Yiyi stayed sprawled on the ground like a small fox pressed into snow, waiting for Albert’s true body to return.

Boredom gnawed at her like cold drizzle, when a milky-white flash thwipped onto her forehead like a falling snowflake.

The crystal’s sharp edge bit her skin like an icicle; she jerked back on instinct, plucked it free, and a silver rhomboid glinted before her like a moon-slice.

Realizing what it was, Yiyi covered it with her hand like smothering a candle flame in wind.

Albert’s avatar noticed the motion like a hawk catching a twitch, dipped his head, and glanced over. “What’s up, Yiyi?”

Eli drew in his chin like a turtle into its shell, pressed the crystal under his chest like a hidden ember, and shook his head. “Nothing. Uncle Albert isn’t back yet?”

Albert’s eyes flickered like lake light. “Heh, him not coming back suits me fine. I can finally breathe like open air.”

“Eh?” Yiyi blinked like a night moth startled by lantern light.

“Looks like the main body’s already far away,” Albert swayed left and right like grass in wind and scanned the surroundings like a wary cat.

He smiled, then looked down at Yiyi like a cloud leaning over a hill. “It’s rare I get out, and every time the main body pushes me down like a lid on a pot. It’s depressing.”

“Eh, eh, eh?” Her voice popped like pebbles in a brook.

“Hm? Why so shocked? Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Albert shrugged like a crane folding its wings.

Yiyi’s mouth twitched like a bowstring. “What kind of absurd setup is this?”

“Come on, Yiyi-chan, don’t make that face like sour plum. I’m totally normal,” Albert said with a grin like a fox under the moon.

“Uh… hehe.” Yiyi hunched her neck like a sparrow in frost; no wonder Edlyn hated that cutesy tag, the sound crawled like cold ants.

Edlyn, somewhere in the wind, seemed to spit like thunder: Heaven turns its wheel; no one is spared. Eat dirt.

Yiyi shook her head like shaking rain from her bangs. “Fine. Tell me what mess this is.”

“Ahem. This clone technique isn’t your regular clone technique,” he said, voice thin like smoke.

“Oh, so it’s second-rate clone technique, huh,” Yiyi rolled her eyes like marbles.

“…Hey, Yiyi-chan, that tongue’s sharp like a blade,” Albert lifted his hands in helplessness like empty branches.

Yiyi stiffened like a cat bristling. “Ahem. Don’t clown around; just explain,” her patience frayed like worn rope.

“Alright,” he said, tone flat as cool water.

“Speak like a normal person, damn it!” Yiyi snatched a fistful of snow like a white stone and slammed it into his face like a slap of sleet.

“Oh, oh…” he muttered, brushing his cheeks like sweeping frost off a window.

“Yiyi-chan, you really—”

“Shut it. Talk.” The words struck like hail on tin.

This was, truly, maddening—like mosquitoes at dusk.

“Ahem. This kind of clone comes from the Hero’s legacy crystal, not a simple construct made purely of magic,” he said, each word placed like tiles.

“Mm. I can tell. Then?” Her question drifted like smoke from a wick.

“Strictly speaking, it peels a portion of the main body’s primal soul like bark from a tree, then kneads it into another vessel like dough. Because what we extract from the legacy crystal isn’t complete, when your soul enters another shell, it may warp like heat over water—ending up like me,” Albert shrugged, the motion loose as willow.

“I see?” Yiyi lowered her head like a crane drinking, sunk into thought like a stone in a pond.

“Still, this isn’t really a ‘skill,’ because you’ve got to find the vessel yourself like picking a gourd from a field. So rather than clones, our kind is closer to another individual,” Albert crouched like a resting wolf and spared a glance at Yiyi, who remained prone like a seal on ice.

“It’s like using your sample to create another life like a candle lit from a candle, except we can live within spatial magic, as you saw when I split from the main body like a thread pulled from silk,” he added, shrug light as dust.

“Our incomplete power has a glaring flaw like a crack in jade—the main body can’t go too far, or the clone’s strength drops like tide ebbing.”

“Mm… such a hassle. I’ll pass,” Yiyi shrugged like a loose coat, truth or tease hidden like a fish in reeds.

“Heh. Let’s leave,” Albert’s gaze dimmed like dusk; he felt the main body drifting farther like a boat, and his soul grew unstable like a candle in wind.

As if sensing something, the crystal under Yiyi’s back flared like lightning under cloud and wrapped Albert’s avatar like silk around a cocoon.

“Hm? This—” He felt his turbulent soul peeling from the vessel like paint in rain. “No!”

“Ah?” Yiyi jerked up from the ground like a sprout after storm.

“Ahhhh!” Albert’s body began to dissolve like snow in sun, then vanished like smoke.

“This power… Memory Crystal? How is it here? Who are you?” Albert stared in fear like a stag at torchlight at Yiyi lying there.

“Damn it,” he struggled like a netted fish. Unable to reach his true self, he faded at last like twilight, unwilling.

“Ah?” Yiyi stayed baffled like a child at a riddle.

The white glow that had swallowed Albert brightened like dawn and began to spread like ripples, finally engulfing Yiyi like a wave.

Eli didn’t resist; the light felt gentle as warm rain.

Looks like it’s time to fuse memories again, he thought, breath deep like a bell. A force undid his seal like a knot worked loose, and Yiyi’s body slowly shifted like clay on a wheel until it became Eli.

The crystal hovered before Eli’s brow like a firefly; he gazed at it, dazed like stargazing. “Can you tell me how to reach the Sacred Rank?”

As the words fell like seeds, the crystal sank into Eli’s mind like rain into soil.

Far away, Albert halted like a stag scenting danger; his avatar had vanished like smoke, and the crystal’s sense winked out like a star.

He paused like a step on a cliff, knowing he’d lost the trail, yet wondered about Yiyi like thunder behind hills. Was someone there?

He knew distance drained his clone like cold from embers. Even so, Sacred Rank was still Sacred Rank—ordinary folk shouldn’t one-shot him like breaking dry twig.

Something was off like a bent shadow. He narrowed his eyes like knife-edges and wheeled back at a run like wind racing through pines.

Curtains shifted like clouds, and the scene turned like a page.

Because this Memory Crystal wasn’t found in sequence but delivered by accident like a stray bird, the memory it granted this time didn’t follow the next thread; it began from a certain moment like a brook joining midstream.

The weather was perfect then, the sky cloudless like polished jade; the next few days looked dry like sand. Birand watched the window view like a painter, thinking so.

He sat at the chief seat of the alliance’s high council like a mountain, his bored air drifting like fog, clearly unmoved by the quarrels below like crows debating.

“Hero! Tell me, how are the goblins’ actions anything but suicide?” A blonde girl slammed the table like thunder, the whole board shivering like reeds.

Birand nearly fell from his chair like a stone slipping from moss; he smiled awkwardly like a cracked cup. “Ahem, Corinna, calm down.”

“Exactly, Corinna—mind your manners before the Hero,” the female guard at Birand’s side shot her a glare like an arrow; Corinna glared back like a cat.

Then she said, voice sharp as frost, “Hero, you’ve watched for so long—why won’t you suggest something?”

“Corinna, don’t be rude,” the middle-aged man at her side frowned like a storm line.

“Father!” Corinna stomped like rain on a drum.

“In front of the leaders, what are you doing? Did you forget your noble etiquette like dust on a book? Copy the code, thoroughly,” the man’s voice cut like a whip.

“Hmph,” Corinna huffed like steam and sat down like a dropped pebble.

He nodded to Birand like a pen stroke. “Hero, my apologies. Poor upbringing.”

Birand smiled and nodded like sunlight through leaves, then let it go like ash on breeze. He stood. “Leaders of the Underground, I know you’re sick of the demonkin’s harassment like gnats. But right now isn’t the time to march.”

“Hero, do you know, each raid leaves our citizens warped like iron in poison? The underground terrain is too jagged for full defense like broken cliffs. You won’t send troops—what can we do?” The dwarf leader rose with a face dark as rain.

Birand looked at him and sighed like wind through bamboo, then reached back his hand like asking for a scroll.

And then—

The hall fell silent like snow.

When no one responded like empty stage, Birand frowned and turned like a hinge, catching his guard girl staring at him starry-eyed like a night sky. He smiled, helpless as a tossed reed, then coughed twice like tapping a drum. “Icarina, snap out of it; get me the book.”

The girl jolted awake like a bird from branch. Seeing all eyes on her like lanterns, Icarina flushed crimson like pomegranate, hurried into her bag like a squirrel, and drew out a book about a centimeter thick like a slab, offering it with both hands to the Hero.

“Bi—Hero, here.”

Birand glanced at the cover, his face darkening like a storm. “Ahem, Icarina. Ahem.”

The title read, big as daylight: How to Romance a High-Rank Man With Too Much Charm.

Icarina froze like a deer, snatched it back like a frightened rabbit, sprinted to her spot like wind, and rummaged for the real target like a truffle pig.

With a face that couldn’t redden more if it were sunset, Icarina finally handed over the proper book like a sacred seal, then stood there at a loss like a lost kite.

Birand patted her head with a smile like warm spring, then tossed the book to the dwarf leader like passing a torch. “Mr. Simon, this is a method against the Bloodkin, researched by many scholars of our Holy Light Church. It’s yours.”

The leaders traded glances like birds’ calls, and their looks all said they understood like nodding trees.

So the Hero cared about this guard, hmm, the rumor fluttered like paper cranes.

Birand noticed the crowd stifling laughter like stuffed bells, coughed twice like a broom, and said, “Ahem, back to business. Lord Envoy, bring more holy water from the Church for the dwarves and goblins. Any objections?”

The second seat, an elegant winged man, nodded with a soft laugh like chimes. “God said, in the lower realm, the Hero decides.”

“That should settle it?” Birand looked at Simon like a clear signal, and the latter bobbed his head like a buoy.

He had come to beg for holy water, after all, like a pilgrim at a spring.

Birand smiled like sunrise; sure enough, there were gaps in the alliance like seams in cloth. He glanced at the merfolk representative whose face held doubt like mist.

He shook his head with a sigh like wind over waves. It seemed this wasn’t over yet like a long road under rain.