"What kind of interesting item needs a personal reminder from you?"
Daichi was intrigued—something in the pirates' vault he didn't know about?
"In their treasure chamber, there's a statue. The cloak on it was once a rather decent magical artifact—likely defensive in nature. You should be able to use it. Don't forget to grab it on your way out."
Immediately, Daichi thought of the mother-and-child statue. He nodded, signaling he understood.
But his current condition wasn't great—his injured hand still hadn't healed.
A bone fracture couldn't be fixed casually. He had to realign it first before applying a healing spell—otherwise the bone would grow back crooked.
Daichi asked the Devouring Soul Slate, "Any advice on how to treat my hand?"
This time, the Slate was unusually decisive, flinging out a plan without hesitation: "Can't be fixed. Hopeless. Farewell!"
And with that, it vanished—no matter how much Daichi called, it refused to respond.
A vein twitched on his forehead. Why is it acting just like Doraemon?
Forget it. Like before, he'd just use his magic to stabilize it and visit a hospital once they got back.
So much for that hard-earned money—it's already flying out the window. The thought made him want to cry.
Meanwhile, the others were snapping out of their memory-modified trance and chatting among themselves.
Daichi dispelled the Sleep spell on John, waking him up.
Flock and Sarah ran into their father's arms, clinging to him tightly. Feeling that long-lost warmth against his chest, John finally allowed a genuine smile to surface.
He stroked their heads. "I'm sorry. I was wrong before. Let's go home—back to our own time, and look for a real future together." Both kids nodded earnestly.
Seeing the others moved to tears, Daichi decided not to disturb the moment and quietly slipped away.
Fortunately, the pirates' elevator only required a password going up. Going down was unrestricted.
The moment he exited the elevator, he was nearly blinded—gold everywhere! Just the shimmering reflections were almost too much for his eyes.
Daichi fought back his giddy excitement, reminding himself to retrieve the target artifact first—then maybe sneak a little treasure on the side.
If I'm already taking something, might as well take a little more, right?
He locked eyes on the golden cloak.
But the moment he saw it, his smile froze—and he began swearing at the Slate: "You call this a 'little trinket'? This thing could eat you ten times over!"
He wasn't exaggerating. The statue was twenty meters tall, the cloak stretched from its head to the floor and still dragged behind. The Slate was only about a meter and a half tall.
"Ah, that? Its spiritual imprint is weak, so regardless of size, it's still just a 'small item'. Quit yapping and get to it!"
Daichi knew time was short. He hurried over and, with his relatively intact left hand, touched the cloak and channeled mana into it.
His magic flowed through the material. Faint and fragmented arcane runes lit up.
Soon, the entire cloak flared with radiant light—so bright it eclipsed the gleam of all other treasures in the vault.
Even with his eyes closed, Daichi could sense the blazing gold. He had to shield his face with his hand to keep from being overwhelmed.
After about thirty seconds, the light finally faded.
He opened his eyes and saw the cloak resting on the ground, and in his mind, its information appeared:
Embrace of the Dawn Goddess — A damaged defensive artifact forged during an ancient war. Current known functions: magic resistance, increased flight speed. Other abilities unknown due to damage.
He stored it in his left hand. A faint golden mark appeared on his palm—its weapon imprint.
Throughout this process, Daichi felt his mana continuously draining. He prayed he wouldn't overdraw—anything but that.
Feeling he still had about ten percent left, he finally relaxed. No overdraw. That was enough.
Just as he considered grabbing a few jewels on his way out, a furious voice roared in his mind:
"Who's the idiot that turned this cloak into this mess?! Absolute sacrilege!"
And then came the Slate's usual, affectionate barrage of insults.
Daichi had enough. "What the hell happened to make you lose your mind like this? It's still usable, right?"
"Usable? Sure. But the spirit inside was lost during the modification. Now I've got no one to talk to! Worse, I have to waste my own power to nurture it!"
"That's not even the worst part—they used ordinary gold thread to patch it up! It totally blocked magical conduction, ruined its self-repair ability, and destroyed the rune structure! It went from a top-tier artifact to a mid-tier knockoff! How could I not be furious?!"
"That cloak was crafted by a Tier-5 mage! At its peak, it was nearly my equal! And now look at it!"
Daichi blinked. "Is there any way to fix it?"
"There is. First, strip the gold thread. The cloak will look like rags after that. Then nourish it with your magic for about a month—it'll regain its original form."
Daichi brightened. "So I'll have a Tier-5 artifact in a month?"
The Slate hit him with a verbal slap: "You're ugly and optimistic. At best it'll be Tier-3 after repair. The runes need long-term nurturing. And the spirit? Almost completely gone. Who knows how long that'll take to regenerate. If you get stronger, it'll help."
Daichi's forehead throbbed. Who are you calling ugly?! I may not be as pretty as Dekisugi, but I'm a decent-looking kid!
Wait. Did he just admit he was a kid now?
No, that's dangerous thinking! I'm a full-grown man trapped in a child's body!
"Stop rambling. The others are done talking. If you don't get back up now, they'll think you vanished."
Daichi didn't argue. He had the Slate override the elevator controls, returning him to the captain's room silently.
By the time he arrived, everyone was chatting about lunch. He was relieved that his low profile meant no one noticed his absence.
Come to think of it, they hadn't eaten all morning. Stomachs were starting to growl.
The captain led them back to the living quarters. Daichi sighed in relief. Looks like my little cloak heist won't be exposed anytime soon.
Then a thought struck him—those pirates he killed… would the others shun him if they knew?
Well, I've always been alone anyway…
"Relax. When I altered their memories, I also erased the part about you facing the pirates alone. No one knows you killed them."
Daichi silently applauded the Slate. Truly the pinnacle of enchanted artifacts—always meticulous.
Still, guilt gnawed at him. He'd killed over twenty people—some of whom had done nothing to him.
Sensing this, the Slate gave him something else.
"I thought you might feel guilty, so I extracted fragments of their memories. Take a look."
Daichi did.
What he saw included violence, arson, murder—all of it. Each pirate had blood on their hands.
That eased his conscience—and answered a lingering question.
"I knew it. If they were really from the 23rd century, how could they not recognize Doraemon's gadgets?"
Exactly. These pirates weren't from Japan's future. They were criminals from across time, captured and brought here.
Trained and ruthless, every one of them had killed.
No wonder that woman's swordsmanship was so deadly. In the future, who but Olympians or special forces would still train with blades?
The internal fog lifted.
By now, lunch was ready. Sarah had cooked herself—golden French toast with honey and jam.
One bite lit up Daichi's taste buds. No wonder the pirates liked it so much.
Too bad they wouldn't get to eat it again.
He put down his fork, mindful not to use both hands—his injury was too fragile. Even a bump could snap it further.
He reduced the mana in his arm, carefully rationing his last sliver of energy.
Soon, it was time for goodbyes.
With Earth's energy flow restored, the skies were once again clear and sunny.
The group stood on the island's edge, Take-Copters on their heads.
Sarah sobbed quietly. Flock wiped his eyes and walked up to Daichi.
"Thank you."
Daichi blinked in surprise, then smiled. "No need. We're friends, aren't we?"
(End of Chapter)