Chapter 998: Sitting on a Volcano

Jason, Emi and Nik were floating in meditation, cross-legged, over the water of the River Furan. They were upstream from Saint-Étienne, beyond the reach of Jason’s domain. He had found that when contemplating his essences, trying to expand his power, it was best to be outside the places his power was strongest.

Nik was now gold rank, while Emi remained in the upper reaches of silver. She focused on magic research over throwing herself into combat, so her progress was slower. The lower-rank training methods that relied heavily on combat had not been the best fit for her, slowing her growth. A more contemplative approach suited her well, especially with the plethora of guidance available to her. To no one’s surprise, it was Farrah and Clive who had helped her the most.

One of the trickiest aspects of advancing through actualisation of the self was translating personal revelation into specific power. The older gold rankers had been useful teachers in this. They had taught the younger generations how to effectively contemplate metaphor during meditation as a pathway to advancement.

Jason found this easier with some powers than others. His Hand of the Reaper ability was quite straightforward, being a Dark essence ability that reached out with shadowy hands to manipulate the world around him. Nik and Emi opened their eyes as golden light radiated from Jason’s body.

• [Hand of the Reaper] has reached Gold 6 (100%)
• [Hand of the Reaper] has advanced to Gold 7 (0%)

Jason looked at his hands, flexing his fingers. In the beginning, his abilities had advanced so quickly. Going through silver had felt like an eternity, even though he had reached gold swiftly by most standards. He admitted to himself, though, that he had become so focused on the cosmic aspects of his power that his core abilities had been rather neglected.

That was an oversight he had been working to correct, as cosmic powers worked for cosmic problems. Mortal realms required the kind of mortal power that had been the foundation of Jason’s journey into magic.

“Good job, Dad.”

“Congratulations, Uncle Jason. This calls for a hug.”

Emi floated over to wrap her arms around Nik.

“Aren’t you meant to be hugging him?” Nik complained.

“You’re fluffier.”

“That’s not relevant!”

She hushed him while stroking his fur.

“Dad…”

Shade rose from Jason’s shadow, cast on the river surface they were still floating over.

“Apologies, Mr Asano, but Miss Farrah has called a meeting. She has invited all of the gold-rankers, taskforce, taskforce leaders and the officers from the military bases.”

Jason frowned.

“Serious business, then,” he said. “When did she leave Erta Ale?”

“She is on her way back now. She was contacted by someone with information urgent enough that it needs to be addressed immediately. The meeting is scheduled for one hour and forty-seven minutes from now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Someone she knew during our previous time on Earth reached out. Anything more would be best explained by Miss Farrah herself.”

“Fair enough. Almost two hours, so we have a bit of time. Emi, what form do you think Shade should take for getting us back? Electric surfboards? Personal hydrofoils?”

“Ooh, hydrofoils,” Emi said.

“How about we just use a portal?” Nik suggested. “Or anything that doesn’t involve wet fur?”

***

The streets of Saint-Étienne around the administration tower were heavy with foot traffic. Being a central shopping and business district, it was a busy area built to be walkable and largely unfriendly to cars. Many of the business were related to trade exports of astral space goods, rare or unavailable elsewhere on Earth. This included currency houses for spirit coins.

Earth was getting better at farming spirit coins, but nothing to match what the Asano Clan could do with astral spaces. The unique properties of spirit coins meant they were strictly regulated, both within the clan and Earth in general. Their ability to be consumed for various purposes made them both currency and commodity, their value abstract or intrinsic, dependent on use.

There were other businesses and organisations related to trade and the growing internal economy of the clan. Many were dedicated to the reconstruction of reclaimed European centres, using the clan as a safe base of operations.

Walking along a busy street with Emi and Nik, Jason stopped outside a patisserie, not far from the administration tower. He glanced at the timer he’d put in a system window at the periphery of his vision.

• 14:36 (GMT+1)
• 24 minutes until meeting start.

“Uncle Jason, we can’t take too long.”

“We have a little time. Unless you don’t want any of those macarons in the window.”

“Uncle Jason, I’m in my forties, now. I’m not your little niece who can be tempted by a window full of… and Nik’s gone inside.”

They followed him in. Nik didn’t stand out too much, given the huge population of non-humans in Asano Clan territory. He was still adorable and highly recognisable, but people weren’t panicking at the sight of an anthropomorphised rabbit. The teenage girl behind the counter was herself some manner of lizard species. When Jason and Emi went inside, she was staring, wide-eyed, at Nik.

“Ohmygodit’syouandyouaresomuchcuterthanyourpictures!”

“We’re kind of in a hurry,” Emi told her. The teenager looked at her, then down at Nik and back at her.

“Aren’t you…?”

“Yes,” Jason said. “She’s character actor Brian Dennehy. Can we get a twenty four box of the macarons?”

“Uncle Jason,” Emi scolded. “Don’t tease the poor girl.”

At the mention of Jason’s name, the girl froze.

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“You’re…”

“Looking for a box of macarons, yes. No specific flavours, just a mix of whatever you happen to grab.”

“…Jason Asano,” the girl finished.

“This is going to take a while, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You’re Jason Asano,” she repeated.

“I think she’s on loop,” Jason said. “Do you think I can go back there and get them myself? You just use those tongs to pick them up, right?”

“Uncle Jason, do not go behind the counter. This is why I said you should spend more time just being around the clan.”

“I do.”

“It doesn’t count if you’re masking your presence. Or standing dramatically on rooftops because you think you’re a superhero.”

“I am a superhero. I have a cape and everything.”

“It’s a cloak.”

“A magic cloak.”

She gave him a flat look.

“It counts,” he said defensively.

“I want a cream bun,” Nik said, crouched down in front of the counter, staring through the glass.