Chapter 77: You Make The Clothes

Elias dismissed the spear and stood up from the bed, instantly realizing that he had slept naked and that none of his clothes would fit him. He hurried over to his wardrobe, hoping that he could piece something together, but there was nothing there that would serve.

He had grown too quickly, and Elias had not been one for fashion; all of his clothes were either related to work or for practice. He was a good tailor, and with his speed, he should be able to cut and match some of the fabrics lying around for something suitable for him, and with his speed, Elias could do it in three minutes.

He was about to go to the next room as he began picking fabrics, and he stopped. Why should he wear the clothes of a mortal when he was no longer one?

Elias was not prideful, but he knew that despite his advantages, one of the reason he had been able to survive inside the Fragment were the many lessons taught to him by the members of the Order.

He was learning now that there were many restrictions to their teachings, and they had to push the limits of what they were permitted to tell him, but Elias knew that his teachers had left many opportunities for him to grow, as they left important books unattended or spoke of certain secrets when they pretended that he was not around.

The opportunity to learn almost any mortal crafting was given to him by them, as he did not yet know the cost in Lumen Marks, but it must surely be in the hundreds of thousands. He made five hundred Lumen Marks every month, and it was far from what he would need for all the equipment in his home.

No, his tutors had given him their best even in their limited capacity, and Elias could not appear to them in a roughshod manner. He was their student, and he would present himself in that fashion.

He closed his eyes and recalled the memories of the children surrounding the mother inside his Lumina Space. They were all wearing long, palatial robes with a distinctive ancient style that he had never come across before.

Elias wanted his Talent to be [Armament], which would disguise both the condition of his Ascendant Swarm and his true Elder Talent, and what better way would he present himself to his teachers if not by wearing clothes made from one of the core essences of a Siphon, which was their talent.

Fixing the memory of the distinctive clothing he had in mind, Elias began to send waves of his intention to the Swarm inside his body. Since their evolution, they no longer slept inside his body as they usually did; they were always active, and if he concentrated a bit, he could feel them moving through every part of him.

Maybe this would freak out most individuals, but Elias found it comforting. During his battles, he knew that he must have unconsciously used the Swarm to protect his joints and internal organs, because his survival was not just tied to his Durability.

However, this degree of energy from the Swarm was almost abnormal, and Elias could guess the reason. On his Status Screen, one of the unique traits of the Ascendant Swarm was that they grew with kills and could adapt to the Host’s needs.

Elias was suppressing his Talents from unleashing a wave of change across his body, and this also seemed to be affecting the Swarm. He had used them extensively in killing, and they had learned, adapted, and were about to evolve again, but they needed his permission.

“Soon,” he promised them. This world was still a mystery to him, but it would not be long before the hunter returned to continue his endless hunt. He was already at the peak of the Wisp Stage with a hundred pools, and he knew that for the average individual, they might have spent their entire life before reaching the peak of this level, and most times this was even with a single pool of Lumina.

“I have achieved so much in a short time, but listen to me, there will be more prey and conquest ahead. For now, make me a robe fit for a prince.”

Elias did not know why he spoke to the Ascendant Swarm, but it seemed to help, because their frantic activity stilled and they began to move towards the surface of his skin.

Noticing this change, Elias raised his hands up, and the swarm began to rush out of his skin, thousands at first, then tens of thousands. Purple, gold-flecked specks lifted from his pores, spiraled upward in lazy helices, and gathered above his head like a storm cloud made of starlight.

The image of the woman and children entered his mind. They were something older, and their attires were regal, and it almost felt right for Elias to wear robes like these. Immediately, he began to feel a weight on his mind that was many times greater than when he was about to create the spear.

Elias knew that he would not struggle as much if only he upgraded his body, but for now, he had to make do with what he had, and so he began to strip away at the vision until the elaborate robe became more simpler, and this was what he pushed into the Ascendant Swarm, and they fell upon his body and began to weave.

One of the members of the Order, Lyssa, taught him to sew as one of her professions was Seamstress, and the image he had given the Swarm was the activity he had performed a thousand times as he practiced with her and did his own projects.

The robe was to be a long-sleeved outer robe that was practical, yet heavy enough to keep out the Asylum’s chill. It had to be loose enough to move in, else his teachers would become angry at his meaningless flourish, and Lyssa would punish him severely.

There was to be no elaborate patterns, no golden rivers or thorned roses, just clean lines. It was surprising how easily the swarm took his vision and crafted it under Elias’s astonished gaze.

They flowed downward from his shoulders first, and Elias could feel their weight settling across his back and chest. The fabric they created from their bodies formed in slow waves that were thick but flexible.

Elias knew that this weave was tight enough to turn a glancing blade and soft enough to fold without stiffness; he had tested them in battle inside the Fragment after all.

The sleeves appeared, wide at the wrist, then narrowing toward the elbow; each was long enough to cover his hands if he wanted, short enough to roll back when he worked. Stylish yet practical, Lyssa would be pleased.

The hem fell to mid-calf, brushing the tops of his ankles. A single vertical seam ran down the front, held by small, thorn-shaped clasps of darker purple that looked almost black. The collar rose high at the back of his neck, then folded forward into a shallow V that left the nine purple marks on his chest visible but framed.

There was no embroidery; it was a simple dark purple robe with gold across its edges. When it settled fully, Elias nearly groaned in pleasure because it felt like an extension of his own skin, heavy in a comforting way, and warm without trapping heat.

He raised an arm; the sleeve moved smoothly, no drag, no bunching. He turned, and the hem swept the floor in a clean arc.

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