Fates Parallel Chapter 275 - Scramble

It wasn’t easy to create a new technique from nothing, even for Yoshika. Thankfully, she had the talent and experience of her friends to aid her own ingenuity. She knew that she had some of the building blocks necessary to create the technique she needed—it was just a matter of figuring out how to put them together.

The first step was analyzing what it was about Rika’s Hundred Mirrors that made it difficult to tell which body was real. Yoshika stared at two identical versions of her best friend walking side by side, squinting her eyes.

“Physically, it’s completely impossible to tell the difference. From the outside...Rika, do your clones bleed?”

One of the two Rikas chuckled. She was picking up a lot of the slack while Yoshika focused on trying to create her new technique—carrying Jung’s litter as well as taking on extra scouting duties—and still managed to spare some extra copies of herself for study.

“Yeah, they do—sort of. Anything that falls off of the construct disappears after a bit, but I do replicate internal organs and stuff—they all feel pain.”

“Why? Doesn’t that make them exponentially more costly?”

“Yeah, it fucking sucks if I lose a clone now, but it’s important that each one feels like it’s the real me. I need to be able to channel techniques through them effortlessly, and move without too much thought. I’m getting better at making them semi-independent thanks to help from you and Ja Yun, but keeping them as physically close to me as possible makes it much easier to control.”

Yoshika frowned. There was definitely more to it than that. She recalled something that she’d been meaning to ask about for a long time. She looked around conspiratorially and cast a privacy barrier around them.

“During your breakthrough, we saw you transfer some of your wounds to a copy. How did that work?”

Rika grimaced.

“I forgot you’d seen that. Kami, that was a stressful day. Right, yes—and thank you for keeping that private—I can do that, but it’s limited. I’ve been trying to keep that ability close to my chest, just in case.”

“And?”

“Tsk, anyone else and I would slap you for prying further, but alright. Being a third stage martial artist means slowly converting our bodies into ki—the bottleneck to xiantian is completing that conversion, which nobody has ever managed without dying.”

“Except Master Ienaga.”

Rika shook her head.

“Arguably not even her, since her method of ascension involved the death of her original body. We’re on track to be the first ones to do it properly, thanks to you guys.”

Yoshika blushed.

“We just got lucky. What does this have to do with your wound transferral?”

“I’m getting there. My constructs are made of Force and Mist essence, but so am I, at least partially. And eventually that will be all I’m made of—which is a super weird thought. By making them as physically accurate as I possibly can, it means I can ‘borrow’ parts of them to replace parts of myself. But it’s limited.”

“Because you can only exchange the ki-embodied portions of your injuries. Your wounds might be superficially closed, but your body is still broken. Ancestors, no wonder you almost died after that last bolt. And doesn’t that mean injuries to your constructs are permanent and have to be healed?”

Rika laughed and ran a hand through her hair.

“Ahh, yep. Should have guessed you’d immediately catch on to all my weaknesses.”

Yoshika paled as a realization struck.

“You’ve been using your clones for full-contact sparring!”

Rika winked.

“Thanks for not killing them—but yeah, I spend a lot of my meditation time patching them up. So, is any of that helpful to you?”

Yoshika squinted at the two Rikas, as if it would help her to understand them better. It was subtle, but within her domain she could definitely sense that something was missing from the doppelganger.

“Can you...switch which one is the real you?”

Rika’s eyes widened.

“I don’t think so, no. The real me is ki integrated with flesh and blood. Even if I somehow knew how to move my soul from one body to another, I don’t think my copies are capable of housing it. Not a proper vessel, as the kami would say.”

Yoshika frowned. Was that what Rika’s clones were missing? Was it the soul itself, or just the ability to house one? She felt like she was going in circles, and well beyond the scope of a powerful disguise or illusion.

“We need to think about this more...”

—-

“It has to operate outside of our domain—since otherwise they might just sense the domain itself—it has to be capable of channeling essence and have a physical presence, it has to be something that we can control remotely from far enough away not to be detected by a potential xiantian cultivator, and it can’t have any kind of detectable connection to our original bodies.”

Ja Yun clutched her hair as Yoshika listed off the unsolved problems they needed to tackle.

“Guys, that’s just straight up impossible! You can’t control it without being connected to it, and any sort of connection like that would be traceable. The best you could hope for is to hide the connection, but that’s no guarantee either.”

Yoshika crossed her arms and frowned—she was using Jia’s body to talk to Ja Yun while Eui’s body worked on trying to create a physical ki construct.

“Yan Yue did something similar once. Her technique allowed her to control our bodies remotely, and she even projected her consciousness in order to spy on us.”

“Yeah, and she got caught both times by second stage cultivators. Not a great track record.”

“Maybe we can hide it, like you said. Heian’s trick made Princess Seong Haeun almost impossible to detect, even by xiantian mages.”

Ja Yun sighed.

“But you still caught her in the end, didn’t you? Also, have you ever actually managed to replicate that technique?”

Yoshika had not. Haeun had used a kind of intuitive method of spellcasting without talismans that had confounded Yoshika so far. Heian hadn’t been able to help much, and in any case she was still too drained from Lee Hei’s extended exertion to contribute anything—as much as Yoshika would have liked to pick her brain about the artificial vessel she’d created based on Yamato’s shikigami.

“Okay, fine, forget that. What if we...?”

—-

After over an entire day of non-stop theorizing, experimenting, and dead ends, Yoshika was losing patience. With every problem she tried to solve, she only found another half dozen obstacles standing in her way without ever getting closer to a solution. Everybody made an effort to help, but nothing that Rika, Ja Yun, or Eunae came up with seemed to work either. Even Master Ienaga had tried to offer what little advice she could—though it was an area far outside of her expertise.

On one of their rare stops at the side of the road to rest, Yoshika was meditating furiously. She felt like she was so close to figuring it out—if she could just solve this obstacle or that one, she’d have it. And yet, those obstacles were proving utterly insurmountable. She had all the pieces, but they didn’t fit together—something was missing, but she didn’t know what.

Just as she was contemplating turning to her absolute last resort, someone unexpected interrupted her meditation.

“Hey, both of you wake up! We need to talk.”

Yoshika cracked her eyes open and glared up balefully at Seong Misun. She spoke in chorus, hoping to unsettle the loathsome mage.

“You do realize it’s the height of rudeness to interrupt a cultivator’s meditation, right?”

Misun scoffed and rolled her eyes, unfazed.

“If you can even call this meditation. You’re completely unfocused.”

“Did you come here just to insult us?”

“No, I’m here, as always, to tell you the things nobody else will. The truths you don’t want to hear, and everyone else is too cowardly to voice.”

Yoshika rubbed at her temples irritably—she really wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Get on with it then, Princess.”

Despite Yoshika’s dismissive and sarcastic tone, Misun surprisingly didn’t rise to the bait. Her tone was even as she spoke, as if she’d rehearsed her words carefully.

“What are you going to do when you fail?”

“We know how keen you are to see it happen, but stop acting like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“If, then. Hypothetically speaking—what happens if you don’t succeed.”

Yoshika scowled.

“We won’t. There’s no point thinking about it.”

Seong Misun threw her hands in the air.

“Oh of course! I should have known—you’ve never failed at anything, have you? Everyone is constantly telling you how amazing and talented you are, always beating the odds—I was watching you during the Grand Tournament, you know.”

“Don’t act as if you know us, Princess. We’ve experienced plenty of hardship.”

“Oh, certainly. A thief and an orphan, a murderer and an exile—naturally, you’ve lived hard lives. That only makes the success you’ve enjoyed since awakening that much more intoxicating, doesn’t it?”

Yoshika took a deep breath to center herself and let it out slowly—she wouldn’t let Misun rile her up.

“Is there a point to all this?”

“The point is that if you fail—if all this effort is for naught—then you will have wasted what could be some of your last precious moments with a mortal loved one. Say you don’t complete this technique of yours in time—does it end there? Or do you throw yourself into something else just as desperately?”

“And what would you have us do, Seong Misun? Give up and let her die? Is this some sick way of trying to manipulate us into giving up just so you can go home sooner?”

Misun grimaced, and to Yoshika’s surprise she seemed genuinely hurt by the implication.

“I know I haven’t given you the best impression—truth be told, I didn’t particularly care what you thought of me, and I still don’t.”

“Then why are you even here, talking to us?”

The princess turned away and gazed at the first few rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon.

“Because whatever you might think of me, I’m not a cruel person. I take no joy in the pain and suffering of others. Do what you must to protect your family—but remember that should the worst come to pass, you won’t have a second chance to be with her in the last moments of her life.”

Yoshika stared at Misun in stunned silence. The princess barely spared her a glance before turning to leave.

“Good luck, Yoshika—or whatever I’m supposed to call you. I am genuinely praying for your success.”

Left alone with her thoughts, Yoshika tried to regain her focus. Misun was at least partially correct—as strange as it was to hear such a message from her of all people—Yoshika would not get a second chance. She couldn’t afford to be holding anything back.

With a deep breath, she cast herself inward, manifesting within her soulscape. Waiting for her, were the ever-frustrating orbs of colorful flame that she was no closer to understanding—with a new, shadowy addition taunting her. She ignored them—they weren’t what she was there for.

Yoshika moved to her innermost sanctum—the place where she felt safest. Her tiny dorm room was far too small for all of her closest friends and family, but in the dreamlike world of her soulscape it found a way. A version where Jung cooked breakfast for an eagerly waiting Narae, one where Yan Yue tested new fashions on Heian, one where An Chunhei and her husband Minjun snuggled on the couch and waited for their daughter to return home—and more yet, all superimposed on each other.

With a heavy heart, Yoshika banished the comforting scenes and left the familiar living space bare. Only Heian remained, her two forms curled up together by the fire to sleep. Her human form had shrunk down, now looking more like a toddler, and her cat form had been reduced to a kitten smaller than it had been when Yoshika had first met her.

Heian had been severely weakened, most of her essence spent to fuel the escape from Qin’s border patrol and the shades that had accosted them in the process. A victim of Yoshika’s arrogance.

She’d been underprepared and overconfident, and it was her friends and family that paid the price. Perhaps Misun was right about her—maybe she was intoxicated by how successful she had been as a cultivator. If so, then Yoshika was committed to learning from her mistakes—she would prepare herself properly. Not just for her next trial, but the one after that, and everything else the future held.

The first step was to make proper use of the resources she’d been squandering. What was the point of saving everything she had until the perfect moment, only to end up never using them at all? And one resource in particular had been cast aside for far too long—taken for granted, despite the enormous boon it represented.

“Jianmo!”

“Yes, darling?”

Yoshika whirled around to find the avatar of her extradimensional tutor stretched out languidly across the couch. His purple hair was parted by a shiny black horn, and his normally tall form had been squished down into a strange squat appearance with a head far too large for his body.

“I need your help. You’re supposed to be my master, but you’ve barely ever taught me anything. Your original self left me with you and then disappeared ancestors know where, so you’re going to have to make good on his promises. Teach me, please. I can’t do this alone.”

The demon smirked and shook his head.

“What makes you think I can? I’ve been stripped down to nothing but the bare essentials. There’s almost nothing left of Jianmo in me.”

“You’re still an insufferable, sarcastic flirt with no regard for basic decency.”

“Mhm! Like I said, sweetie—the essentials.”

Yoshika crossed her arms and stared flatly at the demon.

“Can you help or not?”

Jianmo shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe. I don’t have the answers you're looking for—even before you savagely stripped me for essence to fuel your sacred art, it wasn’t something my original self bothered to replicate in me—but I might be the answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been trying to make a disguise, or an illusion, or a qi clone of some sort, but those are half-measures at best. Why not go all the way and make yourself a proper avatar?”