Ahkelios didn’t quite know what to make of the cabin he’d picked.
Part of that was the fact that it was apparently designed specifically for him, despite the fact that he’d chosen it pretty much at random. It wasn’t like the cabins looked different from the outside. The first ti he stepped into it he’d almost forgotten to breathe; the whole place ached of…
Well, it ached of ho. And it had been a long, long ti since he’d been ho.
It was oddly difficult to get used to. In a way, he felt like he was obligated to love it the way he had his old ho. The ss of scattered canvases, paints, and ceramic planters had always been a comfort to him back then. Every ti the laboratory beca too much—he’d enjoyed his job, but it could be demanding—he’d take a day or two off to sit and paint and be with his plants.
Now, the idea of doing that felt… foreign. The idea of taking a break felt foreign, really. And he was so far removed from the person he’d been back then that it felt more like a painful reminder of what he’d lost than a place of ho and comfort.
Ahkelios sighed, glancing ruefully at the note he’d found taped to the bedside table. Ethan had worked hard to give him this, apparently, in so distant future. A part of him was touched, and a part of him felt guilty that he didn’t appreciate it the way he felt he should have.
Then again, if he’d truly disliked living here, he would have told Ethan before they got this whole cabin built in that hypothetical future, surely? Maybe there was a reason he hadn’t.
There was a chance he could learn to connect with his ho again, here and now.
He’d tried, over the past few days, to engage with his old hobbies again. He painted a sowhat ssy painting of the crystalline shards of Isthanok, floating over the city. He transplanted so of the smaller saplings and plants from the grove into his planters and watched them grow.
Ahkelios didn’t dislike doing those things, but it wasn’t the sa.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be?” he asked out loud, testing the words.
They felt right, sohow. He’d changed. As important as this had been to him, it stood to reason that what they ant to him had changed, too.
That perspective changed things for him. Between training sessions, he spent his nights trying new things—exploring what he wanted to paint, studying the various plants and fungi available to him in the Grove. He brought out the Chromatic Roots Ethan had given him what felt like ages ago and began to perform the many experints he’d planned but never had the ti to execute. He watched so of the more esoteric flowers scattered around the Grove, recording how they drew on the Firmant around them.
Slowly—so slowly he almost didn’t notice—sothing within him began to relax. He understood, on so level, why he hadn’t told Ethan to try sothing else. He’d needed this. Needed to figure out all over again what ho ant to him.
When he did, well… There was a secondary benefit, of sorts.
The training simulators inside the Quiet Grove were integrated with the Interface in a way that should have been impossible; it was a miracle of engineering, to say the least. One Ahkelios was pretty sure any one of Hestia’s Trialgoers would literally kill to have access to.
In short, the simulations triggered whatever chanism the Interface had to calculate and reward credits. Which ant all their training wasn’t just about learning to use what they already had: they could develop entirely new skills and earn whole new Inspirations.
Ahkelios found that the more he connected with his old self, the more the skills he rolled for varied.
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This latest roll, for instance. He held his breath as the Interface dinged and a list of skills appeared in front of him.
[137 credits banked! Rolling for results…]
[Select between:
Bristleblade (Rank B)
Rapid Redirection (Rank B)
Herbal Heritage (Rank B)]
He was still getting so sword-related skills; it was hard to get away from that, and he didn’t really mind these days. Ahkelios humd as Inspect flooded his mind with information, then made his selection. 𝙍ＡΝ𝔬฿ĘS
[Herbal Heritage (Rank B) obtained!]
He had plenty of combat skills already. It’d be interesting to see what he could do with so support-related ones.
Besides…
Ahkelios grinned to himself. Ethan’s face when he made him drink his concoctions would be hilarious.
“Ahkelios,” Ethan said, exasperated. “How many skills do you have now?”
“A lot,” Ahkelios said smugly.
They were training. Dueling, really, in a little underground area set aside specifically for this type of thing; the air was thick with defensive Firmant so that no blow could be truly fatal, although if any of them really tried it wouldn’t be hard to break through that protection.
None of them tried, of course. Getting badly hurt for a training exercise was hardly worth it, especially since they weren’t planning on resetting the loop until the Fracture. Presumably, sothing would happen there that would force a reset. Ahkelios was optimistic they’d get through it, but Ethan wasn’t.
“Oh, I like this one!” Ahkelios said brightly. He brandished his blade and cut, activating an F-rank skill called Brightblade; the air flashed brightly, and Ethan made a startled noise as he was temporarily blinded—
Ahkelios frowned as his sword ca to a stop. The light faded away, and he saw that Ethan had… caught the blade. It took Ahkelios a mont to realize that there was a thin loop of thread around the human’s fingers.
“That’s not fair,” he complained.
“First of all, that was rude,” Ethan said, blinking the light out of his eyes. “Second, I have Firmant sense. I still know what you’re doing, goofball.”
Ahkelios had, admittedly, forgotten about that. “You’re getting too comfortable with the nas,” he grumbled.
“Does it bother you?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. If he said yes, Ahkelios was pretty sure Ethan would stop… but he also didn’t want to admit that he liked it.
“No,” he said, which was about as far as he’d go. “And you still gotta give credit for trying!”
“We’ll see,” Ethan said, hiding his smile and beginning to circle him. Ahkelios grumbled, then searched through his skill list again, hoping to find sothing that might help.
He’d gotten quite a number of lower-level skills, figuring that he wanted the breadth of options Ethan didn’t have. The only reason he’d stopped was because Gheraa had warned him against it.
Which was weird, and Ahkelios didn’t fully trust him, but… Ethan did. Gheraa hadn’t even fully explain why he shouldn’t stock up on hundreds of skills; he’d just looked uncomfortable and said it was bad for his core.
To be fair, that seed correct. He only had a couple dozen and it felt kind of cramped in there. Ahkelios would’ve been trying to move for the fourth layer already if not for the fact that even Ethan hadn’t quite figured it out yet, and Gheraa’s guidance on that matter had been…
Well, Integrator thods of phase shifting didn’t match those of lesser beings, apparently. Though Ahkelios was the one inserting that phrase. Gheraa hadn’t actually referred to any of them that way. Point was, they were in largely uncharted territory. Ethan’s instincts were correct, as far as any of them could tell—he needed to use Soul Space to stuff his soul with a large quantity of realness—but what that ant was anyone’s guess.
He’d tried filling his soul with plants. It was uncomfortable and hadn’t helped. They weren’t… compatible with him, for lack of a better word.
Anyway. Ethan was waiting. He needed to find sothing.
Oh! There was sothing he hadn’t tried yet. Triproot! Ahkelios used it, and a small root coiled out of the dirt and around Ethan’s ankle—
—only for Ethan to step forward like nothing was there and deliver a blow that sent him flying.
Ahkelios groaned.
That stupid Physical pool Ethan had made stopping him difficult. Honestly, he was glad they were on the sa team.
Now if only he could figure out all that nonsense Ethan was telling him about the stats. The ditative thing hadn’t worked. He’d tried. No matter how much he told himself that Strength was actually Force, nothing in the Interface changed. Even Gheraa didn’t know what to make of what Ethan had done, although when he learned about it he’d adopted a contemplative expression and muttered sothing about seventh-layer Integrators.
Oh well. He could always try sothing else. Ahkelios bounced back up to his feet, glad the training arena dulled the pain from the blows they exchanged, and darted at Ethan once more.
“You’re cooking later if you take a hit, by the way!” Ahkelios announced.
Ethan laughed. “If you say so.”
Ahkelios grinned. He’d get a few blows in eventually. He always did.
Especially when he made that announcent, which he thought was a little odd.
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