Chapter 8

  To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.

  -Laozi, a.k.a. Lao Tzu

  I woke to an alarm in my interface and the sound of quiet breathing in my bedroom. I dismissed the alarm. My memories felt integrated now, and they informed me that my interface doubled as a wildly capable personal assistant. The array of functions made me pause and review for a few minutes before I opened my eyes. Paying attention to the activity around me, taking notes, setting reminders and alarms, tracking personal finance, organizing personal inventory, map functions, and general access to the Crown’s data network just touched the surface of what my interface could do.

  I spent another minute daydreaming about the odd blend of augmented reality technology and seeming magic in this world of super humans who all came equipped with personal augmented reality built into their brains. My new memories attributed all of this, all of what I would call technology, from the lights in my rooms to the still unbelievable mega-structure ring worlds around this star, to the power of mana and enchanting. It was overwhelming, and I spent another of my available minutes trying to still my mind. Runaway speculation and anxiety, because my entire knowledge base about the Crown came from the stolen memories of a sixteen-year-old boy, would not be productive.

  When I willed my eyes open, I found the healer’s apprentice, Róisín Iyasha, slumped off a chair next to my bed, her head resting near my knee, and her soundly asleep. The seriousness she normally wore on her face didn’t burden her in sleep. I admired her relaxed face and did not want to disturb her. She was very pretty, a beautiful young woman, and my idiotic sixteen-year-old body reacted accordingly. Another moment of focus to again still my mind proved mostly successful in suppressing the hormonal response. I made a note to check through my interface for physiological controls. Memory told me they existed and became available to each person when they unlocked their status. Dean had had little time to explore those options, but he knew there were settings for reproductive control. Maybe I could find something to deal with the teen libido overdrive. It wouldn’t be an issue this morning, but in this world, there were no ugly people. Teen romance wasn’t on my agenda, and hopefully I could keep it that way.

  I eased my sheet down and eased my legs up away from the sleeping girl and realized I had gone directly from drying myself off. The towel lay crumpled next to my nightstand, to passing out in bed.

  I got out of bed, stood, and walked halfway to my bathroom before I heard a sharp intake of breath from behind me, a small gasp that resembled a squeak more than a gasp, then a panicked scramble and fall.

  “Good morning, Healer Róisín,” I said and closed the bathroom door. Standing there on the other side of the closed door, another memory filtered in through the hormone induced fog impeding my reason. I knew how to equip items, like clothes and armor, directly from inventory.

  A short facepalm later and I ran through a quick morning routine. Empty bladder, wash hands, brush teeth, futilely brush hair, all while thoughts of the pretty girl in the next room crashed against my willpower. Even my enhanced willpower aspect struggled. I needed a gallon of coffee or some of Cook’s glowcider for focus.

  Minutes later, I stepped back into my bedroom refreshed, fully clothed and as coifed as I could be.

  The very pretty girl stood by the bedroom door leading to my sitting room. “I-,” she started. “I came to check on you.” She managed her blush admirably.

  “Thank you, Róisín, I am grateful for your concern and care. Would you like to accompany me to breakfast? I have twenty minutes before I am expected in the dojo.”

  Her blush came back about half power. “I would like that, yes.”

  The communal dining room bustled with activity. Cook spotted me when I walked in and waved me to a table in the corner. Róisín and I walked over and sat. Cook looked me over, raised an eyebrow, nodded to himself, and walked into the kitchen.

  “He doesn’t talk much, does he?” Róisín asked.

  “No,” I said, “if you can get him talking about anything, it will be food, and then he’ll tell you he prefers to communicate with his cuisine. Chasing enlightenment for his advancement to gold.”

  “It’s something that you have a peak silver ranked cook. It seems like he could work in the province capital, or even the Landwarden’s household.”

  “He’s part of my parent’s team. Cooking is his hobby skill. They all take twenty years off every century to recuperate. My parents use the break to have a child and work for the clan. I’m number seven. When I turn twenty, they’ll regroup and be off again, I think.”

  Cook appeared next to our table and set down several trays of food and a large carafe of glowcider. He looked at me, squinted slightly, shook his head, and walked away again.

  “Some of your status lines are still scrambled,” Róisín said. “My master said it might take some time for them to recover.”

  “I feel fine,” I said around a mouthful of what my new and old memories called a fry-up. Bacon, sausages, black pudding, white pudding, scrambled eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, beans, and a few slices of soda bread slathered in butter. Every bite pushed through and into my newly enhanced senses, the balance of spices, the texture of the sausages and puddings, the perfect amount of salt balanced with starches from the beans and bread, sweetness from the tomatoes, bound together by eggs perfectly cooked with chive and pepper.

  My dining companion snapped her fingers in front of my eyes to get my attention. I swallowed the mouthful of food and focused my attention back on her.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, “but this fry-up is maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve been eating Cook’s meals my entire life.”

  She laughed, a quiet giggle, and the hormone fog crept back into my brain. I quashed it with a monumental act of will. I suddenly suspected my mother was the one responsible for putting this girl in my path, and I wasn’t even annoyed with her for doing it.

  “It is good,” she said, “a bit heavy before a day of training, though, isn’t it?”

  “When Cook gives you food, you eat it. Never question it. One of my cousins, an iron ranker, complained once. He got only rice gruel for six months. Every meal he tried to eat, anywhere in the province, no matter what it was when he started, turned into thin rice gruel before he could take a bite.”

  “I don’t know if I believe you,” she said, “but the food here is incredible. Anyone criticizing it deserves what they get.”

  Cook appeared next to our table again and gave Róisín a smile, placed a to-go box of food next to me, and nodded to the large clock above the fireplace mantle. Five minutes to shieldfall.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  I scooped the last of my breakfast into my mouth, chased it with another full glass of glowcider, and stood.

  I gave the pretty girl with me a small bow. “Thank you for your company, Healer Róisín.” I battled the teen libido and hormone overload into submission and managed not to say anything embarrassing in that moment. A small win, but still a win.

  She finished her meal and stood as well. “I’m to accompany you and monitor your training today. Orders from my master.”

  I kept suspicion off my face, but now I knew my mother was behind this. I grabbed the to go bag, sent it into my inventory, bowed a full bow to Cook, smiled at the pretty girl, and headed for the dojo.

  We stepped into the dojo with one minute to spare before Shieldfall began. I banished my boots and socks to inventory and stepped onto the dojo floor. My sister and Sensei-Lorcan stood in the center, waiting. I bowed to the center, then the front, and moved to join them.

  “You, too, healer’s apprentice,” Sensei said. “I need someone closer to the lad’s level for today’s training.”

  A copper rank does not argue with a silver rank when given an explicit order. I could tell she thought about it for an instant, though, and discarded the idea. She proved she knew the inventory equip trick. Between steps, she changed from her healer’s uniform to a training gi in Clan Iyasha’s green and white. A moment later, she stood beside me in the center of the floor.

  She bowed to the two opposite us, “Róisín Iyasha, apprentice healer, level fifteen, and my sword skill is twenty, Sensei Oketani.”

  “Respectable,” úna said. I felt her run an inspect skill through both of us. She gave me the hint of a smile. I gave her a half shrug. I could tell she saw our mother’s hand pulling strings, too. “And you, Dean, your stats are all threes now, impressive gains for eating and sleeping.”

  I hadn’t read my notifications yet this morning. A quick check verified her words. Gold letters scrolled through my field of view.

  Your stats have increased- rest, healing, and food have restored a portion of your lost potential. You should thank your cook, gremlin, he’s exceptional.

  Mind +1

  Body +1

  Soul +1

  Name- Dean Oketani (Dean Kuroi)

  Rank- Copper

  Race- Human (Aetheri)

  Racial Aspect- Adaptive, (Apotheon)

  Title: Champion of Nythera

  Level- 1

  Mind- 3

  Aspects: Divine Lens (upgradeable)

  Body- 3

  Aspects: Aetherbound Stamina (upgradeable)

  Soul- 3

  Aspects: Logos (meta, unique, divine), Soul Aegis (upgradable)

  Skills:

  Sword(katana)- 15

  Nothing in either set of my memories covered this specific circumstance. My confusion must have been obvious.

  “Healer Iyasha said you would continue to improve, little brother. The lines in your status for aspects are distorted, but yesterday they were blank. Some blur between your name and stats, but more is clear today that yesterday. I can tell that you slotted some aspects in, but I can’t read them.”

  “I can read them,” I said. “There are no distortions when I look at it.”

  Sensei-Lorcan let out a hhhmph, “It’s a wonder you survived your injuries at all, lad. I’ve known some in my few centuries who’ve survived similar, and some of them never get their complete status restored. If you have access to the entire thing, I think you’ll have no problems.

  “Now,” he continued, “Shieldfall began two minutes ago. Grab your training weapon and run through the basic footwork drills and the katas again, same as you did yesterday. Increase the weight of the weapon to your limit. After that, we’ll have a spar.”

  I bowed. He and úna moved off the main floor to a smaller area. Sensei-Lorcan looked over his shoulder. “You too, Iyasha. Kenseann is the same here as in your home dojo. Grab a suburito and practice!”

  Kenseann- a sword art originating in the kingdom of Virelion. I know, gremlin, you’d call it Kenjutsu, and you’d be right. Maybe you aren’t the first person from your Earth to be truck-kun’d onto my Crown, or maybe there are just a limited number of ways for bipedal monkeys with questionable sapience to swing a metal stick.

  For the next two hours, I did what Sensei-Lorcan instructed me to do. Slow to fast, footwork, katas, breathing. I fed all external distractions, all thoughts, all worries about a hostile artificial intelligence, into the flame. After the first pass, I slipped into a flow state and pulled my fifty years of Earth martial arts training into my new body. I was lighter, faster, and a few inches taller than I’d been on Earth. I noted the differences in reach, reaction time, and strength, then made slight adjustments to everything from my foot position to where my fingers held the training sword.

  Everything that was not me, the sword, or the floor beneath my feet fell into the flame. I let all conscious thought fall away, and all that remained was a perfect stillness of mind, body, soul, and sword.

  Logos activated- you gain insight. This isn’t your Aetheri nature nor a gift from me, gremlin. This one, as far as I can tell, is all you. I doubt that Aetheri bitch you’re beholden to understands what this is, either. Though I’m sure it drew her to you. It makes me happy to know she does not know what this is or what you’ll be able to do with it.

  The notification didn’t register on a conscious level. I let the new, deeper understanding of swords and my martial arts join me in the void, and we became one. After a tenth pass through footwork and katas, I set imaginary foes around me and moved from kata to practical application. Sword strikes, kicks, punches, blocks, parries, thrusts, and asymmetrical movements all integrated into a cohesive whole.

  The tenth and final imaginary opponent stepped into my path and dodged a leg sweep, slipped past a fist, and forced me to retreat two steps with a forward kick of its own. I brought the weight of my practice sword down to its minimum setting and swung down for the shoulder and neck. When the blade reached its maximum speed, I pushed the weight dial up to thirty pounds. Memory said the dial would make the blade weigh as much as five hundred pounds, but on the dojo floor control is paramount.

  My blade met resistance with a wood on wood sound and broke my flow state. The world flooded back in and Sensei-Lorcan stood in front of me, one hand up, my suburito in contact with his palm, and that same self-satisfied smile on his face from last night.

  Mind +1

  Body +1

  Soul +1

  Sword (Kenseann katana) +15

  Daishan’ei +20

  Daishan’ei- dia-SHAHN-ay, strike first, strike hard, no mercy. An intense, brutal, efficient hand to hand combat art that combines grappling, throws, ground control, strikes, and submissions. Daishan’ei adapts to superhuman capability as you advance your skill. A formalized version of the bastardized path you followed on Earth, gremlin. Curious, isn’t it?

  I lowered my blade and bowed. “Sensei, my apologies.” I held the bow for a full ten seconds before standing up and making eye contact.

  “No apology needed, lad,” he said. He nodded towards the small area off to the side where my sister and Róisín stood. “They thought you might want to break for lunch. You’ve been at this for five hours. Looks like that stamina aspect works as intended.”

  “My stats are all fours now, too, Sensei,” I said. “Two more points in each and I’ll have them back to where I was before Donny trampled me.”

  “You’re young, lad. An adult by the law, but your sixteen spins is a blink to your parents and me. You’ll heal up. In a few days or a few spins, you have time.” He ruffled my permanently messy hair and gave me a gently push towards the ladies. “Go eat.”

  I bowed off the dojo floor, returned my suburito to the rack, and joined my sister and Róisín.

  I gave them a small greeting bow when I stood near, “Captain, Healer, my apologies, I lost track of the time.”

  “Shut up and sit down, little brother. I’m hungry. Cook came buy with some food for us an hour ago, and Cousin Fergus dropped off a package for you.” She summed both from inventory, a huge tray of food and a wood box with the Oketani emblem expertly inlaid into the surface.

  “Food first,” she said, “and while we eat, you can tell me when, exactly, Cook has been training you in Daishan’ei. Trade that o-katana for a pair of tetsugán and I can see his hand in this.”

  My memories kicked up an answer. A week ago. I realized I could not have learned the skills I’d just displayed in a week’s time. I knelt next to the food and grabbed a bowl of spiced skygrain topped with some kind of grilled meat and vegetables. My stomach, again, betrayed my dignity with a loud growl.

  Róisín giggled, “Eat,” she said. “Healer’s orders.”

  I smiled at her giggle while my sister rolled her eyes at both of us.