Ethan's clone, the man who acted as his "Master" in this world, sat in a simple wooden chair, his presence a strange anchor for the young boy. To everyone else, this man was a mystery, but to the younger Ethan, he was a source of infinite wisdom. He was the bridge between a boy from a backwater planet and the cosmic destiny of a God-Race progenitor.
"Sit," the clone commanded, his voice holding a subtle resonance that vibrated in the air.
Ethan sat, the purple slime still perched on his head like a crown of jelly.
"Master, I felt it. The 9th Sky. But I did as you said; I hid the Fox and only showed the Slime. They think I'm a joke. They think I'm destined for waste management."
The clone's lips curled into a dry, knowing smile.
