As Rory and Zoey returned, Rory found himself sowhat surprised to see what looked like a sun-weathered man in his ‘sixties’ waiting on them, a sash with a green triangle printed atop it wrapped around his neck in a way that it could be easily pulled up as a mask. His skin was dark, almost South Arican in complexion, and his hair was jet black with eyes that seed to be filled with a sort of trickster mirth.
“Lady Trailblazer, Grand Architect,” the man gave a slight bow as the two touched down. ‘Touching down’ being a generally nicer way of saying that Rory dropped Zoey like a sack of potatoes as soon as they reached solid ground.
Solid asteroid ground. Oxymoron.
“Miguel,” Zoey smiled warmly at the man. “Glad to see you took up my offer.”
“Of course, how could I say no?”
Rory looked between the two, curious as he waited for an explanation.
“Rory, this is little Miguel, though he isn’t nearly as little anymore.”
“Closer to an old man now,” Miguel chuckled.
“He is one of eight people who knew personally before I left.”
“Only eight?” Rory asked.
“We tend to live life in a way that isn’t always the most conducive to long lives,” Miguel laughed. “We take after Lady Trailblazer after all.”
“Miguel here was what, ten years old or so when I left?” Zoey turned her eyes upward as she thought. “Sothing like that. Chiquito would cry at the drop of a di.”
Rory raised an eyebrow, not certain exactly what Zoey ant, other than that it sounded strange coming out of the mouth of a picturesque blonde woman, like a rich tourist in a vacation spot in xico.
“Oh, sorry, sothing my stepmom called my sister,” Zoey said with a heavy sigh. “Miguel here was like the cute little brother or nephew I never got to have.”
“That explains why he has your shifty eyes,” Rory snorted.
“I will take that as a complint,” Miguel said good humoredly.
Rory didn’t bother questioning too much about the details, given he already had a rough picture of Zoey’s background over their years of friendship. Daughter of a politician father and a rich mother, with a younger sister who’d been quite the fireball. The detail about a stepmother was new, but that was almost entirely because Rory preferred to let the past stay buried unless Zoey herself ntioned it.
“Anyway, when I realized you were on the way, I sent a ssage along to Miguel. For a bit of context, Miguel is our most accomplished artisan, as your people would call them, tier seven, and not a base tier seven either.”
“Oh?” Rory was impressed by that and sowhat baffled. Artisans gained significance through two main routes, the first being the repetitive cranking out of a billion crafts over the years. It was far from efficient and almost entirely carried by the significance that ca from being a lifelong artisan. The second route was to create or craft noteworthy items, far less simple. The reason Rory was sowhat baffled was that to reach even mid-tier-seven in the tifra the man had, around a hundred years, give or take a decade or two, necessitated that the man must have been an artisan in line with the second avenue of growth.
Yet, nothing about Zoey’s village jumped out to him as overly accomplished, at least from an artisan angle. The talworking was proficient, but that was the limit, and alchemy and inscription seed to be essentially non-existent here.
So what?
Then there was the factor of his age. Had he been ascending at a steady rate, he shouldn’t have looked like a man in his sixties, implying he’d been quite the late bloor.
Or that the breakthrough itself was relatively new.
“What’s your vocation?” Rory finally asked, unable to ignore his curiosity.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Zoey interrupted before Miguel could answer. “It’s going to cost you.”
“Are you strongarming ?”
“No, I’m bribing you,” Zoey answered with a dramatic flip of her hair. “Miguel’s secrets, in exchange for your own secrets.”
“I’m not telling you the family Mac and Cheese recipe.”
“Not that secret,” Zoey sighed. “I’ll stop with the lampshading. What I an is, you’ve probably noticed that we’re, uh, lacking in so areas regarding artisanry.”
“I did notice,” Rory agreed.
“I’d like you to teach so seminars.”
This story originates from . Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Seminars?”
“Lectures. Lessons. Whatever word you want to use,” Zoey waved her hand. “You get the point. It would probably make setting a stable connection between our places easier as well, if there are people on this end who can, you know, do stuff.”
“Do stuff,” Rory sighed. “Always a way with words.”
“Never said it was my stuff. I just explore and get chewed on by monsters, occasionally explode my hands.”
“I’m just busting your balls,” Rory chuckled. “Sure, I an, I would have probably done it for free anyway, but I’ll take the bribe.”
“Figured as much, which is why I always intended you to et with Miguel regardless.”
“And I will admit,” Miguel spoke up. “I am quite interested in the knowledge the Grand Architect has to share. As soone who has undergone several vocational evolutions over the years, while I would never consider myself an Architect, I do believe I have a better appreciation for a wider array of skills than most.”
“Good man,” Rory nodded approvingly. “Side note, Miguel, have you heard of the whereabouts of Eia?”
“The King Eater?”
“The what now?” Rory asked. “Please don’t tell she was telling people to call her that.”
“No, given that she was listed as an Aural King, and given the stories she shared, it was adopted as her title in short order.”
“Course it was,” Rory sighed.
Ego the size of an island, about to be an ego the size of a mountain.
“As for your initial question, after entertaining children for a while and telling stories, she made it clear she was going to travel to the surface and hunt for so ti.”
“Ahh, well, at least that makes sense. All those tier eights she felt probably have her feeling competitive.”
“While she is undoubtedly powerful, so of the tier eights down there are known to be reaching up to mid-tier-eight. Will she be alright?”
“Anything short of a mid-tier-eight alpha variant is fair ga for her,” Rory answered without much concern.
“If the Grand Architect says so,” Miguel nodded along.
Unlike Rory or Zoey, who could work on their ascension through ans other than pure combat, Rory had his crafts, and Zoey passively gained significance at a greater speed simply by exploring. Eia was a monster purely specialized in combat. If she wanted to grow, it ca down to not just consuming others like Astra, but also actively hunting the prey she intended to consu.
“You know what, I might go find Eia and tag along,” Zoey suddenly answered. “It’s not often I get to go exploring with a partner in these areas. There are so places I’ve wanted to check out that would be risky if it were just .”
“Reconvene it what, three months?” Rory offered.
“Three months sounds about right for a quick expedition,” Zoey nodded. “Have fun playing teacher.”
With a single wave, Zoey stepped back toward the edge of the asteroid before dropping like a rock.
Rory sighed heavily as Miguel looked at him with a hint of concern.
“Is sothing wrong?”
“No,” Rory snorted. “Just that your Lady Trailblazer forgot to grab a new glider before she dropped.”
“Faster,” Tsarina barked, as Roxy dodged and rolled, her aura blade swiping away a crescent blade of sunlight.
“I am moving faster,” Roxy growled as she sprang forward, slashing out with the blade of folded aura as Tsarina simply swatted it away.
“Not fast enough,” Tsarina responded as she caught Roxy in the midsection with a kick, launching her half a mile in an instant. Staggering upright, Roxy clutched her stomach before doubling over, coughing blood.
“That hurt,” Roxy said after coughing through another mouthful of blood, Tsarina having caught up in monts.
“It was supposed to my Lady,” Tsarina inclined her head, her mandibles clacking in amusent. “A lesson in the necessity for speed.”
“Not everything is about speed,” Roxy snapped back. “Dad himself says-”
“The Grand Khan has been at this for much longer than you,” Tsarina cut her off. “He is, of course, correct. Speed is only a single facet in a battle; if you can predict or anticipate far enough into the future, you can best even an opponent far faster than oneself… within reason. In your case, you are not anticipating five steps in advance. How many ntal threads are you up to?”
Roxy was silent, having had this conversation before.
“How many?”
“One,” Roxy finally sighed. “You know it’s the one thing I seriously struggle with. Each thread also multiplies my resonance.”
“Yes, you’ve said as much before,” Tsarina said. “So, if you cannot dedicate several ntal threads all to analyzing your opponent, to anticipating or reacting, speed matters far more for you than it does the Grand Architect. And even then, the Grand Architect is fast; the resistance that pushes against our every movent is barely an obstacle for him as he cuts through it as easily as a fish through water. To cut through resistance as he does, be it air resistance or magical in nature, is not even sothing that the Chief Protector can replicate for anything other than a short burst.”
“Annoying,” Roxy grumbled. “He also has the Architect Eyes.”
“Yes, a skill developed over decades of effort, a reward for countless acts cumulating together.”
Roxy’s eye glowed for a mont as well, but it was a re imitation, a pale shadow of what her father had. A single evolved Eye for Potential, Empath Eye. It retained the original Eye for Potential's potential vision, but also allowed her to visualize the emotional state of those within her empathic resonance, like colored auras.
“You must grow stronger,” Tsarina said flatly.
“I think I’m pretty strong,” Roxy shot back, feeling montarily petulant.
“On a scale, certainly. You would trounce those of equal level up to the peak of the Talented. But a Transcendent would crush you.”
“Aside from being faster, what do you suggest then?” Roxy asked, deflating.
“A new way of doing things,” Tsarina answered, going into lecture mode. “It is clear you attempt to emulate your father. In the world of the artisan that is viable, you are an Architect-class vocation. But combat is never so simple. You have built in mannerisms as if you expect to unleash an unlimited salvo of blades, a work of reality made to match your desires.”
“Projection magic,”
“Yes, to a degree,” Tsarina agreed. “But your father has also been practicing projection magic for a long ti. You could attempt to recreate that, or you could follow your own path.”
Roxy glanced down at the saber handle in her hand, the aura having faded.
“You are naturally skilled with aura manipulation and resonance with others,” Tsarina continued. “You do not provide your own covering fire of a million blades or spin up a thousand ntal threads to forecast your opponent.”
“I just need to take what I can already do, and develop them into new ways of doing things,” Roxy said, borrowing Tsarina’s prior words.
“Precisely, my lady,” Tsarina answered. While her face couldn’t smile, Roxy sensed the intent in her emotions, satisfaction emanating from the bug woman. “But there is only one way to do so.”
Roxy sighed as Tsarina lifted her claw, which was beginning to glow, summoning green projected warriors to fight alongside her.
Oh, wonderful, a change of pace. Now, instead of Tsarina directly smacking around, she’s going to have her summons do that as well. Fun.
“Any chance we can take a lunch break?” Roxy asked, montarily hopeful that her ‘attendant’ would show rcy upon her.
The ‘smile’ that Roxy felt from Tsarina was far less innocent than the earlier pleased emotion, now feeling like an amused parent looking forward to teaching their child a lesson.
Of course not.
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