Sara looked down at her completely unchanged sword. A hint of confusion, then worry flashed over her face. She gave a side glance to the Mantodes that still hadn't left the room. They were in a midsized chamber, and the 'undearth' beings there were all each some kind of warrior or commander. Sara had been instructing them on how to most effectively work together in the nearing fight. Still not fully okay after the events of the last few days, Reid had managed to sleep for almost 37 hours. When he woke, he followed a check-in with his babysitters by asking them to take him to where Sara was. Part of him hated that he hadn't been able to modify her sword. He would find time for it after.
"What's the matter, dad?"
Reid rubbed the back of his neck. "I ended up not having time to improve it - but I promise I'll do it later."
The concern again flashed on her face, and Reid jumped in to pre-empt her questions.
"And of course, I didn't have time for that, because I spent so much time on your new gift!" He'd said it like a game show host, and Reid was holding his hands out in an attempt to channel Vanna White. The intended flourish was marred by the remaining countdown on the timer to get the set out of storage.
"Gift? Dad, you were supposed to be working on yourself. What did you do?"
He felt a pinprick against his ethereal self, and his daughter gasped loud enough that the one Mantode still walking out of the room halted and turned back to them. Reid shifted to hold up his hands in a placating gesture at his daughter, just in time for her shiny new armor to pop out in front of his hands and clatter down onto the table. Each piece landed with more weight than its size would imply, and Reid saw in a moment that the sharper pieces were denting and chipping the stone table they fell upon.
Sara had ignored the spectacle, and kept her eyes burning into Reid.
"What were you thinking?! I just got you back, dad! No matter how strong you are, it's dangerous down here, and you're underleveled for the bosses, and you didn't tell me. You were supposed to be raising your stats!"
Her face, and even her stance in that moment reminded Reid so much of Susan. He'd been on the receiving end of that righteous fury more than he cared to count - but it was almost always born from good intentions. The one that floated to the forefront of his mind involved a week where the call center had offered the ever-rare and elusive paid overtime. Reid had practically doubled his hours, using a sleepover for Sara as an excuse to also do a 12-hour day on Saturday. Susan had known about the sleepovers, but not the hours. When he arrived home at 9:23pm that Saturday night, worn lunchbox in hand, Susan had read him the riot act about overworking himself. She'd done that, even as she angrily threw together a lunchmeat-heavy sandwich for him and shoved it into his hands. He'd known better than to compare her own travel nursing schedule with his own extra hours. Looking back on it all brought a smile to his face.
"I can't have you running off and fighting things like that - you at least need to tell me where you're going! What if something happened to you?"
His smile warmed further. "Just like Susan."
The statement took all the wind out of his daughter's sails in a moment. He realized he still had to get his points across, and raised his hands again. When Sara had seen Reid last, he'd been level 189. He was now level 200, and fighting seemed like it would be the only possible way for gains like that to materialize in the amount of time that had elapsed. After all, how could someone possibly gain so much experience from anything other than fighting beast-lord-level monsters? She had no way to know about the TSIC, and the insane boons it was granting him.
"The levels came from crafting," he blurted. "I got myself built up as much as I could in the time I had, and then I used the rest to make you this. It's where the levels came from."
Her brain appeared to war between logic and belief for a moment. Belief won, as her attention finally moved to the armor pieces haphazardly set on the table. One of the boots was holding the helmet up at an angle, and a glove had half-disappeared underneath the bangle and bracer that was supposed to connect to it. The room went entirely still, save for Sara's eyes wandering over the osteal equipment. She took in a slow breath, glanced towards the door, and slowly raised a hand as she muttered some unintelligible chant. It took Reid a moment, but the odd thing reminded him of what he'd once heard Fozz utter in the Warrens. A semi-translucent blue barrier sprang into existence, effectively putting the whole room into a bubble. The force of the bubble caused some dust to rise into the air, and it swirled at the edges.
She waited for another moment, then put both hands on the armor. Light shone off it - and her - as she bound the set to herself. Then she slumped into one of the hard chairs.
"Sara - you alright?"
She softly held up a hand, while her eyes remained closed. Ten seconds passed before she got back up, walked confidently over to Reid, and wrapped him in a hug tight enough that it threatened to crack his back. She gave him a little lift off the floor, for good measure.
"Alright, kiddo, you're going to break my back if you keep that up."
She let him go, and Reid watched her take a second to sort her thoughts before she spoke again.
"You and I are too much alike for me to worry about your health without it becoming a hypocritical act," she started. "But I will continue to push you to keep me informed of what you're doing or planning to do. Whether that's combat, or just crafting - I remember how much it took out of you in Sanctuary, and I also remember that pushing yourself too hard, even when cooped up in, say, a camper you turned to stone, almost killed you. So, no matter what else I'm thinking or that I'm about to say, that's the most important piece. I am an Empress. I will be busy. Never let that stop you from coming and just telling me what you're doing. Even with Pathfinder, I'm not omniscient. And you're not alone. Communicate, all right?"
Reid took in her words, and their delivery. There was a stern back to her tone mixed in with the concern that let him know how serious she was about what she'd just told him. He nodded.
"I'll try to work on that."
She waited for half a moment more, then returned his nod. With another breath, she left that topic and moved onto the next.
"Dad. This armor is the single most impressive thing I have ever seen in the cosmos. I'm completely blown away. It doesn't seem real. Honestly, if it weren't you, I'd be convinced it was an illusion."
Reid shrugged. "I wanted to keep my daughter safe. Also, I guess I missed a few birthdays. So, yeah. I'm glad you like it."
"Like it? LIKE IT? Dad - this armor is better than what you'd find on a corporate scion! Putting five traits in a single standalone piece of equipment is a final feat for any craftsman - and getting pieces that remotely synergize with each other is years and centuries of work, not to mention the price. Just finding pieces that can be brought together like this is... it doesn't happen. I can't even fathom what this would be worth - I don't think its possible to put a price on it. All-god's ears, what I'm trying to say is that I've seen exchanges where people pay multiple planets for truly rare and unique crafted items. This is worth more than a few planets, dad - way more. And you just... dropped it on the table where other people could see it."
Reid took another look at the blue bubble barrier surrounding them. He gave a slow, exaggerated nod.
"Well, good news, you bound it to yourself, so now they can't see it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Oh, you're serious. Dad, binding a weapon is a great tool. But it doesn't stop identify from picking up information. It's a level-relational effect. If I wear this to a meeting with C-grade representatives from Blasdej, they'll see details. Maybe not everything, but a mid tier C grade would at least get a count on the number of traits. It's not an infallible thing. Not that I'm complaining - there's a precedent of having a 'formal' set of your equipment to take to events so prying eyes won't easily figure out what you have going on with your kit. But that's something you should know, and it's something I'll need to prepare."
"I could make you another set?"
"No. Dad, I'm just getting through all the trait descriptions here. Plus, the sacrificial filigree set bonus? This is insane. You've got effects in here that are improving nearly every bit of my fighting style. I'd say you've crafted far more than enough for right now. I'd rather you rest. Please."
Reid put on a lopsided grin. "So, that means you don't want to test out the new kit? Spar with your old man?"
Her mouth opened - and Reid waited for a smile. Instead, her eyebrows knit. "Absolutely not. You just broke who-knows-how-many cosmic rules on what's capable for crafting and sets, and now I know why you looked half dead the other day. You are going to sit on your hands and get some actual, honest rest before we have to go out and fight. Before you say anything - I'm not just saying that as your daughter, dad. Even if you haven't increased your stats, you are one of the strongest combatants I have. I need you ready for the coming fight. It would be irresponsible to threaten that for some shortsighted self indulgence."
Reid was still waiting for her to break, and ask him to spar.
##
She did not.
Many hours of sitting on his hands later, Reid sat on an odd cart, which was a bit like a single flat slab within an oversized hamster wheel, being pulled by an overlarge beetle with one tree-like horn coming out of its head. A Mantode rode on the bug's head, where it steered them on their path. They were one of thousands in the long procession, their progress forward aided by the obvious recent work of earth mages. Sara sat straight, her bearing every bit the impressive warrior-empress those around her needed to see before the start of a fight. He was proud of her.
Which is why he leaned in to whisper.
"You're sure you don't want to try it out, just once? You shouldn't fight in armor without testing it. We can be back here in a jiffy."
"I already did."
Reid physically recoiled at the whispered words of cold betrayal. She hadn't even invited him to come watch her use her new armor for the first time? He made it - and he was her father! She leaned further towards him.
"I didn't invite you because you would have found some excuse to work on the armor if you had, and you needed to rest. Or, worse, you would have insisted on fighting. You probably would have insisted on fighting. And if you didn't fight me, you'd still want to fight the Mantodes, and your first opponent would lose, and another would need to challenge you for their honor, and it would turn into a whole thing. So, no. I didn't invite you, and I'm not apologizing."
Reid narrowed his eyes.
"Did you use your skill-..."
"Dad, I only use Pathfinder when the outcomes of things aren't obvious."
That... he walked into, honestly. In the back of his mind, getting to see her fight was the back up plan to getting to spar with her, and if he played it right should have led to him getting to trade some jabs with her. He wanted to see how she did - and how he would fare against her with his increases. But, all that would need to wait. They had already crossed into the Hive Mother's territory, and their scouts were reporting increased activity only a few hours ahead.
The next battle was nearly upon them.
Reid cracked his neck, and checked over his gear. The sounds around him seemed to fade away.
A voice came from within Reid, and he hoped for a moment that Nyx was awake. It wasn't her - Nyx didn't need to use conversational telepathy. And while her voice was smoky, she didn't sound like this.
"I BID YOU WELCOME, VENERABLE AND UNFORTUNATE ONE. WELCOME TO MY DOMAIN."