I felt great, amazing even. Having my Dantian refilled, reinforced by the powerful scion of the Manning house had given me a boost akin to twenty magic coffees!

I felt like doing cartwheels around the bath, like dancing and singing, like making more ridiculous jokes at Arianna’s expense, but then I noticed how foreboding and gloomy she looked. She wasn’t a particularly nice person, that much was true, but I was still behaving like a drunken idiot around her. A power-unbalanced idiot, to be more specific. My renewed Dantian was messing with my head. I had to get it under control.

I centered my new, wildly fluctuating, overspilling, half-foreign Dantian, trying to get it to behave and sat down on the rocks next to her.

“Hiiiiiiiiii!” I smiled.

“What is it, Sparks? Have you come to torment me some more?” Arianna sighed. “Gloat further at my misfortune?”

“While bugging you is quite fun, the answer to that is... no,” I replied. “Now that I’ve managed to calm my Dantian down… I’d like to say… Thank you! Thanks for fixing my Dantian, which you broke to begin with.”

“Right.” The highborn rolled her eyes. “Anything else? Any other brilliant ideas that’ll save us from certain doom that’ll screw me over even worse?”

“I do have a few.” I rubbed my chin.

“Do tell so I can expect them now.”

“Well, for one - I’d like to explore the limits of your future-smelling power.” I tapped her freckled nose.

Arianna sighed dramatically.

“If you can smell the future,” I mulled. “Why is it that you didn’t just blast me with your magic ring when Mr. Murr lifted you off the ground? Why were you so frightened of me if you can smell what’s coming?”

“I don’t smell all of the future, all of the time. Only really basic stuff like flipping coins or an event that’ll make me irrefutably dead. It's a handy danger sense at best of times and not a perfect way to predict someone… especially not you,” the ginger girl replied with another sigh. “...or a free-acting servitor like Mr. Murr. My death-sense doesn't tell me if I'll get almost-killed or badly hurt, for example. Also, it would be a really stupid plan to repulsor a servitor with that many teeth that was crushing my entire chest with his long-ass hand. My ring is kinda weak compared to the one my grandfather wears."

“Aw yiss.” I nodded. “I always knew that I was unpredictable!”

“There are several reasons for your unpredictability. One - you have, servitor caused, brain damage. It makes you act erratic.”

“Oh gee thanks,” I sulked. “Way to rain on my happy parade.”

“Two - you have that arcane ghost in your head influencing your decisions,” Arianna added, ignoring my commentary. “It makes the unpredictability factor even worse because I can’t get a hand on this... less wrong logic it operates on. Also, I don’t understand any of the ancient... sciences you seem to know.”

I mentally high-fived the Pharmacist in my head. “So, say you wanted to predict how someone would… attack you? How does that work?”

“Well… my nose doesn’t actually smell someone’s future decisions. What I am mainly smelling is the status of something or people’s specializations… their Qi-associated jobs. For example, I can smell that Avidius is a Barber, a Reaper and a Bodyguard. I can smell that he has a flying-type servitor weapon and using that I can logically predict that he can attack someone with it.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded. Arianna’s nose was accessing the same System I had tapped into as the Observer! I didn't create the System. It was there already.

“How many people do you know that can smell the status of things like you?” I inquired.

“Some nobles have similar skills. They can taste, smell or see the worth of something,” Arianna chattered. “Plus, there are tons of noble merchants who specialize in appraisals of items. The Adventurers Guild secretary specializes in appraisals of people’s skills. She’s the best person in the city for that sort of a thing.”

So, the System wasn’t totally alien. The Gold city nobility know all about it! It was accessed, maybe modified or even created by people a long time ago… I wasn’t that special after all.

“So when you found out that Clint was going to kill us, what did you smell exactly?” I continued my interrogation.

“I can constantly smell myself. My normal future-state, about two thousand heartbeats ahead, is usually suspended between alive and dead. However when I was sitting on the bed, contemplating your stories of star-researching servitors I suddenly became aware of a very potent smell of sulfur and brimstone… of fiery death. I smelled that my status moved towards being dead with every passing heartbeat.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s really cool,” I eagerly declared.

Arianna really was a kitten. She had Shroidenger’s self-evaluation! Ha ha ha.

“My turn. That’s an interesting trick with the bath and that breathing tube,” Arianna pointed out, handing me back my plastic straw. “How does it work?”

“Used it to hide from a blind hunter once,” I explained, sliding the straws back into their tape-pocket on my chest. “I hypothesised that everyone’s Dantian emits a certain, specific radiance. The hunter phantoms used to be creatures with physical noses. They’re still relying on their noses even though they are dead.”

“Right,” Arianna nodded. “You were always talented at evasion.”

“Yeah, I learned to avoid you pretty well over seven years.” I nodded, grinning. Arianna praised me for the first time in six years! Yay!

“Anyways...” I continued. “The hunters don’t track Qi - they track things that smell. The Qi pattern each person emits is imprinted onto their sweat. The clothes we were wearing were covered with sweat. We took them off and the bomb-carrying hunters went after the clothes, not us. Moving water washed the sweat away from our bodies, so the ghosts Clint sent never found us. Also… because servitors are made of some sort of electricity, moving water can disrupt, screw up their currents. I've never seen a servitor go into a river or a waterfall, for example. They really dislike moving water."

“Seems like at least a few hit the restaurant.” Arianna glanced at the crack in the ceiling and the broken stalactite.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you know how hunters memorise someone’s Dantian pattern? I would really like to avoid getting targeted again like this.”

“Yes, one of my teachers was a hunter,” she replied. “A hunter needs to touch someone or their clothes with their primary servitor to be able to track them.”

“Gotcha,” I said. "Well, I suppose if Clint touches me again I'll just have to marry Celes."

"Pfff." Arianna smirked. "Building up quite the harem are you?"

I laughed at her joke. "You are right. I can't rely forever on such a method since I'll run out of eligible candidates after Celes."

"What, you won't marry your free servitor?" She mused. "Getting picky are we?"

"I'd love to exchange vows with Ludj, but alas he is mute and cannot repeat the words," I joked.

Arianna laughed. Yes! This is the kind of fun banter I was missing with her for most of my life.

"Besides, with you as my primary wife I don't think anyone will want to join willingly." I made a fake frown. "You're too feisty. Nobody is going to be able to put up with you!"

"Hey! Lord Allanther’s grandson was contractually obligated to have to put up with me."

"But, would you put up with him?" I wiggled my eyebrows.

"No." Arianna deflated.

"You're welcome." I grinned. "See, now you don't have to put up with a random princeling!"

"Yeah, now I have to put up with you instead." She exhaled.

"I'm a low maintenance girl," I replied.

"You consumed at least 100 gold worth of food and wine today!" She pointed out.

I blew her a raspberry and received a frown in return.

"Wait a moment." I perked up. "Is that what high-cultivators are doing? Sharing their Dantians with their servitors? Are they married to their primary phantoms?"

"How are you so smart and also so stupid?" Arianna shook her head.

"Takes a certain kind of creativity to break everything," I giggled.

Arianna walked to the door and sniffed. “Hrm. Air is barely coming in. The stairwell collapsed. We ain’t getting out of here until a builder servitor unburies us.”

"I hope Sylver and Avidius are okay," I muttered.

"Yeah, me too. Best catch us some sleep." Arianna stretched and started to pile towels on the floor to make herself a makeshift bed.

“Your grandfather can find you via your magic family-ring, right?” I checked.

She nodded.

"Nothing to do but rest then.” I walked up to the door and tried to open it. It didn’t even budge. We were definitely buried alive.

“Hopefully, the Guild Heads and your grandfather will open up a can of whoop-ass after they dig us out." I grabbed a few towels from her to make myself a pillow. “A cavern sleepover it is then!”

“Pray tell, what is a sleepover?” She tapped the root of the tree-lamp to dim it. The cave became bathed in darkness.

“Ohhh...” I whispered, my eyes glowing blue in the darkness. “It’s an ancient right of passage! A beautiful, one-thousand-year-old custom.”

“What does it entail?” Arianna’s emerald eyes flashed at me from the dark.

“Well, the ancients usually watched movies together,” I replied.

“Movies?”

“Plays, but shown through a servitor called the television!”

“We don’t have one of those.”

“Hrmm… right. Since we haven’t reinvented television-servitors yet, we’ll just have to tell scary stories in the dark until we fall asleep!” I declared, feeling extra giddy at the prospect of my first sleepover.

“Um, go ahead, I guess.” Arianna gulped from her floor-bed, not sure what to expect.

“It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life,” I narrated dramatically.

-=[High-Administrator Han Axiom Sempiter, Enforcer of the Will of Boundless Chorus]=-

“Master.” Celes bowed to Han Axiom Sempiter as he landed on his sword in the middle of her temple.

“Geisha Rada.” Enforcer Han sighed tiredly, resisting the urge to scratch his regrowing face. “I’m in need of your best healing tea. The day of Deathstorm Convergence looms and I need to be in my best shape for it.”

"Were you able to punish the vile blackguard that blew up the marketplace?" Celes purred.

"No," Han answered darkly. "It was Primogenitor Clint Potatius."

"Do you think he was the one to blow you out of the sky earlier, Master?" Celes whisper-sang, her gold eyes wide.

"It was certainly the same technique, but alas… I have no proof and Clint is an Immortal elder with six centuries on his belt. The Temple of Inquiry can investigate the matter and sort it out. I'm tired and my face chafes," Han gritted his teeth.

“I have already prepared the tea ceremony for you, Master.” Celes bowed even deeper. “Just follow me into the Temple.”

Han followed after his geisha, relaxing in her deep serenity radiance. As he looked at her swaying hips, he could have sworn that an invisible, tantalizing tail was beginning to manifest there.

“You smell stronger, my geisha. Well done. You have reached your prime sooner than expected,” Hah spoke. “I shall take you to the central well before the Deathstorm Convergence and make you... Immortal. The Stormweavers will not take you from me.”

Geisha Rada said nothing. Instead she started to sing. The blessed melody, woven from divine-tones enraptured Han. He completely forgot what he was thinking about. He was going to ask Celes something important, but it didn’t matter now. Now, he simply wanted to relax in her presence, to bask in the absolute, focused serenity she blessed him with. He didn’t want to think about the reckless Primogenitor blowing up a restaurant in the marketplace. He had informed the High-Inquisitor about the event. The cult would sort the issue out without his presence.

It didn’t matter that much in the long run. In less than a week, the entire city would burn. He had no time to harvest seven new 700-star beast cores to fulfill his part of the deal with Immortals of Eternal Flames. The Boundless cult would just have to play with the sky-spiders without external aid.

It was a bit unsporty that the Gold city peasantry were preparing to hide in the catacombs, but the sky-spiders were clever. They would find their prey regardless of where and how the mortals hid and take their tribute of lives. Han was excited for the coming hunt. He would just have to try to take as many of their mortals in return himself, perhaps even strike down a few of their knights from the sky. It was all in good fun.

Though, he wished he hadn’t been struck from the sky. If he could find the person who did it and punish their foul play…

I am immortal. I have plenty of time to find them. But Celes will be transformed soon, so I shall indulge in the present moment.

He found himself lost in the song as he sat in the central room of the Temple. Geisha Rada brought out the tea, offering it to him.

“How long will the healing take?” He asked.

“You shall sleep for several days, Master. Your wounds are… severe.” Rada bowed. “You will wake up before the Deathstorm comes and be fully healed and ready to fight the Stormweavers.”

Han heard no deception in her words. Celes was his best, most trusted companion. He had known her since she was six. He took the cup from her and gulped it down and started to cycle, leaning on her serenity field to empower and accelerate his healing.

Celes sang. The invisible tail swayed behind her back and forth like a metronome in tune with her divine voice.

Her song caressed, relaxed his mind as his eyes closed. He would sleep and not worry about anything. His mind was at peace, at absolute calmness, absolute, pure clarity of thought.

Time stopped.