The most important quality to the Eternal Blossom Sect was family, and Nyx'Sol was happy that it was just so.

  Otherwise, his older brother might have really let him clean all this mess by himself. Luckily, he started helping immediately but warned that Alchemy Masters in the sect did indeed just ignore their mess and move on, leaving it to the assistants and disciples they took in.

  Nyx had considered going to some classes at the sect. Now, he was not so sure. Maybe it would be better to study arrays and formations? Or he would just go with the flow and pick everything. Something would stick.

  The two brothers cleaned the workspaces properly, stored away the remains of the used herbs, a large part of which they cut up for animal feed. They just had to remove some poisonous sections of the herbs Yanxiou had prepared, and they were good to go. Nyx delivered them to the storage area.

  Then they settled in for the wait.

  Nox’Yanxiou grabbed the bisected mimic core as they were sitting in front of the furnace. “It might take a bit longer since we had so much shapeshifting essence. It must have been an unusually large mimic.” He scratched at the edges of the rough cut with something that resembled a piece of sandpaper.

  “What is that?” Nyx asked, pointing at the sandpaper.

  “Oh, that? A friend of mine crafts them for the sect. They use silk from weaver ants found in the east. He infuses it with spiritual essence and adds their ground-down carapace on top. It’s rather interesting; their armor always breaks in a way that forms a sharp edge. Look here,” he held the piece of hardened silk towards Nyx. “These very tiny kernels are all sharp, breaking away almost any rough surface. They last a while, too. Very durable.”

  “What is the east like?” Nyx asked carefully.

  Yanxiou raised a brow. “Right. I wanted to tell you about the military. Father does not like it when we tell stories. He has his reasons. Before he founded our family, he had died on the frontline. And he had to-”

  “Wait for mother for a long time,” Nyx finished the thought.

  “Yes.” Yanxiou smiled. “What he often forgets to say is that that’s not why he’s cross with them. Our mother had spent quite a few lives repeating the cycle of reincarnation. It’s tradition and common practice for many cultivators to join frontline service. Before she finally survived every challenge life threw at her and got to be the powerful matriarch of the Eternal Blossom Clan that she is today, she made our father wait for some 700 years.”

  He poked Nyx in the shoulder. “Take my advice, brother. Enjoy yourself, take it slow. You will remember your past lives before long, and that experience will set you straight. It will make you much stronger than just advancing a few steps of cultivation.”

  “And our lives are dangerous enough already. We risk it in sect missions, during our cultivation advances, for petty rivalries and tournaments, lovers’ quarrels and accidents, and, of course, when we choose to serve in summonings.”

  He then hovered his hand before him, creating a javelin out of thin air. “Summonings grant us powers. We may use them for a time, and when we can, we serve. I can produce ammunition of decent quality that can last up to a decade. My military service was spent arming arrays with disposable weapons, building temporary fortifications, cannonballs, and arrows.”

  The javelin flickered and disappeared. “I will have to go through another summoning to regain that power. Cultivation elevates our ability to control this power, to shape it, to enhance our bodies with it. But it will always fade in time. I am no frontline warrior. Maybe I will never be. But I found a way I can help us win regardless.” He smiled and winked at Nyx. “Maybe you will be? Grace and all.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  While the older brother ground away at the core to polish the internal surface and the rough cut, it slowly revealed some insights.

  “Mimics are sometimes used by our enemy. Their cores are corrupted, and it makes them hunt for more than just sustenance. They use flying creatures in large numbers to try and get behind the frontline, where they drop them. Over time, however, the mimics lose their corruption. See?” He pointed at the cut. Here several light blue layers in different shades were stacked, with a peculiar pitch-black streak running throughout.

  “They form new layers to grow their core and reinforce it. That’s how they are no longer in contact with the corrupting influence and mellow out.” He frowned. “We don’t really know how they create this corruptive effect. Hopefully, one of the sects will have a solution in the coming years. I will report this. We are far away from the front lines, and Mimics aren’t well known for their habit of moving large distances.”

  “How did it go unnoticed? Father said it might have been the ward formations,” Nyx threw in. “What do you think?”

  Yanxiou thought about it for a few moments and observed the core again. “The core only shows two layers? I am not an expert on these creatures, but it seems likely to me that they somehow got dropped nearby, far from the frontline, then found easy prey, ultimately consuming enough to be unable to continue without reinforcing the core to grow.”

  He paused with a frown and then continued the thought. “And that might already have turned it back into a ‘normal’ mimic. After another growth spurt, it must have moved after not finding prey for a while. It could have all sorts of reasons. When we meet next, I will have an answer for you. I know someone who might be able to tell me more.”

  “What about the eastern lands? The ants?” Nyx was almost giddy to question his older brother about all sorts of things. It reminded him of when he was little and his other older brother, Nox’Tharu, who had left after his coming-of-age ceremony a little more than nine years ago. “Have you seen them?”

  Yanxiou laughed. “Not in this life. But in my last one. Almost died to them when I was on a sect mission to gather materials.” He raised the silken sandpaper. “Most likely almost died for this.”

  Nyx spent the next few hours laughing and listening to stories of his brother. He was glad that he came to visit just the day before he would leave himself. Otherwise, they could not have shared those memories.

  The pill furnace finished its busy work, producing three light gray, transparent pills. Nyx thanked his brother again, watched him clean the furnace of impurities that had burnt away, and almost retched at the smell. Yes, maybe Alchemy really was not for him after all.

  He pocketed the pills and then sought to find some excuses to ask Nox’Yanxiou a few more questions about alchemy, about what to pack, and how to be best prepared for his journey—mostly to spend some more time together before he would leave. In reality, he had already packed weeks ago and merely had to pick his belongings up from storage. Nyx had had a lot of questions.

  Which, in hindsight, had not been a good idea. He had listened to stories and information for so long that the night had slowly passed them by. Now he stood at the front door of the Eternal Blossom Estate, the door wide open where the morning sun cast an orange glow onto the valley, remnants of morning mist still hanging around the trees. It was inviting him to go.

  The cold nighttime air was fading, warmth was rising, and the smell of flowers hung in the breeze.

  “It is bad luck to leave during daytime.” His father's voice still echoed in his head as he remembered their prior conversation. Maybe he had to stay another day? Have breakfast with Azrx? Do chores with Verx? And fall asleep in the grass outside after a busy afternoon?

  Then he heard familiar tipsy footsteps behind him. And a tug at his clothes. Azrx was an early riser. Little rascal.

  When he looked down, he had to laugh. His little brother had stuffed his pants full of paka cookies, his left arm raising his shirt, on which he carried another six. Another one lay abandoned in the doorway to the dining hall.

  Azrx grinned deviously and waved to him before stumbling up the stairs. Did he have a hiding spot for these that mother was unaware of? He would miss the little devil.

  His little brother had it right. Be bold. Get what you want. His body hummed to the tune of adventure. It was time to see the world.

  With a large step, Nyx, the 476th child of the Eternal Blossom Clan, was gone.

  Nyx'Sol stepped into the world. Slayer of Angels. Slayer of Mimics.

  Tradition be damned. He would be fine.

  What was the worst that could happen?