as if measuring the cave's heartbeat. Then a new thought struck him, sharp and urgent.
"Right now Verdant Pulse and Fieldweave can keep the fields alive," he said, half to Sacral Clone and half to himself, "but if we want real growth, we need more than just ordinary moisture. That lake is soaked in water‑type essence. It's a waste leaving it there."
He knelt and began sketching a new circle, this one ringed with flowing, wave‑shaped lines that stretched outward like tiny rivers. "I'm planning a new formation—Aquaduct Vyuha," he explained. "Its job will be to pull water‑type essence from the lake and send it directly into the fields, not just physical water but the energy inside it."
Sacral Clone frowned slightly. "If it's that useful, why not finish it now?"Solar Clone shook his head. "The distance is the problem. The lake is too far from the main fields.
To bridge that gap without leaking essence everywhere, I'll need a chain of relay nodes and a much tighter control over loss. If I rush it, we'll just crack the channels or drain the lake dry in one burst."
He traced a small segment of the design, then deliberately stopped, leaving the rest of the circle open. "So this one will take time," he said quietly. "I'll finish the theory first, then expand it step by step from the lake to the fields.
Once Aquaduct Vyuha is complete, every crop down here will drink pure water‑type essence with every root."
Saying that, Solar Clone turned back to the half‑drawn array at his feet, continuing the formation that would make the fortress thrum with wood element.
Lines curved like roots and branches, threading through the stone toward the gardens, living quarters, and training halls.
Sacral Clone watched for a moment longer, then exhaled. "I'll go water the fields before the cycle changes." He waved and left, footsteps fading as he headed toward the terraces.
When the last stroke was finally in place, Solar Clone pressed his palm to the core of the array. Gentle green light rippled through the pattern, then sank into the rock, connecting to every line he had laid over the past days.
"Verdant Pulse Vyuha," he murmured, naming it at last.
Its purpose was simple: to draw in scattered wood‑type essence, pulse it through the underground fortress like a heartbeat, and nourish every patch of soil, wall‑vine, and wooden beam it touched.
For now, it would only thicken the vitality of the place, giving the fields and living spaces a constant, subtle breath of growth.
He pulled his hand back without fully activating it.
The network was still incomplete, with entire corridors and chambers untouched. "No point starting the pulse before the body is finished," he decided. "If I trigger it now, half the fortress will stay dead."
Leaving the formation to rest, he went in search of Sacral Clone and found him near the irrigation channels. "Come train with me," Solar Clone called out.
"The Vyuhas I've set up are still weak—only suited for family use. They can't even scratch us. But I'll upgrade them later, once the foundations are solid."
Sacral Clone agreed, and the two of them spent the next hours cycling through drills, exchanging blows, until sweat soaked their clothes and their limbs trembled.
Afterward, they returned to the house, washed up, and shared dinner with the family, the warmth of food and quiet conversation smoothing out the day's exhaustion.
Once everyone drifted off to their own rooms, Solar Clone went back to the cavern, to sketch more Vyuhas into the stone.
Sacral Clone, meanwhile, sat cross‑legged in his training cave, still wrestling with the mysteries of space element. No matter how he prodded at it, he couldn't quite grasp how to bend distance or fold a point in on itself.
For now, he remained stuck in the theory phase, notes piling up around him.
The day passed like that—one brother weaving formations through stone, the other chasing the shape of space in his mind—as the underground fortress inched another step closer to becoming a world of its own.
Next day, Solar Clone woke before the others, the memory of yesterday's faintly glowing lines still lingering in his mind.
The fortress was quiet, breathing in the soft pulse of dormant formations as he made his way toward the cultivation grounds. Today wasn't for theory or prototypes. Today was for installation.
He stepped into the row of training cabinets and ran his fingers over the inner walls, remembering how rough the first attempt had been.
Yesterday's Heatfrost Vyuha had only been a test—scribbled directly onto the ground, powered by his own essence flow, barely stable enough to shift the temperature for a short while.
It had done its job of introducing his family to the idea of the Vyuha, but it was still a crude sketch compared to what he wanted."This time, you'll get the real thing," he murmured, opening a storage box beside the cabinets.
Inside lay fist‑sized stones, each one compressed and smoothed until they felt dense as metal. Beside them rested a sealed container of dark, cool clay he had collected from the bed of the underground lake.
The clay was no longer ordinary; after soaking in water element for countless years and then touching his essence flow, it had turned into a special medium that clung to energy and held it firmly—perfect for inscribing Vyuhas.