Five days passed. A new, intense rhythm had taken hold in the loft of Café LeBlanc. Zero was a man transformed, possessed by a quiet, fierce drive. He woke before the sun, not to open the café, but to read The First Principles of Abyssal Weaving. His nights were spent in the empty café, practicing the strange, intricate gestures and guttural words he learned from its pages. Soma and Legolas, who were in the café most of the time, were the primary observers of this change.
One morning, Legolas came down from the loft where Zero was sequestered, a bowl of noodles in his hand. "He says he will eat up there," Legolas reported to Soma, who was prepping in the kitchen. "At this point, you should just give him lembas. A single bite could sustain him for weeks."
"I don't have the recipe for the 'lembas' from the Lord of the Rings your card came from," Soma grumbled, chopping vegetables with a bit more force than necessary.
Legolas slurped his noodles gracefully. "Just say you can't make it."
"Take that back, you pointy-eared jackass!" Soma snapped, pointing his knife at Legolas. "And not you too, Gusteau!" he added to the empty air. "Well, you know what? At least I'm not a dead ghost!"
…
Meanwhile, as night fell over the city, the atmosphere was a tinderbox waiting for a spark. The gang war, ignited by a phantom tip, was brewing. The Boarman gang, who had foolishly attacked the Sharkfins, had been all but slaughtered in a brutal, swift retaliation.
From the top of the packed Hao Pavilion, Sebas looked out over the tense city. A small, silent figure appeared at his side and knelt. It was Kai.
"The Cardinal Wolves have made their move, Master," the boy reported. "They are attacking the weakened Sharkfin territories, still oblivious to the fact that they are a pawn in a larger game."
"Good," Sebas said, his gaze never leaving the city below. "I like to keep it that way. How is the training for the others?"
"Most of them still cannot grasp the concept of Qi you spoke of, Master," Kai said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "Ren and Liane say that unlike aura, it is a whole different discipline."
"Most of them," Sebas noted, "implies that someone has successfully grasped it."
"It is I, Master," Kai said, a flicker of pride in his voice. "Though, it is only a small amount. It only coats my index nail."
Sebas turned, his veiled gaze finally falling upon the boy. "Show me."
Kai held up his hand and raised his index finger. He concentrated, his small face scrunched in effort. A faint, flickering wisp of blue energy, like a tiny candle flame, came out of his fingernail and coated it in a shimmering, unstable sheath. It was unusable in a fight, a mere parlor trick at best, but it was there. It was real.
"Good job," Sebas said, a rare note of genuine approval in his voice. "Gather the rest. Tonight will be another lesson."
"How about the ones on the field, Master?" Kai asked, referring to the other children who were acting as spies and saboteurs.
"Call them back," Sebas commanded. "The night will be chaotic. Let the Watchers do their job for once."
Kai nodded, understanding the order to pull their assets out of the escalating mess. He bowed, then turned and leaped silently off the side of the 30-story building, a small shadow disappearing into the night.
…
Soma and Legolas were asleep in their respective beds in the loft. Zero, however, was still awake, sitting in the center of the dark, quiet café floor, deep in meditation.
He finally had a goal of his own. He took these last few days to reflect. He was so tired of his old life, of the constant, oppressive weight of bad luck that kept trying to bring him down. So when he was offered a wish, he wished to be left alone, to be able to relax. But he also wished to be normal for once, to have a big family, to not be the one looking out from a locked foster room while a "real" family enjoyed a holiday dinner together. It was a paradox.
But what he had come to realize, after roaming the void when he died, after being brought back to life in this strange, new world, was that living was the paradox. You had to live forward and make it all make sense in reverse. It was ironic. The weave of it all.
He opened his eyes. He raised his hands slightly, palms up, and began to feel the world around him, not with his ears or his eyes, but with a sense he didn't know he had. He was a demon now. An Archdemon. He could feel the universe, the cosmos. He could pull at it, make it obey. The world wanted to devour him—from the Ashen God of the first Silent Night to the recent horror of The Hush. Devour. All of them, circling each other in a great, cosmic dance. The key was not to run. The key was to be still. And manipulate.
He focused. Faint, glowing strings of ethereal blue energy, the threads of reality itself, connected to each of his fingertips. He could see them. He could feel them. He focused his intent on a spoon and fork left on a nearby table. The strings stretched, connected. With a thought, he willed them to move. The utensils lifted from the table, floating silently in the air.
A muffled sound began to echo in his ears, pulling at his focus. It was a distant, panicked shouting.
"Zero! ZERO!"
The sound broke his concentration. The ethereal strings snapped. The spoon and fork fell to the floor with a loud, jarring clatter. Zero blinked, the world rushing back into focus.
He looked up. Soma and Legolas were standing a few feet away, in their pajamas, sweating and panting. Soma was holding a heavy cast iron pan like a weapon. Legolas had his bow drawn, an arrow nocked and aimed at the space where Zero sat.
"What happened?" Zero asked, genuinely confused.
"WE'RE THE ONES WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ASKING YOU THAT!" Soma shouted, his voice a mixture of terror and anger.
"What?" Zero said, looking from the fallen utensils to their panicked faces. "I just... moved a spoon and a fork."
"No, you weren't," Legolas said, slowly lowering his bow, his breathing still heavy.
"You were bending your surroundings!" Soma yelled.
"What are you talking about?"
"What Soma says is true," Legolas elaborated, his voice strained. "We were woken up by a violent shaking, like an earthquake, centered right here in the café. When we came downstairs to check on you, the very air around you was... bending. Distorting. Like a heat mirage in the middle of winter."
"When we tried to approach," Soma added, rubbing his hand as if to make sure it was still there, "my hand started to bend with the mirage as I reached out. It was twisting! I almost lost my cooking hand!"
Zero looked down at his own hands, at the faint, residual glow of the ethereal strings. He then looked over at the table where the book lay open. The First Principles of Abyssal Weaving. The mysterious book, he now realized, was far more mysterious, and far more dangerous, than he could have ever thought.
…
The sun had not yet risen, but an emergency meeting of the Animus Council was already in session. The atmosphere was heavy, a stark contrast to their usual strategic briefings.
"You could have destroyed the entire building," Soma said, his voice flat, the earlier panic now replaced by a grim seriousness. "You could have killed us. In our sleep."
"I didn't know," Zero insisted, his own face pale. "I was just... practicing. I was in control."
"Were you?" Erwin countered, his commander's voice cutting through the excuses. "Control is knowing your limits. What you described, what Soma and Legolas witnessed, was not control. It was a raw, untamed power surge. We need to analyze this logically. What is the worst-case scenario?"
"The worst-case scenario," Sebas said calmly, "is that Master Zero loses control entirely. The 'bending' of reality that was described could be a precursor to a complete structural collapse of local space-time. In layman's terms, he could create a black hole where the café used to be."
A heavy silence descended upon the table.
"Okay," Soma said, breaking the quiet. "So, no more magic book for Zero. It's too dangerous. We lock it up, and we find another way for you to get stronger."
"That's not an option," Zero said immediately. "This... this 'Abyssal Weaving'... it's the first thing that's felt truly mine. It's not a power I inherited from a card. It's connected to my nature as an Archdemon. I need to understand it."
"At what cost?" Legolas asked, his voice a low murmur. "The safety of this entire city? The safety of our brothers?"
"I can control it," Zero insisted, a desperate edge to his voice. "I just need to practice."
"Practicing is what almost got us all killed last night!" Soma shot back.
"Then what do you suggest?" Zero demanded. "That I just sit in the café and make coffee for the rest of my life while the rest of you are out there, changing the world? While gods are trying to eat the planet? I can't. I won't."
"There has to be a middle ground," Erwin said, ever the strategist, trying to find a solution. "A controlled environment. Sebas, your dojo in the Hao Pavilion is in the basement, reinforced. Could that contain a potential... incident?"
"Unlikely," Sebas replied. "We are not dealing with a physical force that can be contained by stone and steel. We are dealing with the manipulation of reality itself. No physical barrier would be sufficient."
"So, what then?" Soma asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "We just... hope he doesn't accidentally un-make the universe while he's trying to float a teacup?"
The debate raged on, a circular argument of fear versus ambition, safety versus power. Zero was adamant about continuing his training. Soma was equally adamant about stopping him. Erwin tried to find a logical compromise, while Sebas coolly outlined the apocalyptic potential of failure. Legolas remained silent, observing, his keen eyes watching the dynamic between his brothers.
Finally, he spoke.
"Zero is right," he said, his voice cutting through the argument. The others stopped, turning to look at him. "He cannot be denied his own path to growth. To do so would be to cage a part of ourselves." He then looked at Soma. "But you are also right. The risk is too great. An untamed power is a danger to everyone, including the wielder."
He looked at Zero. "You want to fend for yourself. You want to be strong enough to stand on your own. We understand that. But true strength is also knowing when to accept help."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "There is a solution. One that satisfies both the need for safety and the need for growth." He looked at Zero. "Make one more."
Zero stared at him, confused. "What?"
"Make another clone," Legolas clarified. "One whose sole purpose is to be your partner in this. A spotter. Someone who can be with you, observe your training, and act as an anchor if you begin to lose control. He can learn the Weaving alongside you, and together, you can find a way to control it safely."
The idea hung in the air, a perfect, elegant solution. It was a compromise that addressed everyone's fears. Soma's concern for safety would be met. Zero's desire to continue his training would be honored. Erwin's need for a logical contingency plan would be satisfied.
Zero looked around the table at his brothers, at their concerned, worried faces. He finally nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet. "I can do that."
The tension in the Hub finally broke. The emergency meeting was over. They had a plan.
…
In the quiet of the early morning, Soma brought a steaming plate downstairs to the loft. The rich, savory smell of Menemen, a Turkish dish of eggs, tomatoes, and peppers, wafted through the air. He placed it in front of Zero.
"Thanks," Zero said, looking up from his book.
"Sure," Soma replied, lingering for a moment.
"And... I'm sorry," Zero added, his voice quiet. "About last night. But I need this."
"I know," Soma said with a sigh. "It's just... I'm scared, same as you are. I know I'm a clone, but..."
"We're brothers," Zero cut him off gently. "Your experiences make you you. I can't take that away."
A small, genuine smile returned to Soma's face. "I still expect you to be over the bar making drinks today."
"Got it," Zero said, a new resolve in his eyes. "Work first, practice later." He dug into his breakfast, the delicious food a comforting anchor to reality.
…
The morning rush came in like a tidal wave, the café filling with the familiar, communal atmosphere of regulars and workers. But through the lively chatter, a new commotion could be heard from the main road, a growing sound of laughter and loud talk, even from their secluded alley.
Several minutes later, the café door was thrown open with a boisterous ding! A large, beaming human figure filled the doorway.
"MASTER CHEF SOMA!" the big man's voice boomed, filled with a joyous energy that seemed to shake the entire café.
Soma popped his head out of the kitchen, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Big Sal! Is that you?" He wiped his hands on his apron and came out to shake the man's hand.
"Come now!" Sal said, ignoring the handshake and pulling Soma into a bone-crushing hug. "I know we met when I was a judge at the competition, but I see you as a friend! Bring it in, my friend!"
They exchanged pleasantries, Sal's booming laughter filling the room. As they talked, Soma found himself distracted. Sal's large, round face, his bushy mustache, his sheer passion for food... he looked remarkably like the ghostly form of Gusteau, who was currently floating right beside the man, nodding along as if part of the conversation.
"Come on, sit, sit," Soma said, shaking his head to clear the surreal sight.
Zero, from behind the bar, spoke up. "I believe we've never met before. I'm Zero, the owner of this café."
Big Sal's laugh boomed again. "Zero! Yes! The infamous demon from the papers a few months ago, right? A pleasure to meet you!"
"What brings you to our neck of the woods today, Sal?" Soma asked.
"Well, I'm on my usual tour!" Sal declared. "Every couple of years, I travel around the URA, eating at every tavern, café, or hole-in-the-wall I can find. All for the sake of research!"
"Well, you're welcome to try our fixed menu," Soma said, gesturing to the pancake dish a regular was eating.
Big Sal ordered a plate of the breakfast pancakes. He ate with a gourmand's focus, his expression one of genuine pleasure. But as he took the last bite, a thoughtful, critical look crossed his face. "It's good," he said, his voice carrying across the now-silent café. "But it's not your best creation. Not even close."
The regulars froze, their forks halfway to their mouths.
Sal let out another hearty laugh. "I mean it in a good way! It means Master Chef Soma isn't even trying hard! He's holding back!"
Soma grinned, a competitive fire in his eyes. "I'd burst your clothes if I let out all of my skill, Sal."
"Ah, about that," Sal said, reaching into the collar of his shirt. He pulled out a small, intricately carved pendant on a silver chain. "I had this commissioned from a Magister Elara after our last encounter. It's a special charm. It prevents any magical food from... affecting my clothes."
The café was in shock. The regulars looked at each other, confused. Magical food? They had either forgotten about the explosive effects from the competition or, for the newer patrons, had never known Soma could do such a thing.
Soma's grin widened. This wasn't just a friendly visit. It was a challenge. He reached up and untied the white headband from his arm.
"Alright, Sal," he said, the energy in the room shifting. "If you insist." He tied the headband firmly around his forehead, the knot tightening with a snap. His entire demeanor changed, the friendly café chef replaced by the focused, intense culinary warrior.
"I'll show you cooking."
**A/N**
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**A/N**