Big Sal, now draped in an oversized coat he'd bought off a fellow customer, was still buzzing. One would think he'd be furious, or at least embarrassed, to have been so thoroughly... disrobed... in front of a public café.
But Sal just laughed, a deep, window-rattling sound. "AHAHAHAHA! It was a hundred times better than I even expected!"
Soma, leaning against the counter and finally untying his headband, let a tired, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Glad you liked it."
"It was an honor, Chef," Sal said, his tone becoming serious for a moment. He gestured to his own chest, a silent reference to his exploded charm. "Though, you might want to practice controlling that 'hearth' of yours. It would be a shame to have such masterpieces be so... inaccessible... to the general public."
"I'll try," Soma said with a nod.
"That's my guy!" Sal boomed, pulling him into another massive hug. He then paid his extravagant bill, waved to the entire café, and left with a joyous, triumphant smile on his face, a man who had just had a truly religious experience.
The regulars, still buzzing from the spectacle, began to leave one by one, their day's excitement peaked. The day wound down, and as the last of the sun's rays faded, night fell.
Zero locked the front door, turning the "Open" sign to "Closed."
"Hey," Soma said, already cleaning the warzone of a kitchen. "Put today's earnings in the register."
Zero walked to the cash register. He added Sal's massive payment and the day's other earnings. Only five days after being completely drained by the last Gacha pull, the total points climbed back to a healthy 2250.
"Shame Sal won't be here tomorrow," Zero said, looking at the total. "He'd be a good cash cow to have around."
"Hey," Soma called from the kitchen. "That's my colleague you're talking about."
Zero chuckled. "I'm going up to the loft to practice," he said. "You okay down here alone?"
"Go," Soma replied, not looking up from his scrubbing. "I'm not a child. I don't need supervision."
Zero sat on the floor of the loft, cross-legged, in deep meditation. Time seemed to fly by. He was finally practicing with purpose, not just curiosity. He could feel the glowing strings of the Abyssal Weave, could feel them connected to his very core. And as he focused, he felt a new, loose string, a knot of potential that had just untied itself. He could make a new clone. The one he'd promised to make.
He opened his eyes, a spark of excitement in them.
Downstairs, Soma had just finished cooking, a look of satisfaction on his face. He balanced three plates on his arms—one for him, one for Zero, and one for Legolas. "Dinner's u—"
He was cut off by the sound of Zero rummaging in the loft's small kitchen. He saw Zero take the small paring knife, slice his palm without a second's hesitation, and let the blood pool on the floor. In a familiar, grotesque whirlwind of crimson, the new clone formed.
Legolas, who had been reading on the sofa, put his hands on his hips, a small, amused smirk on his face. "Well, well," he said. "I'm no longer the youngest anymore."
The new clone blinked, looked down at himself, and then at the others. "Can someone give me some clothes?"
Soma sighed, looking at the three plates of food in his hands. "You should have told me," he grumbled at Zero. "I would have made one more portion."
"No need," Legolas said, standing up to set the dinner table. "The newbie cooks for himself."
"What?!" the new clone exclaimed. "This isn't fair!"
Legolas just shrugged, his elven grace completely unbothered. "I don't know what to tell you. Life's not fair."
Zero just chuckled. The new clone, in a fit of mock-mad indignation, stomped down the stairs to the main kitchen to cook his own dinner.
While Zero and his brothers celebrated the new addition, Misela was on the 31st floor of the Hao Pavilion, sorting through a newly acquired pile of parchments and old books about magic. Sebas entered the office silently.
"Is this all?" he asked.
"This is the result of our bugs in the smaller noble houses—Barons and Viscounts," Misela reported. "The bugs assigned to the Earls and the Duke haven't made their move yet. I've instructed them to thread with extreme caution."
Sebas nodded. "And what is that book?" he asked, pointing to a thick, leather-bound volume with no title, sitting apart from the rest.
"That's a special case," Misela said with a sly smile. "One of the nobles was complaining that a low-level mage had swindled him with a completely unreadable, 'ancient' tome. He was furious but too embarrassed to say anything about it publicly. Once we found out, we... acquired it. For a mere fraction of what he paid."
Sebas picked it up. The script on the cover was alien, a series of flowing, complex symbols. Strangely, he couldn't read a single one. "Let me check this," he said.
He went still. In the Animus Hub, his form materialized, and he called for Zero.
Zero, having just finished his late dinner, appeared. "What's up, Sebas?"
"Master," Sebas said, materializing a perfect, spectral copy of the new book. "Can you read this?"
Zero looked at the cover. "Yes," he said, as easily as if it were his native language. "It says, 'Understanding the Cosmos Within Abyssal Weaving.'"
A beat of silence. "Great," Sebas said. "Because I cannot."
"What?" Zero was taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
"Just as I said. I cannot read it," Sebas stated.
"But... you're me. Why can I read it and you can't?"
"That is a question we will need to answer," Sebas replied. "I will have the physical book delivered to the café. Have a good night, Master." Sebas's form dissolved, leaving Zero alone and deeply confused.
Zero returned to the loft. He looked at the new clone, then at Soma and Legolas. He picked up his first book, 'The First Principles of Abyssal Weaving.'
He walked over to the new clone. "Can you read this?" he asked, holding it out.
The new clone looked at the cover. "Yes. 'First Principles...' It seems straightforward."
Zero then walked over to Soma and Legolas, who were cleaning up their dinner plates. "Can you two read this?"
Soma glanced at it. "Yeah. Why?"
Legolas nodded. "I can."
Zero's mind began to churn. 'So, all of us can read the first book. But Sebas, who is also me, can't read the second book. But I, the original, can read both. What makes Sebas different? Or is it the book?' He was beginning to wonder if Sebas's unique evolution as a "Dragon Butler" had somehow locked him out of this new path, or if this new book was something only the original could access.
…
The next morning, the new clone—now dubbed "One" as a placeholder until he earned a card—was already hard at work in the loft. He had possession of the first book, cross-referencing it with new notes, already trying to form theories and hypotheses about the nature of Abyssal Weaving. He was the supervisor.
Downstairs, Zero was dutifully wiping down the bar, getting ready for the morning rush, just as he'd promised.
In the loft, Legolas, dressed in simple, practical traveling clothes, opened the window.
"Where are you going?" One asked, not looking up from his parchment.
"Buying material," Legolas replied, securing a pouch to his belt. "It's about time I started to realize my designs."
"Good luck," One said. "Grab me some more parchment and a few blank books on your way back, can you?"
"If I pass the store, sure," Legolas said, giving a non-committal answer. "But no promises."
And with the silent, superhuman grace of an elf, he leaped from the window, disappearing onto the crowded streets.
…
Legolas moved through the morning crowds of Evercrest with an otherworldly grace, his elven form parting the sea of merchants and workers without a single jostle. While he walked, his mind was focused, reviewing the list of requests from his brothers. This was his first real task as the group's artisan, and the list was... eclectic.
First, Erwin's requests. They were the most complex. A double-sided coat, one side designed to insulate against extreme cold, the other to reflect heat. It also needed to be completely waterproof. Legolas's innate knowledge from the Gojo Wakana card was about normal human clothing, but this required materials that didn't exist on his old world. He'd have to rely on the knowledge he'd crammed from Erwin's library. The wild beasts of this world, he mused, might provide the answer. Erwin's second request was simpler, yet more macabre: disposable, thin gloves for handling evidence, as his standard-issue leather ones still left trace marks at a scene.
Second, Zero's request: a binder for their growing collection of unused cards. Simple, practical, and necessary.
Third, Soma's: a new apron, one that could "self-clean." Legolas let out an almost imperceptible sigh at the absurdity of the request, though he knew with the right enchanted fabric, it was theoretically possible.
And finally, Sebas's: a bulk order of simple, durable, dark-colored uniforms for the "kids" in his ranks, suitable for investigation and... other activities. A practical request for a growing shadow organization.
Legolas arrived at the textile district and found the shop he was looking for. It was a sad-looking place, the paint peeling from its sign, a stark contrast to the rich, vibrant fabrics that were tantalizingly displayed in the dusty front window. Hopefully, I can get a discount from this sad vibe, he thought, adjusting his pouch of Sols.
He stepped inside. The shop was a chaotic wonderland of textures and colors. A small bell chimed, and a tiny halfling woman hurried out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron.
"C-ca-can I help you, sir?" she stammered, her face immediately turning bright red as she took in the tall, graceful elf standing before her.
Legolas gave her a small, disarming smile. "It would be lovely if you could," he said, his voice smooth and melodic.
The halfling looked like she might faint.
"I am looking for several materials," Legolas began, "starting with the most difficult. Do you have access to fleece-threaded slime fabric?"
The halfling's eyes widened. "Oh, my," she whispered. "That's a rare one." She quickly took out a small notebook and a pencil. "B-but I can get it for you! It might take a week, but I can source it. Can you tell me the specific thread count and denier?"
"Oh," Legolas said, his polite smile not wavering. "A week is quite long. I suppose I will go to the shop next door to check if they have it in stock."
It was a simple pressure tactic, but the halfling's reaction was anything but.
"PLEASE, SIR!" she suddenly yelped, and before Legolas could react, the tiny woman had run around the counter and latched onto his leg with a desperate grip. "Ours would be of the highest quality! I promise! The highest! Just give us a chance!"
Legolas sighed, looking down at the shopkeeper who was now clinging to his calf. "Okay," he said calmly. "I am a customer. Can you please let go of my leg?"
"Oh! Yes! Sorry!" she said, letting go and scrambling to her feet, her face now a deeper shade of crimson. "Please, sir, just give us a chance. Let us get all the things you want. You can check the next door after ours arrive, and you can compare them then! If ours isn't better, you don't have to pay!"
Legolas looked at this small, fiercely desperate merchant. "The fleece-slime fabric wasn't the only thing on my list," he said, a note of resignation in his voice. "It is a... very large order. Can you get all of it in one week?"
The halfling's demeanor snapped. The desperate, flustered shopkeep vanished, replaced by a sharp, professional businesswoman. She straightened her apron, her eyes gleaming with determination.
"Yes, sir," she said, her voice now steady. "One week."
…
Legolas returned, carrying several large bolts of fabric. He'd managed to acquire the materials that were readily available: a sturdy, dark-dyed canvas for Sebas's prototypes, a high-grade, waterproof material for Soma's apron, and some specialized treated leather for Zero's card binder.
The self-cleaning enchantment for Soma, however, was a dead end. The halfling shopkeeper had explained that enchantments of that complexity were the exclusive domain of mages, who guarded their craft jealously and certainly wouldn't sell such a spell to a commoner for a mere apron. Soma would have to wait.
He leaped gracefully from the rooftop, landing silently on the windowsill of the second-floor loft.
One, who was deep in concentration over the Abyssal Weaving book, nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of the elf. "OH! God, can you not do that?!"
Legolas simply stepped into the room, dumping the heavy materials onto a clear table. He let out a small, frustrated sigh. "Aahhh, I have to wait for Erwin's materials. Who would guess slime thread would be so trendy this fall?"
One looked up from his notes. "Did you get my request? The parchment and books?"
Legolas chuckled. "Sorry, bud. I didn't walk past the stationary store." He tapped his temple. "Why not just use the Hub for scribbling shit like that? You can manifest endless supplies in there."
"Because I need to see the effect of it on the real world," One said, his voice earnest.
Legolas paused, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
One, seeing that Legolas was genuinely interested, grabbed his notebook. "Well, Zero and I have a theory. It's still baseless, since we don't know what it is or how it really works. But you see, there are all these different magical systems, right? Even the Concord mages have their own specializations in their home regions. What if this Abyssal Weaving is the stem for one of them? Or maybe the root of all of them?"
He pointed to a rough drawing of a rune-car. "We've been trying to compare the 'strings' Zero felt to runic magic, since it's the most common and available form of magic in the URA. Even the cars work on it. I need to know if the Weaving can influence the runes."
"Oh," Legolas said, a slow smile spreading across his face as an idea formed. "I think I've got something that can help."
He walked over to his new materials and unrolled a large swath of the plain, dark canvas—the prototype fabric for Sebas's force.
"What's this?" One asked.
"It's for Sebas's spiders," Legolas explained. "But for now, it's your test canvas. Just write your scribbles here. Try it on. You just need to see the effect, right? With this, you can try to weave your runes or whatever it is you're doing, and when you're done, the material can still be used by me to make the prototypes." He grinned. "No waste, baby."
One's face lit up. "Hehe, sure. That would be interesting." He looked downstairs, where the sounds of the bustling lunch rush were in full swing. "I'll need to wait for Zero to be done, though. The deal was no practicing without supervision."
"No worries," Legolas said, picking up the treated leather. "I'll make the binder first anyway. Have fun staring at your blank canvas."
**A/N**
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**A/N**