A simple overhang stuck out of the side of a row of buildings, providing shelter for customers approaching. It was little more than a small kitchen with a front-facing counter to pile fried foods in large bowls, one man busily swapping between cooking and serving.

“Jai!” Varghese plopped two small coins down on the counter. “Something to eat for me and my friend here.”

Jai turned around, swept the coins up in one hand and tossed two triangular pastries from a pile, one to Varghese and one to Anton. “I didn’t know you had friends,” the man grinned. Then he regarded Anton. “A bit pale, isn’t he?”

Anton’s skin hadn’t faded beyond a dark tan since he was young, but his natural skin tone was lighter so comparatively he still stood out. “I’m from afar,” he shrugged. Presumably In’istra had more variety elsewhere, even if Aspin was most commonly darker skinned. Anton did his best to tailor his accent to not stand out too much, taking in the voices of those around. Whatever it was that kept language from diverging too much, Anton was glad for it.

“Oh? You’re braver than I, dealing with the perils of the sea,” Jai said, then he was back to frying and serving others.

Though Anton had offered to pay, Varghese had done it and Anton intuited that attempting to pay him back directly would be construed as rude. So instead he took a bite of the pastry, stuffed with some sort of meat, potatoes, and spices. It was hot. Scalding. And, of course, completely irrelevant compared to the temperatures Anton had dealt with in the past.

Jai seemed to have been hoping Anton would show some reaction besides a pleasant smile, and he more cautiously bit off the corner and blew into his pastry to cool it a bit. “You ate that fast,” he said as they walked along. “Almost makes me believe you didn’t eat anything in a year.”

Anton shrugged, “It was tasty. I couldn’t help it.” Of course, there was very little about himself that Anton actually couldn’t control. He just didn’t want to hold back. Recycling his body’s nutrients didn’t scratch the same itch as actually eating, even if he didn’t need food. Technically he had a pile of rations in his storage bag, but they tasted like dirt so they were only for emergencies where he didn’t have sufficient natural energy to sustain himself. Anton wasn’t sure if that situation could actually happen, but he didn’t intend to be careless.

Varghese watched Anton as he finished his own meal, then frowned, “Wait, why am I letting you lead the way? You don’t even know the area. Actually, do you even have a plan?”

“I do,” Anton said. “You aren’t busy right now, so we’ll start with learning. I want you to climb this abandoned building,” Anton gestured before they stepped around the corner.

“How did you know that was there?”

“I flew in,” Anton said. “Remember?” Though he’d technically seen it from the air, he’d actually just picked it out as they were walking around. “When you get to the top I’ll give you a reward.”

“What if I-” Varghese stopped talking as Anton leaped four stories into the air- though for the sake of what remained of the street he spread his pushing force out over a larger area with a blanket of energy. Flying was probably easier, but didn’t look as good.

“Well?” Anton said. “Come on then.”

The building was fairly easy to climb up. Lots of mortar missing between the bricks, some window sills that were sturdy enough, and Varghese was a fairly fit young man- if perhaps a bit malnourished like many in the area. He only had a few more of those copper coins Anton saw him pay with. Though it was possible he had a stash wherever home was.

Anton could see Varghese’s determination, and the young man didn’t make any other attempts to protest. Maybe he thought Anton wouldn’t have heard anyway.

Aside from snagging the hilt of his sword on a sill, the climb went smoothly for Varghese, though he was a bit winded when he reached the top. There he found Anton sitting with a scroll containing a single word. Anton tossed it to him, and he fumbled to catch it.

“There. Your reward.”

Varghese frowned. “What is it?”

“The word ‘climb’. Didn’t you want to learn to read?” Anton grinned as Varghese’s brow furrowed more. “Not enough? Well, I do have something else.” Anton tossed him a blank scroll and a pen with no ink. “You’re going to copy that word. I’ll teach you the letters and how to write them.”

“... Okay.” The young man reluctantly accepted the situation- he did want to learn to write, even if he had probably imagined a more fanciful reward.

“Passable,” Anton said. He’d vaguely copied the shapes, but his writing form was still bad and the word was still… poorly formed after a dozen attempts. “Try another time.”

“There’s… no more room,” Varghese admitted.

“That’s because you made your first attempts too large,” Anton said. “Normally, you will work smaller. However, that’s not a problem. Simply roll up that second scroll… and then unroll it.”

Varghese did so, and when he opened it again it was blank. When he wrote on it, instead of the ink coming from his pen, the paper itself produced the ink. A simple trick, useless in most situations except for practicing writing. And while Anton hadn’t been sure he would teach anyone how to write on this trip, how could he not carry as many different teaching tools as he could pack?

Varghese finally scratched out a successful attempt. “Good,” Anton nodded. “You’ll want to practice more, of course. And I’ll teach you more than just a few letters and a single word later. But we need to move onto the next step.”

“Which is?” Varghese tilted his head.

“Cultivation, of course. I did say I’d teach you. I have a good sense of your fitness now, so I can put together a plan for body tempering. And of course, you must learn to sense energy.” Anton tossed him a scroll. “This is the One Hundred Stars. The same technique I practice. You can’t read it yet, of course, but consider that a goal. I’ll verbally teach you the first layers, but you’ll have to read if you want to advance beyond Body Tempering.” If the young man had some reason he couldn’t learn to read and write that would be another story, but he’d done just fine.

The instruction began with simply familiarizing Varghese with his body, and feeling for his dantian to spark his internal energy. It was a slow process, taking several hours for him to refine just a single strand of energy. But… he had started, and the first step was the most important.

“Well then,” Anton said. “I imagine you have other things you must get to.” Specifically, he’d noticed Varghese glancing away- and not because he was bored. “Come back and meet me here later.”

“When?” Varghese asked.

Anton shrugged. “Whenever you’re free. I’ll know you’re coming.”

It might have been the slightest invasion of privacy to follow the young man with his energy senses, but Anton was at a point that he did not care. He didn’t eavesdrop on the conversations Varghese had with his family- father, mother and a couple siblings it looked like- but he did need to keep track of that cultivation technique, and Varghese’s safety. He’d keep an eye on both.

Now then, what else should he do in the meantime? Meeting some of the local cultivators might be good, but it could also cause a panic. Anton wasn’t exactly hiding his power, but that might make his sudden appearance in their midsts more concerning.

-----

Falling Stars was an excellent technique with a fatal flaw- it relied on the power of gravity to accelerate attacks and provide power. Except for rare planets without gravity or that were particularly low, it was still quite usable, but away from there- and especially in the midsts of space- it required something more.

Hoyt and Prospero faced each other. The former was more powerful, but only by virtue of reaching Integration earlier. Now, the younger grandfather had surpassed Life Transformation, so they were separated by only a smaller gap. Given he was the progenitor of the Falling Stars- and Hoyt, less directly- his ability was sufficient to make up for the difference in power.

If the technique relied on the acceleration of gravity, Prospero would simply have to make his own. He could, of course, simply inject more energy, pushing the attacks faster. But the whole point was to conserve energy. Taking a slightly different approach would be more effective.

Prospero reached out his hand to his right- Hoyt’s left- though the fact that he and his grandson were sharing the same orientation was more habit than necessity. A great ball of fire appeared, building up momentum as it arced towards Hoyt.

At the last moment, so as to not give away which direction he intended to dodge, Hoyt ducked under the attack and created his own counter, beneath him. He gestured with a kick, fully unnecessary to the process the same as Prospero’s outstretched hand.

Prospero’s second falling star clashed directly with Hoyt’s, the two attacks negating each other. Then Prospero’s first came back around.

Hoyt couldn’t be fully surprised by that result- there was nothing else around them as a distraction, so he must have sensed the energy of the attack still existed- but perhaps he hadn’t expected quite the speed it had built up. He had to smash it apart with his fist as it homed in on his position, which was the same as a loss in their particular dueling style.

However, taking one loss didn’t mean things were over. Hoyt retaliated, immediately learning from Prospero’s modification. He formed his own attacks which instead of maintaining a straight line trajectory curved back around. But Prospero grinned. That was the core of the technique, certainly, but Hoyt had missed some of the essence.

Soon enough they were no longer exchanging single attacks, or even small handfuls. Instead, they had dozens of attacks flying about, each sufficient to cause serious damage, especially if followed up. But they knew each other’s limits, and had sufficient ability to make things safe. Neither wanted to lose, though.

Hoyt began to tire, while Prospero still looked fresh- despite having lesser energy reserves from his lower cultivation. “How?” Hoyt asked.

Prospero could have chosen not to answer, but they were already beyond the tipping point- and he did want his grandson to learn. “I’m not pushing or pulling them into a curve. They are properly orbiting around me.” Not in a simple circle, of course, or even an ellipse that nearly approximated it. Instead, they had their own eccentric motions that suited the current combat placements.

“How is that any different?”

That was a question worth contemplating, but the answer was simple enough. “Insight,” Prospero said, “And form. Just like they are falling stars when it would be technically more efficient to simply make a beam of condensed energy for all purposes. A cultivator’s understanding feeds into the form of their attacks. Here, they orbit around me within my aura, treating me like a proper source of gravity. With that, I am able to maintain the energy within an attack even on different trajectories.” Of course, as he was not an actual planet, he could only approximate such a thing. He still had to contribute some amount to keep up the effort- but not nearly as much as would take to actually redirect something around him constantly. And as his understanding grew, so would his efficiency.

As for how that solved his problem, it meant that the energy put into an attack was never wasted if and when he missed- he maintained the majority that would come down for another attack if someone dodged, providing a constant threat of danger and allowing him to continue accelerating his attacks manually. So it wasn’t the same as the ‘free’ kinetic energy he got dropping an attack into a proper gravity well, but it was efficient, which was the whole point. If he simply hit someone with the initial attack, then it was a success- otherwise, he had most of the same power ready for another with little loss.

No doubt Hoyt would pick it up soon enough, and Prospero would have to think of another way to outdo his grandson. He was proud of him. And when Hoyt came up with an improvement of his own or a different technique, Prospero looked forward to learning from his older grandson in turn.