Lucy left not long after her 'troubling' revelation, leaving Alaric to his thoughts. She wasn't always the best at reading the room as one who'd once crashed an important strategy meeting just to take a boy out into the city to have fun, but this was clear to see even for her.

Alaric would need time to digest this information.

In the silence that followed, the boy felt his chest tighten while his breath became a bit more laboured. His mind spasmed a bit, trying to find something else to focus on.

The world wouldn't let that happen though. Knowing he wouldn't regain full body functionality was different from suspecting it, and the evidence of his conundrum made it feel too real for him.

Alaric couldn't pull up his legs to coil up into a ball as that would send him into a world of pain just attempting the act.

His body hurt—even worse now that he knew it was supposed to—, and while that wasn't a new sensation, knowing he would be like this until after a Tempering Ritual, which would most likely take months to complete, threw him into another form of mental hell.

'It's not fair,' he cried, 'I barely used any aether.'

[ Well… ] his guardian started, [ You did cast enchantments on that staff, use your Will and Authority, and then went on to use Aslan's ability to teleport all over the place… for nearly 'four' hours without rest. That's the opposite of… 'barely.' ]

Despite the patronising words, the guardian's tone was soothing and somewhat melancholic. It was almost like she was trying to propel his muddled thoughts forward and help him rationalize this impossible situation.

Alaric wanted to complain, but the guardian was right in her assessment. He'd gone all out in that duel. Even though he'd tried to limit the use of aether, he'd still used it for an excessively long time, especially during those times when he was desperately trying to save his face from getting bashed in.

At the end of the day, he was weak against a Metal Rank, and he'd really pushed it. This was his fault. His alone. He took in a deep, shaky breath and stared onward, tears glistening in his eyes. He didn't want to cry or give up, despite now being an actual cripple.

Crying wasn't going to help, so what would? What would?

The figure that had been standing by the window the whole time chose this moment to speak, his voice filled with curiosity, untouched by the melancholy that filled the room, "Why are you sad? If I may ask… You beat Rail'ak, dismantled his whole empire, got your revenge for what he did to Troy. So, why are you sad? You just have a ritual to go through and you'll be as good as new. Rail'ak's going to be in exile for five years. You've won, haven't you?"

Alaric stared at the clone, and resisted the urge to yell at him, "I want to go out there, Alistair. I want to talk to Rail'ak before he leaves, see how far Troy has gone. Dara'k's probably wondering what happened to me since we haven't spoken in a while. I want to listen to Morn'ak go on about fine stitches and advanced weaving techniques to enhance enchantments like it's common sense.

I want to talk to the High Sentinel… Ungv'ak and Soren were good friends. I remember some of the times they had together. And even besides all that, the demiplane is a big, beautiful place… yet I'm stuck here."

The clone nodded, sucking in a deep breath, "I… I hadn't thought about it like that."

"It's okay," Alaric answered with a light, hollow chuckle.

Alistair wasn't done, "Why don't you just craft yourself another body? Sabre?"

The black puma emerged from the shadows and looked between them, before widening her eyes in realisation, "You want him to make another clone?"

"This time with his consciousness… That way, he'd be able to share its senses and…"

"Out of the question," Alia's voice boomed as she too emerged from the In-Between, "You're an exception because Alaric didn't know what he was doing at the time, so you remain an anomaly. To create a conscious clone using that Ability would require him to split his own power to create a lesser vessel. That takes aether. A lot of it. Let's not forget that aether is out of the question for now."

The clone nodded with understanding before the gears in his head started churning once more. "What if he made a clone out of wood like he does with Thomper's Power?"

"That also takes aether," Alaric answered before his guardian could scold the clone.

"Then we invite everyone who would like to see you instead," the clone tried, "That way, you don't have to go to them."

"That's a thoughtful idea, but only feasible for a handful of people. I can't imagine Rail'ak coming here. I doubt even Troy would leave his station for something like this," the guardian answered with a sigh, smiling fondly at the clone's attempts.

"Then, we… we levitate him," the clone answered with glee, "I can learn the spell and take him wherever I go. It would be hectic but we could make one trip. A single trip through the demiplane. We meet everyone."

There was a small period of silence before Alia spoke, "Doesn't your connection to Alaric send aether through his system first before it reaches you?"

The clone shook his head, "No… Even without Alaric's help, I have some aether of my own."

Alaric was thinking deeply, calculating the risks(which he quickly discarded) before saying, "That just might work."

……………………

Alaric was not delusional enough to dream. He wouldn't allow himself, for even a second, to think that this plan of theirs might actually work.

He was fully aware of the ins and outs of magic and knew how trying a spell such as this one sustained over a long period of time could wear down even the most talented of mages.

The only reason he even considered it was because of how many anomalies his clone had managed to display in the short span of his life.

He had nearly infinite endurance, and as far as they were aware, he was extremely difficult to destroy. No one had actively tried to destroy him, but he'd survived more injuries than a human should have been able to take, simply reforming himself like it was nothing.

His magic capacity was also higher than Alaric's was before he'd started his Body Tempering.

So for the start, they agreed to a few test runs before actually settling into the idea of having his clone tow him around the demiplane with magic.

He trusted the guy to keep him intact and avoid all harm that would come to him, but he was also very aware of how difficult of an undertaking this was.

First, there was the spell, then there was maintaining the balance and finding the right posture for Alaric to take on without hurting him. After half an hour, however, they'd pretty much gotten it down.

Food came, along with a visit from LionHeart during which the protector went over the whole plan with him. The big man had been stunned to see Alaric floating close to the chandelier, but after hearing about what they were trying to accomplish, he beamed… and proposed spending the next day training.

He even had an extra idea for them to try. For practice, the clone would go up and down the stairs with his master in tow.

And so the next day came.

…………

Alaric couldn't say he enjoyed being carted up and down a flight of stairs fifteen times in one hour only to go through it over and over again for two more hours before the clone decided he needed some rest. His endurance was no joke, considering he wasn't even tired by the end of it all.

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The clone's version of being tired was the near-depletion of his aether reserves rather than actual exhaustion, and to rest, he would hand Alaric over to Alia while he returned to their realm in the In-Between to replenish his aether. That was also the first time Alaric was hearing of how aether-rich that place was.

He figured since it was a part of him, he was unable to feel the aether when he visited.

Training didn't end there, though, as LionHeart somehow manifested the idea that he too needed to learn this spell so he could swap out with Alistair whenever the clone needed a break.

This meant dizzy time for Alaric, and in some cases, excitement as he edged his carriers forward with enthusiasm, enthusiasm that always burnt out as quickly as it came.

Learning to swap Alaric from one carrier to another was a painful experience for the dangling Guardian Emperor as his trusty protector managed to drop him four times before he got the hang of it.

For some reason, it didn't occur to them to first try it on something other than a living, muscle ache-ridden human. Even then, the protector needed time to grasp what Alistair had made look easy.

It took over an hour for the big man to learn… and then hand over the duty of learning this spell to Scarlett, Lucy, Kair'ak, Grun'am and, surprisingly, Par'al.

The demihumans were quick learners with Lucy following closely behind. Scarlett, on the other hand, who had grown more comfortable with combat than magic, had a hard time.

Alaric's day was punctuated by falls and squeals of pain as everybody but Troy pitched in to learn this new form of transporting the most important human in the demiplane.

The team was too eager, but seeing them all unite to make sure he wasn't left out in the happenings of the demiplane warmed his heart. He even stopped complaining when they dropped him, storing the count in a revenge folder somewhere at the back of his mind.

As more of them learnt the ins and outs of the telekinetic spell, Alaric's opportunity to explore the outside grew from one day to three. He couldn't impose on one person for too long, but with everyone's help, he could certainly roam the demiplane until the time for his Tempering Ritual.

It was a brilliant thought. An exciting, comforting thought filled with the warm embers of hope in a time of darkness and pain.

As he went to sleep that day, with his stomach full and his heart aflutter, he looked forward to a day of adventure even despite the broken state of his body.

His guardian hid her pride and happiness from him, 'To smile in such an impossible time. You never cease to amaze me.' She thought to herself, her smile mirroring the one the sleeping boy's face. 'You've made good friends.'

………………………

"Alright, Alistair. Just like we practised," Alia urged the perfect copy of Alistair in a voice louder than necessary. The clone, who had his hands out in front of him, a bead of sweat on his brow, gritted his teeth and focused, using the guardian's enthusiasm as his drive.

"I hate this mask, y'know," Alistair grunted.

"I know," Alaric, whose body was now only hovering above the bed, answered, "I had to rip it off the first time I cast Storm Shield."

"That is why we practised for this yesterday. You are going to be the one carrying Alaric the most since you have the most endurance," Alia continued in her coach-like tone, "Don't tell me all that big talk was for nothing."

"Now, you're just using my words against me," the clone squealed, putting more focus into achieving the mere task of lifting Alaric into the air.

A moment later, Alaric was airborne, hovering slightly above them in white and golden clothes. His legs were numb, but his hands and upper body could swing around a bit, allowing him to look around him. The excitement in his voice was infectious, "You're doing it!"

"This… is but a parlour trick for me, Little Prince," Alistair answered with gusto, turning around dramatically to leave the room with his master in tow.

LionHeart, who was standing at the door, simply shook his head in resignation, "Just be sure not to drop him. You might have infinite endurance, but that's not the same for Kair'ak and Lucy."

Alaric chuckled from his spot in the air. While it had indeed been painful for him to fall each time his friends failed and dropped him the day before, Lucy and Kair'ak had paid the full price in casting Healing and Numbing spells on him so he wouldn't tear his muscles in all the chaos.

Even now, Lucy stood to the side, holding a bag that was slung over her shoulder, done with her morning ministrations of the boy's condition. So far, so good. Alaric was in a good enough state to yell, "Onward, Alistair!"

"Aye!" Alistair answered with the enthusiasm to match, marching out the door with Alaric in tow. The rest of their gang joined the on the way down the stairs, greeting Alaric and falling in sync with the group to join whatever idle chatter was milling through them.

Alaric was more focused on leaving the Pantheon. The Guardian Emperor counted the steps as they descended, up until the moment they stepped into the cool breeze outside.

The demiplane was a sight for sore eyes, brilliant in all its glory.

'I haven't been out in a week,' he mentally squealed.

The air was flush with aether as he took a deep breath. The sounds of bustling citizens filled his ears. The bellows in the Steel District, the Spinning threads in the Textile Districts, the playing children at the edge of the Pantheon courtyard.

Nothing escaped Alaric's notice. Not even the tent of toiling alchemists in the Pantheon's courtyard, with Troy at the helm, ordering this and that to be done while he took several notes and tended to his own concoctions.

Alistair noticed Alaric's first source of interest and took him there. The blond alchemy prodigy hadn't noticed their presence and was jotting down something in his notebook as he checked several brewing solutions, the gears in his head turning.

Alaric had always thought alchemy involved cauldrons boiling endlessly with the help of aether… and maybe a few pestles and mortars to crush some ingredients, but nothing else. And yet every time he observed Troy, he was doing anything but pill refining with a cauldron.

The boy was thorough and knowledgeable, doing the things most alchemists would consider boring and menial. Perhaps that's what made him a prodigy. There was a cough from Lucy on his right, which got Troy's attention.

The boy turned to their group, only to go pale at the sight of him. "Alaric!" he squeaked.

"Morning, Troy!" Alaric answered enthusiastically, "How are you doing?"

"Fine! You?" the boy spluttered, only to go red and shake his head, "No… Of course, you're not… I didn't mean…"

"I'm alright, Troy," Alaric cut him off with a chuckle, "Partly thanks to you, from what I've heard."

Troy rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly, "I… I didn't do all that much."

"Oh, but you did. I am in your debt," Alaric answered.

Troy went redder, "No. Never. It is I who is in your debt."

[ Alaric! ] Sabre facepalmed from the In-Between, [ Take it easy on the boy. ]

Alaric had wanted to continue teasing Troy, but at the puma's request, he stopped with a chuckle. In all his boredom, he'd come up with the most plausible reason for Troy keeping his distance from him, and from this interaction, he'd just confirmed his suspicions.

Troy was naturally awkward around strangers and only really cared for alchemy. However, that also meant he was indebted to Alaric for restoring his meridians. Saving his life had doubled that debt and placed him in an awkward position where even crafting the Stone Pill wouldn't be enough to repay his debt to Alaric.

He wished the boy could relax a bit more, but also knew that would be hard for him.

In the end, Alaric was glad he'd found Troy. There hadn't been many to choose from, so he was rather grateful for his luck in finding Troy.

"I hope I'm not imposing when I ask that you grant me a successful Tempering Ritual, considering I won't be able to walk until it's done."

Troy's blush vanished and he bowed respectfully, a performance that stunned Alaric as this was the first time anyone was ever bowing before him, "You've saved my life three times now, Alaric. It would be an honour for me to return the favour in whatever way I can."

'Three times?' Alaric's brain stuttered.

[ You saved Melbourne. ] Alia and Sabre spoke at once, adding to Alaric's count of two.

This time, Alaric felt warmth rushing up to his cheeks as the bow knocked the words right out of him.

"Oh, don't be so stiff about it, Troy," a gruff voice came from inside the tent, introducing an older man dressed in a flowing gown similar to the High Sentinel's.

"Corv'ak?" Alaric mused, grateful for the man's interruption.

"In the flesh," the man winked, "I will be helping this young man every step of the way. If anything proves too much for him, then I will step in to help."

"Thank…"

"I told you everything would go smoothly," Troy suddenly growled at the old man.

"And I believe you, but for one so cautious, you seem reluctant to accept this one safety measure," Corv'ak chided the boy.

"Because I would never let this ritual fail, even if it cost me my life," Troy bit back with conviction.

"Relax, boy," Corv'ak planted his arms on the boy's shoulder, "I won't let it come to that."

Troy went a slight shade of red, "Of course, it won't."

"Exactly," Corv'ak answered, "Because I'm here."

"NO!" Troy squealed, throwing his hands in the air, "I can't do this. Do what you want, old man."

Alaric chuckled at the antics these two had developed in the short time they'd known each other. Despite Corv'ak being several times stronger than Troy, the boy treated him like a teenager treated their annoying dotting guardians. It had happened a lot with the fifteen-year-olds Sister Marla reluctantly sent off to the Appraisal Ceremony.

"Alright then," Corv'ak snapped Alaric out of his thoughts, "Let's get back to work. Alaric, we won't keep you much longer. I'm sure you have much planned for your day."

"Ah, yes!" Alaric answered, "I do. I will see you later, and thank you so much for your help."

"Don't mention it," the old man answered, and vanished back into the tent.

Alaric locked eyes with Troy one last time and nodded, getting a reassuring nod in return, one filled with burning conviction. He'd seen that light of conviction in the eyes of another once before.

That person had been Aidan, a boy who'd experienced an intense, life-threatening ordeal with Alaric. He'd gone on to declare his loyalty to him, and now, Alaric was of the understanding that Troy was acting on the same impulse.

[ A fine addition to the Master's army. ] WorldHammer grunted in approval.

Alaric's day was only beginning. He would explore the demiplane in earnest today, and the next day… and the next, when his Tempering Ritual would be. Beyond that, well, he was clueless.

Perhaps he'd be unconscious. Perhaps he'd be flung back in time to collect more of his memories. Perhaps he'd be thrown into vicious throes of pain as his body was forced to adapt beyond human limitations, transcending the Wood Stage and hardening to Indomitable Stone.

But that was a thought for then. Today, he would bask in the warmth of being surrounded by his friends, and partake in all that the demiplane could offer.

If he got lucky, he could even speak to the High Sentinel again. The old man hadn't visited him yet, which made Alaric curious about his, Soren's, old friend.

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