Street Cultivation 3
Author: Sarah Lin
Date: 2020-11-20 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Urban Fantasy; Science Fiction; Fiction
Description: In the modern world, qi is money. The days of traveling martial artists and mountaintop masters are over. Power is controlled by corporations, modernized martial arts sects, and governments. Those at the bottom of society struggle as second class citizens in a world in which power is a commodity. Rick has attempted to separate himself from the world of cutthroat killers, but is drawn in by a chance to participate in a contest at the highest levels. The resulting trials will take him across the world against many different opponents, but he knows that his sponsors ultimately just want to use hi

Street Cultivation #3

Version 1.0

© 2020 Sarah Lin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The story so far...

Street Cultivation 1

In the modern world, qi is money. Problem is, Rick doesn't have much of either to spare. Between his dead-end job taking punches at the local lucrim combat gym and paying for his sick sister Melissa's school fees, it's a struggle to make ends meet. On top of that, Melissa suffers from a condition that drains her lucrim and threatens her life.

When a group of rich young men with powerful Birthright Cores decide to cause trouble at the gym, Rick knows he should just accept the inevitable beating, but his pride gets the better of him and he stubbornly fights back as best he can. Eventually, Rick’s boss steps in to call off the fight, and Rick manages to stay on his feet long enough to watch Mike leave before passing out.

He wakes up to find his injuries healed by his favorite client, Lisa, but soon has to rush off to help his sister survive a serious lucrim seizure. His bad day then gets worse when he checks his mail and discovers that his absentee parents have both been killed. Though he hasn’t heard from them in years, as the next of kin it falls to him to settle their affairs.

At the lawyers’ offices, Rick discovers his pit-fighting Uncle Alan waiting to claim his parents’ inheritable lucrim cores, and is forced to fight him in a ritual challenge. Rick barely wins the challenge, only to discover that in addition to the meager cores, he is saddled with three Aura Leeches to pay off his parents’ debts. To stave off the extra drain on his income, Rick asks his coworker Henry to help him join the local underground fighting ring called the Underground.

At first, Rick outperforms his own expectations and manages to earn some valuable prize money. That changes when the arena’s eccentric owner, Alger, surprises the novice fighters by throwing them into a melee against a savage, overwhelmingly-powerful fighter named the Slayer. Rick survives against the odds, but his left arm is shattered. Worse, the Slayer then hunts him down in the infirmary and tries to murder him. Rick seeks refuge with Granny Whitney, a kindly-seeming old lady who had offered to heal his arm… and then promptly murders the Slayer and blackmails Rick into fighting for her in the arena.

With his arm healed, Rick resumes his training, but is surprised to receive a legal summons from a company called Maguire Incorporated. It turns out that an experimental lucrim core had passed into Rick’s lucrima soul during his fight with the Birthrighter, Mike, and his father’s company wants it back. Rick surrenders the core without incident, but runs into a furious Mike on the way out and finds himself the subject of a vicious grudge.

Rick keeps his head down and carries on fighting at the underground arena, aided by his unscrupulous new mentor and her brutally effective medications. He escapes an encounter with one of Mike’s cronies unscathed, but his luck runs out when his sister’s health takes a sharp turn for the worse. Aided by Lisa and - reluctantly - by Granny Whitney, Rick teaches Melissa to build a shell around the lucrim-consuming flame at the core of her soul.

Back at the Underground, an exhibition match turns out to be instigated by Mike and his cronies, who try to ambush Rick. The ensuing brawl quickly spirals out of control and Rick finds himself helping Emily, a strong middleweight fighter, to defend another fighter from a hitman trying to take advantage of the chaos.

Rick discovers that Emily will be fighting alongside him in an upcoming multi-tier tournament at the underground arena, so Rick trains hard with her and Lisa to make sure he can qualify. Shortly before the tournament, however, Rick runs into Mike, who challenges him to a formal duel. Rick tries to decline, but is forced to accept when he receives a panicked phone call from Melissa about a stranger breaking down their door.

With a massively one-sided duel to prepare for in addition to a grueling arena tournament, Rick throws himself into training, learns a new speed technique, and purchases a dangerous medication called Deathbane. Just before the tournament, Rick uses the Deathbane to rebuild his lucrima soul by inciting the team’s heavyweight fighter to beat him within an inch of his life. Granny Whitney is thoroughly unimpressed, but grudgingly heals him in time for the tournament.

Rick and Emily perform well in their tiers of the tournament, but their welterweight and cruiserweight teammates are knocked out and the heavyweight matches are a dead heat. The tournament is on a knife-edge between the teams led by Granny Whitney, Alger, and a local mobster known as the American Basilisk, when Rick is called up for one last round. He struggles through and is the last man standing, but passes out once he leaves the arena. When he awakes, he discovers that Granny’s team has been victorious and his debt is now fulfilled.

Freed of his obligations at the underground arena, Rick turns to preparing for his grudge match with Mike. Together with Melissa, he hatches a plan to use a wisp of her ether void as a secret weapon to disrupt his opponent's defenses, but Mike has a trick of his own: as the fight begins, he uses a technique to bind Rick’s voice so that he can’t surrender. Mike launches into an all-out assault, aiming to take advantage of his vastly-superior strength, but Rick uses his fighting experience and Melissa’s void flame to force Mike into burning away his lucrim without landing any critical blows. Once Mike burns through all his energy, his defenses fail and Rick breaks his leg, forcing Mike into a humiliating - and legally binding - surrender.

After the duel, life returns to normal. Back at the gym, Henry dramatically announces his resignation, buoyed by the promise of bigger rewards at the Arena and a loan from an Advanced Lucrim station, a new technology from Maguire Incorporated which sounds suspiciously familiar. Rick shakes his head and turns to his boss to ask for a raise...

Street Cultivation 2

As he tries to build on his success in the multi-tier tournament, Rick encounters an even trickier foe: the intractable world of job interviews. Though his new-found strength breaks down some barriers, he finds himself running into new ones he can’t easily resolve: most office jobs require college degrees or a combat sect membership, and Rick doesn’t have either. Finding something better than manual labour or cage-fighting will be a challenge.

Prompted by his newly-graduated sister, Rick finds something that could play to his strengths: a vague posting from the Global Lucrim Authority where the only listed requirement is fighting ability. He lucks out when he gains credit for his early arrival at the initial trial, but his fortunes quickly reverse when a flamboyant rival candidate, Damian, uses it as a pretext to pick a bizarrely-feigned fight with him while they wait for the trial to start.

Rick plays along until the GLA representatives cut their fight short by issuing a challenge to the assembled candidates: to learn and demonstrate a proprietary lucrim-surveying technique within the next two weeks. During a chastening attempt to find a better apartment the next day, Rick discovers that most landlords will require a huge “fighter’s deposit” to cover potential damage: 100,000 lucrim, more than twice his generation rate. With that in mind, Rick resolves to pass the GLA trial and earn the promised lucrative contract.

Rick manages to pass the first test, and the trial moves on to a demonstration of the lucrim anomalies the candidates will be searching for... and the dangerous entities that can spawn from them. After points are awarded for each fighter’s performance in the ensuing fight, the final challenge is issued: to use the surveying technique to find a lucrim anomaly within a month.

Initially, Rick exhausts himself in the search, but armed with technique improvements from Emily and custom serum from Lisa, his efforts bear fruit. He discovers an anomaly near the site of the first GLA trial by following up a lead on some feral dragons, one of which promptly attacks him. He calls it in despite his misgivings about removing the dragon’s food source, and is rewarded with a well-paid but limited-time contract to find more anomalies.

Buoyed by his success, Rick hands in his notice at the House of the Cosmic Fist, but he runs into trouble when he finds his next anomaly: some of his rival surveyors have already found it. Worse, one of them turns out to bear a grudge from the multi-tier tournament, and Rick is only saved from a severe beating by an unexpected intervention from Damian. He learns that the thug’s name is Jack, but Damian declines to offer any more information, leaving Rick to return home, lick his wounds, and mourn his ruined jacket.

While he recovers, Rick remembers the starved feral dragon and decides to visit a local wildlife refuge to see if anything could be done to help it. When he arrives, he finds signs of an anomaly, but before he can find it, a powerful lucrim user confronts him at gunpoint and tells him to leave. Rick manages to persuade him of his good intentions and discovers the man is a Native American named Delsin whose family runs the refuge. They strike a deal to allow Rick to find anomalies nearby without disrupting the ecosystem within the reserve itself.

After a brief encounter with an aura-using bear, Rick and Delsin find more anomalies, but one is in a region infested by jackalopes – savage rabbit-like creatures created by a twisted lucrim experiment. Rick enlists Emily’s help and they clear out the jackalopes, only to be ambushed by a rabid dragon which they are forced to kill. On the way back, he gets an even bigger surprise when Emily asks him out on a date.

For a time, Rick enjoys life as he builds up his savings, strikes up a relationship with Emily, and overjoys Melissa with a gift of a stuffed jackalope. Just as he decides to set aside some time to help Melissa with her upcoming CLAT exam, he receives an urgent call to help with a major anomaly the following day. When he arrives, he finds that the anomaly has grown into a rupture between the human and demonic realms… and that Jack intends to main him in the midst of the chaos. Rick manages to evade him, but gets too close to the rupture and is sucked in along with Damian. When he comes to, he discovers that they’ve been trapped in the demon realm.

Rick confronts Damian, who admits that he’d intended to travel through the rupture and that Rick was accidentally stranded along with him. He teaches Rick how to survive in the demon realm, but then leaves to carry out his own plans while they wait for a rescue to be arranged. Rick briefly visits the demonic counterpart to his home town, but grows wary of the attention from succubi and other predatory demons and soon wanders out to explore a mine on the edge of the city. There, he meets and befriends Bftgage and Ythsil, two weak frog-like demons who are struggling to survive in the mine’s harsh working conditions. Rick and the demon brothers help each other out until Damian returns with news of their imminent rescue.

After returning to the human realm, Rick is given full back pay and a week to recover, and spends it recuperating with Melissa and Emily. He also meets with Damian, who explains that he wants to infiltrate the Global Lucrim Authority and tear down the systems of exploitation between humans and demons. Rick tells him he’s crazy, but agrees to cooperate with him for the remainder of their contract. In return, Damian tells Rick that Jack is a mercenary working for the American Basilisk, the mobster from the multi-tier tournament.

Rick decides to focus on training, so while Melissa searches the public library for a new technique to add to her portfolio, he meets up with Tom, an old contact from the Underground Arena. Their sparring goes well, but just as Rick begins to detect something amiss in Tom’s behaviour, the reason becomes clear: Granny Whitney arrives.

Rick’s malevolent former mentor makes him an offer: deal with a lucrim anomaly without drawing attention to her nearby illicit operations, and she will deal with Jack. Rick reluctantly agrees, on the conditions that Jack is not murdered and Rick doesn’t have to do anything illegal. He makes his way to the location, but finds he has to clear a shotgun-brandishing junkie and an endangered cloud wolf out of the area. Afterwards, Rick calls in the anomaly, but then is ambushed almost immediately by Jack.

In the ensuing fight, Jack uses his oversized ability cores to exhaust Rick and knocks him to the ground, but is held back by a senior mafiosi who imposes the terms of a limited vendetta, as punishment for the attention being drawn to the Basilisk’s operations. Rick learns that Jack will be allowed one attempt to finish the vendetta within the next three months, and is unsurprised to find Granny Whitney waiting for him on the road afterwards. She amiably explains that placing conditions on her generous offers can lead to unexpected consequences.

After Rick recovers from the fight with Lisa’s help, he works with Emily and Delsin on an accelerated training plan to build up his combat skills and develop a secondary lucrima foundation, while Melissa shows off a new technique to manifest her ether void as a destructive aura. Next, Rick calls in his debt with Tom, training his Bunyan’s Step core against the other man’s lightning abilities, but he is interrupted by a call from Damian: the lucrim-surveying contract is going to wrap up with a final contest, and he has only a few days to prepare.

Damian tries to recruit Rick to fight in his team, but Rick decides against it. Instead, he asks Emily to help, Melissa volunteers to support them using her new technique, and Lisa arrives with a gift of a new combat jacket to replace Rick’s ruined one. A couple of days before the contest, though, disaster strikes: Rick realises that his relationship with Emily won’t work out, and they suddenly break up.

During the contest, Melissa’s technique works to fend off the lucrim entities from the anomalies, but as expected, Jack uses the cover of the contest to attack Rick. Melissa is nearly drawn into their fight, but Emily unexpectedly arrives and helps Rick to defeat Jack. Between the fight and the side effects of his new foundation, Rick is left exhausted, so he surrenders the contest to Damian’s team. As the GLA representative explains that the terms of surrender mean that Rick will lose his final paycheck, Rick trades in his information about Jack and the American Basilisk to secure a personal reward from the Vice President instead.

In the aftermath, Rick finds some part-time work at the Peakless Wildlife Refuge and Melissa is recruited to join the Young Lucrim Artists of America. As he relaxes with his sister for their last cheesy movie night for a while, he considers what to do next...

Chapter 1: Brutal Dreams

Rain battered the top of the skyscraper and Rick wasn't himself. He could feel the rain stinging against his bare back and the aura pulsing through his body, but something was wrong. A moment ago he had been somewhere else, the memory already dissipating, yet now he felt rage cascading down over him, as undeniable as the rain.

A city glimmered around him, the lights strangely muted and blue in the rain. They extended in all directions, obscured only by swaths of darkness from other skyscrapers blotting out the world below. He didn't recognize anything about where he was, but he could barely even look around him, instead drawn to look across the roof, where he knew someone would be standing.

The man was about his height, with dyed blue hair that seemed to glow with the lights of the city. He wore a dark combat suit that clung to his body, even where it had been ripped in several places. As Rick stared at him, the man grinned and raised a fist.

He gripped a ribbon of torn red cloth.

Instantly Rick knew that it was a piece of Melissa's robes. It was simply red cloth, and in the pouring rain it could have been anything, yet he knew. He began to run forward, letting out a wordless cry. His opponent's lips moved and Rick heard nothing, the world blurring around him...

Rick Hunter woke up in the bed of his lodge and stared at the ceiling. His heart was still pounding and he could feel his lucrima soul surging within him, seeking an opponent who didn't exist.

He hoped. Rick swatted aside the covers and swung his legs out of bed, just sitting on the edge for a while and trying to breathe. The cold wood against his bare feet helped him come back to reality, reassuring him that it had only been a dream.

Obviously it was just a dream. He dreamed every night and often woke with fragments of imaginary battles in his head. It had been nearly a year since he fought Jack, yet he still occasionally had dreams where the man's burning tattoos tore him apart. Occasionally he even dreamt of fighting Mike, including one horrifying dream where Melissa had been forced to fight him. Inventing an imaginary opponent was nothing new.

Still, it left him thrown off his rhythm. Usually his dreams faded quickly, but this one stuck with him, and it had made his lucrima soul activate even while he was unconscious. Recognizing that he wasn't going to get back to sleep, Rick strained to his feet. Early sunlight cast his cabin in subtle shades anyway.

He ran his hands through his hair, decided he didn't need to shave, and ate some cereal straight out of the box. There had been milk at some point, but his tiny fridge had run out. By the time he was finished, he felt normal again, despite the lingering dream and the early hour. When he pulled on his jacket and slipped into his tennis shoes, he was ready to start the day.

Out this early, there was a chance that he could find Delsin. The older man had been avoiding him for some time, though it was probably due to cantankerousness more than anything else. They'd spoken briefly about the Dark Blood Kettle, confirming that there was nothing sinister about its psychological effect, but otherwise the old man didn't want to be used as a source of information.

If anyone knew about dreams, it would be him. Rick had mostly put the dream behind him, but decided that he would ask anyway, just to round out his knowledge.

Meanwhile, he would begin work by scouting the edges of the Peakless Wildlife Refuge. It had formerly been exclusively Delsin's job, and joining him helped justify Rick's continued employment. That route would also be most likely to bring him into contact with the old man.

As he jogged through the forested hills that had now become familiar, Rick found his mind wandering. He didn't usually run into anything during his patrol and staying alert for the occasional surprise had become second nature. Still, for every hour he spent exploring fruitlessly, he found himself wondering about how necessary his job really was.

Originally, he had been hired by Delsin's family to deal with a jackalope infestation caused by the Global Lucrim Authority's experiments. He'd dealt with it in under a month, yet before he'd finished, there had been an atmospheric lucrim disturbance that required all hands on deck. Then after that, there had been a group of lucrim-using moles that had threatened to tunnel so much they'd collapse part of the Refuge.

So month after month, crises had kept him employed. Something else could come up at any moment, but it was also possible that he was no longer essential. If Adsila and Wemilat were only keeping him out of pity...

Rick paused and focused, extending his lucrima soul's senses as far around him as he could. The GLA's sensing technique wasn't useful in the modern world, but in the Refuge it was essential for finding things that were wrong. It had been limited at first, but Emily... Rick's mind flinched from the old sore spot. She had improved the technique, and in the months since he'd continued improving it until he could easily sense the world around him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't sense Delsin. The old man must be avoiding him again, and with his teleportation technique, he could easily do so as long as he wanted.

Sighing, Rick continued to jog around the edge. He couldn't cover the entire perimeter in a morning, but he tried to get a major swath. As he went, he continued to extend his senses into the world around him, not trying to find Delsin and just searching for anything that might require his attention.

After wandering for a time, something found him: Blue trundled through the underbrush in his direction. The aura bear was taller than Rick even on all fours, a massive beast made even more dangerous by the naturally flowing aura that made the fur on its chest bright red. It growled as it sped up, lunging into the air and bringing its paws down on his shoulders.

"Good to see you too, Blue." Rick reached out and rubbed the rough fur on the bear's belly. It bent down to snuffle at him, massive claws playfully raking along his shoulders.

The aura bear was one of the few animals that roamed the entire Peakless Wildlife Refuge, an apex predator that ignored all other territories. At least, other than the bounds of the park itself, where it would be in danger from humans. Rick only ran into the animal every few days, but once Blue had grown accustomed to him, it went out of its way to come greet him every time they were near one another.

Once, the paws the size of his head had been intimidating, but after ruining a few shirts, Rick's defensive core had begun to adapt. It had been dangerous training for a time, and now it was more precise training: the difficult part was making sure his defensive aura was strong enough to prevent his clothes from being destroyed.

"I don't suppose you know anything about dreams, do you?" Rick spoke in a soothing voice as he continued rubbing Blue's fur. It didn't really matter what he said, Delsin had just told him that the aura bear liked the sound of calm voices. "Do animals dream? That would be just the sort of question that would annoy Delsin to death. I shouldn't let it get to me. I guess it's just been too long since I've had a crisis and my mind is inventing one."

Blue growled in agreement and reached down, clamping jaws over his shoulder. Rick winced instinctively but kept talking, rambling as he focused on his defensive core so that the bear's teeth wouldn't ruin his jacket. He'd kept Lisa's gift to him undamaged so far, but an aura bear gnawing at his shoulder could overcome the jacket's ether reinforcement.

Several minutes and one undamaged jacket later, Blue let out a huff that blew Rick's hair back. That implied the bear had apparently greeted him long enough, which meant it was about to finish with its traditional farewell.

Specifically, the bear reared up to its full height, then brought its weight down on him in one smashing paw.

Having expected it, Rick crossed his forearms above his head and centered himself so the force of the blow was spread across his entire body. He could feel his shoes digging into the earth, but his defensive core held. Socialization complete, Blue dropped down onto all fours and trundled away absentmindedly.

As Rick headed back to his usual route, he found himself rubbing his shoulder and pondering the minor damage the teeth had done to his aura. Blue generated aura in a different way than humans did, though he hadn't quite figured out all the differences. Every animal he'd ever had attack him used lucrim in a slightly different way, which suggested that there must be a fundamental biological difference.

It was one of many topics that Rick was curious about, but there simply wasn't time. For the past year he'd been focused primarily on his own development, trying to prepare himself for whatever came next. Except nothing had come next. He was significantly stronger, and he was proud of how far his Graham's Stake core had come in generating his own lucrim, but right now all that strength wasn't for anything. Working at the Refuge was still useful to him, but it wouldn't be for much longer, and he had to admit that he might no longer be very useful to it.

Sometimes, when he was wandering through the forest alone, that scared him a bit. Circulating his lucrima soul came as second nature, so even training while he worked wasn't a good distraction. Without anywhere to focus his mind, he became bored, and boredom eventually led him to disturbing places.

With Melissa gone to join the Young Lucrim Artists of America, his life felt much emptier. He told himself that was normal, since his sister had been a huge part of his life for a long time. But it was more than that. For so long, his focus had been on keeping her healthy or earning her a better life. Without that goal, he was lost.

So far, his efforts to redefine himself had failed, and he often worried that was because there wasn't anything else at the core of his soul.

He loved training, but he wasn't strong enough for that to support him as a career. He didn't have the drive to start a business like Lisa. He liked ranging in the Refuge, but didn't have the passion for animals that he saw in Wemilat. He didn't want to be driven by revenge, like some. He couldn't believe in a crazy goal like Damian's efforts to overthrow the current world order. And worst of all he didn't feel happy simply existing, like Delsin and many others.

Uncle Frank said that it was just another problem from his upbringing that he'd needed to overcome. The rest of their family had never held long term goals, they'd just rushed from crisis to crisis, always trying to feed an addiction or get a little temporary comfort. Rick admitted that was probably part of it, and he'd been working on his long term planning, but he thought it was more than that.

Maybe some people just weren't built to accomplish anything.

A bolt of lightning thundered out of the clear sky and suddenly his personal problems didn't seem so relevant. Rick shook himself out of his thoughts and identified the location. Not so far away, so he began running. Though he was much more familiar with moving through the Refuge, sprinting was still risky, but he trusted his defensive core to protect him against any accidents.

Soon enough he saw it: several birds flying in anxious circles. When he reached the grove, he spotted a blackened tree trunk. His arrival made most of the birds retreat, but one lay smoking at the center of the impact point and another hopped nearby even when he drew close.

Both thunderpeckers had the dark feathers and bright yellow crests of their species. Rick didn't know them well enough to be sure if they were male or female... to him the most relevant fact about thunderpeckers was their ability to generate lightning bolts. They were lesser cousins of the near legendary thunderbirds, which he still wasn't sure were real animals instead of spiritual metaphors. Delsin had not been at all helpful in that regard.

Unfortunately, one of the birds lay on the blackened trunk, still smoking from the impact. Its wings twitched weakly and he thought it was still alive. Sure enough, he found the problem: there was a bit of metal wire wrapped around one of its feet.

Rick knelt down and gently reached out to try to unwind it. Not gently enough, because the other thunderpecker leapt to attack his hand. The thin beak was needle-sharp, capable of boring into even the hardest woods, and Rick winced as it repeatedly jabbed him.

Even when he began to unwind the wire from the injured thunderpecker, the other continued to attack. It didn't ever seem to understand that he was trying to help, it just eventually realized that it couldn't injure him. Instead it fluttered back, hopping back and forth and emitting chirps of distress.

Removing the wire was simple enough, and the injured bird twitched in relief. Rick examined it, in over his head but knowing that he had to do something. According to Wemilat, the thunderpeckers' lightning abilities backfired on them when in contact with certain metals that didn't exist in the natural world. Unfortunately, humans did use those metals, and even worse, the thunderpeckers would try to collect them. They were usually safe in the Refuge, but these must have ranged further.

Removing and manifesting a medical cage from his belt, Rick gently eased the injured thunderpecker into it, careful that its wings weren't pinched as the ether mechanism closed around it. That should stabilize it until he could get back.

Not understanding, the other thunderpecker flew directly at his face, pecking wildly. Rick stumbled back and shielded his face, since he wasn't sure his defensive core could protect his eyes from the sharp beak. After attacking ineffectually, the thunderpecker instead landed on his shoulder and began resolutely drilling into the side of his head.

Ignoring the drumming against his skull, Rick stood up and looked carefully for a nest. They bored holes into the sides of trees, but sometimes they also made nests. He dimly remembered Wemilat saying they did that only during mating season, which suggested that the two were a mating pair.

"Take it easy, I only want to h-mmmph!" Rick tried to speak soothingly, but that only invited the thunderpecker to peck at his mouth instead. He tried to brush it aside without harming it and just focused on the nest.

Soon enough he found it near the blackened tree, and also found what he'd feared: the nest had several lengths of sharp wire in it. He reached in to try to remove the wire without damaging the rest of the nest, though he couldn't help disrupting it. But he had to keep going, despite the increasing fervency of pecking, because unless he took away the wire, all the thunderpeckers in the area were in danger of scorching themselves.

Just as he got the last bit of wire and stood back, satisfied, he realized that the lucrim in the thunderpecker was shifting. Animals didn't have lucrima souls, so the movement of lucrim within them was inscrutable, but Rick had gained more of an instinct for it. And that instinct told him that he was in danger.

Too late. Another bolt of lightning seared down and for a moment his world was incandescent.

Rick stumbled into the clearing, his mind catching up to the fact that the thunderpecker had just hit him with lightning. He'd been hit with human-generated lightning before, but this felt different. He stared down at his hands, surprised that they weren't burned black. His hair wasn't even singed.

With the remaining thunderpecker flying nearby to watch him angrily, Rick slowly stumbled his way back to the central office. He might not have been injured, but that bolt of lightning had been unlike any other attack he'd ever felt. His defensive core still shivered with it, as if it had drawn the electricity into itself. Rick watched the thunderpecker cautiously, since he didn't want to take another bolt, but it stayed at a distance, its energy spent.

When he arrived, he was surprised that the sun was fairly high up in the sky. His work had taken longer than he thought. That was good, since it meant that the others would likely have arrived from their homes off the Refuge. Sure enough, one of the lights was on.

"Was that a thunderpecker bolt?" Wemilat emerged before he arrived, a look of slight concern on his face. In response, Rick jabbed a thumb at the bird still following him murderously.

"Unless there are a lot of other birds around here that summon lightning, I think so."

"Just what did you do to - oh, I see the cage. Just one moment." The young man placed his palms together and let his lucrim flow in a strange technique that Rick couldn't quite follow. Even though Wemilat was one of the Refuge's main employees, he wore his usual skinny jeans and a t-shirt with yet another obscure video game character. At least Rick thought it was from a game.

To Rick's surprise, the thunderpecker behind him fluttered to the ground. It hopped a few times, looking about, and then settled down. After one last suspicious glare at them, it closed its eyes and seemed to sleep.

"What was that?" Rick asked. Wemilat just shrugged and bent down to look at the medical cage.

"It's a sedative technique. Not recommended for regular use, but without it some lucrim-using animals will injure themselves. Hopefully that will keep it calm until we can heal its mate. Whew, looks like it took quite a blast... found some metal, I take it?"

They entered the office and Wemilat gently pulled the injured bird from the cage, checking it with a more careful eye than Rick possessed. He was unsure if he should just leave, but just then Adsila walked into the room. She was still shrugging on her lab coat, the concern on her face melting into a smirk.

"Wemy, are you literally caring for a bird with an injured wing?"

"It's a thunderpecker that shocked itself," Wemilat answered curtly without looking up.

"How sweet. Soon you'll have another little forest friend."

"Nope, it looks like it won't make it. Guess you'll get to grind it up into boner pills for fighters who can't get it up anymore."

Adsila rolled her eyes and turned to look at Rick instead. "Good on you for finding the poor thing. Did you run into any more invasive species on your patrol?"

"No, not really." Rick shifted away to let Wemilat work and lowered his voice. "I had something I wanted to ask you about."

"Yeah? What's up?"

Abruptly Rick's mind caught up to his mouth and he realized what he was doing. He had been intending to ask Adsila about whether or not dreams could have any more significance. She knew more about the mystical side of lucrim but wouldn't give him any bullshit. Yet now that question felt idiotic, the remnants of a meaningless dream, and asking her seemed insane. Her smirk was cute, but he didn't want it directed at him.

"Uh..." Rick scrambled for something else that wouldn't make him look like an idiot. "Last week we talked about the Refuge's endowment, yeah? I meant to look up more, but never did. Is that a purely financial thing? If it's actually some kind of core that generates lucrim, I'm not sure how that's different than a perpetual soul."

Adsila blinked as if that hadn't been what she expected, but recovered quickly. "Oh, they're entirely different. The endowment only exists on paper... or, on circuits, I guess. It's a bunch of stocks and bonds and things. It's all paid out in lucrim, but we just use that to fund the Refuge, so it's nothing like a perpetual soul."

"That's not true," Wemilat said from across the room. "It's a perpetual endowment."

"Oh, that label doesn't mean anything. Just that it generates enough lucrim to fund the Refuge in perpetuity, but that's entirely dependent on how much we spend."

"Wouldn't a perpetual soul be the same way?" Rick asked. When they both looked at him, he shrugged. "I mean, the idea is that your lucrima soul can generate enough lucrim to support you if you never work another day in your life. But isn't that based on how much lucrim you use in exactly the same way?"

"Maybe," Adsila said reluctantly, "but it isn't that simple. To qualify as a perpetual soul, you need a certain degree of stable lucrim generation that's self-sustaining. They're sometimes built into Birthright Cores, but you hear about Birthrighters going bankrupt all the time before Mommy and Daddy bail them out. That doesn't mean they're not perpetual souls."

"Maybe it's more complex than I thought, then." Rick frowned and started to say more, but Adsila waved his question aside.

"Your financial questions always get way too detailed, Rick. Seriously, just look it up online. There are tons of people talking about it in detail who can tell you anything you'd want to know."

He nodded, making a mental note to do just that. It might actually be effective, too. For a long time, perpetual souls were something he was aware of, but they were so far beyond him that when he did think of them, it was more confusing than anything. But he'd used a lucrim-generating core for years now and he knew far more, so perhaps he could take the next step.

Of course, even if he was a perpetual soul and an immortal, that would just buy him more time in which he wouldn't be sure what he should do.

While Rick began looking up the basics on his phone, Wemilat finished his work on the thunderpecker. It still hopped weakly, but Wemilat placed it into a more spacious cage. He then hooked it by the door and backed away. Soon the other thunderpecker woke up and hopped closer. Instead of being distraught to find its mate in a cage, it hopped around the sides of the cage, poking its beak through and chirping.

At least it didn't seem inclined to attack anyone else. Rick smiled as he watched the two birds communicate in their chirping way. He might not be passionate about helping animals, but he was glad that he'd been able to help the two of them.

"Hey, Wemy, do you want to go to the Showdown this weekend?" Adsila asked toward both of them, yet Rick thought her eyes were on him instead of her brother. He had no idea what it even was, but Wemilat rolled his eyes.

"You want to see some muscled freaks flex and crush beer cans against their foreheads?"

"It's more exciting than freaking soccer, dork."

"Soccer is an elegant sport, lucrim league or not. It doesn't worship at the altar of lucrim obsession."

Rick's eyes shifted between them as he followed the conversation, but eventually he had to speak up. "What's this Showdown?"

"You don't know?" Wemilat raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I thought most... no, never mind. It's a roaming circus of lucrim-based events, you could say. And this weekend the circus is coming to Branton. For most of a month, I think."

"That's unfair," Adsila said, tapping on her phone. "Here, I'll send you a link. Basically, the Showdown is one of the only interesting lucrim events. Not like smashball, which is just dumb and artificial. Each event in the Showdown has people who are the best in the world at something specific. And I really mean best. I don't know how we get them to come to Branton, but they come by a few times a decade."

His phone beeped and Rick found Adsila's link to the website. It seemed that the Showdown included traditional combat events as well as enhanced versions of various sports, but also more specialized events. Unfortunately, the pages with more detailed information were terribly formatted for viewing on a phone, leaving him to scroll through the glossy advertising sections.

It might have been interesting, but he found himself more troubled thinking about why Adsila had brought it up. For a moment, he'd wondered if she was indirectly inviting him out. Now, he worried that she was trying to get rid of him.

This Showdown did seem like the sort of thing that would interest him, but it also clearly advertised that it was looking for new up-and-coming competitors. It was possible that Adsila was unsubtly hinting that he should look into this or another job. As he scrolled mindlessly, Rick tried to think about how long it had been since he'd accomplished something truly important for the Refuge. He thought he earned his keep, but he could also understand if that time was coming to an end.

Then Rick froze, staring at his phone, all thoughts of such social interactions fading. All he could do was stare at the picture above the article. He barely even read the headline, something about the new generation of elites being chosen.

The man in the picture was the same one he had seen in his dream.

Chapter 2: The Showdown

His first reaction, of course, was to assume it couldn't really be the same person. Looking more carefully, he noticed several differences between the picture and the mortal opponent from his dream. In the dream, the man had shorter hair, an older face, a scar across his cheek... all those things were just convincing him that this was a younger version of the dream opponent.

"Guys, should I know who this is?" Rick turned his phone toward Adsila and Wemilat, trying to keep his face calm. "Like, is he somebody famous or something?"

"I don't recognize him," Wemilat said, "but Adsila is the one who likes to watch thugs."

"He looks more your type, Wemy." Adsila did peer closer, but then shook her head. "I don't recognize him. The caption just identifies him as one of the new contenders in the junior leagues. Why?"

Rick shook his head slowly. "He just looked weirdly familiar. So... the Showdown is this weekend?"

"The public events are. But I think they've already started some base qualifications and stuff - they're here for a whole month and they do all kinds of different things. Honestly, I don't pay attention to those parts, I just like the main events."

"Yeah, thanks." Rick put his phone away as if it didn't matter, but found himself memorizing the location. It was going to take place in the big sports arena in downtown Branton. Back when he'd commuted from his old apartment, he'd passed by it occasionally when he took a western route.

After chatting with the siblings for a while longer, Rick headed back out into the Refuge to continue patrolling. Or at least he tried. He utterly failed to focus on his work, once stumbling straight into a stream and soaking his shoes. Try as he might, he couldn't get the coincidence out of his head.

The problem was that it was all ridiculous. Even in the past eras of roaming lucrim warriors, Rick didn't think that dreams had ever been a meaningful part of anything, except in melodramatic stories. As he walked he pored over every bit of history he remembered, and he came up with a few seers or masters who claimed to have lucrim dreams, but there was some controversy about whether they had been frauds or manipulators. Dreams were just the random firing of a sleeping brain.

Yet he had seen his opponent in the dream before he saw him in real life... hadn't he? He started to wonder if he had changed his memories of the dream so that they lined up with the image he'd seen. It didn't feel that way, but of course it wouldn't if he was deceiving himself.

By the time he was mostly finished with his patrol for that day, Rick had convinced himself not to worry about it. He'd still talk to Uncle Frank, and Delsin if he could, but most likely they would just confirm what he knew. Besides, weird dreams were no help at all in deciding where he needed to go in life.

And yet, Rick found himself biking toward the stadium.

Though he'd continued using his lucrim bike, both for training and for transportation, his improvement had eventually plateaued. He could cruise in 43rd gear, which made him faster than most cars and fast enough to use the lucrim-powered lanes. Going faster than that required precise training, specialized cores, and more. Unless they were all just rich, Rick wasn't sure how bikers did it without hindering their growth otherwise.

As he reached a corner, Rick turned hard, skidding only briefly before shooting off in a new direction. One of the features of the bike he hadn't even realized existed until he reached higher speeds was a self-stabilizing element. It let him redirect his momentum with unnatural speed, and though the inertia bounced him around, his defensive core was more than up to the challenge.

Keeping one eye on traffic, Rick couldn't help but examine the city as well. Once Melissa had gone, he'd had far fewer reasons to return. It seemed like it was a little worse each time, though he suspected that was only his imagination. He wasn't imagining all the Advanced Lucrim stations, though, or how even the better districts had homeless lingering on the streets.

It was easy to ignore all of that, out at the Refuge. Every time he came back into Branton, he was reminded that doing something about one problem meant ignoring the others.

Not that he could really do anything about Maguire Incorporated and so many others squeezing those on the bottom of society. Rick was out of the lowest quartile now and didn't want to forget about how hard things could be, but without knowing where he was going, he didn't want to spend too long looking back.

When the sports stadium came into view, Rick finally pushed all other thoughts aside. There were several big ones in Branton, but most were devoted to standard sports. The largest stadium was owned by several major corporations and served to host lucrim-based events, so he knew it a little. The entire structure was ether-reinforced to avoid damage from events, which meant that it was also one of the safest places to retreat during a natural disaster.

That day, it might not have been so safe after all. Telling himself that he was just investigating a potentially interesting event, Rick hopped off his bike, retracted it into its chip, and headed up the stairs.

Though there was a small crowd around the entrance, they didn't seem to have all the ticket lines open as usual. Instead there was only one line in, a middle-aged woman in a stadium uniform interrogating each person. Well, not all. As he waited in line, Rick saw that some people simply flew in overhead, either by their own power or in lucrim vehicles.

When he came up to the gate, the woman eyed him. "You here to compete?"

"What? No." Rick shook his head quickly. "I know the Showdown events haven't started yet, but I just wanted to lo-"

"Doesn't matter. Here to scout or participate, you need to qualify. Let me see your lucrima portfolio."

Rick frowned. "Why should that be necessary?"

"We can't have anyone getting killed in our stadium. They have safety precautions, but they're not designed to protect civilians." The woman extended a hand along with a world-weary expression that suggested his obstinance was her major obstacle to finding any happiness in life.

The apartment search process had hardened him to giving out such data, so Rick got out his phone and pulled up his portfolio.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 12th

Ether Score: 443

Lucrim Generation: 85,200

Current Lucrim: 85,200]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3700 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 16,600 (Lv IV)

Offensive Lucore: 13,300 (Lv VII)

Defensive Lucore: 35,750 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 15,100 (Lv VIII)

Graham's Stake: 23,900 (Lv IV)

Demonic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 750 (Stage I)

Demon Mass: 500 (N/A)

Total Lucrim: 109,100]

He'd improved while working at the Peakless Wildlife Refuge, but he wasn't sure if it would matter because he didn't know what the Showdown cared about. They might only care about combat cores, or maybe they had a more specific focus. Over the past months he'd been trying to build up his Graham's Stake core for the sake of the investment returns, and his raw generation rate hadn't increased much, so he wasn't certain if it would meet with approval.

"You need lessons on handing things?" the woman asked. Rick quickly handed her his phone and let her check over it.

She took longer than expected, but then grunted and handed him the phone back. There wasn't even any judgment on his portfolio or his choices, she just looked on to the next person in line. That had to mean that he was accepted, so Rick headed forward, into the stadium itself.

What he found was chaos. Instead of the central area being cleared for a single event, there were dozens of minor competitions occurring all across it. Most of the stands were empty, though he spotted a few small groups that appeared to be watching below with sharp eyes. Scouts, presuming that those competing were the contestants.

As he found his way down to the field, Rick just tried to take it all in. Many were competing in more traditional events, like ring fights or sprints. He saw more than a few Olympic events, though generally the ones that could be improved by lucrim. No one seemed to be in charge, and no one approached him, so he just wandered in.

Several men and a woman were hefting black spheres that reminded him of kettle bells, though the way the fighters strained with them suggested they must be unnaturally heavy. Some merely lifted or carried the heaviest, while he was shocked to see a few actually hurl them high into the air before catching them, their bodies braced against the return blow.

He wasn't sure what event that could be, but he was curious. There was a table of the balls, each secured in a ring, and nobody was guarding it. Rick stepped closer and tried to pick one up experimentally. It nearly made him fall, as he wasn't braced properly. Gritting his teeth, Rick managed to heft the dark sphere up to chest level, wondering just what it was made out of to weigh so much. Lifting it was possible with his full strength, but he couldn't imagine hurling one.

"You'd better put that down, son." The man who spoke wasn't much older than him, but sneered as he approached. He grabbed the sphere with one hand and returned it to its place. "Don't want you injuring yourself."

The insult was obvious, but Rick decided to ignore it. "Thanks for the tip," he answered blandly, catching the man's gaze. "I'm not here to compete, I'm just looking to watch the top contenders."

"You won't find them here. Not today." The man hefted one of the larger spheres instead of making eye contact. "Today is just about getting into the junior leagues. You should know that."

"I guess I don't know enough about this. I'm just trying to find somebody I used to know while he's in town."

"Huh. Well, good luck. Do you know where he's positioned?"

"Not really. These are just the qualifications?"

Though the man gave him an irritated look, he grudgingly answered. "The top tier of the Showdown is beyond any of us. The main event here is the junior leagues, the young fighters who might one day join the Showdown. I really doubt your friend is in the first, and if he's in the second... good luck. But he could also be in the preliminary or final qualifying rounds."

Rick nodded and listened, not caring that he was being condescended to. What mattered was that he got a better explanation than he'd been able to find on the site. He'd gotten confused with how both the elite Showdowns and the junior leagues were both referred to in similar ways. Apparently the elites didn't change often and lots of people considered them boring to follow, whereas the junior leagues attracted more attention.

Ultimately, he still had no idea exactly where his imaginary opponent might be. If he was actually in the junior Showdowns, he wouldn't be in public until the event on the weekend. Most likely he didn't need to participate in the qualifying rounds, but Rick continued looking just in case.

He found himself distracted for a time, watching an event he hadn't noticed on his way in. A single competitor stood in a small ring in the center of a circle. They had to stay in the ring, defending themselves against attackers from all sides. King of the hill without much of a hill, basically. Some stayed at the center by evading or redirecting attackers, but others made a show of enduring all attacks thrown at them.

Though Rick wasn't about to jump in without understanding what he'd be getting into, Rick found himself intrigued. His defensive core might be well-suited to the event, both in keeping him alive and in anchoring him to the position. He couldn't figure out how the event was scored, if it was at all, but perhaps it was more of an art than a science.

A streak of aura seared itself into his vision and Rick winced automatically. He looked up in time to nearly blind himself as another javelin of aura was hurled above the stadium. Though he braced himself, no one else seemed to care, only a few seeming to even notice.

Not an attack, then, but another event. Rick saw that the competitors were waiting in the stands at one side, hurling toward a man carrying a milky panel on the other. Whatever it was, he used it to absorb each javelin as it reached him.

Those javelins... as another one streaked overhead, Rick confirmed what he'd been fearing. It wasn't an attack, exactly, but it was immensely powerful. The kind of thing that wasn't just created by a six figure generation rate, but an entire combat core devoted to a single skill. He wasn't weak, but his defensive core would be utterly destroyed by a bolt coming from a six digit core.

All the chaos had distracted him from his usual habit, so Rick hastily began to investigate the generation rates of everyone around him. The average strength inside the stadium was much higher than normal, with only a few as low as 50,000 lucrim and generations rates above 100,000 lucrim not uncommon. More dangerous than that, almost none of them were unfocused Birthright Cores. All around him he saw highly specialized combat cores.

A shriek of metal grabbed his attention. Rick saw a glossy black lucrim vehicle pitching to the side, then one of the black spheres plummeting nearby to bury itself in the ground. He pieced together what had happened: one of the competitors below had hurled the sphere upward and accidentally hit a vehicle coming in over the side of the stadium.

Judging from the long scar along the side of the vehicle, the sphere had done damage to the core of the construct. Judging from the young woman leaping out, that wasn't being taken well.

"Who did that?" She screamed into the faces of the sphere competitors, and they didn't waste any time outing one of their own. The woman charged at him and the two began arguing violently about who had been at fault.

Their argument did attract attention, more than the flying spheres or the aura lances. No one seemed particularly surprised, just mildly interested, even when the woman demanded recompense in the form of a duel. Just like that, the two of them were scheduling a legal duel to serious injury, both glaring as if a scrape on a car was worth a bloody vendetta.

Rick turned around and headed out of the stadium.

It was true that he was outclassed even in the preliminary qualifying rounds, but that wouldn't have made him leave. That would actually have excited him normally, since even being beaten could help his lucrima soul grow considerably. But he'd spent enough time in places where people started feuds at the drop of a hat and he knew it wasn't worth it.

As he left, Rick reflected that there was a strange parallel between the highest and lowest tiers of society. His extended family frequently got into fights over the slightest things. The upper classes might dress better and view themselves as far superior, but the fact that they flew into a rage for slightly different reasons didn't change the fundamental dynamic. Whatever else he wanted in life, Rick knew that he didn't want that.

On the stairs out of the stadium, Rick's path was blocked by a man in a bright blue and green suit.

Rick's body seemed to understand before his mind caught up, shifting his path to find another set of stairs. He hadn't seen Alger in a year, but the owner of the Underground fighting ring was always bad news. Given his involvement with the GLA, Alger might be more than that, but Rick didn't want to know.

Unfortunately, Alger now stood on the next staircase over. He flowed down it, twirling his cane, apparently nonchalant yet crossing the distance between them in a troublingly short period of time.

"Richard Hunter!" Alger grinned when he arrived and tapped him on the chest with the head of his cane. "Or Rick, I believe. Or Dick? Can I call you Dick?"

"I'd rather you didn't." Rick tried to step around Alger, but the other man flowed like he was skating over ice.

"I think that would be a better name for you, but no matter. No, no, what matters is that you found yourself someplace interesting for once."

When Rick tried to push through him, Alger spun with his momentum so quickly it was like pushing air. Somehow Alger was beside him, an arm around his shoulders.

"Ah, memories... when I first met you, Rick, you were such an interesting young man. But then you made such boring life choices... each time I thought you might live up to your full potential, you chose a different path."

"Let me go." Rick pushed away the arm, but again barely even felt the cloth. Alger slid away and placed both hands on top of his cane, regarding him primly.

"But it seems despite your best efforts, you've grown. Heh... you've grown strong, and not in the way I would have predicted." Alger stared at him, eyes practically glowing beneath his top hat. "As it happens, I am in need of a new competitor to participate in the Junior Showdowns, as my previous candidate has proved... politically compromised. This could be quite an opportunity for you."

"No thanks." Rick decided it was useless to try to push the strange man away, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and resolved to just march to the exit. Unfortunately, Alger kept pace, eventually sliding in front of his path again.

"You won't give me a chance to change your mind? This wouldn't be like the Underground, no, not at all. You see, there are so many sparks like yours, but so many of them are snuffed out, it simply isn't economical to invest too much in them. But now... now I'd be willing to part with a little more, and you could benefit immensely."

"I don't trust your ideas about what would benefit me." Rick tried to push through, but suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, stopping him cold. Alger no longer watched him playfully, instead fixing him with a dead gaze.

"Do you know who I hate more than anyone, Richard? Those who have power but use it to make the world a less fun place." The hand on his shoulder began to tighten and Rick winced in pain, trying to pull away but unable to escape the other man's grip. It didn't feel like his defensive core was being overwhelmed, it was as if his core didn't even exist.

Just as he worried his bones would crack, they were interrupted by a loud cough. Rick turned in surprise, but he noted that Alger looked surprised as well. It was perhaps the first time he'd seen the strange man taken off guard and the expression was comically exaggerated, as if he'd never been surprised before.

Another man stood in the stands just beside him, wearing a battered gray robe. As they stared at him, he drew a cigarette to his lips and took a long drag on it. "If the kid doesn't want to compete, Alger, you can't make him."

"You." Alger glared at the new arrival, but he did let go of Rick's shoulder. "You're involved with the Showdowns this year?"

"I haven't decided yet." The man stared down at Alger without expression. His hair was shaved down to gray stubble that competed with the stubble across his chin for length, and there was a long scar across his cheek. "Why are you searching around, Alger? Something the matter with your ace?"

"The boy needs someone to motivate him." Alger smiled unpleasantly and tapped his cane on the ground. "Are you really going to stand in my way over something so trivial?"

In response, the man simply took a long drag on his cigarette. Rick blinked as he realized that the length of it was slowly burning to ash as he watched, until the stub entered the man's mouth. Something bright glowed within it, his eyes burning for a moment.

Though Alger snorted scornfully, he did turn and sweep away, coattails following him. Rick watched him for a time, reassuring himself that the strange man was truly leaving, but eventually he had to turn back to the old man who had saved him.

"Thank you," Rick said. The man simply grunted.

"I did it more to annoy him than to help you. But if you don't want this life, the last person you should get involved with is Alger."

"I'd gotten that impression, but he doesn't take no for an answer." Rick climbed up the steps to get closer to the man, since that took him closer to the exits anyway. "I'll leave if you don't want anyone to bother you, but can I at least get your name?"

The man stared at him for a while. He slowly pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. After some fumbling, he retrieved one and put between his lips. Finally he lit it with a flame that formed above his finger, still completely silent.

It was a clear enough answer. Rick shrugged and turned to go. "Suit yourself. Thanks again."

"I don't think you're cut out for this," the man said abruptly. Rick was mildly annoyed, but suddenly there was a gray card shoved toward him. "But if you want to see the Showdown, maybe you can decide for yourself. That will get you in."

"I... thanks." Rick took the card and decided not to press his luck, just nodding and departing. It was shaped like a business card, but instead of a name it merely referred to itself as a "Showdown Junior Pass". He wasn't sure if he actually wanted that, but he'd take the gift.

This time, when Rick tried to leave the stadium, he wasn't stopped by anyone. He put the card into his pocket, but found himself running his fingers along the edges. Maybe it would be best to flee and hope Alger forgot about him. Yet it would be more interesting to return and at least try to compete. Given that he'd received a pass entirely for free, it would likely be pure profit for him, unless he was too seriously injured.

The pass might also allow him to investigate the top contenders. Yet as Rick left the stadium, he wasn't thinking about his dream.

Chapter 3: Last Call

As Rick biked back to the Refuge, he felt as though he was on the precipice of something. Twice in his life, he'd taken a risk and soon regretted it. Both of those times, he'd come out of the fires stronger, but he reminded himself that he wasn't protected by any force of destiny. He could easily have ended up crippled or ruined. Taking unnecessary risks was senseless.

Of course, given the level of competition he'd seen, there was a good chance that he wouldn't even qualify to participate in the Showdown. But if that was true, he'd want to know, rather than have it as an empty hope in his past. Uncle Alan had been a pit fighter once and always told stories of how he could have made it big if only he'd made slightly different choices...

That was about as grim a future as being crippled.

When Rick got back, he only had enough energy to do his usual exercises and a small amount of research online. His biggest concern was the exact characteristics of the Showdown, and though the internet wasn't always a reliable source of information for high end lucrim events, it was better than nothing. Everything he read suggested that it was cutthroat, but not literally - the events were too public for that. Many of the competitors became celebrities, with all the attention and endorsement deals that came with that.

Just looking over their profiles, Rick realized that that life held no appeal for him. Somehow it all made him even more tired than before and he collapsed into bed and slept dreamlessly.

The next morning, he woke unnaturally early again, but he felt refreshed. Rick scouted an unusual route, hoping to catch Delsin off guard, but couldn't find the old man. He also ran into nothing that required any work from him at all, every empty hour reminding him that he needed to make a decision.

When he took a break for lunch, Rick decided that he was being stupid by going it alone and got out his phone. He actually had two messages from Melissa that he'd missed while his phone had no service: an article about YLAA developments and an animated hamster smashing bricks with its head. Rick sent her back info about the Showdown and asked to chat, but she was busy.

His sister would get back to him soon enough, so after that he left a message with Uncle Frank. As usual, it was difficult to get a hold of their uncle. From the last time they'd spoken, several months ago, it seemed that his job was getting steadily more difficult and the trend was expected to continue for potentially several years.

There was no way of knowing when he'd be replying, then. Rick paced around his cabin for a while, considering his options. He wanted to go walking, but he'd quickly lose phone service, and he needed that to do more research.

Just when he was about to leave, Melissa texted "Don't make any terrible life choices without me!" Rick smiled and replied with "I'll save you some meth" before heading to the main office.

It was closed, since Adsila and Wemilat had left for lunch, but he had his own key. Using the better connection in the main office, Rick sat down and began to delve deeper into the research.

The reason the rumors were unclear seemed to be that the Showdown operated differently in different regions. There was a public sphere that seemed clear enough: competitors had patrons or sponsors and competed for prize purses in a wide variety of categories across the globe. But how exactly they connected to their sponsors and event rules varied widely. Events in the USA were corporate, but Europe had entirely different rules, the Siberian events were secretive, and the Nokan Showdowns had a reputation for ruthlessness.

More troublesome, he got the sense that there was a deeper sphere. It wasn't merely celebrity, there were greater players keeping score across the events. There he found only rumors, from reasonable-sounding speculation to full on conspiracy theory.

That was what bothered him. Many of the Showdown competitors were essentially just athletes, and some were wealthy enough to be their own brand. But those who worked for some other power... he wasn't sure what rules they played by, but he couldn't trust them. Perhaps the Showdown would be safer than the past events he'd encountered at the highest levels, but in the beginning he would be relying entirely on the mercy of institutions.

And he didn't trust institutions.

Just as Rick was getting frustrated, he heard the door. Adsila first locked herself out, realized he'd unlocked the door, then came in. She tossed her keys onto the counter and glanced at him. "Something go wrong?"

"Nah, just wanted to talk to you more about the Showdown." Rick put away his phone and got up to follow her into the back hall. "I'm not sure how much you know as a fan, but I've been trying to look up more."

"Oh, that interested you?" Adsila gave him a surprisingly broad smile. "I hoped it might. Yeah, I was really into the Showdown when I was younger and I still keep up with it."

"Do you know how success is measured? It isn't all just money, is it?"

"Oh, definitely not. Some factions even scorn the money side of it and make it all about honor."

"But you can't eat honor. How does it actually work?"

"I can't claim to to know all the details, but I can definitely do better than random people on the internet." Adsila moved to her office computer and began typing in book titles. "I got most of this information from these books, to be honest, so if you want to read them yourself, you won't really need me."

Rick stepped up beside her to look at the titles. "But I assume you can summarize? It might be time-sensitive."

"Oh, you're that interested?" Adsila glanced at him with a spark in her eyes. "I thought you might want to try it, since it seemed like your sort of event. The Showdown is one of the last areas where they don't really care about your qualifications, just merit. So for someone like... wait, sorry, is that dickish of me?"

"It's not a big deal. But you're delaying long enough you're making me wonder if you don't actually know."

"Sorry, no." She took a breath and refocused before speaking in her usual calm voice. "The ultimate goal of most people in the Showdown is to receive official recognition, which is added to a permanent card. If you finish an event in the top three, of course you get a seal to mark your victory. But every major power and institution is also capable of bestowing seals upon anyone who catches their eye. Get the right seals and you can open major doors for yourself."

"That sounds like a resume to me." Rick frowned at the thought, but Adsila just rolled her eyes.

"If you want to be utterly boring about it. I personally love the idea, because it makes for such great stories. For example, there was a huge Showdown event last generation where a bunch of disciples from the world powers were fighting each other. The projected winner of the melee was the disciple of the World Sculptor, but everyone else teamed up against him. Particularly the disciples of Tsar Chernobog, who eventually brought him down early on.

"In a normal event, that would just be bad luck and he'd get nothing. But Tsar Chernobog eliminated his own disciples for cowardice and bestowed his personal seal on the World Sculptor's disciple. Nobody really cared who won, all of the attention was on the crazy skills the disciple displayed holding off everyone else."

Listening in silence, Rick found himself strangely adrift. He knew the titles Adsila mentioned, but they were historical figures, not people he expected to actually get involved with real life. Even though he knew there were plenty of immortals still around, filling the top ether tiers of society, they were so far beyond him that he rarely gave them thought, any more than he thought about horse breeding, gold-plated toilets, or living on the moon.

"Oh, come on." Adsila regarded him sourly. "That didn't do anything for you? I think it's a nice story."

"I don't think I'm going to be getting a commendation from a world power any time soon." Rick gave her a weak smile and shook his head. "But I appreciate you explaining it to me. I imagine there are much less impressive seals that could still be useful for someone like me."

"Right, exactly. Of course, the first step is just to get a card, and even getting in is difficult."

"What kind of card do you mean? Like this?" Rick pulled out the business card he'd been given and Adsila whistled as she took it carefully and looked it over.

"This... no, it's not an official participant card. If they haven't changed the rules, passes like these are a one time opportunity that expires once the Showdown moves on. The real cards stay with you forever, even if you leave the Showdown. It's as good as a diplomatic passport in almost every country! Still, it's nothing to sneeze at! You have a weird knack for catching people's attention, Rick."

Ignoring her compliment, back-handed or otherwise, Rick instead focused on her earlier statement. "What did you say about leaving the Showdown? Are you allowed to just walk away?"

"That's how it works in theory. If you're in debt to your sponsor, or a slave or something, of course it doesn't work that way." Adsila handed the card back to him and shrugged. "But yes, people retire all the time. It's considered shameful, as the purpose of the Showdown is supposed to be to reach the absolute peak of lucrim achievement. But if you've acquired some good seals, you could easily retire and coast on those as a personal trainer and the like."

"Hmm. I guess if there's no risk, I should at least try to compete."

"That's the right attitude!" Adsila playfully hit him in the stomach. "I don't think there's any way I'd see you at the main event, but if you qualify and follow the world tour... who knows, maybe the next time you come around, you might be a celebrity!"

Rick put the card away and shook his head. "That eager to get rid of me, huh?"

"Just something to think about." Adsila looked like she was about to say more, but just then Delsin stuck his head in the office. He was also starting to say something, so the two just stared at each other in a brief moment of awkwardness. Rick stepped into it quickly.

"Delsin, I was wanting to talk to you."

"Well, dammit." Delsin sighed and rubbed his shotgun's handle over his shoulder. "Guess I can't get out of this one. Step outside and let me talk to my niece a bit, then you can join me on the next patrol."

"Keep him from escaping out a window, Adsila," Rick said. She grinned and nodded, but then pushed him out so they could discuss tribal business.

Back in the hallway, Rick wandered to the lobby, his steps heavy. He wished he had someone else to talk to, but Wemilat was nowhere to be found yet. His phone had another playful text from Melissa, but nothing from Uncle Frank.

Left with only his own thoughts, Rick began to spiral into incredulity. All of this was absurd, some kind of fever dream. It was bad enough that he was considering trying to compete on the world stage, even if just the minor leagues of it. But what made it all utterly ridiculous was that he was doing it because of a damn dream. Though he still felt a flicker of the rage he'd felt in that dream, more than anything, he felt like a fool for letting himself get swept up in it.

Yet without something to drive him forward, he'd soon begin drifting...

"Alright, let's get this over with." Delsin slouched from the hallway after him with a scowl on his face. "Let's hear whatever adolescent nonsense you need to throw at me this time."

As if to stop him, Delsin set a brutal pace into the Refuge, leaving Rick panting as he struggled to keep up. He wasn't sure if they were even meaningfully patrolling anywhere, the old man was just trying to leave him behind. Yet Rick had a lot more experience moving over such terrain than he'd had a year ago, so he kept up, trying to draw enough breath to ask questions when he had his chance.

After a broad arc and the quenching of a small fire, they finally reached a hill near the center of the Refuge. There were no true peaks, but it had a bit of a view over the forests surrounding them. When Delsin stopped by the edge of a cliff, Rick caught up and was surprised by how little he needed to catch his breath.

"I'm dealing with some mystical bullshit." Rick had been thinking about what approach to take and decided that sincerity might backfire. "Before you mock, just remember that you sent me on an acid trip to a buffalo graveyard."

"Oh, fuck, I'm going to regret this." Delsin folded his arms. "But I know you don't give up. What is it?"

"Do you know of any trustworthy sources about dreams actually being meaningful? Normally I'd assume not, but I'm pretty sure I dreamed someone who I'd never seen in real life, then saw them the next day."

"Are you on the wacko tobacco, kid? You think you're some kind of hero to get mystical dreams?"

"I can't deny what I saw. Also, when I woke up, I was circulating lucrim as if getting ready for a fight, and I'd never done that before."

"Fine. What did you dream?"

"Well..." Rick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I was standing on a skyscraper, over a city I don't know. There was someone there and I immediately hated him. It made sense to me then, but not in the way dreams usually make sense no matter what, it was as if I had memories of him. The reason I asked you is that you were there too, telling me not to fight. I tried to ask you why, but you wouldn't answer. Then you started taking off y-"

"Goddammit, kid." Delsin cuffed him on the side of the head, but Rick thought he caught just a hint of a grin. "Did you really set all this up just to get me back?"

In fact, Rick had been hoping to disarm the old man enough to get a serious answer to the question. He decided to stop playing around and just directly outlined what had happened, focusing on the events he thought couldn't be explained by the dream being meaningless. Delsin listened until he was done, then shook his head.

"If there are dreams that are anything more than the ravings of a sleeping brain, that's news to me. That sort of thing is spoken about in old tales, but not in the ones I'd trust. Either you saw him before or your brain forced a connection where none existed."

"So you think it's all nothing?"

"Well, not all. The fact that you were circulating lucrim can actually be easily explained: that's something that tends to happen once fighters get fully used to their combat cores. You dream realistically enough that your body starts actually using lucrim." Delsin chuckled at his expression. "Don't worry, you wouldn't actually use it in a way that could harm anyone, not unless you have much deeper issues."

Rick was actually more worried about spending lucrim in his sleep, but he could look that up on his own. Having Delsin confirm that there was nothing to it left him feeling more grounded, surprisingly. Attempting to enter the Showdown might be the right choice for him, but he wouldn't do it because of dreams or anything that ridiculous.

They chatted for a while longer before heading back. Just before they left, Rick found himself standing by the cliff one more time.

Chapter 4: First Swing

The second time Rick returned to the stadium, he was much better prepared. He knew when the preliminary events were taking place and even had a rough idea what might be happening. More importantly, he knew that he was really aiming for the Showdown instead of wandering aimlessly.

His gray card got him directly in without needing to show his portfolio, but Rick was still on edge, afraid that Alger would ambush him again. Instead, he found himself hesitating as he came into sight of the field, surprised by how crowded it was compared to the previous day.

It was just a sea of humanity at first, only the occasional figure who was particularly tall, aura-covered, or powerful sticking out to him. Overall, the crowd looked much more like local inhabitants of Branton, which made sense if this was a chance for people in the city to join. He hadn't realized there were so many fighters in Branton, though considering the total population, he supposed it wasn't actually that many.

To his surprise, he didn't feel entirely outclassed. There were plenty of people with generation rates approaching six digits, of course, but plenty of others weaker than him. Those with rates around 40,000 lucrim seemed to have highly developed cores, but so did he. Or so he hoped.

There were a few people doing strength-testing exercises in the field, as well as a few rings set up for combat, but not much appeared to have started yet. He was early, but others were even earlier. With no visible organizers, Rick found himself wandering after all. There did appear to be people watching in the stands, including several groups that looked like important delegations, but they were too far away for him to tell much about them other than that they all sat in defensive blocks with plenty of space in between them.

Rick lowered his gaze back to the crowds, then abruptly spotted someone he recognized: a young woman with a bat leaning on one shoulder. "Hey, are you...?"

"Oh, hey." She turned, hostile at first before giving him an odd smile. "God, I haven't seen you since the multi-tier tournament. You got out of the Underground, huh?"

"Yeah, I was just in it because I had to be. You?"

"I was making a living off the fight money, but then Alger moved me. Did you know he has fighting rings in other cities? Like, more than I expected, I don't know how he manages them all. He had me training down in Central America for a while, but he called me back for the Showdown."

"Huh." Rick regarded her thoughtfully. He didn't think that she was Alger's tool in any way, but that was just because they'd been friendly on the occasions when they'd spoke or fought. "You said Alger just moved you?"

"Well, gave me a great offer. I've tried to avoid taking a patron as much as possible. Keeping myself independent, you know?"

"That's smart. Smarter than I've managed."

She looked him over with a practiced eye, then shifted her grip on her bat. "You look like you made out okay. Feels like you have a combat foundation, and that defensive core... honestly, I kind of want to take a swing at you."

"Why not?" Rick grinned and raised his arms to either side of his head. It would probably benefit him more than her, so he might as well.

Without another word, she swung horizontally, all the power in her body twisting into the blow. Rick caught it on his forearm and staggered a step, pain shooting through the bone. It would definitely bruise, but he'd easily endured the blow. Her eyebrows rose.

"Damn. I didn't put everything into it so I wouldn't splatter you if you weren't ready, but I didn't expect that."

"Nice swing." Rick lowered his arms, rubbing the sore point where she'd struck. He noticed that she now wielded a metal bat, etched with bright red lines. They seemed ether enchanted, but he was willing to bet that they could carry aura. "New bat?"

"Yeah, I saved up to get something good. I can't fully use it yet, but... actually, I think I want to practice on you." She flipped her bat up, tapping the end with her hand and sending it spinning back. When she caught it, aura flickered down the lines, though they didn't light up as brightly as he'd expected. Still, he could feel the raw power of a combat core gathering itself.

This time when she swung, he was ready, fully braced with his other arm in the way. Not only that, he drew deep on the Dark Blood Kettle, letting it flow beneath his defensive core. When the bat hit, pain shot through his body, echoing inside his cores. Yet that pain seemed to have been drawn from the force of the blow and he only flinched as he took the hit and held firm.

Her eyebrows climbed even higher as she pulled back her bat. Rick smiled disarmingly and lowered his arms. "You know, it's ridiculous that we've never even exchanged names. I'm R-"

"Hey, what's going on here?" The voice interrupting them was a young man, not security, but Rick automatically turned to face him.

And stared at the man from the picture.

"Whoa, no need to look like that. I'm not complaining." The younger man grinned at both of them, then gestured around and continued speaking loudly. "Most of these people are just sitting around, doing nothing, wasting time. But you two are having fun! Doesn't matter if you're not the strongest here, I can tell you've got the drive."

Rick continued staring as the man chattered cheerfully. He couldn't reconcile his memories of the violent battle on the rooftop with the happy-go-lucky man beside them. Yet looking at him so close, Rick was even more certain than before that it was the same man. That just wasn't possible...

Forcing himself to be objective, Rick considered what facts he could learn. The man wore an extremely expensive combat suit, but it was of the generic corporate type any combat athlete might wear, with no logos or hints of affiliation. His hair was dyed blue and styled upward. His accent was neutral, like almost everyone on TV. In person he seemed a bit younger, perhaps not even as old as Rick.

"Can you let me in on this?" The man asked. "You're testing offensive power and a defensive core, right? I've got a pretty good offensive Lucore myself. So I was-"

"Sorry, who are you?" The woman with the bat asked the question flatly. Her severe expression did nothing to stop the man, who grinned at her and extended a hand.

"Whoops, I get wrapped up talking about training. I'm Raggest, one of the new junior contestants in the Showdown."

That name meant nothing to Rick. He wasn't even sure what nation it might be from, or if it was a pseudonym that he should recognize. Currently the hand was hanging ignored, so eventually Rick reached out to shake the younger man's hand. He'd worried that something would happen when they touched, but the man's hand was completely normal.

"Hi, Raggest. I'm R-"

"But who cares about names, right? The important thing is your warrior spirit!" Raggest pulled his hand back and put his hands on his hips. "The preliminaries today are going to be a complete waste of time, so let's get training!"

All Rick could do was stare at him, flabbergasted. His mind was going in too many directions at once, but Raggest didn't seem to care. Before things could get any stranger, a different voice interrupted them, this one coming from above.

"I figured you'd get along with the local vermin, Raggest." A man wearing a traditional black suit floated overhead, aura flowing around his body to keep him aloft. He regarded all of them with an expression of pure scorn. "They call this a city, but it might as well be a landfill. I can't believe the Showdown bothered to come to Branton."

"This asshole again?" Raggest raised one hand, which began to glow with pale gold aura. "What's your problem today? You wanna fight, Jim?"

"It's James." The man smoothed down his lapels sourly. "Call me James Travis or I will smear your ugly little face all over this dump of a city."

"Bring it on, Jimbo!"

Raggest suddenly released a solid beam of golden energy, but the suited man jerked his head to the side with uncanny precision, just barely evading it. Though it looked like a near miss, there was something calculated in his movement that immediately set Rick on edge. He didn't realize that he had set his feet in a better combat position until the man turned to sneer at him.

"You want to defend your miserable little city's honor? All of you can come at me together, it won't make any difference."

"I'll take you on myself!" Raggest let out a cry and several more golden rays burst from him. Rick was startled, as he'd expected an attack that explosive would be a signature move, not something fired off rapidly.

Yet it didn't matter. James contorted in several directions at once, as if his body was a rag doll being animated by some greater power. Again, every single ray missed him by a fraction of an inch. His body untangled itself without so much as a crease in his suit.

Except that Raggest had leapt into the air to punch him in the face.

This blow actually landed, making James grunt and jerk backwards in the air. Raggest continued to plow into him, dragging him down to the ground. As they hit, however, Raggest let out a scream of pain, body shaking wildly, and collapsed.

James came up smoothly, brushing down the place where his shirt had been rumpled by the tackle. Everyone who hadn't been watching before was watching now, as Raggest was still releasing pained gasps. It had been difficult to see, but Rick thought that as they collided, James had struck a point in his stomach with two fingers, a precise blow that somehow caused the immense pain.

"That... is that all?" Raggest crawled back to his feet. "You think just pain will stop me? I eat pain for breakfast, y-"

The next three blows fell swiftly, and this time Rick saw each time James stabbed two fingers into exact locations on his opponent's body. Raggest remained on his feet for a moment, none of the strikes having enough momentum to knock him over, but then his body twisted and he collapsed on the ground with another scream of pain.

"Any of you hayseeds want to try me?" James asked. Several had already advanced on him, but he moved with incredible speed, disabling each with an apparently agonizing touch.

There was nothing on the line, but Rick also didn't think there was any real threat of injury. At least, he hoped that was his reasoning, because he found his body already moving forward. He didn't try to ambush James, just walked toward him determinedly. The man brushed an imperceptible wrinkle from his sleeve and scowled at him.

"The best that Branton has to offer aren't worth much, but you? Fighting local ruffians is beneath me."

"Picking fights with random assholes isn't beneath me." With that, Rick charged into the fight.

Immediately James retaliated, fingers on both hands stabbing out at him. But at the last moment Rick caught himself with his front leg, reversing direction. Not much, but enough that the fingers stabbed into empty space. Rick then moved in again, trying to hit his opponent with an elbow... but James reacted equally quickly, deflecting his blow before he could get close.

With more attacks coming at him, Rick knew he had to change strategy. He lifted his arms as if to defend... and then jabbed out with a kick. It landed on his opponent's knee, making him falter, but Rick couldn't put enough force into his kicks to take him down.

Worse, his opponent jerked forward, torso moving as if pulled by strings, his arms following along with him. This time, Rick knew that he couldn't possibly overcome his opponent's speed, so he just raised his arms and focused on his defensive core.

He managed to block two stinging blows before two fingers hit his stomach... and agony shot through his entire body. For a moment he knew nothing but pain, but Rick had felt pain before. Dimly he realized that he had staggered back a step, body shaking uncontrollably. His opponent had injected lucrim into him, which was now expanding in a strange pattern he didn't understand.

"Not enough to bring you down?" James sniffed and raised his hands again. "I suppose your head is too hard for such techniques."

Of course, Rick didn't need to understand. He could barely lift his arms through the pain, but he was entirely capable of using a Bunyan's Step to throw his entire body forward.

His head collided with his opponent's chest at full speed. James tumbled backward with a grunt of pain, while Rick collapsed to the ground. The pain was fading, especially now that he realized it hadn't done any damage. It was the pain itself that disabled, not bodily injury causing pain. Knowing that, Rick was able to lever himself to his feet.

"Bastard!" James came at him first, stabbing repeatedly. This time Rick couldn't swallow his scream of pain and he staggered backward, falling to one knee, foreign lucrim snaking through his body.

Judging it as a fight, he'd lost. But as an exchange, he'd won. Rick took a deep breath and focused on the Dark Blood Kettle. The foundation began to seep through all of his body, and where it met the foreign lucrim, it consumed everything. Though it couldn't remove the pain, and Rick struggled merely to return to his feet, the dark blood within him was dragging the foreign lucrim into his defensive core.

"That's enough horsing around!" The new voice was that of a middle-aged woman wearing combat robes. She stood on a small golden platform that lowered to the ground beside them, after which she regarded all of them like a disappointed librarian. "Some sparring is to be expected, but such screaming is unsightly. James Travis, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Since she apparently represented the authorities, everyone lowered their auras and all the bystanders turned away, show over. Though the woman went to reprimand James, he barely looked at her, instead merely shooting Rick a contemptuous glance. Rick wanted to think that there was a bit of concern in his contempt, but considering his body was still declaring that it was being torn apart, he wasn't sure.

"Sorry for not backing you up." The young woman with the bat offered Rick a steadying hand as he wobbled. "But I didn't want to feel that much pain, and you seemed to be inviting it."

"Yeah, no worries." Rick's voice came out grating, but he was finally overcoming the pain. "It's a nasty trick, but just a trick."

"If there are people like that here, I'm not sure I-"

"That was great!" Raggest brushed past her, slapping Rick on the shoulder. It was a violent movement, but compared to all the pain in his body, he barely felt it. "So many others just stayed down the instant they got a taste of the pain, but you kept getting up! That's the kind of determination we need!"

"Uh, thanks." Rick nodded politely to the woman with the bat, who shifted away from Raggest in annoyance. Raggest didn't seem to notice, hitting him on the shoulder again.

"What did you say your name was again? If I could give you a seal, I would! But I'm just a junior, so I can't. But I hope you make it, because the Showdown is way less fun than you'd think. Only a few people really have the spirit for it..."

As he continued speaking, Rick just stared at him. Yet again, he found himself wondering how he could possibly connect Raggest with the hatred from his dream. More than any logic, the disconnect left him thinking that it must be entirely a coincidence.

"Richard Hunter." The new voice finally broke through Raggest's babble, proving to be from the middle-aged woman. She gave him a curt nod, then glanced down at a clipboard she carried. "I believe that you had an invitation card?"

"Uh, yeah." Rick fumbled in his pocket before managing to hand it to her, feeling guilty that it had gotten crumpled in the fight. But she merely looked at it briefly, then scribbled something down on her clipboard.

"I'll be blunt: most of the people here are going to fail. You will too, if you just recklessly enter any event where you think you have a shot." She tucked her clipboard under one arm. "But your defensive core is solid, for your weight class. I'll extend you an invitation to participate in the Unlimited Defensive Ring preliminaries. It will occur in eight days' time."

With that, she spun on one heel and went to speak to others. Raggest said something about this being good and hit him on the shoulder yet again, but Rick barely heard. Part of him assumed that he'd made a mortal enemy for life and that James would begin an unrelenting blood vendetta against him, but by this point he was used to that.

More importantly, he had a target. And eight days to prepare.

Chapter 5: Perpetual Calculations

Though Rick technically continued his work at the Refuge, he wasn't nearly as thorough as before because he spent all his time in preparation. Not only training, but research. For once he wasn't involved in something illegal or clandestine, so he could simply look up exactly what he was going to face.

Ironically, the Unlimited Defense Ring seemed like the Olympic version of his old job: getting beaten up for money. Except this time, instead of taking blows from anyone who could pay for a trainer, he would be defending himself against highly trained opponents doing their best to knock him out of a ring... or unconscious.

He couldn't imagine a better method of training, and they'd be paying him for it, so he was determined to get into the event. The "Unlimited" version was essentially the highest tier, and by far the most useful to him. There were different versions that only allowed grappling, making it more like King of the Hill, or only allowed projectile attacks from an outer ring. In the unlimited ring, nothing was off the table.

The one thing that worried him was that the event was judged by real people. He wasn't sure how it could be objectively rated, given that each attack would have different weights, but the inclusion of subjectivity bothered him. Judges could be biased or bribed.

Regardless, he still thought this was his best chance. After confirming he was registered for the Unlimited Defense Ring event, Rick set out preparing himself. There was no training that could completely transform him in a mere eight days, but for once, he didn't need that.

No, he already had everything he needed. His defensive core was perfectly suited for the event, while the Dark Blood Kettle helped him become better prepared. Normally he would have needed to endure hours of training to improve his resistance to the strikes James had used. But the dark blood absorbing the foreign lucrim meant that he already had some defense against it. The difference wasn't huge, neither skyrocketing his generation rate nor giving him instant immunity, but the advantages slowly added up the longer the Dark Blood Kettle grew inside him.

That was how it always seemed to go. Without anything dramatic like a Birthright Core, he needed to rely on the preparations he'd slowly been making his entire life. He could polish his lucrima soul to a shine, knock some rust off his Bunyan's Step Lucore, and do a bit of conditioning... but ultimately he would just have to see whether or not he could compete at this level.

At lunch, Wemilat called him to help out with one of the animals they were rehabilitating. This one turned out to be a wolf - a perfectly ordinary, non-lucrim-using wolf. It was still huge, and dangerous to an untrained person. Rick summoned his aura and helped pin the animal down, though it was intimidated enough that it only snarled a little.

While he kept the wolf pinned, Wemilat began to lance an abscess on one of its legs. The work proceeded for a while and Rick got bored, so he decided to ask what was on his mind. "Why not keep the wolf sedated?"

"The wolf is normal, but the infection is not." Wemilat didn't look up, but pointed at the pus with his needle as he cleaned it. "Bacteria aren't large enough to generate aura, but some species can eat lucrim. Some of them even secrete ether, which is used for certain industrial projects. Anyway, this wolf has a lucrim-based infection it can't handle, but normal sedatives will make it much, much worse."

"Huh." Rick considered that for a while, examining the ugly injury. "Is that sort of thing more common around the Refuge? I assumed that lucrim-eating bacteria would die out without atmospheric lucrim."

Wemilat snorted. "Never underestimate the power of evolution in microbiology. Some microscopic species went extinct, yes, and that caused some problems. But plenty of others are thriving. They're actually far worse in urban areas, mutating into virulent strains as they take advantage of human waste. So I think of this as just evening the scales."

As if it could understand, the wolf whined and struggled, but Rick kept his grip firm in its rough fur. Eventually it settled down and Rick considered asking more questions about microscopic lucrim use. Wemilat didn't like to talk about theory as much as some of his friends, especially as it related to combat, but he had education that Rick never had.

"So you're doing this Showdown thing." Wemilat spoke up first, briefly looking up from his work with a flat expression. "I hope it works out for you. Based on the level of insults our uncle levels toward you, I think you might have a chance. I just hope you have a plan."

"A plan?"

"You can't do this forever. Outside of a few immortals, athletes can't compete at the elite level forever, and even master fighters decline eventually. You need an exit strategy so that you don't end up bankrupt like a lot of former pros."

"You're more optimistic than I am about my chances of getting in," Rick said, "but you might have a point. I wasn't planning on blowing the money on luxuries. I barely even know how. Melissa and I have always just saved everything we could."

"And that's a good start, but it's not enough. You should keep looking into forming a perpetual soul. The kind of lucrim you'd be collecting from the Showdown, even if you can't compete at the global level, would be enough to get you a good start."

"Huh. I'll look into it."

"I can give you a few tips about where to start. I'm no expert, but I've had to handle some of that stuff for our parents..."

Wemilat gave him some suggestions while they finished the operation, and though Rick felt a bit odd taking financial advice from someone younger than him, he definitely needed the remedial training. Eventually the wolf was fully treated and back in its holding cell, switching between whimpering and growling, but hopefully in much better health.

Rick ignored the dragons and the kitsune - sitting by the bars as always - and headed back to his cabin. He could have done his research in the office, but wanted a bit of isolation to think. Though it hadn't been meant as much of a warning, Wemilat's comment had dug deep.

One or two members of his extended family had been somewhat successful pit fighters. They'd made a lot of money and spent it just as quickly, soon leaving them as broke as the rest of the family. The lesson he'd taken from that was not to waste money and not to destroy your health in dangerous fights. He'd never really considered that the same threats would exist at the highest levels of competition.

That bothered him, but not enough to change his plan for the upcoming event. Instead, Rick merely focused on finally doing the research on what it took to create a perpetual soul.

There were more details than he expected, but the heart of it was simple: building a Lucore inside him that generated so much lucrim that he never needed to work again. His Graham's Stake was adequate for the purpose, and though some criticized it as too simple, others considered it one of the best options. Many of the alternatives struck him as risky, such as something called an RR-type foundation. It created a generation Lucore that covered debt, combat, and all daily needs... but also took on what amounted to a huge lucrim debt. Powerful in ideal circumstances, but if it ever failed...

How much did he actually need? Rick wasn't much for budgets, but he knew how little he could live on because that was all he and Melissa had, during the lean years. He'd increased his expenses somewhat, but his lifestyle choices were nothing compared to all the lucrim he invested back into himself.

So the real question was working back from his expenses number to find out how much he needed overall. That was where things got tricky. Many sources recommended creating an endowment for himself, a mass of lucrim that existed only on paper. Allegedly it would pay out regularly, but Rick shied away from that option. He didn't think it was a scam, since apparently that was where the wealthiest members of society kept their money, but he didn't trust such abstract concepts.

If he wanted a Lucore he could feel inside his lucrima soul, that meant expanding Graham's Stake until it could support him. Currently, it provided a bit of side income but mainly served to improve his stamina in combat. Making it into more than a side gig would require a huge investment.

The problem there was that the rate of return wasn't steady. It was currently rated as Level IV, but if he improved it to Level V then it would generate slightly more lucrim from the same base. Judging from what he read online, he was losing potential lucrim at the moment, but there were also limits beyond which it started to become risky. A Lucore with a massive level might give more money, but it could also collapse catastrophically.

Rick assumed that he would be able to improve it a bit, then pulled up the calculator on his phone to run the numbers. After so long thinking about it abstractly, it felt strange to finally get an answer. He put all his variables into a formula he'd found online and ended up with a number:

492,000 lucrim.

To be safe, Rick rounded it up to 500,000. Half a million. That kind of money was no longer completely insane to him, after receiving five figure paychecks from the Global Lucrim Authority, but it was still daunting. It made his puny 20,000 lucrim invested in Graham's Stake seem meaningless by comparison.

Worse, that was the size he needed his Lucore to be, not the total investment required. There were no handy formulas for that, but Rick had some experience with those. He estimated that he would need to earn over a million lucrim, at minimum, in order to produce a perpetual soul from his Graham's Stake. Now he understood why so many people online said it was impossible to attain a perpetual soul before you were 50 or 60 years old.

Just to know, he tried to run the same numbers with the endowments. Doing things that way, he would only need around half a million total, maybe less if the economy was going well. But another world war could start, or Damian could succeed in crashing the economy, or something even crazier could happen and he'd be left with nothing but promises. No, he wanted a Lucore that could sustain him.

The number didn't seem impossible, but as Rick started thinking about what that would mean, he let go of his phone and dropped back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair. That was enough to pay for rent and food, for himself and probably Melissa. But relying solely on Graham's Stake would mean giving up fighting and never investing another lucrim into himself.

Would he be willing to do that? When his focus had been on keeping Melissa alive, he would have accepted such a deal. Now, he wasn't sure. His enthusiasm drained away and he began to feel a lot heavier, as if it was pointless to even consider all the calculations.

Realizing he could easily slip into despair, Rick forced himself to jump to his feet. No, he would focus and get through this. Creating a perpetual soul wouldn't stop him from fighting. In fact, if he still had another job, the core would be generating massive amounts of lucrim at all times, making him a far stronger fighter. That step didn't have to be the end, it could just be the beginning of something else.

Framing it that way, it didn't sound so bad. He could actually move through life more confidently, knowing that he always had a fallback position. Plus, he could just keep building from there, giving himself more and more options.

Just as Rick was about to head back out the door, his computer beeped at him. He grinned as he saw that Melissa was calling.

Chapter 6: Melissa and the Vicious Dinosaur Attack

Aside from their regular texting, Melissa always did video calls. She didn't like email and she'd only sent him a physical letter once as a prank. So Rick quickly moved his laptop to a better position, tugged the cover off the camera, and clicked to accept the call.

"Brother!" Melissa beamed and raised both arms, then lunged forward. Rick got a close-up of her neck, which confused him until he realized that she was hugging her laptop. "Brother... you've become very plastic and rectangular."

"It's the new Plastic Fist technique I've been training." Rick waited for her to back up and they both just grinned at each other for a while. Given how busy Melissa was, their chats didn't come as often as they'd like, so they were always a relief. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought Melissa looked a little healthier every time he saw her. She was still thin, just much less so than when her ether void was consuming her.

Of course, he couldn't bring that up or she would aggressively retaliate with jokes about how she was getting fat. Occasionally he wondered if they were actually a bit serious, but he had decided that Melissa was an adult and could handle herself. He didn't like being so far apart and hoped that wherever they went in life, they could live in closer proximity to one another.

"So you're joining the Showdown?" Melissa finally broke the grin session, though she still smiled broadly. "That's great, bro. I'm not just being supportive. There are people in the YLAA who only wish they could get into the Showdown."

"Really?" Rick raised both eyebrows despite himself. "You're not messing with me?"

"Not at all. Now, I'm not saying everybody idolizes it. The real rich people, the ones from the crazy rich families, seem to think it's just stupid bread and circuses for the masses. And not so many people want to do it as a long term career. But a lot of them really, really want it on their resumes."

"Huh. I sort of got that sense from how the seals work, but I hadn't expected that."

"If you can actually get enough of those, it'd be a big deal." Melissa sat back and rolled her eyes. "Everything is about padding your resume here. The thing is, seals from the Showdown are one thing that Mommy and Daddy can't buy or cheat their way into. I mean, they can give their kids huge Birthright Cores, but even those aren't necessarily enough. Showdown events require too much skill."

Perversely, her encouragement made him more apprehensive about the upcoming event, so Rick tried to refocus on her. "I thought you said there weren't a lot of Birthright Cores around."

"That's true, it's just... I guess I never explained that part. There are some normal asshole Birthrighters here, sure, but not as many as I expected. A lot of them who are motivated enough to join the YLAA won't get their parents' core until they earn it through hard work. Well, relatively. They have trust funds they call their 'savings' and they've been drinking philosopher's elixir since they were babies, but their parents make them work to establish a foundation first."

"I hear that's the better way to do it. Implanting a Birthright Core in an unprepared lucrima soul grants power, but it tends to be a crude connection."

"Look at us, casually talking about Birthrighters like this." Melissa smiled softly and began playing with something on her desk, outside his vision. "They tell us a lot of nonsense about our futures being bright, but sometimes I actually believe it."

"So you're fully supportive of me participating?" Rick asked. He could assume as much, yet he felt strangely uncertain without his sister's explicit approval.

"Absolutely. At least give it a try. If you get in at all, you should be able to earn a bit of money. And once you've finished spending most of it on hookers and blow, there will be enough for you to buy new socks or something."

"I was actually doing some research on perpetual souls lately. It takes a lot of money, but it's not impossible."

"Really?" Melissa sat up straighter and frowned at him. "There's a lot of talk about perpetual souls here, but people are saying you need like five million lucrim minimum to do that. Not that I don't believe in your success, bro, but..."

Rick shook his head. "That's what it would take to fund the types of lifestyles they're used to, but we don't need nearly so much. If you just want to buy socks, you can do it for a lot less. I doubt I'd be good enough at the Showdown to earn it all, but the nice thing is that even getting a little closer is helpful."

"Oh, definitely go for it. Maybe I should put all my extra money toward something like that. Like you said, no matter what I do, it'd probably help a bit."

"You have extra money?"

"Did I not mention that? They give us a stipend every week... hee, it's actually a bit like an allowance, though they're just a wee bit bigger than allowances in our family. Actually, the YLAA does feel like an extended childhood in a lot of ways... but I'm getting off topic." Melissa shook her head and tapped something off-camera. "My extra money just keeps racking up on my debit card here. They're paying in dollars, not lucrim, but it's still worth something."

"That's cool. Yeah, definitely keep saving until you figure out how to invest it. From what you've said, they support your growth pretty well there, but you still might need it for an emergency."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll get me wrapped up in something soon enough." Melissa grinned at him, but then she looked over the top of her computer and the smile faded. "Hmm? Rick just a sec... what's that?"

"Is something wrong?" He found himself shifting his head to try to look around the side, even though it was useless. Though he couldn't hear anyone, Melissa listened for a while, her eyes widening.

"That's crazy, it can't... Rick, I need to... oh my god, dinosaurs are attacking!" A toy Tyrannosaurus Rex abruptly appeared just in front of the camera and began making chomping movements in her direction. "It's eating my face! It's eating my fa - wait, the angle is wrong - oh god, it's eating my face!"

"I do not recommend having your face eaten by dinosaurs," Rick advised sagely.

Melissa showed him the dinosaur toy, which she'd bought for a few bucks on a whim. Not exactly the kind of splurge her peers in the YLAA might do, but he felt a deep sense of relief that she could do something so carefree without worrying about whether it would prevent them from eating.

From there, they caught up on everything in their lives. What Melissa had said about the YLAA being an extended childhood really did seem accurate. It was supposedly for high achievers, but it was also a heavily curated experience in which they had dorms, cafeterias, and all the resources they needed simply handed to them. Even the experiments sounded like science classes and the journeys sounded like field trips. But Melissa could take all of those and use them to her advantage for more than her resume.

Nearly two hours later, and far too soon, they finally stopped chatting. Rick pretended to pat the webcam's head and they said their farewells before Melissa signed off, leaving him alone in his cabin again.

Sometimes after a conversation with his sister he was left in a strange depression. That usually led to him training while in a bad mood, which technically wasn't harmful but poisoned his mindset. To try to break the cycle, Rick headed straight out. He'd worked enough for the week, so he might as well take some time off.

Time for another visit to the old library.

Chapter 7: Peerless Godweights

He took a brisk ride back to central Branton, enjoying the wind rushing past him and refocusing. His preparations for the Unlimited Defensive Ring were ongoing, but he risked over-training if he pushed at the moment. Another tiny bit of strength wouldn't be as important as better preparation.

By the time he reached the Branton Public Library, Rick was feeling far better. The action of jumping off his bike and retracting it into his pocket came as second nature by now. He walked up to the fortified building at a brisk pace, then set about looking through the stacks for Heather.

Only after not finding her for several minutes did it really occur to him that he didn't need to contact his favorite librarian. She might be in charge of the rare texts, but one of his goals was just simple research. He went to one of the computers and keyed in the books that Adsila had recommended him, figuring out where they were and collecting them easily enough.

They might not be thrilling reading, but her recommendations seemed like good ones for giving him a better view of the Showdown. As good as the internet was for most kinds of research, an organized treatment by someone qualified still had significant value.

"Rick?" Abruptly Heather was in the same row, brushing a tattooed hand through bright purple hair. "Fuckin' A, it is you! Haven't seen you here in a hell of a long time."

"Uh, yeah. I got a new job out of town." Best not to mention that it was only a little bit out of town. Rick smiled and tucked his current book under his arm. "Good to see you again, Heather."

"Fuck yeah. You need me to help you find things?"

"I've got the normal books I was after, but I was wondering if you might help me with some research. I'm trying to get completely prepared for the Showdown. I've looked online, but I was wondering if you had any restricted information only available in the library system?"

Heather let out a long whistle. "The Showdown, eh? Damn. Pretty soon you'll be rubbing shoulders with the Peerless, I suppose."

"You too?" Rick realized that comment was incomprehensible and pushed forward. "You're the second person who's brought up the old world powers like they're important recently. Am I just entirely out of touch? I don't pay a ton of attention to politics, but the Peerless never come up. I wasn't even sure they were all still around, to be honest."

"Oh, they're still around. Some say they're obsolete, and it's true they don't define the world the way the major powers did centuries ago. But there are an equal number of people who think that they're still controlling the world from the shadows."

"Why bother ruling from the shadows? The CLO is openly in charge of the Global Lucrim Authority."

"I didn't say they were smart conspiracy theorists." Heather regarded him with a strange look, then shook her head. "I figured you'd be up on all that shit, Rick. Keeping track of the most powerful people in the entire world seems like the sort of thing you fighter types would be into."

Rick threw up his hands. "What's the point when they're just obscenely stronger than I'll ever be? That'd be like a pilot keeping tabs on Jupiter."

"You mean you don't want to be Lion of Qin when you grow up?"

"I don't even know what she does, other than keeping China a world power."

"I think you may have been a victim of our shitty public education system." Heather raised her eyebrows, still with that odd expression. "I'm not going to throw remedial reading at you, but I think you might be interested. The Peerless Nonaggression Pact might keep them out of the public eye, but they're still essential to world politics. Any nation that doesn't have one of the Peerless, or at least the next best thing, is a third world nation by default."

The truth was that Rick didn't pay a lot of attention to world politics, either, but he didn't want to look ignorant in front of Heather. Instead he tried to ask questions that would get him a bit more perspective without looking stupid. He wondered if Lisa had opinions on the subject, but he'd never asked her. In any case, Heather's opinions on the world were as profane as his family's, though much better informed.

Rick wasn't entirely sure why the five Peerless went along with the Pact, and Heather didn't get into those details. That was obvious stuff, he'd just thought it was only historical information. He actually hadn't known how many fighters there were below the Peerless, he'd just always assumed that any developed country probably had one to act as a deterrent in addition to the black ops squads that did the actual fighting.

Apparently there were eleven, or twelve depending on how certain nations were counted. Rick wondered about the potential for other fighters of equal strength who weren't affiliated with a nation, but Heather seemed to imply that if they existed, they weren't relevant to global politics. That seemed fairly true, though he found himself thinking of Teragen and wondering if the overpowering man rated on such a scale.

He was actually curious to learn more, but realized that he was wasting Heather's time. Rick asked her for access to the restricted section to look up a few texts on defensive strategies in the upcoming event. Heather guided him there quickly enough, but looked over her shoulder at him as she unlocked the door.

"If you do actually get into the Showdown, Rick, I hope you'll remember the libraries."

"What?" He shook himself past his dull reaction and focused on what she meant. "You said all that and didn't even hint that there's some connection between the Showdown and the public library system?"

"There's no connection, and that's the problem. I have nothing against the Showdown itself, or you participating in it." Heather took a deep breath, both hands toying with her ring of keys. "But the people behind the Showdown are generally the old sects, big corporations, immortals, and generally everyone who's opposed to knowledge being free. Wars were fought to make this much knowledge available to everyone."

"And you think I'll just get so wrapped up in the Showdown that I turn against libraries? How could I, after all you've done for me and my sister?"

"That wasn't an abstract statement, Rick. If you stay in the Showdown, we could use more patrons to keep us in business. If you decide to leave... well, some of the information given to the competitors includes secrets the public library system has never been able to acquire. We would compensate you for them."

Rick stared at her, trying to figure out if she could possibly have just said what he'd heard. He got a clear answer when Heather turned to smile at him.

"Yeah, I did just fucking say that. What's a little industrial espionage between friends, right?"

All he could do was shake his head. "If you're saying it basically in public like this, it can't be too serious."

"There's nothing illegal about it. The problem is that those who finally reach the heights of the Showdown tend to kick down the ladders behind them. So just... remember us, alright?" Heather gestured over her shoulder at the restricted section. "Well, it's up to you. Go nuts."

He thanked her quietly, trying to decide if this changed anything. The conflict around the libraries was another piece of life he'd always considered a historical fact, not a present reality. Technically what Heather was asking him was just to make a donation to the library system. Plenty of rich people or prestigious sects did that, getting things named after them.

But now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember very many giving them secret techniques. In fact, the only examples that came to mind were dying sects who wanted their skills to live on, or occasionally as a desperate promotional bid from a faction that was becoming irrelevant. The idea that he could have something they wanted... Rick shook the thoughts off and focused on his research.

It took him nearly an hour to gather several books he thought were relevant, leaving him with a filled backpack of reading material. That would be way more reading than he normally did, but hopefully it would leave him prepared for what he was getting into. The abruptly serious conversation with Heather left him less certain.

When he was finished, Rick found himself lingering, not wanting to move on just yet. He sat in one of the chairs, in the nook Melissa had always used for her research. Instead of starting the daunting pile of books, he just began fiddling with his phone, looking up more about what Heather had said.

As he had expected, once he got out of his usual ring of sites focused on practical lucrim, he found lots of people who seemed to view it as entertainment. Most of them struck him as armchair fighters with little idea of what they were actually talking about. He definitely saw errors and misunderstandings when they discussed advanced lucrim technique.

Still, even if they were basically just sports fans who liked a particular violent sport, they were fans of something he was about to enter. And whatever their errors when it came to details, they had a far better understanding of the global situation than he did.

Few of them used the term "Peerless" and he had to admit it was a bad name for a group of five peers. The dominant attitude seemed to be that the old titles and systems were too disorganized, so many used the popular American weight classes. There were arguments about it, particular those who preferred the Siberian or Chinese ranking system, but Rick focused on what he knew best.

In most combat sports, the highest class was heavyweight, or sometimes super heavyweight. But unquestionably beyond that class lay a tier known as the dragonweights, warriors so powerful they were national or corporate assets. There were only around a dozen in the world, though users speculated that there might be four or five more who weren't affiliated with any nation. The exact strength of specific public figures was much debated, but Rick didn't particularly care.

Beyond them all lay the five godweights.

Just thinking about the level of power they must wield left Rick numb. There was no question their lucrim generation rates would be in the millions, but how much higher? The numbers might as well be imaginary, for all they mattered to his life.

Rick tried to remind himself that they didn't matter to the lives of many other people. People online debated whether the new World Sculptor was really as strong as the others, but the godweights never fought one another. If a fight between the Chief Lucrim Officer and the Demonic Legionnaire would lead to mutually assured destruction, did the minor differences matter?

That became even more pronounced when it came to the dragonweights. It was generally agreed by the obsessive rankers that the dragonweight in India was weaker than the one in Japan. Yet Japan's economy was declining due to an aging population, while India's was exploding. Having a human nuke got them both a seat at the negotiation table, but beyond that exact strength didn't seem relevant to him.

Or maybe it was sour grapes to think about people that powerful. Rick shook his head violently and forced himself back to his feet. If he was going to refocus and get anything done, he needed a change of setting. The library was too tangled up with all this new research.

Instead he headed toward Eastpark. Since he spent all his time in nature at the Peakless Wildlife Refuge, the park was no longer much of a novelty. But it might be nice to visit again, especially since he'd done some critical preparation for other important events there.

Because none of the rest mattered at all if he failed out of the qualifying rounds.

Just biking to the park cleared his head a bit. Rick arrived and found it pleasantly filled with various people, but he wandered to his usual place. To his surprise, he spotted Lisa sitting on a picnic blanket, drinking from a thermos. He found himself smiling and headed toward her. Though he'd continued to do a few experiments to help her developing business, they hadn't spoken much lately.

"Hey, Lisa!" Rick spoke up as he approached and was glad to see Lisa immediately smile broadly when she saw him. Her expression faded slightly the next moment.

"Hello, Rick. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Sorry, but work at the Refuge has been keeping me busy. I don't get into town as much as I used to." He shook his head, regretting how they'd drifted apart. "We used to train together all the time. I'm sorry that we've-"

"Rick, I'm actually here with someone." She spoke quietly, almost apologetically, but the words cut straight into him. Rick couldn't find the right words to say before he saw Lisa's attention shift. When he turned to look, he saw a young well-dressed man about their age approaching with a basket. "Trenton, this is the Rick I told you about."

"He finally appears!" Trenton shifted the basket to his other arm to extend a hand and Rick shook it on pure autopilot. "So you're the one responsible for giving Lisa such a freakishly strong lucrima soul, huh? I could use some training myself, actually."

"I'm... still figuring out the next step for me." Rick hesitated, a sense of shame stealing up on him. The two of them both looked put together, like they knew what they were doing with their lives. Lisa started to open her mouth and he saw just a hint of concern in her eyes, and that was too much. "Sorry to interrupt, Lisa, just wanted to say hi. You two have a lovely day."

They sent farewells after him as he fled from the park. Rick's mind should have been flooded with angry thoughts, yet he found that all of them fell away. Maybe if he'd made different decisions things could have gone differently with Lisa, but he'd screwed it up.

All that mattered was winning in the Unlimited Defense Ring.

Chapter 8: Unlimited Defensive Ring

When eight days had elapsed, Rick was... there. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but he was physically present. The stadium was nothing like the chaos of the early qualifying days, now filled only with those who had received invitations to specific events. There weren't many in the stands, but he thought the factions were slightly larger than they had been before.

He arrived too early, witnessing the end of the Aura Throwing event. Though not as overpowering as some of those he'd seen earlier, the contestants hurled lances of aura that looked plenty lethal to him. According to his Showdown research, Aura Throwing was a long-standing traditional event. Technically the contestants could throw aura in any form, but generations of athletes had proved that the thin lance was the best form for the concentrated power the event judged.

As the lancers finished throwing, another part of the field was cleared for the Unlimited Defensive Ring. He'd actually seen it before, the familiar pair of rings. A man called the beginning of the event and Rick had a nervous moment where he wondered if he was supposed to go up, as he hadn't seen any kind of order.

But apparently it was more haphazard than that. One of the other fighters loitering around, a short but immensely muscular man in a cheap combat suit, walked forward into the center of the ring. Several potential strikers moved closer to the outer ring and Rick joined them, though he didn't plan to try to eliminate anyone. The official made a note and announced the start of the event, but otherwise stepped back.

"Come at me!" As soon as he got into the center of the ring, the man thumped his chest and glared at the crowd. "If you think you can bring down the Abs of Ultimate Steel, you have another thing coming!"

As soon as the official had announced the beginning, a timer had begun running on the scoreboard. Rick had read that intimidation and delays could be an important part of the event, which proved clear as no one moved immediately. It would have struck him as unfair, except that the person who stayed in the ring for the longest period of time wasn't automatically the winner.

Soon enough a challenger stepped into the outer ring. As soon as he entered, he had six seconds to do whatever he could to dislodge the man at the center. The first challenger lunged forward in a split second and began with a simple punch to the chest. His muscular opponent merely took it head on, grunting as a series of blows rained down on him.

At their speed of combat, many blows fit into six seconds, but they did no good. Just when Rick was thinking the time had elapsed, he was startled by a ripple of aura speeding out from the center, pushing away the challenger. He had read there was some sort of method to enforce the timer, but he'd figured it would be a buzzer or something.

"Ha! You think that will bring me down?" The muscular man struck his chest again and sneered.

Without warning a foot hit him in the side of the head. The man staggered, nearly stepping out of the central circle, but barely recovered. His opponent had flashed in faster than Rick could see, presumably using a technique like the Bunyan's Step. This time the challenger pressed his opponent harder, forcing him to brace himself in defense.

Rick watched the combat with some interest, but he wasn't sure how it related to the actual event. Clearly the first round had been more impressive, since the contestant had merely stood and ignored the blows. But how much less valuable was the current round of blocking?

When the six seconds elapsed, the second attacker was swept away. The muscular man grimaced and nearly touched the side of his head before he shook himself and sneered again. "Is that all?"

"You call those the Abs of Ultimate Steel, huh?" A man stepped up to the edge of the circle and Rick blinked in surprise: though he wore ordinary pants, he draped what looked like an actual wolf fur around his neck. With his hair shaggy and unkempt, he looked like he'd walked out of the wilderness. "Let's see how they last against my Beast Claw."

The posturing was only racking up time on the clock, leading Rick to wonder if that was a viable tactic. Then again, it seemed like no one really cared about anything except the number of six second rounds endured. Whoever the wolf-furred man was, he was obviously hoping to attract attention as a challenger.

When he entered, his advance was startlingly quick. In the time it took Rick to blink, the wild man had swung a claw-like hand... and the muscular man staggered backward, lines of blood exploding from his chest. He barely managed to catch himself, but the next attack came just as viciously, tearing through his stomach and knocking him to the ground.

As soon as he collapsed, the clock stopped. Rick was relieved to see that medical professionals including a lucrim healer went to remove the fallen competitor. His gaze turned to the clock, which sat at 45.31 seconds. It had felt much longer.

Critically, nobody acknowledged the muscular man and he didn't seem to receive any seals. At least, Rick thought that the awarding would happen right after the event if it did. That set his first expectation: 45 seconds and two rounds endured wasn't good enough to matter.

Rick continued to watch as other challengers entered the Ultimate Defensive Ring. More than he expected were defeated by their first or second attacker, clearly unprepared for the event. The fifth contestant was a thin man who lasted over five minutes by dodging every attack thrown at him until eventually being dislodged by a shockwave of aura. There was some grumbling, but eventually a suited woman approached and as his sponsor gave him a Showdown card and an official seal.

So that was what succeeding looked like. It seemed that dodging wasn't considered a very respectable tactic, but the fact that he had endured five minutes and over two dozen challengers was apparently impressive enough. That was good to know.

As the event continued, Rick began to realize that there were subtle strategies he hadn't noticed at first. The first few attackers were always relatively weak brawlers, which led him to a realization: they were just sweepers. They tested each challenger, eliminating those who were too weak early on but also feeling them out.

The challengers had their own strategies as well, trying to score impressive knockouts against opponents suited to them. He noticed that the wolf-furred man was particularly aggressive, but mostly against opponents who tried to win with endurance alone. As he repeatedly boasted, his "Beast Claw" seemed to tear through defensive cores and even an aura shield.

Over time, many failed and only one other person received a card and a seal: a woman who fended off attackers with excellent hand-to-hand skills. Even when some of the stronger attackers managed to land blows, she endured until a ranged aura attack knocked her unconscious. A group of healers came to treat her and it was announced that she was receiving a sponsor and two seals.

Realizing that time was running out, Rick tried to mentally prepare himself to step forward. He knew exactly what he was getting into, yet he was strangely apprehensive. It was less worry for his health than his pride: defense was his best trait, so if he failed at it, he would feel like a total failure.

When there was a lull, Rick swallowed and walked forward to the central ring. He felt like everyone was staring at him and sneering, though of course that was just his nerves. It was absolutely true that they were all watching him, of course, and whether he succeeded or failed, he would do it in front of everyone.

The timer started at 0.00 seconds.

Rick didn't boast, just waited for the first few attackers to test him out. The first rushed to pummel him with punches and Rick tried to defend himself as generically as possible: static blocks and other means to limit his opponent's blows. None of them felt heavy, but Rick didn't care about them: he was trying to give those watching as little information about him as possible.

It seemed to work, because three different people attacked him with simple blows. One whose style emphasized kicking actually struck hard enough to hurt, but Rick expected her ambush and simply did his best to block the next strikes.

Once she was pushed back, he had a moment to breathe and looked to the clock. How could it only have been 22 seconds?

"You're a brawler, huh?" The wolf-pelted man stepped forward, sneering theatrically as usual. "We'll see how well street fighting stands up against the Beast Claw!"

Rick knew that his opponent was blindingly quick and braced himself to move, but it didn't matter. Without the Bunyan's Step, he couldn't compete at such speed. In a single blink his opponent was in front of him, nails tearing through his chest.

Except they skated off harmlessly.

For a full two seconds everyone stared in shock, Rick most of all. He realized that the aura that had struck him was highly unusual, not like human aura... but very similar to an aura bear. After taking countless clawings from Blue, the "Beast Claw" felt like a cheap imitation.

The attacker recovered and attacked in a blind fury, stabbing at his stomach as if to disembowel him. Rick braced himself to defend in case it was a different trick, but again his defensive aura shrugged it off. When the six seconds ended and a pulse of aura pushed away his opponent, Rick's clothing was slightly torn but his skin was untouched.

He'd had everyone's attention before, but now they were focused on him. Rick realized that his inability to react must have looked like raw confidence, simply enduring his opponent's blows without moving. Since he didn't want those watching to think he was just a dumb brute, Rick decided to speak up.

"It looks like your Beast Claw uses animal aura. Useful trick against people who have never felt it before."

Enraged, the man pulled off his wolf pelt and began to step forward, but some of the others held him back. Yet Rick found that his confidence wasn't bravado: the "Beast Claw" was essentially just a trick that relied upon everyone being used to the modern world's use of lucrim. This wasn't an opponent he really needed to fear.

The long delay got him to 43 seconds, but soon enough another opponent came to challenge him. This one was a woman who bombarded him with bursts of flame from a distance. Rick felt clumsy just weathering the attacks, but didn't see that he had any other choices, as his usual tactic against ranged fighters was to close the distance.

Still, he got through. This time there was almost no delay before a woman in green robes stepped in. She approached at a sprint, raising her hand in a knife-like formation and stabbing down. Yet at the last second she shifted her hand, instead tapping his chest with her palm.

Pain shot through Rick's body as he felt his internal organs twist... but he'd endured such attacks before. Granny Whitney had made him suffer far more than that with all her preparatory pills. Rick decided that it was better to show off and endured several more palm blows before the time elapsed and the woman was swept away, a surprised expression on her face.

Rick rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck to hide his wince. His insides hurt a bit and they'd probably need some time to heal, but he was far from disabled. Hopefully weathering two full rounds without retaliating would be enough to impress those deciding his fate.

Just as the clock passed a full minute, someone he knew stepped to the side of the ring: James Travis. The man had the same flawless suit and arrogant sneer as before, but what worried Rick was that he hadn't appeared to challenge any of the previous contestants. Was this personal?

"That confidence is just sickening." James raised his hands, making clear his extended fingers. "Let's end this miserable little attempt, shall we?"

Though it was meant to intimidate, Rick was ready. His opponent jerked through the air toward him, but Rick was expecting the strange movements. When the first hand stabbed out at him, he deflected it just to the side. Lucrim stabbed into him... but in the wrong spot, leading to only mild pain instead of agony.

James's eyes widened, but he didn't delay, immediately striking again. Rick didn't try to defend himself completely, just nudged each blow off course so that his opponent missed his targets. Soon enough James began to adapt, twisting around his defenses and landing a few painful hits. This time Rick's defensive core partially blocked them, reducing the agony to simple pain. Long enough for six seconds...

The aura pulsed out from the central circle... but James flipped into the air, his body jerking along with the aura in a way that somehow propelled him over it. Taken completely off guard, Rick felt fingers stab into his neck, both choking him and sending agony shooting through his body.

A more intense pulse of aura pushed James away and Rick had to struggle to stay on his feet. He shouldn't have rubbed his throat but couldn't help it. Around the circle, he saw that many of the other competitors looked disgruntled, and James was led away by an official for the rule violation.

Was that good or bad for him? The blow to his throat had hurt, but the confusion led to a long delay and gave him time to work past the pain. Though he ached deeply all over, he reminded himself that there were no true injuries beneath all the pain. He knew pain and he could fight through it.

He was up to 1:17 now. The next attacker was a brawler covered in demonic tattoos who used some sort of draining technique. It left him exhausted, but Rick was accustomed to fighting while drained, especially after surviving the demon realm.

There was another pause and Rick realized just how much attention he was getting. He immediately tried to shove away any positive thoughts, not letting himself get overconfident. All that mattered was focusing on his opponents and lasting as long as he could.

Another attacker stepped into the outer circle and began waving his hands. Rick blinked in confusion, not seeing the thin waves of aura until they hit him. Immediately he grimaced and staggered back, feeling the aura begin to burn into him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, the aura eating into him like acid. He instinctively drew on the Dark Blood Kettle, but though it began to adapt to the strange aura, it didn't work fast enough to give him any immunity.

When the six seconds ended, Rick nearly collapsed, the acid still digging deeper into his body. He'd endured the round, but he was finished. He bitterly glanced at the clock and saw that he'd reached 1:39. Maybe he could last a little longer, but the next challenger would finish him.

In the end, he was as much of a gimmick as the Beast Claw fighter. He'd endured all the other attacks because he had experience against them, but the first time he ran into something that was completely unfamiliar to him, he folded. It was a miracle that he was still on his feet.

Yet... entering the Showdown was his best chance. Rick realized that the invisible acid was only burning him spiritually, so he adopted a crazy strategy: he straightened up and smiled.

He felt like he was about to collapse and he had no real defense against the acid, but everyone watching didn't know that. Not unless they had some intensely powerful observation Lucores. To them, it looked like he had endured yet another exotic attack unscathed, and he saw plenty of surprised faces in the audience.

1:47 now. Rick considered stepping out of the ring and going out on a high note, but at that moment he noticed someone in the stands: the man who had rescued him from Alger. He was watching Rick coolly, the smoke from his cigarette wafting over his face.

That delay prevented Rick from forfeiting before another challenger stepped up beside the ring. It was an elderly woman he guessed was Chinese based on both her appearance and her traditional robe. She raised a hand beside her head and over a dozen bright purple spheres of aura flared into existence over her hair.

Those spheres... Rick had been too busy reacting to judge most of his other challengers, but the woman was delaying, giving him time to realize how powerful her attack was. Her generation rate was at least a quarter million and he guessed the Lucore generating the spheres might be six digits on its own. There was no way he could endure that attack.

"I won't need six seconds," she said quietly. "Want to step out now?"

Rick raised his arms to guard his head. "Nah, that looks fun."

She gave a slight smile, then stepped into the ring. Instantly the spheres crashed into him from all sides, utterly overwhelming his defenses. Rick didn't even try to hold his position, he just focused on keeping his defensive core from shattering and trying to absorb as much from the attack as he could.

When his vision was no longer seared by purple light, Rick realized that he was lying on his face outside the rings. He hurt all over, more from the spheres impacting him than landing on his face. Though he wanted to get back up to show his endurance, he physically couldn't: he barely struggled to sit up a little before his body simply trembled instead of obeying him.

The clock had stopped at 2:07.93. Apparently the woman had used more time on her demonstration than he thought, or perhaps the spheres had battered him longer than he remembered. Did it matter? Had he won or lost?

"We won't sponsor him, of course." It was the Chinese woman, still standing in the rings. "But if his sponsor steps forward, we'll give him a Jade Seal."

Relief flooded through him as Rick realized that it had been a gift. She had recognized that he couldn't endure any longer and defeated him with overwhelming force instead of letting some weaker attacker simply knock him over. And she was offering a Jade Seal, which if he recalled, was a reasonably respectable seal for Chinese delegates to give to a foreigner.

And yet as the silence stretched, Rick's satisfaction began to crumble. No one stepped forward, and he realized that it was all useless if he hadn't impressed a sponsor. He had endured over two minutes and eight full rounds... wasn't that enough? Would they just treat him and send him home a failure?

"I'll take him." The nameless man stepped forward, dropped his cigarette to the ground, and ground it out with one foot. He didn't look happy, but he gave Rick a grudging nod. "You have a bit of potential, kid. We'll talk later after I fill out the paperwork."

With that, he looked away, conferring with the officials as well as the Chinese woman. Rick struggled to one knee before dropping back to sit down, just taking a while to believe it was really happening. If he had a sponsor, that meant his seal was valid and he was officially part of the Showdown. He'd made it.

"That was amazing!" Raggest pushed out of the crowd, pumping a fist into the air. "You were so badass, I almost wanted to attack you myself! Hell, maybe I will - we're part of the same league now!"

"We are?" Rick blinked as he realized it was true. After so many preliminary events, somehow he'd expected to discover more hurdles in his way.

"Yeah, this means you're part of the Junior Showdown. Don't worry, they'll give you special training to help you compete. I can tell you have the spirit of a warrior, so I expect you'll be far stronger the next time we meet." Raggest punched him in the shoulder and grinned. "Only a few of the other juniors are cool, and there are a lot of assholes like that James guy. I look forward to fighting with you."

"Won't we be competitors?" Rick asked. Raggest just shrugged.

"A warrior needs rivals to sharpen their edge! And in the end, the purpose of the Showdown is to put on a good show, so we're also coworkers in a way. Once you get to the elites, it's like a big party. Too much like a party, if you ask me, which is why I'm glad to meet another real warrior!"

"Yeah... nice to meet you too, Raggest."

It looked like the young man was about to say more, but at that moment they were interrupted. Rick's rising good humor instantly froze.

"You shouldn't be watching the qualifying events, Raggest." Alger spoke softly, standing behind the young man with his hands laced over his cane. His expression was severe until he looked to Rick and gave him a very small smile. "It seems you're a warrior after all. I would have been a better sponsor for you... but perhaps we'll meet again, in time."

Alger swept Raggest away, leaving Rick sitting cold on the field. He tried to remind himself that he'd won a great victory: at minimum participating in the Showdown would earn him free training and an income for months. This was the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Yet as he thought about Alger's small smile, it didn't feel like a victory.

Chapter 9: Preparations for Departure

The medical staff were extremely efficient assisting with Rick's injuries, but equally impersonal. He realized that they had to deal with countless fighters throughout the day and probably just wanted to get their work over with, so he didn't try to interact with them. Besides, he had plenty to think about.

Other than thanking them at the end, they didn't exchange any words. Rick was surprised at how good he felt: not just healed, but mostly pain free. His core had still received serious damage, of course, but that was his job to repair. He focused on it as he found a seat, trying to learn what he could. The explosive spheres attack had touched him so briefly, even the Dark Blood Kettle could only develop minimal defenses against it. A useful trick.

Though he'd wanted to watch the other events, particularly to find out exactly how the black sphere throwing event worked, Rick was just too exhausted. It wasn't just the injuries and the healing, it was the utter concentration for those two minutes of his life. Even though he'd been allowed in, he found himself wondering if he could really keep competing at this level.

Just when he was starting to feel a bit closer to normal, the cigarette-smoking man brushed past him, another cigarette dangling from his lips. "Come on. This is no place to talk."

"Uh, okay." Though a little suspicious, Rick decided it was better not to question his new sponsor. They only went a short distance off the field and stepped into a hallway underneath the main stands. Normally it would have been filled with crowds and concessions, but for the qualifying rounds it was nearly deserted.

"We need to talk terms, but first, you earned this." The man flipped a card toward him and Rick barely managed to catch it, because it didn't flutter like he expected. Though it was the size of a business card, it felt more like a heavy piece of tile in his hands.

Rick drew it closer to examine. Most of it was a plain, slightly reflective gray. His name and an ID number were printed on one side and below it he saw a circular pattern with a trigram inside it. Though it didn't mean anything to him, the way it glittered green meant it had to be the Jade Seal. The card itself felt both heavier and tougher than he expected, not bending even when he exerted his strength.

"Don't break the thing." The man cast him a sour glance as if expecting him to eat it. "The cards are tough, but they'll break if you put enough force into it. Now, the real credits are in a database somewhere, but they don't just give out new cards at random."

"So this Jade Seal... I've earned it permanently, no matter what else happens?"

"Well, not exactly. Some say all retirement from the Showdown is dishonorable, but there's different types. If you're found to be cheating or participating in some kind of felony, you might be dishonorably retired and all your accomplishments stripped. But if you formally give up, yeah."

Realizing he was being rude, Rick lowered the card and gave the man a polite bow. "Thank you for sponsoring me."

"Don't thank me. I'm doing a job, and I picked you because I thought you'd earn me money in the end." The man glowered at him for a bit, then removed his cigarette from his lips. "You can call me H. I might be rich compared to this place, but don't think I'm swimming in lucrim. If you perform well, this could be profitable for both of us. But if you can't keep up, I'll send you back home. Understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." Rick gestured to the seal on the card. "This is a good start, right?"

"Better than nothing," H said flatly. "You know the trigrams?"

"No, not really."

"Well, the one you got is so-so. It's a mark of commendation, and those are always good. But the real version has a wing pattern around the sides, whereas the plain circle is the junior version. So this is a start. Maybe when we compete in China you'll be able to impress some more representatives and get a better one."

Rick nodded quietly, resolving to look it up in more detail later. He had a feeling that he could win a Nobel Lucrim Prize and H would still glare and have something to criticize. At least someone who was blunt about their profit motive was being straighter with him than someone who pretended to be on his side.

"I decided to sponsor you for two reasons," H went on. "First, I do think you have some potential. You've got grit and you've done something with it. But second, to annoy Alger. Let's see if we can't wipe the floor with his golden child, eh?"

"You have something against Raggest?" Rick asked. H merely shrugged.

"The boy is Alger's tool, that's all. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. This isn't formal yet."

Rick hesitated, running his fingers along the edges of the card. "Why not?"

"We need to create a formal legal agreement of sponsorship. Here's how it will go: the Showdown will still be in Branton for a couple of weeks. I'll use that time to check on you, just in case something nasty comes up. You use that time to say your goodbyes and prepare. In that time, we'll figure out the exact agreement. If we're both on board at the end, we leave to the next city. If not, you stay here permanently."

"Got it."

"Let me see your portfolio, and give me a number and address. I'll send you the contract so you can look at it on your own time."

Since if anyone needed to see his portfolio, it was the man who would train him, Rick complied. H gave no indication whatsoever what he thought of the numbers, simply grunted and then left. Soon enough Rick received a message with a contract attached, so quickly that it must have been boilerplate. Sure enough, when he opened it, he saw that it didn't even have his name, just a placeholder.

Reading it beneath the stands was awkward, and the stadium was getting louder with another event, so Rick headed out. On the sidewalk, he realized that he was strangely adrift in Branton. He had no apartment to return to, no work, nowhere else he could stop by. In the end he went to a public park and found a shaded place to read the contract.

It started well enough: the health coverage was excellent and didn't cost him a thing. That made sense, given that he was now an asset. But soon after, he started running into things he didn't like the sound of at all. If he understood right, the terms contained more than a few traps.

After so many reversals, Rick didn't feel anything. He just made some calls.

~ ~ ~

"This isn't good, right?" Rick glanced between the siblings as Adsila and Wemilat read through the contract on their own devices. Wemilat winced, but his sister gave an encouraging smile.

"Almost all contracts are bad at first - they expect you to negotiate. I'm sure you can make him bend on the worst clauses."

"Are you sure? He seemed pretty ready to just leave me here if I didn't cooperate."

'Just a negotiating tactic," Adsila said, but Wemilat shook his head as he finally entered the conversation.

"Here's what I think you should do: send him back another standard contract that's much more in your favor. He won't accept it, but you'll be able to see how much he's willing to bend. Then whatever you agree on, we can have Dad look over it."

Rick blinked. "Your father is a lawyer?"

"He does some law work, including combat contracts. Good enough that he could find any nasty surprises hidden in the lawyer talk."

"Enough about that, Wemy." Adsila cut off whatever her brother was going to say next and saluted Rick with her phone. "You should be happy about this! Not just anyone can get into the Showdown, and I'm sure once you negotiate a better contract, things will go well for you."

"Hopefully." Rick glanced between them and sighed. "That means I'll be leaving the Refuge, but it's obvious that you can manage without me."

"I'll miss having you to help out with the bigger animals," Wemilat said, "but we can badger Delsin into it when it's really necessary. Just remember what I said, okay? These big events can be a rush, but they don't last for your entire life."

Adsila rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just remember how you're going to get old and decrepit and shrivel up like a prune. That's a great tone to set for a celebratory moment."

Rick smiled as he watched the two of them bickering, though with a tinge of sadness as he realized it would be the last time, at least in the near future. With the Showdown moving all around the world, he wouldn't be able to visit home all that often. That was one benefit of Melissa being away at the YLAA, since they were already accustomed to talking online.

The contract negotiation proved boring, but critical. As expected, H immediately rejected the counter-contract he sent with the siblings' help, but he was willing to talk. Not literally, and his messages were incredibly terse, but they slowly hashed out an agreement.

His first contract had given him an obscene salary of over six figures in lucrim per year... but with a caveat that had set off immediate alarm bells. Victory purses were added to his salary, but all training costs were subtracted from it. It had struck him as obvious that the contract could bind him in permanent debt, if expenses exceeded his salary and awards.

A naive young warrior might eagerly take the contract and enjoy a lavish lifestyle, only to lock themselves into what was essentially indebted servitude. From what he'd seen of Showdown sponsors, Rick wouldn't be surprised if they liked the idea of having complete control of a young person's training. Fortunately, H dropped all those provisions without any argument, as if he considered the entire discussion more of an inconvenience than anything.

He fought other proposals, however, always taking things back to the fact that he intended to earn money on Rick overall. In the end they settled on an agreement where H covered all training expenses, but also took the prize money, with a clause that forcibly retired Rick if his performance suffered for too long. As far as Rick could see, that was a good compromise, because it meant their motives were aligned toward helping him win as much as possible.

The only thing the contract didn't give him was all that much actual wealth. He'd probably get a fortune in training, but little of that would go toward his bank account. Keeping in mind what everyone had said about an exit strategy, Rick fought hard for part of his income to include direct contributions to his Graham's Stake Lucore. In the end he got a monthly contribution and bonuses if he won seals.

All in all, he was actually receiving less of a salary than when he had been working at the House of the Cosmic Fist. But considering that his benefits included room and board, countless training materials, total medical coverage, and bonus invested lucrim, Rick considered it an excellent deal.

H didn't seem to consider it at all, just begrudgingly signed the contract digitally. In the same message he also confirmed that Rick's records were adequate, so he ended with a time and place to show up with his bags.

There were still a few days left, but Rick wasn't sure what to do other than train. He helped out at the Refuge with a few problems that actually needed his help, and on one of the final days the siblings presented him with a cupcake with a candle in it as a minor celebration. Delsin left him a "condolences" card and otherwise avoided him. Overall, Rick was surprised by how few goodbyes he required.

With Melissa gone and Emily keeping her distance, who would he say goodbye to? Certainly not his extended family, who would only want money from him. Definitely not his old boss Jimmy, and Henry was no longer a friend. He thought about Tom, but they were barely colleagues and there was always the off-chance that could get him involved with Granny Whitney again somehow.

A brief vision of him sharing his cupcake with Granny Whitney and Jimmy almost made him laugh, if it wasn't so ridiculous.

Of course, the largest sore spot was Lisa, but it felt awkward to try to meet up with her one more time while she was dating someone. Maybe that explained why she had been more distant. Rick almost decided to let her go, then decided he was being an idiot. Lisa had been a great friend for years and it wouldn't be right to just let things go like that.

So instead he wrote her an email explaining what he was doing next. He tried to keep it professional but friendly, telling her that he'd give her his new number and offering to show her special serums and training mixtures to his sponsor. After agonizing over every word of the email several times and wishing he'd made different decisions, Rick just sent it.

Lisa didn't respond.

By the time the departure date came, Rick was more than ready. He had little to pack and found that he wasn't leaving much behind. When he arrived at the location, he was surprised to realize that it was a barren field with nothing remarkable. Though he stood around, expecting some sort of lucrim portal or something, what he got was a helicopter dropping out of the sky. A big gray military-looking one, but without any signifying information.

The bay door opened and he saw H standing near the side, his arms folded. Rick picked up his bag and jogged to meet him.

"Do we have all the contract and personal garbage finished?" H glared down at him, but seemed to be in a fairly good mood. His glares were complex and nuanced. "Then pretty soon we can get to training. Jump in and we'll get moving."

"Where are we going?" Rick asked as he stepped in. H just shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, because you're not participating in the next Showdown. No, I figure we have a month to whip you into shape, then you really test yourself."

When the helicopter shifted and they began to rise, Rick hastily grabbed a handhold near the side. He'd expected someone to tell him how to strap in, but to his surprise there didn't seem to be anyone else on the helicopter. Was it all a lucrim construct?

The door didn't even close as they lifted into the sky, air whipping around them so violently that someone without a strong lucrima would would have been in danger. Rick kept a firm grip on the wall, while H merely glowered down. Though the helicopter blades were deafening at first, an envelope of aura closed over them, smothering outside sounds and leaving a surreal quiet.

Once he got used to the circumstances, Rick stared down at Branton. It sprawled all around them, like most flat Midwestern cities, but it was rapidly condensing. Everything he'd experienced, reduced down to a single point on a map that most people never thought about. He tried to find the Peakless Wildlife Refuge from the air, but he wasn't sure if he could really identify it.

"Do you think I really have a chance?" He hadn't intended to voice his doubts and immediately regretted it, but the question was already out of his mouth. H just stared at him. "I just... I'm from the middle of nowhere, so can I really compete in something like the Showdown?"

"You think Branton is the middle of nowhere?" H flicked his cigarette stub over the edge and then the ramp began to close, leading Rick to wonder if it had stayed open just so he could finish smoking. "Might not be the center of culture, but it's a hot spot. Training updraft and all that."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Take a place like New York City. The average generation rate is far higher there, among normal people or fighters. But the city is brutally competitive - the whole 'if you can make it there' nonsense. The strong go to New York, they don't come from there. If you want to find up-and-coming talent, you have to go somewhere more out of the way."

"And that means Branton? I didn't think it was anything special."

"No?" H gave him a flat look. "You think it's a coincidence that Branton has action in the criminal underground and activity from the Global Lucrim Authority? Like I said, it's a hot spot of activity. It may not have made you the strongest, but it got you off to a good start."

"Huh." Rick stared down at Branton, seeing it with new eyes. He'd lived in or near the city for much of his life, yet now it was retreating over the horizon.

There wasn't much he was leaving behind, yet it was still bittersweet to see it vanish.

Chapter 10: Three Weaknesses

The helicopter flew endlessly without refueling, confirming Rick's suspicions that it was powered by lucrim. H gave him some meditation exercises, said that he needed to make preparations for their arrival, and disappeared into the cockpit, leaving Rick sitting in the empty main room and imagining how this could all be some extremely bizarre kidnapping scenario.

Over the course of the long flight he managed to get H to tell him where they were headed next: South Africa. Rick didn't know very much about the nation, but there was wi-fi in the helicopter, so he began to look it up. He soon learned that it was one of the nations with a dragonweight, yet politically precarious. The tensions between the settlers and the more powerful Nokan Empire to the north weren't currently violent, so he thought it might make visiting the nation fascinating.

So of course as soon as they arrived, H escorted him from the landing pad directly into a featureless white training room that could have been anywhere in the world.

Rick resisted just long enough to get a brief look at the city from off the side of the building they'd landed on. It looked... like a city. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. There were more trees lining the streets than in Branton and the tallest buildings had an unfamiliar style of balcony. The shining skyscrapers nearby were similar, but he thought he saw a slum in the distance. Unlike the gray concrete slums of Branton, this one was more brown.

"Come on." H grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to the entrance. "You can see the country in several years after you've gotten your feet under you. We have a hell of a lot of work to do if we want you to be ready for China in a month."

"The showdown is going to China next?"

"We're covering the world superpowers, but you won't be going along unless you get your act together. I said come on."

With that, H dragged him back into the generic white room. All the walls were ether-reinforced panels, high quality but similar to those he'd seen elsewhere. The floor itself was slightly rubbery, leading him to wonder if he was going to be knocked down repeatedly. There was nothing in the room other than a few doors on the other end, presumably leading deeper into the building, but H set himself up in front of them and folded his arms.

"You can't get anywhere in the Showdown as a one trick pony." H didn't have a cigarette for once, but his fingers twitched as if he wanted one. "Your performance in the Unlimited Defensive Ring wasn't bad, but it's not enough. What do you think you should do about that?"

"What do I think?" Rick bit back a comment about how he was the one being trained and gave it a little thought. He'd already considered it more than once. "I suppose I should start by shoring up my major weaknesses. That would prepare me for my main event but also others."

"There are worse answers you could have given. We'll start with things that will help your defense, so that you can perform well enough to earn back some of the money I'm wasting on you. What are your greatest weaknesses?"

Rick hesitated at that, flashing back to memories of his job hunt. This time, he thought the question was a real one. "In the ring, it was really obvious that I don't have a good way of dealing with ranged attacks. Particularly ones at sonic or higher speeds."

H waved the answer aside. "You're incompetent there, yes, but forget about the ring for now. Say you're in an actual fight for your life. What do you change about yourself right now to survive it?"

"Well... I'm really lacking a technique Lucore. If people can deal with my speed or defenses, they've seen everything I can do. I could use some kind of signature technique that would surprise opponents."

"That's a flaw, but not the easiest one to fix. To really use a special technique effectively, you need to build your portfolio around it, and yours just isn't set up for that. Besides, it's not a good match for Showdown events. No, if you ever get a tech Lucore, I think it should be a utility. We'll deal with that later, but right now we're talking about your weaknesses."

"I think you already know what they are. I've given you my best guesses."

"As I see it, you have three major weaknesses." H raised his hand with three fingers and began lowering them one by one. "Ranged attacks is one, good job noticing the obvious. But more importantly, you're lacking full situational awareness. Your instincts are good enough, barely, but at this level of competition you need some sort of lucrim-based support."

"That makes sense." Rick nodded along, otherwise waiting for the third point.

"Finally, your technique is sloppy and impractical."

Frowning, Rick examined his trainer more carefully. It obviously wasn't a joke, since H probably didn't know what those were, but he wasn't sure how to interpret it. "I didn't think I'd be winning any style competitions, but I tried to develop what I thought worked."

"Oh, it isn't awful. I reviewed your fights in that multi-tier tournament and they didn't make me vomit. But focusing on the practical tends to open smaller weaknesses." H unfolded his arms and rolled his shoulders. "Try to hit me and I'll show you what I mean."

It was a simple enough request, but Rick paused. He realized that for all his training, he'd almost never sparred with someone he considered a mentor. At his old job at the gym, he'd sparred with people stronger than him all the time, but this was different. Though it didn't change what he needed to do, it felt surreal to step forward and attempt to hit H.

Rick started with an experimental punch and H simply slipped aside, footwork cautious and movements smooth. He tried again, aiming directly for his opponent's core, this time forcing some blocks. As Rick felt out his opponent, sensing no particular style, he sped up until he finished with a burst of speed and slammed his elbow into his opponent's chest.

Or tried. Rick realized his elbow had been caught and tried to pull back, only for a wave of aura to send him heels over head to the ground.

The rubbery floor was surprisingly soft, likely painless even without his defensive core, but being so easily blocked stung a bit. Rick pulled himself up and saw H simply waiting, so he raised his fists and tried again.

Again they made contact several times, but now Rick was familiar enough with his opponent to notice something odd: H was exactly as fast as he was. Normally with lucrim flowing through two fighters, one of them would have a slight edge, allowing for or requiring different techniques. It couldn't be accidental, yet Rick still failed to break through.

Using his Bunyan's Step core wouldn't be effective, but his basic offensive Lucore could help his speed a little. Rick focused on it, striking at a greater speed... only to find that H matched him exactly. He was keeping them even, forcing the fight to be about pure hand-to-hand skill.

And once again, when Rick attempted to get in close, he failed. H caught his knee, turned aside his elbow, and knocked him to the ground with another wave of force.

This time Rick managed to catch himself as he tumbled over the floor, but there was no getting around the fact that he was being soundly beaten. No, not beaten, he was being outfought. Grimacing, Rick set his feet, then burst forward in a Bunyan's Step that propelled him forward as quickly as he could manage.

He had a split second to see his opponent's arm, then he slammed back against the floor.

"That's what I mean." H lowered his arm and stared down at him. "Many lucrim fighters are actually terrible at melee combat, but they have enough speed and strength to overwhelm their opponents. You... aren't as abysmal as that, but you have some bad habits. For example, you're overly reliant on elbow strikes. They might work with superior speed, but against an equal opponent, your range is simply too limited."

"But usually I have a speed edge, or I'm not trying to out-speed my opponent at all."

"That's no excuse for sloppiness. Why exactly did you choose this style?"

Though the question came scornfully, Rick realized after a moment that it was actually sincere. He slowly got to his feet, deciding to be honest. "Throwing punches is too risky. When I was younger I saw a man punch a defensive core and shatter a bunch of bones in his hand. I thought elbows and knees were better supported, so I started training muay thai."

"Avoiding catastrophic injury is a reasonable decision." Instead of more invective, H simply nodded to him. "But it's holding you back now. I'm not suggesting that you completely change what you know. But as you increase the strength of your Lucores, we also need to improve your combat instincts."

"Seems fair." Rick rubbed his neck where it had been struck. "But that won't keep me from running straight into opponents."

"Yes, that's a weakness. That Lucore will either need to be dissolved, or we'll adapt. Let's review your portfolio." H waved a hand and a screen manifested in the air, listing his familiar cores.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 12th

Ether Score: 442

Lucrim Generation: 87,100

Current Lucrim: 23,750]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3700 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 17,100 (Lv IV)

Offensive Lucore: 13,400 (Lv VII)

Defensive Lucore: 37,000 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 15,150 (Lv VIII)

Graham's Stake: 23,950 (Lv IV)

Demonic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 750 (Stage I)

Demon Mass: 500 (N/A)

Total Lucrim: 111,050]

"This Bunyan's Step core is actually surprisingly advanced," H said after observing briefly. "I wouldn't have expected you to have the materials for it, but it seems you've scrounged up a few. So we'll keep it and train you in footwork designed for supersonic speeds. You aren't completely brain dead, so combined with improved sensory capabilities, it should be adequate."

The advancement of the Lucore must have been at least in part due to Tom and Damian, so Rick silently thanked the two. He liked the idea of learning more advanced footwork, since he could understand how conventional martial arts fell behind eventually. But as H continued to speak, he liked the sound of the plan much less.

"This Dark Blood Kettle is... adequate. It will do for a secondary foundation, at least for now. But your base foundation is dull beyond belief, and this Offensive Lucore is frankly pathetic. We're going to melt both down and form something called the Midas Foundation. That will serve as a real base for power that can hold the other remaining Lucores."

"Wait, you want me to entirely transform my foundation?" Rick didn't want to cause problems on his first day, but to completely change his portfolio like that... "Just what is this Midas Foundation?"

"It's a proprietary foundation type that is best suited for you. Don't worry, you won't lose any overall generation rate. Some things about your base skills will change, but it will put you on the right path."

"You said you wanted me ready in a month. Completely transforming a foundation and getting me back into fighting shape would take longer than that."

H waved vaguely. "Sometimes there are more important things than short term strength."

"No. That... if you really want me to use this Midas Foundation, I need it explained to me a lot better than that."

"It's a bit beyond your current level of understanding."

"Then I don't think I'm qualified to use it. There has to be another solution."

Though H glared at him, when Rick didn't back down, the man let out an irritated growl. "I suppose a clumsier solution would be giving you a new Lucore that will cover your deficiencies. A new foundation would be the superior choice, but I'll give you a chance. If you can meet every single mark I set for your base skills, I'll let you try the Lucore solution. If not, you remake your foundation."

Rick hesitated, but knew that he didn't have much leverage. "Deal. I'm willing to look into the new foundation if you can convince me, I just want to know what I'm getting into."

"Most of it will be familiar. Take a break while I assemble some materials, then I'll show you what you'll be working with to start."

Finally Rick was allowed to enter one of the other doors, which was thankfully not as blank as the training chamber. Unfortunately, it was a rather spare room with nothing but a cot, a shelf, a table, and a chair. Was this where he would be training for the next month? Not much worse than his cabin, he supposed, and probably better than his old apartment.

Alone for a while, Rick took his luggage from the other room and set it on the bed. He investigated the shelf more carefully, but it only had a few books on lucrim that had nothing to do with him and some metal containers. Those containers proved to have ration packs that struck him as military, yet not in a way he could specifically pinpoint. The contents proved to be sandpapery nutrient bars, but they were at least filling.

Accepting that this was where he would pursue his next goal, Rick sat down on the bed and began his usual exercises. He was only partway done when H entered the room again, carrying what looked like a mechanic's tool case. It opened to reveal a sizzling rainbow of vials and pills.

"We won't start you on high end philosopher's elixir yet, but we'll begin with the more difficult supplements," H said as he removed select items. "There's no sense wasting money on you if you're going to prove to be an idiot. But just enduring these should be enough to prepare you for whichever step comes next."

When he closed the case, H had removed a glowing thermos, two pills, and six vials... and three rubber balls. Rick looked at them, trying to figure out if they were containers for something, or god forbid giant pills, but they appeared to be completely normal rubber. "What are these for?"

H regarded him flatly. "If you're going to ignore the Midas Foundation like a clown, you need to learn how to juggle."

Chapter 11: Juggling Training

The juggling thing was not a joke: when Rick was exhausted from all his physical and lucrim training, he picked up the rubber balls and learned how to juggle. Most of his routine was completely coherent, but not that.

Every morning he took a number of pills along with breakfast, which proved challenging on their own - he could feel them burning through his system. Most of the morning was spent on fundamental lucrim exercises, trimming the fat and gathering free lucrim for a new Lucore. Or a foundation, if his performance proved inadequate.

In the afternoons H trained him mercilessly with sparring sessions that ended with a burst of aura the instant he fell into old habits. It would take a long time to retrain old habits, so whenever H became too frustrated, they switched to training his new footwork. That captured Rick's attention easily, helping him move more freely with the Bunyan's Step and smoothly use it in multiple directions.

By the evening he was exhausted and battered, risking overtraining. Though he technically had the evenings free, he was given reading to complete and he wanted to do some training of his own. He couldn't risk pushing himself past the breaking point, but he could draw up the Dark Blood Kettle to absorb what he'd experienced in the day.

After all of that, he collapsed exhausted every night. Fortunately their rooms were nearly completely sound-proof, and he controlled the lights, so there was nothing to keep him from getting great nights of sleep. Which meant he could rise early to begin the next day.

There seemed to be absolutely nothing stopping him from leaving, so Rick didn't mind his seclusion. He had internet access and had done enough research to find out that they were staying at a perfectly normal, if expensive, training center. They had half the top floor entirely to themselves, forming a series of bedrooms and supply closets alongside the main training room.

Occasionally through an open door he heard staff in the hallway, but they never disturbed him. It was actually possible to order room service, though Rick decided that was unnecessary extravagance. He kept eating the awful nutrient bars and whatever else he was given to balance his diet. If he was here to train, he was going to train.

H himself came and went, aside from their core afternoon training sessions. Though he had set up in one of the other bedrooms, and it was the only room that was locked, when Rick got a look inside it was completely empty. Most of his mentor's time was spent away from the training center, monitoring the developing Showdown events and looking for other talent. It made Rick wonder if H had been training anyone else while in Branton, but H refused to answer irrelevant questions by simply ignoring them.

Overall, Rick was reasonably comfortable, both with his situation and his decision. The one fly in the ointment was the Midas Foundation, which bothered him in a way he couldn't quite pin down. Research online turned up absolutely nothing, so either it really was extremely proprietary or it was going by another name. Either way, Rick was more comfortable strengthening what he already knew than abandoning it for something else.

Though his life was mostly training, it was satisfying enough. He could still video chat with Melissa from time to time and there were no longer any major distracting concerns about his life. So long as he kept up with the brutal training regimen, he was getting paid to train and padding his investment Lucores. It didn't get much better than that.

Juggling proved a little obnoxious, since it seemed irrelevant, but Rick set himself to it. After a few video tutorials and some practice, he managed to get the basics. Since he only had three balls, it wasn't overly difficult. A week into their schedule, when H arrived for their sparring session, Rick was waiting for him and juggling three balls.

"Congratulations on your basic hand-eye coordination." H reached out and snatched all three balls from him. "I'll have a heavier set of them for you tomorrow."

"Obviously there's no Showdown juggling event." Rick was never sure how far he could push H, but he decided that after a week of being obedient, he had some slack. "I assume you're doing this as some sort of classic indirect training, as opposed to just busywork."

"If that's so, then why question the wisdom of my training?"

"You're just going to give me slightly heavier versions? That's too easy. If you want me to grow, you should challenge me. Show me your endgame here."

For several long seconds H glared at him, and then, to Rick's shock, a tortured sort of smile passed across his face. "Maybe you're right. Fine, take them back and we'll do this in a different order. Start juggling again."

Blinking, Rick caught the balls as they were tossed to him and began his usual pattern. It went fine until H tried to punch him in the face.

On instinct Rick dodged away, but that meant that the rubber balls fell to the ground. H merely grunted "Again" and kicked the balls at him.

The second time, Rick managed to shift just his head to avoid the first punch, but the second was a body blow. Somehow he managed to jerk his elbow down to deflect the strike in between throwing one ball and catching another. Yet the next moment H kicked him directly in the chest, sending him falling backwards and obviously losing his juggling pattern.

"You'll be ready when you can keep juggling through all of that." H ignored him and walked over to his room, dragging out his case of tools. Rick stared at him a while, and when no further explanation was forthcoming, decided to object again.

"Do you mean that my defenses need to be so good that I can stay completely in place? Maybe I could do it with enough defense or speed, but even if I could, wouldn't that be forming weird habits?"

"I may not be a hand-to-hand specialist, but you're not going to become strong enough to stop me that way. No, you need to keep juggling through taking hits."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "That's not possible. The physics of it don't make any sense if you're knocking me around, not unless you mean anticipate what will happen so far ahead..."

"No, you're going to juggle with pure aura. Like this." H found what he wanted and rose, holding three silver spheres in one hand. He started to juggle them one-handed... until they began to spin on their own. While H kept his hand flat and approached him, the spheres spun in a circle above his hand. "The problem with this technique is that it requires you to be able to multitask far better than most warriors can. So we started with normal juggling to get you used to it."

"But these weren't the spheres you wanted me to use?" Rick reached out to snatch one of them, his hand easily breaking the aura sending the spheres circling. When it touched his palm, however, a shiver passed through his entire body.

Gasping, Rick dropped down to one knee, struggling to hold up the silver sphere. It buzzed and vibrated strangely, but the worst part was the ripples it sent through his lucrima soul. As if it had been designed to disrupt the normal smooth flow of his lucrim and his aura... and that was probably exactly what they had been designed to do.

"Now you're seeing it. Try all three." H dropped the other two spheres into his hands.

Though Rick made a couple abortive attempts to juggle, he soon realized he'd just humiliate himself. Simply holding his balance and maintaining his aura was difficult while holding the disruptive spheres. Just gaining the ability to do that would be training of a sort, though he suspected there was a deeper meaning still coming.

Instead of pushing further, Rick decided to focus fully on advancing. He was eager for the challenge for its own sake, plus he'd actually impressed H a little. Best to not waste any of that. Rick stopped trying to juggle and just rotated the spheres in one hand, struggling against their effect.

"I obviously need more time to adjust to these," Rick said. "So the final goal is to be able to juggle these with my aura while engaging in real combat?"

"That will be the sign that you're ready, but it's not the goal." H glanced toward his case of supplies, his face again sour. "I don't have them on hand, since I still think this is an inferior path for you, but in the end you'll create tools in place of the spheres. Instead of fighting you, they'll assist you. But if you try to use them without sufficient presence of mind, you'll just hurt yourself worse than you usually do."

"Got it. Knowing what I'm going for makes this a lot more interesting." But the spheres were starting to make his entire arm numb, so Rick had to set them down. "You're right that those are a bit much for me, so maybe it would be better t-"

"No, I was softballing you. Let's take this up a notch." H flicked a finger and the rubber balls flew to his hand. "I have two more exercises for you: maintaining normal juggling while releasing fully powered strikes, and juggling using aura. Try to master the disruptive effect in your own time."

"And then we fuse all three together?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. See if you can kick me without falling over."

H shifted into a defensive stance and urged him to strike, so Rick began with the new exercise. It felt bizarre to be juggling while trying to kick at an opponent, but now that he understood the true purpose of the task, he was far more motivated. Keeping proper form with his kicks while simultaneously juggling felt impossible at first, then simply a bizarre contortion, but he could feel the mental workout.

After he had the basics down, H showed him the basic technique for juggling using aura. Rick had expected it to be the simple application of concentrating aura into "hands" that could manipulate matter, a common trick to those who could afford it. Instead, it proved to be something much more fascinating.

Instead of his aura flowing with his breaths, H taught him how to develop a swirling pattern. His aura surrounded the spheres and caught them up in it, so they rotated completely naturally. At least that was the idea. Rick couldn't crack such an unusual technique in their first session and H only pressed him until it was clear that he truly understood the underlying premise.

Rick smiled and dropped back onto the floor, letting his aura relax. It had been a strange workout, but he could understand the benefits. He was unclear on what purpose the final spheres would serve, but he theorized that they would be part of the technique that would improve his sensory capabilities.

"What are you doing?" H glowered down at him.

"We've been training for a while." Rick groaned as he got back to his feet. "Just taking a little break."

"We haven't been training at all. This was extracurricular work because you got too big for your britches, so the clock hasn't started on our usual sparring." H cracked his knuckles on one hand. "Today I think we're going to work on your defensive footwork. Thoroughly."

Though Rick winced in anticipation of the bruises to come, he found himself grinning.

Chapter 12: Showdown Celebrity

Nearly a week later, Rick had made significant progress on all three fronts, but was nowhere near ready to combine them. The parts of him that had remained a little skeptical if juggling could really "expand his mind" to prepare for other techniques had been completely convinced. He felt more alert in his normal life and the effect was even more obvious when using lucrim.

Until that point, he hadn't realized just how much he tended to focus on a single Lucore at a time. When he needed to use a Bunyan's Step, there was a moment of delay when he gathered his lucrima soul around it. Even his defensive core, which continued to operate passively, didn't function at its full potential except when he was bracing it, leaving him more vulnerable to surprise attacks.

Had he tried to learn a fancy new technique that required constant use, like Tom's lightning, Rick was sure that it would have made him a clumsier fighter. But now, he could bolster his defensive core barely even thinking about it while simultaneously using a Bunyan's Step and attacking. And juggling.

Yet H wasn't satisfied. He was basically never satisfied, but whatever he had in mind obviously required more.

During one of their sparring sessions, Rick's control completely broke down. The spheres kept rotating on instinct, drawing more of his focus than anything else, but his aura spluttered out and he tripped over his own feet. After eating a face full of floor padding, Rick slowly pushed himself up, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Guess you've pushed a bit too far." H stood over him with nothing like concern, but there was no scorn in his expression. "You're already training as much as your... intellectual capacity can handle. So let's change things up in a different way: time to see a real Showdown."

"Haven't I already gotten a good enough sense for how it works?" Rick didn't object to the idea of taking a break, since he was obviously exhausted. He limped to collect the balls in case they were going to pack up and leave.

"No. You've seen preliminaries, qualifying rounds, and maybe some junior events if you did your homework. But the preliminaries are over for this location, so it's time for the real events to begin. I'll give you my seat access and you can see your ultimate goal."

That seemed like a reasonable enough plan to Rick, so he cleaned up and did more passive exercises for the rest of the afternoon, trying to smooth problems in his aura or clots in his lucrima soul. He realized that he'd probably created a lot, given his training regimen, but without Lisa he wasn't sure of the best way to liquidate them.

He'd expected H to take him to the event, since he didn't know where it was, but instead he just got a text about a taxi outside the hotel. Going down to the ground floor was a bit surreal as Rick saw most of the building for the first time. It bothered him more than he expected, and though he didn't want to ease up on his training, he resolved to be less insular in the future.

The taxi itself was some sort of elite service, with ether-reinforced paneling and no way to see the driver. Unfortunately it also had tinted windows and Rick couldn't figure out any way to turn them off, so he was driven to the stadium without getting to see much of the city.

Though he could dimly see a stadium through the tinted window, they passed the main entrance and instead drove into an enclosed parking lot. Rick frowned down at the ticket he'd been given, but it did say something about a special seat. He'd assumed that was just company jargon, like "economy class" being the worst airline seats, but maybe it did mean something different.

Since the parking lot itself was boring, Rick simply headed to the obvious entrance, though he noted how heavily armored many of the vehicles were. The attendant looked at his ticket and then escorted him to a separate hallway. After a quick walk, Rick approached the roar of the crowds and finally reached the Showdown itself.

His seat wasn't in one of the special boxes, but it was in a slightly raised area. There were a few other people there, glancing at him as he entered, and he noted that they all looked like fighters. Actually, they might be trainers, given that they all had six figure generation rates, but they ignored him and returned to focusing on events, so he decided to do the same.

What he saw was certainly far different from the simple qualifying events in the Branton stadium. All the spotlights were on at full blast, rendering the field as bright as day. At the moment, figures in uniforms were hurling a black sphere between one another as they raced around the field.

It caught his full attention until he realized that it was essentially just a sport: another variant on the "move the ball to one end of the field" premise. The ball was so heavy that it didn't bounce, the players flashed around the arena with lucrim techniques, and full contact blows were allowed, but it didn't have much resemblance to actual combat.

Of course, the professionals on the field were doing far better than he could, agilely twisting past one another and sprinting with the ball. They could probably take him in a fight on pure power alone, considering how much lucrim had been invested in them. He couldn't tell much from a distance, but he'd read that top athletes were produced through millions of lucrim. Even if they weren't overpowering like Teragen, they were among the best in the world at what they did.

The crowds seemed to love it, cheering raucously at particularly good exchanges or when the teams came close to scoring a goal. Rick wasn't sure how long the game had been going on, but the score was 1 to 0, so he suspected that it was a low scoring game. Was it the main draw of the event?

When the timer on the scoreboard finished, the teams took a break for what seemed to be a quarter. But as the field cleared, the crowds shifted. From what he could see of the main stands, some people relaxed or left to get food, but everyone in the raised area along with him began to focus, as if things were just beginning for them.

Athletes in tight running gear began to enter the field, but it was nothing like the local sporting events Rick remembered from school. The spotlights shone on the entrance where they appeared and one of the largest screens focused on each athlete, giving their names, countries, and other data. None of the lucrim details that Rick would have found most interesting, but he saw that some of the people beside him were pulling up more data on tablets or phones. They weren't scouting, so perhaps they were analyzing the contestants or checking out the competition.

As the runners lined up, the spotlights shifted to focus on a circular track that ringed the oval playing area. They got into position, a hush fell over the crowd, and then aura flared high. All of them burst forward, the combined shockwaves sending a rush of wind through the crowd despite the safeguards around the arena.

In a fraction of a second, all of the runners had rounded the track, the screens displaying freeze frames to show the small differences between different contestants as they crossed the line. But a race that ended in one second would be boring to watch, so of course the race was composed of many rounds. In fact, the main screen displayed the number of laps each contestant had completed, as any smaller measure would change too quickly.

Though Rick could track the rapid movements, he could only imagine that the event was a chaotic mixture of color for untrained people. The athletes were mere blurs of color around the arena, while the screens kept showing dramatic flashes of slow motion as they counted up the laps.

Yet as he watched, Rick found himself... almost disappointed. They were all fast, obviously, far faster than his top biking speed. But they all ran in essentially the same way, with one lucrim technique propelling them forward and another binding them to the ground to keep traction at such insane speeds. If Rick had tried, he would have attempted a series of Bunyan's Steps, or he could imagine even stranger techniques that relied on redirecting momentum at the curves of the track.

Presumably the elites didn't use them because they weren't as effective as this method of running. No doubt anyone who tried what he was thinking would be treated as a fool. Yet the result was that the peak of athletic performance was everyone doing the same thing, some just better than others.

He could still see how the event could be gripping, if a bit frantic. As the race continued over a minute, differences in stamina started to show. Everyone was still moving so fast they were a blur, but he saw several early leaders on the scoreboard start to drop in the rankings. One of the mid-ranked runners began to surge upward, putting everything she had into the race, and the crowds roared each time her name jumped up on the scoreboard.

In the end, she couldn't quite overtake the top runner as the race ended. Though the last runners looked far behind on the scoreboard, in reality it didn't take them much longer to finish. Yet they were completely ignored as the lead runners were championed, highlights replayed on the big screens as they were awarded seals and left the field in victory.

After a short break, Rick realized that he'd fundamentally misunderstood. Those weren't the top runners, they were just the appetizer. The next athletes didn't just get a spotlight, there were pre-prepared hightlight reels showing them performing. Not just in running, but in other speed events. One of the names even sounded vaguely familiar to him and he wondered if he hadn't seen the runner on a cereal box or something.

That race was more hyped but more intense. Since it was just the two of them, there was no point in dragging things out. The commentators were breathless the entire race, suggesting that a world record might be broken, but in the end both times were over a second slower than the record.

Reflecting on that left Rick gloomy through the remaining races. Any of these athletes could have crushed nearly any racing event in the world, but here a matter of tiny fractions of a second made all the difference between success and failure. Well, he suspected that even the failures were paid obscene salaries. But he struggled to imagine that he could compete like this.

It also left him oddly dissatisfied. In any practical competition, other factors would play a bigger role than raw speed under pure conditions. Of course, the point of the event wasn't to be practical. Most lucrim competitions weren't practical in the modern world.

Another quarter of the sphere game passed. Though Rick paid more attention to the commentators, trying to understand the details of the game, overall he started to lose interest. The techniques the players used to move the heavy sphere were obviously strong, but not particularly useful to him. He wondered if this was one of the lessons H wanted him to learn.

After the quarter, however, there was a longer break. Singers and dancers entertained the crowd while the field was shifted, this time creating several combat circles and a small hill. They even set up the double rings of the Unlimited Defensive Ring, catching Rick's attention. Maybe this set of events would be more relevant to him.

As he'd hoped, the next competitions involved more free form combat. The audience actually seemed less interested in many of them, which he could understand since the action was barely visible to normal eyes. There was a literal king of the hill competition that got plenty of attention, however, since it allowed for dramatic reversals and slow motion replays of people claiming the peak.

Once again, all of them could definitely crush him in the event. Yet after watching with intense interest, Rick began to understand that their skills were also artificial in a sense. Due to the need to maintain the top of the hill position, techniques that locked fighters in place or increased mass were overwhelmingly favored. In a real fight, those wouldn't have made sense.

Not that he had room to talk, since his own event was just enduring blows from all sides.

They did several ring-based events which he watched with keen interest. The Ranged Defensive Ring was actually beautiful in a sense, brightly colored bursts of power shooting into the center and being blocked or deflected in all directions. An old man used some kind of redirecting technique that sent all attacks curving away, creating a flower of aura above him that was more art than combat. He received a special seal for that, an event the cameras replayed endlessly.

Rick receded into himself, reflecting on what he had seen while passively observing. Until the announcers declared that the next event would be a special preview of the junior league... and mentioned Raggest by name.

Immediately Rick focused fully on the field, soon spotting Raggest as he entered to fanfare. The young man grinned and waved at the audience, but there was a look of absolute focus in his eyes. His event seemed to be a fight over ground, two combatants pushing back and forth along a narrow column.

Though Rick tried not to think of his dream, he couldn't help but analyze Raggest's combat potential. He definitely had a six figure generation rate, and though Rick thought he had more experience, Raggest was definitely good.

Beyond that, he didn't seem overly specialized like so many of the other athletes had been. Rick could see how the others had special techniques for holding their ground and pushing their opponents back, but Raggest fought like he was trying to take down an enemy. It won him several early matches, but backfired on him when he met someone who could endure his assault.

Judging from Raggest's grin, he clearly didn't care.

As they were at that moment, Rick knew he wouldn't have a chance. Raggest's signature technique was a golden beam of aura that Rick knew he couldn't defend against. Most likely he could survive it, but Raggest was good enough to keep him at a distance, so he would inevitably lose. Everything H had said about Rick's limitations came back to him and he began going through his exercises again while he watched.

By the time the sphere game ended, Rick felt like he had seen too much. The Showdown hadn't just been a sporting event, it had been an extravaganza that consumed the entire evening. He completely understood how it could draw such crowds, but it also left him a bit overwhelmed.

That night, he dreamed about fighting Raggest in the stadium, both of them covered in blood. Rick woke up and couldn't sleep for a long time.

Chapter 13: Plasma Ants

Despite the dream, which Rick did his best to push aside, he woke up rested. He had so many memories of the specific techniques used in the defensive events that he actually struggled to find his normal aura. Fortunately, by the time H appeared to spar with him, Rick had mostly mastered himself.

"Are they all like that?" he asked before H could start fighting him. His mentor glanced at him briefly, then shook his head.

"Not at all. Here or in the USA, it's a commercial sporting event, an agreement with local authorities that's intended to earn money. But in Siberia, all but a few days are pure combat events. There, the biggest draws are the double elimination tournaments. In the Nokan Empire, there's more ceremony and a focus on traditional events."

"I see what you mean about me needing more than one event."

"Right now, what you need is to become competent enough to compete at anything." H scowled and cracked his knuckles. "Are we going to fight or not?"

After another afternoon of being battered, Rick ate some more nutrient packs and supplements before settling into his usual routine. Now that he'd gone outside once, however, he found himself thinking about it again. He could easily do some of his exercises and walk, so it might be nice to see the city. Eating something local, or anything other than the nutrient packs, would also be nice. For a moment he considered it, thinking it would likely be extremely inexpensive, but then remembered they were in a rich part of the city. Even street food might not be cheap here.

Still, since the bug had gotten into his system, Rick decided to head out to the roof for his meditation. He'd only heard a helicopter land outside once or twice in the time they were there, so he assumed it would be relatively peaceful. Sure enough, he found the roof empty. After enjoying the view and the setting sun, Rick sat down to begin his usual routine.

It went well enough at first, the sunlight and breeze providing a refreshing change of setting. He found his mind wandering, reprimanded himself, then realized that his internal lucrim movements hadn't been even slightly disrupted. That meant it was easier to think while training, which was a good thing, but it left him with a lot of time to fill.

"Hey! Yo, Rick! This way!"

The voice didn't disrupt his training, but it certainly surprised him. Rick glanced around the empty rooftop first and saw no one. Only when he looked further did he spot a figure crouching just over the edge, apparently having climbed up the wall.

Raggest grinned and waved with one arm. "Hey! I wanted to talk to you so I figured I'd just come up. I'll just h-"

He easily pulled himself over the edge... and promptly struck a wall of aura that burst up so quickly it sent him flipping backward. Rick leapt to his feet and rushed to the side, staring down multiple stories to where Raggest had barely grabbed onto a balcony on the opposite building. Though he looked dazed, he managed a vague wave.

"Didn't... see the defenses..."

"There's no need to climb up," Rick called down. "I'll just meet you out front."

Nodding weakly, Raggest began struggling his way down. Rick shook his head, then headed back into his rooms. There was nothing he really needed to do to prepare, so he just used his room key to lock up everything and then headed into the hallway. Though still unfamiliar, it was easy to find the elevator he'd used before, which took him directly down to the hotel lobby.

It was rather nice, but he barely bothered to look at it, more curious about what this was about. Aside from trying to sneak in, Raggest had seemed relaxed, so it was likely nothing urgent. Still, his curiosity was on high alert.

Raggest loitered on the street outside, little worse for the wear despite running straight into the barrier. He saw Rick and smiled broadly. "Hey! It looked like you were doing your usual training, just like me. What do you say we cut out and do something fun instead?"

"Something fun?" Rick glanced around, as if H or Alger were going to swoop down to forbid them. But they were adults and there was nothing stopping them from using their time how they wanted. "I guess you might have been here before, so you know the city?"

"Nah, they all blur together for me. I just remember which Godweight we're officially under, which right now is everybody or the World Sculptor." Raggest hit him on the shoulder and gestured down the street. "Come on, let's go! I heard an amazing rumor I want to check out, and everybody else is too boring to go with me."

After a pause, Rick decided to go and they began walking down the street at a brisk pace. "Who is the 'everybody else' who wouldn't come?"

"All the junior competitors who are participating in this Showdown, of course. Looks like your mentor is putting in some extra money to get you up to speed, but they don't spend that much every time. Usually the host city puts us all up in the same hotel. It's pretty cool, just most of them want to hang around and do boring things."

"Yeah, I can imagine. I didn't realize there were so many sports-like events, and no offense to them, but that's not as interesting to me."

"Oh, full offense to them! Play fighting like that is just pointless."

"Your event was cool, though," Rick said. He'd intended to get closer to Raggest to learn more about Alger, but it was actually proving easy to talk to the guy. "I don't think I'm up for it yet, but I could see myself participating later."

"You saw? Yeah, that was awesome! I thought he had me at the end there, but..." Raggest eagerly began talking about the exact details of the event, occasionally pumping a fist in the air.

That proved much easier conversation, because whatever else was different between them, they could easily talk about lucrim. It was interesting to get Raggest's view on the matches from the previous night. His view of fighting was extremely straightforward, but that didn't mean it was inaccurate. There were actually a few nuances to the fight that Rick had completely missed while watching.

As they continued talking, Rick enjoyed finally getting a street-level view of the city. He'd read that most of South Africa's cities had been built in several steps during different eras, with major economic divides between them. Their current neighborhood was extremely upscale and could have been almost any city except for slightly different clothing and appearances.

But when he looked closer, he noticed signs of the nation's past. When they began passing residences, he saw that the gates around them were not merely for privacy: they were reinforced by lucrim and designed to endure a heavy assault. Some of them even had active aura barriers, which must have been incredibly expensive to maintain at all times.

Realizing that he was getting lost in his own thoughts, Rick decided to bring Raggest into them. "I've only been doing a little research on South Africa, so I'm still figuring things out. I've read that some people think the old government is still essentially unchanged, despite the changes to the legislature... what do they call it? Well, the law-making group."

"What?" Raggest stared at him as if he was speaking a different language.

"You know, the South African civil war?" Rick felt as though he was making some sort of massive political blunder and hastened on. "I mean, I don't know very much about it. But there was a big conflict between natives, colonists, and Nokans..."

He trailed off as he saw that Raggest was giving him an utterly blank look. Suddenly the other man shook his head sharply. "Look, I really don't get into politics. It bores the hell out of me."

"Ah. That's fair." In the awkward lull that followed, Rick sought for something else. "I've actually been wanting to go out myself, but I read that I'd get cheated if I tried to pay in lucrim. But if I want to turn dollars into... they're called rand, right? Do you know how to get a good exchange rate?"

"Exchange what?"

As he received another blank look, Rick felt an uneasy realization beginning to dawn on him. He played it off with a smile, but instead of simply enjoying the conversation, he began to feel out the younger man. Like it was a verbal battle, though he told himself that Raggest wasn't his opponent.

Not only did Raggest not care about the exchange rate, he claimed to be unaware of the concept of currencies aside from lucrim or dollars. Rick started to think that he was being mocked, yet the blank looks from the other man seemed so sincere. As Rick turned the conversation in different directions, he began to believe it.

When the subject was training or fighting, Raggest could speak at great length. Other entire disciplines seemed to be entirely empty for him, boring and irrelevant. It turned out that Raggest didn't listen to music and had never read a book that wasn't a training manual. He did watch movies, but only martial arts flicks with a heavy focus on lucrim. Rick thought that surely he must have other hobbies or interests, yet came up empty time and time again.

He knew that some people like that were mocked as lucrim-heads, but he found his attention turning inward. That word had been thrown at him back in school, and it was true to a degree. Before a few months ago, he'd had no idea that the five Peerless were still a relevant part of global politics. Though it was slightly disconcerting to talk to someone like Raggest, he wondered how many people felt that way about him.

Abruptly Raggest's face lit up with anticipation and he swiveled to the side. Rick had been paying less attention to their surroundings, but now saw that there was a park within the city. It was filled with squat trees he thought were called baobabs, but it was still obviously a park, with a few benches and trails near the street and denser areas within. Raggest marched straight into it.

"We're almost here, Rick! I heard that every day at dusk there's an old woman who offers a lucrim challenge to anyone tough enough to endure it!"

"Wait a minute." Rick jogged to catch up with him as they plunged into the mostly empty park. "So when you said we should take a break from normal training, you meant to do other training?"

"I mean, obviously. What else would be worth our time?" Before there was any chance to answer, Raggest hit him on the shoulder and thrust a hand forward. "There she is! Don't screw this up!"

Ahead of them, seated under a particularly thick baobab, was an old woman. For a horrible split second Rick thought it was Granny Whitney, then realized that it was patently obviously not. The woman was dark-skinned and wearing a colorful robe and sash, so clearly it was just past traumas flashing back. In front of her sat a table with a covered dark pot in the center, and little else.

"You two young men look like you're here for the challenge." She had a low voice with an accent Rick could only assume was local. Though she didn't rise when they approached, she smiled up at both of them. "But I will warn you, most fail immediately. Some even risk death."

"We're not afraid!" Raggest reached down to jab at the pot. "What's this challenge?"

"A rite of passage from a certain tribe that shall remain nameless. Through this challenge, young fighters prove themselves to be true warriors... if they can endure the wrath of nature." The old woman uncovered the pot and Rick immediately looked in, only to recoil: the interior was swarming with blue-colored ants. Raggest bent down to peer at them, much closer than Rick wanted to get.

"What are these?"

"Plasma ants, one of the few insects that can use lucrim. Instead of generating aura, they naturally create an ether venom within them. Humans are too large for it to kill... but their venom produces a pain that has reduced many a grown warrior to sobbing."

With deft fingers, the woman slid a stick into the edge, somehow retrieving only a single one of the ants. It ran along the length of her stick, snapping its mandibles as if enraged, but she calmly shifted the stick so that it never reached her fingers.

"For a fee of a mere 100 lucrim, you can test yourself against them. But it would be irresponsible of me to let you try without understanding the pain of their poison. First try a single bite... I must warn you that 90% of all who try give up after one bite. So I insist on receiving payment first."

"Sure, whatever. I've gotta try this!" Raggest pulled a marble from his pocket and dropped it on the table. It looked large enough to hold more than 100 lucrim and the woman snatched it up quickly. But before Raggest could reach out to the branch, Rick stepped in.

"You're really going to just do this?"

"Why not?" Raggest grinned at him. "Don't tell me you're scared of a few ants, are you? This might be our only chance to experience something like this!"

"But you know nothing about her. Just where did you hear this rumor? If someone wanted to assassinate you, do you know how easy it would be for them to set up something like this?"

"They'd be an idiot to assassinate me like this. I'll fight anyone who wants it!" Raggest again tried to reach for the stick, but Rick grabbed his arm. The old woman simply watched them in amusement, happy now that she had received her payment. Rick didn't think it was really an assassination, just that the whole thing might be some sort of scam.

Still, it was obvious that Raggest was going to do it no matter what. Rick decided that it would be safer for him to try first, since his defensive core had adapted to a few venomous snakes in the Refuge. He reached out to take the branch and braced his arm as the ant ran toward his fingers.

As soon as it reached his hand, the ant bit down hard. To his surprise, its tiny mandibles managed to poke through his defensive core, then he felt a stinging flame rush through his entire hand. His arm convulsed on instinct, sending the branch tumbling to the ground. For a moment, Rick's entire world was consumed with the white hot flame of pain coursing up his arm.

When he became aware again, his teeth were grinding against each other painfully. His hand still burned, but less so. He noticed that the old woman had caught the branch before it fell, and that Raggest was looking at him with a smile.

"So you wanted it for yourself, huh? That's the spirit the others are missing! I knew I liked you. Do the ants have enough poison for both of us?"

"Venom," the old woman said. When Raggest stared at her blankly, she sighed and flicked the ant back into the pot. "Plasma ants can bite a great many times. The challenge, of course, is not to be bitten a single time, but to stick your hand into the pot. Once you do, you can shake off the ants. But anyone who cries out from the pain or kills any of the ants is known to be weak."

"That's so badass." Raggest looked like he wanted to plunge his hand into the pot right then, but restrained himself. "You going to do this, Rick?"

Stupid as it seemed, Rick thought that he was. Now that he had experienced the pain, he was fairly confident that it couldn't be fatal. An untrained person might die from the shock of the pain, but though it was a worse sort of burning than he'd felt before, he knew pain. And this might be his only chance to receive the attack of a rare creature like the plasma ants.

So in the end, Rick plunged his hand into the pot. Instantly it was swarmed by ants, viciously biting him from all sides. The pain was nearly as bad as before, but this time he could concentrate through the pain. He let the Dark Blood Kettle rise along with his defensive core, trying to absorb the ether being injected into him. Though it wasn't easy, the ants obligingly helped by injecting yet more.

Rick grimaced, barely avoiding a cry of pain. His defenses had blunted it at first, but now the burning was beginning to penetrate. Dimly he realized that he was supposed to withdraw his hand, but he was so focused on trying to overcome the countless tiny attacks that he kept his hand inside. It was getting worse, and he didn't know how long he could last...

Suddenly his hand was wrenched from the pot, aura sliding down his arm. Rick was nearly blind from the pain, but he realized that there had been a tickling sensation running up his arm as the ants climbed higher. Not wanting to lose her precious insects, the old woman had removed his hand and swept the ants back into the pot.

Staggering away, Rick looked over his now clean hand. It was actually bleeding from some of the bites and his skin was flushed an unhealthy blue. The ache following the burning pain was growing, and he had a feeling that he'd be paying for that decision for a while... but it might have been worth it. His defensive core had very successfully absorbed the venom, so given enough time, he'd be able to defend against any similar attacks.

The woman was giving him a disapproving look, while Raggest whooped. Rick was too delirious to focus much, but he saw that Raggest tried next, practically punching his fist into the jar. He grimaced and growled as if he could intimidate the ants, finally pulling out his arm and shaking them back into the jar.

"The two of you..." She had been calm up to that moment, but now the old woman stared at them with something strange in her eyes. Like shock, but there was something else there. "You're strange foreigners, I can see that. I haven't seen something like that in years... you deserve something special."

"What's that?" Raggest asked. Rick was still busy massaging his hand and didn't really register.

"Just a little gift, something that was once given to the most promising warriors." The woman unrolled part of her sash and unveiled a pair of thin clay vials. "I don't suggest you take these now, not after enduring the plasma ants. But I think the two of you just might be able to make better use of them than this old woman."

With that, she gave them both an odd bow. Then she covered her pot, lifted her table, and began to hobble away, disappearing further into the park. Rick stared after her in disbelief, then realized that Raggest was already unstoppering his vial to drink.

"Raggest! She said not to do that!"

"Yeah, but the ants weren't so bad," he said, though he reluctantly closed the vial. "I suppose it's good to follow the procedures when it comes to training. This is yours, by the way."

Rick automatically took the vial he was handed but didn't let it distract him. "You were really going to just drink something you were given by a complete stranger?"

"Come on, Rick, live a little! Things will work out in the end. If those ants were any indication, I think this will definitely make us stronger."

Though Rick was skeptical, he had to admit that his defensive core had benefited from enduring the plasma ants. Raggest turned around and left the park, the entire trip having been for that sole purpose. Rick followed, marshaling his thoughts before he spoke again.

"At least talk to someone about this," Rick advised. "The potion she gave us could be addictive, or it could cause some illness only she can cure, or a lot of other things. At least figure out what a mysterious liquid is before drinking it."

"You really think a nice old lady like that was evil? Come on, Rick, don't be dumb."

"If you knew... no, that doesn't matter. Do you really make decisions like this all the time? How has that not backfired yet?"

Raggest looked back at him and shook his head. "You might not be a coward, Rick, but you need to be bolder about these things. If you're open to them, good things in life will come to you. If we'd listened to you, we'd never have experienced a great challenge! And even if she had been trying something against us, we'd have found some way to win. If you stay focused on your goal, you'll definitely make it."

Everything Rick had experienced suggested that the exact opposite was true. The world was cruel and unfair, without the slightest sense of justice in how it treated anyone. Yet Raggest was almost his age and somehow had never gotten a bitter lesson in that. Maybe he actually led a blessed life.

Or maybe Rick was just cursed.

"Since we're walking all the way back..." Rick had been planning to wait, but based on that experience, decided to go for it now. "How long have you been working with Alger?"

"Oh, like ten years. He scouted me when I was a teenager, but he didn't accept me right away. No, he made me prove myself first, because he cares whether or not people have the spark. But I beat every challenge he put in my way and exceeded his expectations, so now he's become my mentor."

"Your mentor? You didn't live anywhere near Branton, did you?"

"Admittedly, he wasn't there all that often, but he's given me some great gifts. And he always has the best ideas for training. My main offensive Lucore was designed by him: he said that he'd been waiting for the right person to give it to."

"Huh." Rick stared at the other man, searching for some hint to something he couldn't even name. "Does Alger ever... seem weird to you? Like he has some other motive?"

Raggest looked like the idea had never occurred to him. "What do you mean? He just wants to raise a generation of warriors with more fighting spirit! I mean, if you listened to him, he's clear about that. Do you have something against him? Alger told me that you weren't very cooperative, but he said you had a warrior's spirit. Actually, that's part of why I wanted to become friends."

Alger had practically sent Raggest to become friends? For a moment Rick was the one to stare blankly, trying to figure out what any of this could mean. Logically, Alger might be trying to lure him back under his control indirectly, since his direct requests had been rebuffed. Yet Rick couldn't help but think that he was missing something.

All too soon, they were in front of his hotel again. Raggest flipped his clay vial into the air and cheerfully caught it with one hand. "This was a cool evening, Rick! Man, I want to fight you, but I guess it wouldn't be a good fight yet."

"Yeah, I... have a lot of training to do." And thinking.

"Don't let me interrupt your training! But if you keep competing in the Junior Showdown, we should definitely hang out more often." With that, Raggest turned to go, his jog becoming a sprint that sent him blurring away down the street. There were no high-speed lanes here, cars and pedestrians simply zipping around one another chaotically.

They couldn't match the chaos of Rick trying to sort through his thoughts. It had grown dark and the night was cool, but his body still burned with residual pain. Worse than that, with unanswered questions.

Chapter 14: Hasty Preparations

Part of Rick was certain that something would go horribly wrong or he would get into trouble and lose his position. Yet H gave no sign of noticing the absence, and in the morning the swelling on his hand had entirely subsided. Rick was used to recovering quickly, but that surprised him.

Still, he decided that it would be best to be direct with his mentor. H might not want to be personal, but Rick thought he would appreciate being bluntly informed. So when he arrived for their afternoon sparring, Rick explained what had happened and showed him the clay vial.

"This... will need to be examined." H took it to his case of tools and sat down, spilling a drop onto a small plate. As he examined it, Rick shifted his weight nearby.

"So you agree it seems suspicious? It would be a hell of a coincidence, but I wasn't sure..."

"Suspicion is reasonable, but in this case inaccurate." After a strange pause, H set down the vial and shook his head. "I would need more time to analyze it fully, but I can tell that it isn't harmful. It's actually an exceptionally good elixir for improving growth."

"That she just handed out because she was impressed?"

"I don't know the old woman's motives. It may be that Raggest was simply lucky."

Rick thought it was more likely that Alger had discovered the opportunity and sent his protege to acquire it, but held his tongue. There was something a bit unusual about the way H was acting. After a pause, H pulled out a cigarette, started to light it with a finger, then thought better of it.

"This way." H headed out to the roof at a rapid pace, so Rick had no choice but to follow.

Once they arrived, however, there seemed to be no cause for haste. His mentor simply lit his cigarette and took several long drags on it, eyes unfocused on the horizon. Rick remained quiet for a while, then began repeating his exercises. Almost as soon as he'd started, H waved a hand back at him.

"This isn't some nonsense test, boy. I'm just thinking." H took a long drag on his cigarette, and when he spoke, the slow words came along with the smoke. "This vial, the encounter... meaningless coincidence. What matters is that Alger is moving more aggressively again. The timing is... not the best. Things are looking ugly in China for several reasons."

"Looking ugly?" Rick asked quietly. He hadn't heard H talk this way before and he didn't like it.

"If it was up to me, this would all be about the events. Just people at the peak of human achievement showing their skills. But there have always been those who like to play games with the competitions. Alger plays to amuse himself and it would be better to ignore him, but sometimes he gets others involved. This time, he's dragged in some of his rivals."

"That's a lot to deduce from one encounter."

"It wasn't just that." H finally turned just slightly to look at him, exhaling a long stream of smoke. "You need to understand, the immortals are a bit of a clique. They pay more attention to one another than to anyone else. The problem is, the money for your training is ultimately coming from one of them, and he's gotten disgruntled. If Alger is being active, maybe there's a good reason for it."

Rick blinked in surprise. "An immortal? I'm sponsored by an immortal?"

"Only indirectly. Authority is delegated to me, and I chose to take a risk on you. But now... he thinks his honor has been besmirched and he demanded that we throw everything we have toward winning."

"Win what?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm going to need to leave you in order to talk to him." H abruptly took a deep breath and converted his cigarette to ash, which he inhaled. "Here's what I suspect: when the Showdown heads to China, several immortals including your patron will make a bet. That bet will involve you, and much sooner than I'd intended to put you into a serious conflict."

"I understand." Rick didn't feel like he grasped the deeper conflicts, but the end result was comprehensible. "I can keep working on my instincts and footwork alone. Can you leave me some techniques to practice while you're gone?"

"That's one of the things I've been thinking about. It's too early, but I suppose it's time to give you something special. Come on, this is enough sight-seeing."

They headed back in, this time directly to H's room. He waved a hand and some sort of illusory barrier Rick had never noticed before disappeared, revealing a security safe. Bending down beside it, H inserted both a key and a complex weave of aura too quickly for Rick to catch. It opened briefly enough for H to remove something, then he dismissed all of it just as quickly.

"I thought I was jumping the gun getting these yesterday, but now I'm glad I did." H turned back to him, revealing that he held three crystalline spheres. Though they shimmered strangely and seemed to be made of some sort of ethereal material, all Rick could think was that they were exactly the size of the balls he'd been using to juggle. "These are a weapon. A physical focus for the Lucore you'll be developing. It's too early to give them to you, but I'll have to trust you to be responsible, because I might not be around when you need them."

"I can try to make that decision, but I'll need to understand their actual purpose first." Rick started to reach out for the spheres, but H shook his head.

"Not yet. These are the opposite of the training spheres I gave you: instead of disrupting your lucrima soul and distracting you, they'll reinforce your body and hold technique flows for you. It's a similar principle to the sorts of Lucores that are implanted in people, but these start out empty. It will be up to you to fill them."

That explained why Rick didn't feel any lucrim from them, just ether. Except it wasn't quite ether, either, something that was beyond his pay grade. In any case, that was irrelevant to what he needed now. "So I'm not supposed to use these until I can use aura to juggle the training spheres?"

"And not until you can do it well, while fighting. This isn't a joke. These things are powerful, but they're more fragile than they look. If they resonate the wrong way, on accident or not, they'll shatter. And believe me, I do not want to pay for another set of these."

"But you're giving them to me now... because of what you said about filling them?"

"Exactly." H picked up one of the spheres and raised it to eye level, looking through it. "Right now, these are hollow. The next phase of your training was going to be slowly building Lucores to be hosted inside them, but you're going to have to start now."

"Each one of those will hold a technique?" Rick began to get over the strangeness of it and thought back to their original conversation about training. "Let me guess... is one of them going to be a sensory technique? And another one something for ranged attacks?"

H grunted. "You're not stupid when you try. I have an exact technique in mind to improve your sensory abilities, but there's no time to teach it now. The ranged attacks... I haven't figured that out yet. It would have been easier to do the Midas Foundation, but that ship has sailed. Especially with our time limit."

"What about the third sphere?"

"That one is going to reinforce your greatest strength: your defensive core. Like a secondary Lucore, but instead of interfering, the two will support one another. Eventually this one could replace your original defensive core, but there's no time for that either. Anyway, this is the real reason I'm giving you these. If you want to have one ready, you need to start now."

They sat down and H explained how the process was supposed to work. For the first time he handed Rick one of the crystal spheres: it was slightly cool but generally unremarkable, like it was just a knickknack. Yet the process to use it as a Lucore proved to be surprisingly complex, building on the standard exercises with an entirely new layer of training. Manageable for him, yet it wouldn't have been imaginable several years ago.

"I think I understand the basics." Rick held the sphere carefully, trying to imagine it filling. "Instead of building a Lucore like it's a building, it's like starting with a grain of sand and adding layers of paint until it becomes a sphere."

"That's lazy anthropomorphism, but close enough." H took the sphere back from him and glowered at it, as if he could intimidate the inanimate object. "When the process is finally done, instead of being clear, the sphere will be pure gold. That's one of the reasons this technique is called the Triune Golden Spheres."

"Triune... so the fact that there are three of them isn't just because we need three techniques?"

"No, it's essential to making them work together. When you finally get it, they'll rotate around one another and your aura will just keep them spinning, similar to juggling. Except unlike juggling, you have three and only three. Once you have all three techniques adequately developed, to advance you'll need something more drastic. Perhaps then we'll talk about dissolving some other cores or remaking your foundation."

Rick didn't want to reopen those conversations, but fortunately H was too busy to argue much. Instead he decided to focus on a more immediate question. "I'm not going to be actually juggling these, right? Will I have to be holding them in my pockets or something?"

"If you don't wreck the technique, they'll be inside your soul." H jabbed him in the chest with one finger, then dropped the spheres into his hands. "Think you can handle all this?"

"I understand the technique, but the amount of lucrim that will be required to build a new defensive core layer by layer..."

"I had plans for that too. It may be too early, but you'll just have to tough it out." H walked to the fridge in his room and opened it... to reveal nothing but glass bottles filled with a glowing golden liquid. "This is something you can't talk about, because it's not available to the public. It's a special formulation of elixir and serum called Formula T, and what matters to you is that it's perfectly suited to developing the Triune Golden Spheres."

If it worked similar to philosopher's elixir, Rick was staring at a fortune in lucrim, more than he needed. Yet he had barely begun to formulate questions before H spoke again.

"The problem with this is that it's rough on the body and on the soul. Those supplements I've had you taking? Most of them were just to toughen you enough to take the Formula T. Unfortunately, you're not quite ready. So when you first take it, you'll feel a strange buzz, and there may be a few other side effects. Now, what's absolutely essential is that you always take the exact amount prescribed. Take too much or skip one drink and your progress will suffer for it."

"I... see. Perhaps we'd better go over all the details, then."

H found a sheet and scribbled down a little information, promising to send him a clearer schedule later. It seemed simple enough, just one cup every eight hours, but the fact that this "Formula T" had so many potential risks left Rick nervous. But there was no time to think about that, H was turning to him with a serious expression.

"I need to make arrangements. I won't be available if there's an emergency, so keep to yourself. In two weeks someone - me or somebody else - will come back to get you when the Showdown moves to China. Understand?"

Though Rick wanted to ask about all the other details, H was obviously done talking. "I understand. I'll try to exceed your expectations when we next meet."

"Hmph. You'll have exceeded them if you don't kill yourself somehow." With that, H turned away and began a whirlwind of activity. He didn't seem to need to pack anything, just grabbed a few of his supplies and then dragged the entire invisible safe along with him. Rick stayed out of the way, intending to say farewell, but H stormed out too quickly.

Suddenly he was alone with three crystal spheres, a supply of dangerous elixir, and nothing to do for two weeks but train. Rick found himself smiling.

Chapter 15: Riding the Wave

The first time Rick took the Formula T, he was more than a little anxious. It started with a flow of strength through his system, similar to philosopher's elixir. He quickly sat down and focused on the exercises he'd practiced, drawing the flood of new power into a single point.

But instead of gathering it within himself, which immediately made his aura recoil, he held one of the crystal spheres in his lap. He watched it at first, but found that was only distracting him. Instead he closed his eyes and turned all his new ability to focus toward a single objective. The first step in developing the Triune Golden Spheres was the most difficult, and if he failed, it would set back his development at least a day.

When he thought he was finished, he kept his eyes closed for a while, not wanting to see if his sense for it was right. But he was too restless to sit still, so he opened his eyes and looked down at the sphere.

A spark of gold gleamed in the center of the crystal. Rick breathed a sigh of relief and brought it closer to his face to examine. It felt a bit strange: though it was slightly linked to his lucrima soul, it felt separate, like the few times in his life when he'd had a Lucore extracted. But what mattered was that the heart of it was stable. Now he could layer more and more lucrim onto that spark until the technique was ready.

Curious how it would appear, he opened his portfolio and made sure it had registered the new Lucore. It appeared in a new block in his portfolio:

[Triune Golden Spheres: 250

- Defensive Sphere: 250

- Second Sphere: 0

- Third Sphere: 0]

Apparently the technique was already registered by the app, even down to knowing that the second and third spheres were missing. Rick smiled appreciatively and found himself tossing and catching the sphere before realizing that was reckless. He carefully set it down in the plush case next to the other two.

Maybe it was just the fact that he'd succeeded, but Rick found himself flush with energy. He headed into the main training room and tried to do his footwork, but he was too pumped for it. Instead he ended up shadow-boxing the air, using controlled Bunyan's Steps to flash around the chamber and fight imaginary opponents. Despite having tried to pour all his new strength into the Lucore, he still felt strong, overflowing with lucrim.

Rick ended up leaning against a wall, gasping for breath and laughing for no reason. He realized that he was letting it get ahead of him and summoned all the mental discipline he could to calm down. The rush from the Formula T was clearly a bit too much for him and he understood why it would be unwise for someone to drink it without preparation.

He wanted to try it again to see if he could master the effects, but controlled himself. Now that he had started taking it, he needed to follow the strict regimen of every eight hours or it could damage his growth. So Rick settled down and forced himself to go through all his other training.

As the days passed, Rick threw himself into training like never before. Once he got past the initial rush of Formula T, he found that it left him with a shocking capacity for concentration. When he attempted to rotate the rubber balls with aura while moving, they circled easily. He could juggle the resistance spheres too, their perturbations no longer seeming so disruptive. Doing both at once was still beyond him, but he continued mastering both components.

Every eight hours he got another rush of lucrim and sank all of it into the crystal sphere, eagerly watching the golden speck grow into a small sphere. The visible rate of growth slowed as it grew larger, but he could still see it expanding.

Its growth was almost shocking every time he checked his portfolio. He decided he would have to ask H if the numbers didn't tell the whole story, because some days the listed value of the sphere grew by nearly 1000 lucrim. Or perhaps that was just the result obtained from using top tier skills and supplements.

Rick became obsessed with that number, striving to reach 1000 lucrim in growth on a daily basis, then more. He looked back to calculate the average and then his new obsession became getting the overall average above 1000 as well. That proved more difficult, but he threw himself into it relentlessly, eagerly treating each dose of Formula T like it was a battle.

He maintained all his other disciplines, which seemed dull by comparison, but he managed to focus on them anyway due to his formula-induced crystal clear focus. The supplements tasted horrible, but he forced them down because he knew they were keeping the Formula T from overwhelming his system. Even philosopher's elixir was no longer the rush it had once been, but he drank what he had been given so that the growth of his other cores didn't slack. The slow progress was boring compared to the Triune Golden Spheres, but he needed everything he could get.

For days Rick didn't go outside, barely even looked outside. There was nothing but the desperate attempt to increase his average so that he would be ready for the fight. No, the incredible results were worth it for their own sake, because it was a rush like few training sessions before.

One day, he received a text from Melissa. It was followed by a drawing of him with a duck's head, clearly a reference to one of their old jokes. Rick laughed, but then he paused.

As he looked back through his phone, he realized that he hadn't been texting Melissa as regularly as he once had. He'd never ignored her, but he hadn't sent articles or many texts of his own like usual. In part because he hadn't read any articles lately. Rick sat back and slowly came to the realization of just how much he had been neglecting.

The most obvious was that he didn't remember if he'd been eating enough. He'd forced down some tasteless nutrient bars, but it might have been most of a day since the last one. When he looked at his training, he noted that his restless shadow boxing was good for improving his high speed footwork, but he hadn't progressed as much retraining his base instincts.

Was the drawing just another joke, or was it hiding something else? Rick obsessively read back over Melissa's recent texts, feeling a sense of guilt.

Leaving aside training for part of an hour, Rick spent a while photoshopping his sister punching a duck. It was silly and useless and that was exactly the point. But the number of emoticons she sent back - a truly excessive number - made it feel worth it. More importantly, she texted back right away and they chatted about anything and everything, making sure to catch up.

Though their conversation was encouraging and they scheduled a video chat for later, Rick found himself restless once it was over. He resolved to master his next training cycle better, but when he started to get out another bottle of Formula T, he realized that it was too early. Over three hours too early.

Wincing, Rick set it back down and forced himself to the far opposite side of their suite. He'd been ecstatic over his progress, but now he understood why H had said he wasn't actually ready. Though he might be strong enough to make use of the Formula T, he was still too weak to drink it without consequences. If he wasn't careful, he could easily overdose like a power addict.

So as Rick continued working over the next several days, he forced himself to balance training with other mental activities. He made sure to reply to Melissa frequently, but also explored any curiosity that entered his mind. One day he spent almost an hour reading up on plasma ants, trying to figure out which tribe the old woman had referenced. It must have been a tribal secret, however, because he couldn't pin down anything specific.

In the hours when he couldn't train and didn't have anything to occupy him, Rick found himself growing paranoid. Melissa mattered more to him than anyone in the world, yet he'd almost neglected her. He thought that he was capable of handling the power, but what if he couldn't objectively evaluate himself?

It seemed like H definitely knew what he was doing: all his preparations had been effective and he'd warned Rick that he wasn't quite ready. But that didn't mean that Rick could necessarily handle it. Yet with his mentor gone, Rick wasn't sure who else to turn to.

That eventually brought him to Lisa. She'd replied to his email at some point, polite overall but not exactly inviting further conversation. It bothered him, and part of his mind said that it would be bad to contact her when he needed something. Then again, she was the only professional he knew...

After going back and forth for a while, he started writing an email. He almost deleted it, but saw that it was still hours until his next training session. So he cut out some of the stuff he thought was too personal and just told her the basics about the Formula T in formal terms. Most likely it would interest her, he hoped. Eventually he sent it and tried to forget about it.

Less than an hour later he got a response: "Can I see a sample?"

There was no real way to send her one, and Rick thought that might be violating H's trust. Still, he could definitely send her a picture, so he did so. Surprisingly quickly Lisa requested a video, so in the end, despite his nervousness, they set up a call. To make it clear that everything was strictly professional, Rick had both a bottle and a glass prepared.

"Hi, Rick." Lisa saw the liquid and her eyes narrowed. "Can you hold it closer? Swirl it around in the glass and let me see how it moves." She went on to ask him several questions about the taste, texture, and effects. When she was finally finished, she was silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

"Is everything okay?" Rick asked. Lisa gave an odd shrug.

"I don't know what it is, but that's ordinary for proprietary drugs. The questions were just trying to learn what I could about the basic properties. Have you been following the training regimen exactly? I know you need strength, but trying to rush..."

"I've been following every instruction exactly."

"That's good. The more potent the compound, the greater the risk of a negative reaction." Lisa sighed and smiled at him, the expression transforming her face. "I'm glad you're okay, Rick. I worried that being in the Showdown might be bad for you, since it... well, you don't need me to judge you."

"No, I understand." Rick rubbed his face roughly, then set the glass and bottle out of his sight. "I've been pretty obsessive over the last few days. I think the Formula T improves concentration, but it also gives me tunnel vision. Good for training, but it's left me feeling a little unbalanced."

"Rick... my concern might be unwelcome, but please listen. Be careful which events you participate in and don't take any serious risks. I don't have any Showdown clients, but some of them talk about the elite levels of competition. Those can be brutal on a person."

The obvious concern was touching, though it brought up more tangled feelings within him. Rick settled for nodding. "I know. But my sponsor is completely clear about how he wants to earn money on me, and he's been fair so far."

"Who exactly is your sponsor?"

Though Rick explained what he knew about H, when he started talking about the unknown immortal who was his ultimate sponsor, Lisa began to frown again. He winced in anticipation of a lecture, but instead she simply shook her head. Her expression looked more sad than anything.

"It's good that you're going to find out more, Rick. Once you get a name, look him up, especially his history of past contestants in the Showdown. Make sure that your interests are actually aligned."

"What do you mean? They want me to be in peak condition for the competition."

"It's not that simple." Lisa hesitated awkwardly, but when he gestured for her to go on, she marshaled herself. "It's a common misunderstanding that being in peak physical condition means you're perfectly healthy, but the question is: peak condition for what? Their goal is to absolutely maximize your performance over the course of your athletic career. It's not to make sure you're comfortable in old age."

Rick frowned as he considered it. "You think they'd give me supplements that would harm me in the long term?"

"No, I'm not even talking about that. It's fundamental to the work. Some of my clients have wrecked lower backs and it's common for athletes to destroy their knees by the time they're 30 years old. Not because they trained wrong or had an accident, but because the techniques that use up your body are more powerful than those that hold back to preserve it."

"I guess I understand that, but... what about the immortals? Or the godweights and other world powers? I don't think they're limping around suffering from centuries of injuries."

"Because they have obscene amounts of money and have improved their bodies in a fundamental way." Lisa took a deep breath and tried to smile at him. "I'm not saying you need to quit, Rick. You're probably better able to endure it than most because of your defensive core. But that alone might not be enough... do you have any other supportive Lucores?"

Though he hesitated for a moment, Rick decided to tell her about the Dark Blood Kettle. To his surprise, Lisa was extremely interested in the topic. Apparently there were various differences between traditional and modern techniques, plus she knew much of the history of Native techniques and how they'd been adapted across the United States.

According to her, many modern techniques were clearly superior within a specific range, but lacked subtle minor advantages. His defensive core probably wouldn't keep him from getting sick or getting repetitive stress injuries, but the Dark Blood Kettle might. She emphasized repeatedly that it alone wouldn't keep him from ruining his body in competition, but she seemed relieved.

Talking with Lisa proved enjoyable, though he shouldn't have been surprised, considering how easily they'd spoken before. He didn't ask her about her dating life and there were occasional moments of awkwardness, but he realized how much he didn't want to lose her as a friend.

Beyond any direct help she offered, he was just glad to talk to someone with such broad interests. Unlike H, who was all business, or Raggest, who only cared about training, Lisa could speak intelligently on far more topics than he could. In a way he was surprised that she wanted to talk to him at all, but she seemed to enjoy the conversation as well.

But in the end Lisa glanced down to the corner of her screen and winced. "Rick... this has used more time than I really had. It's been fun, but I need to go."

"Sure, I understand." Abruptly he realized that he didn't want to let it end there. "Listen, I've been missing that specialized serum you created. Is there any way I could buy some?"

"Possibly. I've been improving it since we last talked about that and I actually have some sales, though it's all small batches. But do you even have an address I could send to?"

"Uh... no. But we're headed to China next and we should be there for a month, so I can send you an address then. About payment... I'm happy to pay the normal price, but would you want to see some of the Formula T? Could you learn something from analyzing it?"

Lisa stared for just a moment, then gave a bright smile. "Check to make sure you won't get in trouble, but... that would be really great, Rick. Normally I can't analyze top tier supplements without paying huge fees, so I've been struggling to improve in some ways."

"Great. My schedule might be unstable because of some stuff coming up, but I'll definitely get in touch as soon as I can."

Soon after, the call ended and Rick was left staring at the blank screen. It had been nice... yet he was still kicking himself for not pursuing Lisa when he had a chance. There was a chance that she'd break up with Trenton or whoever, but it would be shitty to think that way. No, he needed to be a good friend or he'd ruin it.

His gaze floated down to the date and time. There was still an hour until his next scheduled training session, but Rick got up and began focusing on his footwork. If he was pushing himself to the limit for this, he wanted to get every scrap of benefit he could.

Chapter 16: Incomplete Golden Spheres

When local news began to report that the Showdown was leaving, Rick should have been more concerned. He wasn't sure how H had paid for the hotel, but if they started demanding a bill from him, there was no way he could afford the whole training suite. Occasionally he entertained ideas about what he would do if he was just abandoned there.

Yet ultimately it didn't change much about his life. Rick packed up his suitcase and everything else they owned in the hotel, and otherwise just focused on his training. He'd found his limits for layering more on the Triune Golden Spheres every day, so it was just a matter of how many days he had. Otherwise, all he could do was continue focusing on polishing whatever skills he could.

Fortunately, two days after the Showdown left, he heard a helicopter on the roof. H swept into the chamber soon after, gesturing to him. "We're running late. Say goodbye to South Africa and get moving."

"I feel like I never got to say hello to it." Rick grabbed his suitcase and was ready to go, which he thought impressed H just a little bit. As they headed out, he looked over the city one last time. "How often does the Showdown return to a location? Will we be back?"

"Not in the near future. Five nations host a month every year, other major powers host roughly once every three years, and everyone else just hopes. Within each country, different regions bid to host a Showdown, so only the biggest cities get repeats."

Though Rick stared out over the rooftops and wondered at opportunities lost, H was obviously impatient. They walked up the ramp, the helicopter blades already beginning to spin. This time the bay door didn't stay open, closing before they lifted off the ground.

Once more, the strange aura descended, muffling the sound of the helicopter blades. The power of the movement also seemed distant, a surreal sense of being separated from the world. Rick wasn't certain if he hadn't noticed the first time or if his senses had improved. H walked to the opposite side of the main chamber, turned to face him, and folded his arms.

"Here's what's going to happen: you're going to participate in the Unlimited Defensive Ring, as planned. If you don't distinguish yourself, your patron will be severely displeased. But if you do, that just means you have to participate in a private contest between the proteges of several immortals. I hope you've been preparing enough, because if this doesn't go well, it will reflect poorly on both of us."

"Are we going to fight in here?" Rick asked. H scowled at nothing in particular.

"We can test a thing or two while flying, but otherwise there's too much risk you'll clumsily tear a hole in the side. No, let's start with seeing your portfolio."

Rick nodded and started to get his phone, but H simply brought up a screen to display it.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 12th

Ether Score: 449

Lucrim Generation: 89,350

Enhanced Generation: 100,850

Current Lucrim: 17,200]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3700 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 17,600 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 11,500

- Defensive Sphere: 11,500

- Second Sphere: 0

- Third Sphere: 0

Offensive Lucore: 13,800 (Lv VII)

Defensive Lucore: 37,600 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 15,900 (Lv VIII)

Graham's Stake: 26,025 (Lv IV)

Demonic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 800 (Stage I)

Demon Mass: 500 (N/A)

Total Lucrim: 115,425

Enhanced Total: 126,925]

H stared at the numbers for longer than before, then cast Rick an odd glance. "Have you been taking the Formula T more frequently than prescribed?"

"I never once took it a minute early." He decided not to mention how tempting it had been at times, especially since so much seemed to be on the line. After staring at him for a while, H accepted it with a low grunt.

"Then it looks like your compatibility is better than expected. Let me see the sphere." When Rick presented it, nearly filled by the burning golden light within, H gave an approving scowl. "That's adequate. I negotiated the order of events to buy a little extra time, which should be just enough. The technique will be weakened without three different spheres, but it will be better than nothing."

"You said we could test a thing or two in here?"

"We might as well see how far you've backslid on your footwork. No juggling this time. Let's spar in here, but touching the sides of the helicopter counts as failure."

Rick nodded nervously and raised his fists. Fighting in such tight quarters... should have been more difficult. Yet as he used Bunyan's Steps to flash around H, he realized that all his work on advanced footwork had significantly improved his ability to use the technique precisely. Occasionally he nearly rammed himself into one of the walls, but he was able to successfully move in the small space.

Until a foot hooked his and Rick slammed into the floor. H withdrew his leg and stared down at him. "Less adequate than your progress with the Triune Golden Spheres, but not as bad as I expected. I want to test your ability to multi-task, but not here."

"It's going to be a long flight, isn't it?" Rick picked himself up, chin a little sore from hitting the floor despite the fact that he wasn't injured. "Is there more we can do to prepare?"

"I'm going to start teaching you the final step in actually using the Spheres. Even if you've completely bungled all the other preparations, you're going to need to use them for real in the Showdown. That means they can't be floating around in the air."

"You said they'd be in my lucrima soul? Honestly, I really have no idea how that's going to work."

"These spheres are extremely carefully built to be partially physical, partially pure lucrim." H gestured for him to sit down and dropped into a cross-legged position without unfolding his arms. "It's the same principle as an aura leech, which seems to burrow into your body but actually exists in your portfolio. The difference, aside from not draining you, is that you need to be in control of these."

"So I'm going to draw these in somehow?" Rick pulled out the three spheres from their case and observed them carefully. They felt as real as the floor underneath him, but he assumed it worked somehow. "What's the first step?"

"You've already taken the first several. But now it's time for your juggling to pay off."

H instructed him in the new technique, which was really just a variation on the old one. Rick focused on letting his aura pulse in a circular flow, then carefully picked up the spheres with his aura and sent them spinning. Unlike with juggling, he made them spin horizontally, but with his full focus on them, it wasn't so difficult.

There was a strange imbalance, since two of the spheres were empty and the third brimmed with lucrim. H told him not to get used to it, since his goal was balance, but for now they had no choice. One step at a time, Rick worked his way through the obstacles preventing him from mastering the technique.

He was fairly certain that he would get it working by the time they arrived in China. But he could only hope that it would be enough.

~ ~ ~

By the time they arrived, they had finished what training they could and Rick was simply going over the necessary steps in his head. When H entered the cockpit to make final adjustments, Rick pressed up against one of the small windows to try to see what he could of their destination.

What struck him first was that the urban sprawl he saw below was surprisingly small. He knew China had plenty of cities with more than a million people, but the buildings he could see were far smaller than Branton. Could part of the city be underground? Was he misunderstanding some sort of unusual buildings as forests and mountains?

Strangest of all, Rick didn't see anything that looked like it might be a stadium, or at least certainly not a modern stadium. The largest buildings visible were a cluster of multi-story buildings to the east and what looked like a large temple complex to the west.

It was all a mild puzzle... until he saw tendrils of darkness rising from the ground. Directly toward them. Rick flinched back, looked again, and then hastily moved to where H stood.

"H, are you seeing this?"

"That's the landing gear," he answered without even looking. "Traditional Chinese design."

"Since when are tentacles traditionally Chinese?"

At that moment the helicopter blades stilled and something wrapped around them. Rick staggered a step as the entire vessel lurched, pulled out of the sky and toward the ground. Outside one of the small windows, he saw a line of darkness, more like pitch black ink than a three-dimensional object. Yet H still seemed completely calm, so Rick did his best not to react.

They were pulled to the ground, then sideways. There was a final crunch of steel on concrete, then the inky tentacles pulled away, leaving them somewhere dark. Rick peered into the shadows... and saw a neon sign announcing they were on floor B3. A parking garage?

"We need to finish your evaluation, then take final steps." H walked past him as the ramp came down, though there wasn't enough space for it to fully lower itself. Rick followed him, glancing around the parking garage but finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"Just what was traditionally Chinese about that?" he demanded as they walked out. H cast him a scornful glance.

"Not human Chinese. Welcome to the city of Odiyu."

As they left the parking garage, Rick began to understand. There were a few cars, but even more lucrim vehicles that flew. Some of those looked much more Chinese to him, either traditional constructs of gilded paper or modern planes of all sleek white curves. When they departed the parking garage, an attendant handed them a chit.

An attendant permanently bonded to a demon. The markings around his eyes were different, including a tattoo on his forehead, but as Rick understood what he saw, he realized the truth about Odiyu.

Outside, they walked on an ordinary enough street, but many of the people he saw were permanently bonded to demons. He even saw a few of the greater demons physically manifested, though of course they took forms that were much less like Western demons. A few wore clothing he would have called traditionally Chinese... but many others wore clothes of shifting ink that he suspected was just as traditional for them.

H hailed a taxi, which arrived driven by a man Rick at first thought was permanently bonded. Then he realized that the man merely had a high number of demonic tattoos covering his body. They should have conferred great power... but judging from how his generation rate felt like 10,000 lucrim or less, Rick thought that most of the bonds must have been overdrawn.

Once they were in the back of the taxi, Rick finally looked over to his mentor for answers. "Odiyu is a demon-controlled city?"

"No. Odiyu is a demon city, and the human reflection came into being to feed from the real city."

"Will the crowd be demons, then? We can't actually fight in the demon realm, not in any meaningful way."

"I'd forgotten you had that incident while working with the GLA." H regarded him coolly, then nodded. "Yes, the audience will be primarily demons watching from their realm. As their realm is filled with aura, they will be much more interested in physical applications of lucrim. That's one of the reasons that your... rudimentary style has a chance during this Showdown."

"Yeah, I get it." Rick sat back, momentarily enjoying how comfortable the seat was, then he recoiled from it. "Does this happen a lot? I didn't think there were many human cities based on demonic cities."

"It depends on a nation's relationship with the demon realm. It's very rare in the USA, and not common here. Siberia and the Nokan Empire are... conducting their own affairs. But we often visit a German demon-based city, or at least a European one. You didn't think the Demonic Legionnaire was called that for show, did you?"

Truthfully, Rick had barely thought about her at all, beyond being Europe's Godweight. Steering clear of demons had always worked well for him, so he wasn't sure how he felt about the knowledge that they had far more control in other countries. Then again, he also thought back to Bftgage and Ythsil... he'd had no contact with the two demon siblings other than their increasing bond, given the difficulty of communicating between realms.

Having spent his budget of explanations, H refused to talk until they arrived at their hotel. It was much larger and nicer than would be expected for a town the size of Odiyu, but that made sense if it was mostly there to host human visitors to demonic Odiyu. He was surprised by how many people with combat Lucores he saw until he realized that this must be one of the hotels the Showdown contestants used.

Then, across the lobby, he saw James Travis. The man's suit was as impeccable as always, but he brushed imaginary dust off his lapel and smirked. Had they been close enough, presumably James would have mocked, but H checked them in and pulled him onward.

This time they were housed in rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, near a gym they had to share with other fighters. Yet Rick saw his room was ether-reinforced and it looked like they could schedule hours to claim the gym, so that would work fine. He'd barely set down his suitcase when H appeared at the door.

"I booked us the first hours. Let's go and see just how far short you fall."

Sighing, Rick accepted that he wasn't going to get to rest just yet. They headed out to the gym, which was appointed with a variety of machines, even a stationary exercise bike that had a serious lucrim engine attached. H ignored all of those and just walked out to the combat mat, then folded his arms.

"Show me what you learned that isn't measured by your portfolio."

Rick had had the presence of mind to grab his equipment, so he began. He could keep the rubber balls spinning with his aura while fighting H, even when the older man began to actually attack. It took him off guard, since for so long H had only defended, but Rick managed to adapt without dropping the rubber balls at all. After pursuing him for long enough, H grunted dissatisfaction.

Next Rick showed how easily he could control the resistance spheres, his aura almost entirely smooth despite their buzzing efforts to disrupt him. H seemed marginally more accepting of this. But when Rick tried to keep the resistance spheres juggling, he found himself falling back repeatedly. He could focus enough to resist the spheres, or enough to hold his own in combat, but not both at once.

"It will do." H finally unfolded his arms, leaned back against a no smoking sign, and lit up a cigarette. "You still need to master actually using the Triune Golden Spheres, but you're not terrible at that, so you have time. What we need to do is emergency preparation to get you up to snuff."

"All of this hasn't been emergency preparation?" Rick asked. "I've done days of training that pushed me to the limit before, and they helped, but I don't think they'd improve me enough to matter in the Showdown."

"Not training. You're training about as hard as you can handle. But you have other serious shortcomings that provide low hanging fruit. All we need to do is pluck those and you'll be far more prepared for the coming competition."

"What's that?"

"Come this way." H took another drag on his cigarette, then gestured for him to follow. "This won't take long. We'll get it taken care of tonight, then you can rest up for tomorrow."

Still a bit puzzled, Rick followed H as they went through a back corridor and took an elevator down. As far as he knew, there weren't very many ways to instantly increase your power. Getting implanted with a powerful Lucore, of course, but that was extraordinarily expensive and not a good idea for a competition with a high skill level. Maybe there were secret legendary techniques he didn't know about.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, it kept going. Rick wasn't too surprised to see the number go to basement levels, but he hadn't expected the small hotel to have six basement levels. The doors opened and he realized that he might be right: the other side was a bare stone corridor, not the plush carpeting of the hotel.

"The barrier between realms varies over the world, depending on many factors. But in a place like Odiyu, of course they need reliable methods to get across. They're providing this as a courtesy to Showdown contestants, but don't use it without permission."

"We're going into the demon realm?" His question sounded stupid when they reached the end of the corridor and entered a room with a tear through space in the center of it. The surreal blackness on the other side was unquestionably the demon realm. "Why?"

"To get a demonic bond, of course. The fact that you're lacking a substantial one is a huge mark against you compared to all the other Showdown contestants."

Rick took a step back and raised his hands. "Wait a minute. That's not an accident, I chose not t-"

"Don't be a coward. Let's go." With that, H grabbed his shirt and threw him through the portal, into demonic Odiyu.

Chapter 17: Odiyu

The world twisted around him and Rick was briefly sick to his stomach, but his body remembered the strange transition. It was no longer as substantial as in the human realm, more like some kind of dense liquid. He immediately struggled to move his aura, pushing against the resistance until he had covered himself in the defensive barrier that Damian had taught him.

Beside him, H adopted a similar shield. But what surprised Rick was that his mentor took longer to gather his aura, and the result wasn't as efficient. Maybe he simply had no fear of any mindless demons and no need to hurry, but Rick wondered if his mentor was actually less experienced in the demon realm. Not many humans spent an entire month trapped there without relief, after all.

"See? You managed just fine." H turned away from him and began walking away from the portal. "Now come along so we can get this done quickly."

"No." Rick saw that they stood atop some sort of ziggurat and H was already moving down one of the staircases. Other humans were emerging from various doors in the structure and moving into the grand city, but Rick forced it out of mind and turned around.

The portal still glowed behind him, showing the stone corridor. But when he tried to step toward it, the air became thicker until he struggled to move. He didn't think it was a binding, more that the path between realms itself resisted him. Even with a free-standing portal, moving between the two might not be easy, but he thought he could figure it out.

"What are you doing?" H appeared behind him, face set in an amused glower. "You can't be afraid, not after what you've experienced. I thought you'd want to get rid of that miserable little bond and get a proper one."

"It has nothing to do with fear!" Rick realized that he sounded defensive and refocused, trying to explain himself in purely rational terms. "Demonic bonds are designed for humans so they overdraw lucrim and then pay the penalties. In the Showdown, I'll need to use absolutely everything available to me. That will mean debt, and probably increasing amounts of it."

H snorted. "Don't be a child. You need to spend money to make money, especially here. I guarantee that you could get a solid bond and instantly increase your generation rate by 10,000 lucrim, maybe 20,000. There is absolutely nothing else in the world that can gain you power so fast."

"Are you going to pay off every single lucrim I withdraw through the bond?"

"Of course not. That would destroy what little profit you earn me."

"I'm here to earn a profit too. I'm not going to take such a risk with no return."

"This is absurd." H folded his arms and stared at him, not in anger, but in simple bafflement. "Demonic bonds are a part of life, boy. This is nothing but paranoia."

"We were driven here by someone who was enslaved because they couldn't pay back their demonic bond. Unless you're going to tell me that the Chinese demons are all about freedom and happiness? Do they introduce fully bonded humans to worlds of socialist bliss?"

"They may not be capitalist on this side either, but demonic organizations do not exist to give out charity. Obviously they want to gain an advantage, but that doesn't mean you can't gain an advantage as well. Do you think I'm going to get you some cut rate back alley bond? It will be a respectable one from one of the major sects here."

"That doesn't matter." Rick had been willing to hear out H, but the other man didn't seem interested in engaging with his arguments. He closed his eyes and settled on his path. "Uncle Frank always said that they'll get you with the fine print, and from what I've seen, he was right. Getting a demonic bond would just be irresponsible."

"Then your 'Uncle Frank' is a fool. You think demonic bonds are a path to poverty, but that kind of thinking will keep you in poverty. Grow up and finish this or you won't have a chance."

The insult to his uncle stung, but Rick set it aside and just stared back at his mentor. "Are you going to force me?"

"Of course I wouldn't." H started to draw a cigarette, paused as he remembered where they stood, then muttered something under his breath. "I think this is childish and paranoid, but I'd never force you. But you should know that I think this is irresponsible and it vastly decreases your chances of succeeding in the Showdown. If you go on to fail me because of this, I won't hesitate to cut you loose."

"That's fair. It's all I can ask."

"It's too much to ask, but I can see you're going to be stubborn. Very well." Turning away, H began heading down the stairs again. "Since I took us through the portal before checking if you were an absolute imbecile, we shouldn't waste the opportunity. I'm going to conduct some business of my own. You can... come to your senses, I suppose."

With that, H pushed off the stairs, floating directly into the city. Rick was again left alone in the demon realm, though the circumstances were entirely different. Despite the fact that he stood in a developed city directly next to the portal back, this almost felt worse than being abandoned.

For a moment Rick thought he had absolutely no purpose there. He just stood on the stair, letting himself finally take in the environment. Just like the demonic side of Branton, the ground was pitch black and the sky a pallid white. The mists that floated from the ground were far thicker, but they floated through him in the same way.

The rest, however, was far from the same. Instead of a cluster of buildings mimicking human ones, the city appeared to be a giant cube. His eyes had first seen the buildings on the ground, but in the distance he could see great walls which had broad balcony-like buildings jutting from them. Overhead, skyscrapers stretched down from the blocks overhead... groundscrapers? Rick could see demons traveling between the sides of the cube on strange clouds, but otherwise couldn't understand why it would be built in such a way.

As he headed down the stairs, Rick realized that his presence wasn't pointless after all. Now that he was properly in the demon realm, he should take the chance to talk to Bftgage and Ythsil. They would be half-way across the world, but he was fairly confident that demons had the equivalent of phones.

Making the call might be the hardest part. Though Damian had never taken his needle back, Rick didn't carry it with him at all times, so he had no secure way to pay with his blood. Still, Odiyu was clearly a far more developed city than demonic Branton, so he might be able to find a way. After checking his aura was secure again, Rick pushed off the stairs and drifted like a spirit.

From above, the city was surprisingly beautiful. Many of the buildings were lit with soft green light that suffused the shadows with something more like life. Instead of conventional roads, it had long spiraling ramps traveled by lines of spherical vehicles. They reminded him of strings of pearls, but they undulated like serpents along the roads for reasons he couldn't determine.

Rick landed on one of the ramps, instinctively trying to pull himself back to avoid the next string of cars, even though they would pass through him. There seemed to be a lot of powerful demons here, so they could see him, and potentially be alarmed by a human appearing in their path without warning. If there were public nuisance laws, he didn't want to run afoul of them.

For a time Rick just sat on the edge of the pathway, sometimes staring at the city and sometimes managing to pick out individual buildings. The signs were mostly written in Chinese, or at least a language that looked like Chinese to him, so he had to guess about their purpose.

More importantly, he wanted the moment to make sure that his aura was stable. But to his surprise, remaining in the demon realm felt entirely effortless. It wouldn't be so easy in a month, of course, but it was nothing like it had been before. Either he'd developed after surviving his first experience, or his growth since the last visit had made a difference.

As he watched the demons more closely, he saw that there were many other differences. No demons were homeless here, but he also didn't see very many buying and selling. Muscular slug-like demons seemed to distribute supplies to different cubes that he suspected housed more demons. He assumed this society had its own problems, but they weren't visible to his untrained eye.

Once he'd seen enough, Rick slowly got to his feet and stretched. If he was stuck there for the evening, he might as well get to work.

Rick stepped off the side and let himself drift down to what he thought of as street level, though none of the streets were as even as he'd expected. Still, he found a broader pathway that had demons walking along the edges, with plenty of space for the strings of cars to pass. There were a number of open buildings there that he thought were restaurants or stores, though as he passed them, he didn't find anything useful. The restaurants did not exactly look appetizing and the purpose of some of the other stores was inscrutable.

He noted that while humans were in the minority, they weren't a surprise like they had been in Branton. Rick wasn't sure if it was racist, but he decided that it would probably be easier to get help from another human. So he continued walking until he spotted an older Chinese man in traditional robes, and more importantly, without significant demonic tattoos.

"Excuse me." Rick didn't step into his path, but did approach. "Can you help me find something?"

The man promptly said "No English" so clearly that Rick suspected he did speak English and just didn't want to be bothered. Still, it would be rude to push. Rick moved on, keeping a lookout for anyone who might be helpful. Many of the humans he saw appeared to be fully bonded, which struck him as strange, since he thought the purpose of bonding was for demons to live in the human realm.

"You're in need of some help?" The purring feminine voice let Rick know what to expect, though the succubus floating down to him was wearing carefully draped robes instead of strips of cloth. He caught a glimpse of some sort of tail shifting behind her, but it swept out of his vision. "Mmm, we don't get too many foreigners here. Are you here for the Showdown?"

"That's right, but I'm here on personal business. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Oh, I'd be happy to help you with all sorts of things..." She stepped closer to him, but immediately lowered her gaze coquettishly when he looked back at her. That was different, though not really. Rick sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm really not looking to be seduced here. I just want to talk to a couple of melted frog looking demons."

That threw the succubus off her usual patterns, blinking at him, then frowning. "You mean... any demons with that appearance? That is... a strange fetish, but I suppose we ca-"

"What? No! They're... business associates, but they don't live here. I haven't been able to contact them from the human realm, but I assume you have a way to do that here."

"Oh! Then perhaps I can be helpful after all." The succubus completely dropped all attempt at being seductive, but her gaze was still predatory. "There are places where you can contact anyone anywhere in the demon realm. There's simply the matter of payment... a little blood would be more than sufficient..."

"Normally I would accept, but I misplaced my device the last time I was here." Rick raised a hand to stop her when she started to offer something else. "I think you'll understand why I want to be cautious."

"You're no fun at all. Why play around if you're just going to use your demon mass to pay?"

"My what?" The next second he felt like an idiot when he remembered the stray item in his portfolio. Since he'd steadfastly refused all demonic bond offers except for the brothers, it had remained there. He'd already blown the chance to look savvy, so he figured there was no point pretending. "I didn't realize that I could use that to pay for things."

"You can think of it as a denomination of lucrim here." The succubus sighed and scratched at her tails. "I can take you to the right place and help you make the transfer, if you pay me 50 lucrim of it."

Though that seemed a high price for information he should have known, Rick decided that he could afford to sacrifice it. He hadn't known that was money at all until that point, so she was still saving him overall. Plus, if it let him do business in the demon realm without giving out his blood, that itself was worth something.

The succubus guided him upward to one of the upside-down buildings, which was easy since she could fly and Rick could float. It took a powerful leap sailing over the city, but he eventually floated within range of one of the rooftops. There was a balcony with a large railing that he suspected was used for that purpose. A glance inside proved that the rooms themselves weren't upside-down, the building was simply built from the ceiling. Why exactly they would do that, he wasn't sure, but gravity was clearly not the same sort of concern here.

Finding the correct store required navigating the outside of the groundscraper, and the place itself was one he would have never looked at twice, so the succubus justified her payment. Once inside, several bonded humans helped him extract some of the demonic mass, which he gave to the succubus. She flitted away to find some other mark while they took him to a small booth.

Though for a moment he expected something as mundane as a phone, instead a series of glass shards lifted into the air and formed a fragmented mirror that reflected a starry sky instead of him or the room. One of the bonded men gestured to a series of bulbous spheres on the floor, but they meant nothing to Rick.

"What demons did you say you wanted to contact?" the bonded man asked.

"Their names are Bftgage and Ythsil. They live in demonic Branton. Uh, in the United States."

"No exact number is necessary." The assistant rapidly twisted several of the spheres, which made the glass shards shiver and shift through the color spectrum. "You will be finding them by their fundamental identity. Place your hand on the mirror and focus on them. They will appear in the reflection, assuming that they accept your message, and that they are still alive."

With that ominous message, the aide left and pulled closed a curtain, leaving Rick alone with the mirror shards. He touched them cautiously, but found them so dull that they wouldn't even have cut someone without a defensive core. Instead he closed his eyes and focused on the two demons he hadn't seen in so long. When nothing happened, he muttered their names under his breath and tried to concentrate his aura further.

Eventually he felt a pulse from his hand. Rick pulled it back and saw a ripple passing through the shards. It rolled like a wave to the end, then repeated a second time, then a third. Frowning, he watched the shifting shards, hoping that wasn't some sort of error message. Just when he thought it might have failed, the shards froze in place and the sky in the reflection gave way to something else.

Bftgage and Ythsil were larger than he remembered, sitting on top of an insect-like desk and looking roughly the size of dogs. Since the last time, Bftgage's lip had twisted further, revealing a pulsating inner membrane, while Ythsil had grown a third eye in the center of his forehead.

"Rick! Rick, we thought we'd never see you again!" Both of them began blubbering over one another, happily vomiting up mucus of various colors. Rick found himself smiling broadly, though he was also glad he was on the other side of the mirror.

"I'm glad to see you too."

Ythsil suddenly went still, all three eyes wide. "You aren't stuck in the demon realm again, are you?"

"No, this time I'm just visiting. But I wanted to talk to you... about everything, I guess."

"We've been moving up in the world!" Bftgage said proudly. "We managed to move out of the mines, especially because you accepted our bond. It wasn't enough for us to go to your world, but it gave us a little income!"

"And it seems to be going well? I saw that the bond has increased several times since I first received it."

"No!" Ythsil shook back and forth, releasing a shower of blue mucus. "We wanted to offer more bonds, but none of the demonic firms will take us! And we can't afford to send more messages through to your realm, so there's no way of getting any clients!"

"Even if we could," Bftgage explained, "we don't have the proper licenses. Everyone is entitled to one bond through the usual channels, but more than that..."

Rick listened quietly as the two of them explained their problems. It was very similar to small businesses in Branton... depressingly similar. Though he didn't want to interrupt them when they were so eager to explain, there was nothing he could do about any of that. When they finally slowed down, Rick managed to break in.

"Is there anything I can do to help you? Is it possible to... ship human blood through the demon realm, I guess?"

Bftgage immediately shook his head. "It would just be stolen. And we don't want to take anything from you, we want to give back! The bond we gave you is worth almost 1000 lucrim in the human realm! That helps, right?"

Somehow Rick managed a smile. "Yes, that was... a big help. But I can't stay here for too long, so if we're going to attempt something, we need to do it now. Is there anything we can set up?"

"If you could help us travel..." Bftgage paused for a time, drooling in thought. "We can't afford to travel anywhere on our own, but if a human asked for us specifically, there are programs for that. But the problem is... your message is coming from the Qinlands. They don't accept outside demons there, not unless you have impossible amounts of money."

"The Showdown moves every month," Rick said, beginning to smile. "I'd be happy to send you anywhere we're going, but I don't actually know most of our locations. I think... we're going somewhere I don't remember next month, but then Siberia the month after that. Does that help?"

Immediately the demonic brothers turned and spoke to one another in a conversation that seemed to be more mucus spittle than sound. Eventually Bftgage turned back and nodded his entire body. "We think this Sibeerya is the equivalent of the place we call the Burning Snow. It is very different than Branton there. There are no licenses, no businesses. Anyone who can contact a human can make a contract."

"Humans and demons fuse there!" Ythsil bounced excitedly, eventually unbalancing and rolling over onto his head. "They don't let anyone do that here! Actually being in the same body sounds amazing!"

"It's also nearly permanent." Bftgage was silent for a time, the nodded again. "Rick, this is what I think we should do. Say that you want to form a contract with us now, but from the Burning Snow. We will go ahead of you and find our way. When you arrive in your human Sibeerya, we will have something for you."

"Do we have enough money for that?" Ythsil asked.

"I have been saving some." Bftgage opened his mouth and vomited out a wrapped sack. "Our expenses will use up most of it, but this opportunity... the Burning Snow is our best chance to make something more of ourselves. Rick will help us."

Rick immediately felt a strange ache, knowing that the brothers were putting so much trust in him. He was just an idiot good at taking hits, trying to blunder his way through life. And now, that somehow made him the savior of a pair of demonic frogs. Though he wanted to ask them some more questions, Bftgage seemed to have made his decision.

"We can speak in the Burning Snow, Rick. This call will be very expensive, so you should not spend any more of your money. Simply request us as I said and we will gladly repay you everything we can."

"If you think it's a good plan, that's what we'll do." Rick smiled at the two of them. "See you in Siberia."

He wasn't sure how to stop the call, but it was severed from the other end, leaving him staring at the blank sky again. Rick stood there for a while, just thinking over the conversation. Honestly, it had never occurred to him that the demon realm could be so fundamentally different in various places, but in retrospect it was obvious.

Before he could reflect for long, the aide came in and escorted him out. The call actually only cost 37 lucrim from his total of 500, leaving him to wonder if the succubus had ripped him off. But soon after, he decided that it didn't matter. She'd let him talk to Bftgage and Ythsil again, and perhaps even set up something that could help them both.

But soon Rick would have to leave the demon realm, and though it might be part of the world, it wasn't really part of his reality. That reality was that he'd gone directly against his mentor and would be throwing himself into a dangerous competition with nothing but a tiny bond from a pair of demonic frogs.

The joy in their faces had been worth something. But it wouldn't be enough if this all went bad.

Chapter 18: Showdown on the Line

Though H was no longer so irritated when they both returned to the hotel, the new scorn in his eyes was worse. Growling was simply the way H communicated, but now Rick heard real skepticism in the sounds. The idea of failing out of the Showdown bothered him, but he told himself that he'd done everything he could in the negotiation. At worst he would ruin his future chances, but he would still come out richer and stronger than before.

Except that was no longer true. Now he would disappoint Bftgage and Ythsil, which might ruin them financially if it didn't do worse. His life had become strange.

In any case, H didn't repeat the arguments, simply set forth an aggressive program of training. Aside from a little more polish on his footwork, it was almost entirely focused on the final stage of the Triune Golden Spheres. The process involved drawing the crystal spheres into his lucrima soul, actually watching them disappear into his body in a way he couldn't explain.

That wasn't the end, however. The true purpose of the final step was to let the spheres rotate within him, churning within his own aura. Almost immediately he could feel the filled sphere directly, surging along with his defensive core. Yet H still wasn't satisfied.

When it finally clicked, Rick opened his eyes and then stared. Three translucent spheres glowed around him, visibly passing through his body though he felt nothing but the circular flow within him. They overlapped around his torso, leaving him bathed in light and surrounded by the circling spheres. It was more dramatic than he had expected, even with only one sphere filled.

H promptly tested his control by attacking him aggressively. The first time, one of the ghostly spheres soon shattered under the assault and Rick felt the crystal spheres within immediately drop out of sync. But the second time he kept up his flow, lasting much longer. Every time it became more and more difficult for H to break his control.

Though Rick struggled to master the technique, he was surprised at how good his body felt afterward. Even though he was repeatedly taking powerful blows, he didn't have so much as a scratch. Presumably H was holding back so as not to injure him, but he was still impressed. It really was like he'd added over ten thousand lucrim to his defensive core.

Imagining the completed technique, Rick threw himself into gathering Formula T into the sphere so that it would be full. That was the one thing that didn't go as well. Unlike the first time he'd been in the demon realm, he had strange headaches and mood swings as he recovered from the experience. Soon he was back to normal, however, and focused fully on his training.

When the day came, he was as ready as he thought he could be. As they left the hotel to attend the night's Showdown, Rick looked over his portfolio one more time.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 12th

Ether Score: 451

Lucrim Generation: 89,350

Enhanced Generation: 105,100

Current Lucrim: 17,200]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3700 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 17,650 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 15,750

- Defensive Sphere: 15,750

- Second Sphere: 0

- Third Sphere: 0

Offensive Lucore: 13,800 (Lv VII)

Defensive Lucore: 37,600 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 15,900 (Lv VIII)

Graham's Stake: 28,075 (Lv IV)

Demonic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 800 (Stage I)

Demon Mass: 413 (N/A)

Total Lucrim: 117,475

Enhanced Total: 133,225]

Not much progress other than the Triune Golden Spheres. The most significant boost had actually been H giving him the next monthly payment for Graham's Stake. It took the form of a pill that almost seemed like solid ether, unloading a substantial amount of stiff lucrim that packed directly into his generation Lucore. Becoming a perpetual soul still seemed ridiculously far off, but each month he got a little closer. And if he managed to win more seals, he'd jump closer yet.

Looking at the numbers, he couldn't help but focus on the fact that with a demonic bond, he would have had a six digit generation rate even without the spheres. He could flood that raw power into all of his Lucores, strengthening them across the board. Though he couldn't be sure exactly how it would feel, there was no question that it would have helped bridge the gap between him and stronger competitors.

To keep his mind off that, he tried to focus on all his other progress. The Triune Golden Spheres might not have increased his generation rate, but he'd finished the defensive sphere. H said that he could continue to make it stronger once all three were complete, but for now it was still 15,000 extra lucrim supporting his defenses. Based on their sparring, he hoped the technique would hold.

His footwork had been declared adequate, the Dark Blood Kettle had absorbed all his recent experiences, and he'd polished his lucrima soul. That was as ready as he could be.

H went with him to the venue, having summoned a private taxi. They rode in absolute silence, leaving Rick with nothing to do but look outside and try to figure out where the stadium could be hiding. Soon he realized that they must be heading toward the large temple compound that he'd seen when they arrived.

As they passed through the gates, he did his best to look at the buildings and figure out if it meant anything. Rick was not an expert in Chinese architecture, but he expected certain things from temples, like Buddhist statues. This one had some similar elements of construction, like the towering slanted roofs, but the iconography was completely foreign. Having been in demonic Odiyu, he strongly suspected that the origins of it were not human.

Their vehicle stopped in a discreet parking lot and they walked the remaining distance on foot. There were other contestants now, all forced to walk in together, unlike the usual stadiums. More Chinese contestants than usual, which he supposed shouldn't surprise him. The only person he recognized personally was Raggest, who waved cheerfully to him.

In the end, they were led to a massive open courtyard, but the contestants were guided to the porches that surrounded it instead of the center. He understood soon after when screens of aura began to appear around the sides. Through them, he could see a pitch black stadium filled with crowds of eager demons. He strongly suspected that they could see through as well, this event an exotic glimpse into the human world for them.

As the events began, Rick decided that this was actually better for concentration. No roaring crowds, no burning lights, just a peaceful courtyard. The sight of so many demons around them might be grotesque to some, but Rick was mostly accustomed to them by now.

From the first event, it was clear that things would be different from South Africa. Each round was calmly introduced by a fully bonded monk, without excessive fanfare. Since the first events involved lifting weights, Rick's attention wandered, instead examining the crowds. The way their eyes moved, he suspected that they had an announcer and screens on their side.

"What are the demons seeing?" he asked H. His mentor showed him a tablet with a split screen, which included some of the elements he'd expected, though it had a strange vibe different from any sporting event Rick had seen. Before he could examine it, H pulled the tablet away.

"You don't have time to worry about that. Get mentally ready, because the Unlimited Defensive Ring will be soon." His tone was calm, but the threat was clear enough. Rick took his advice and closed his eyes to focus on his own lucrima soul.

There was considerable shifting in the demonic stands as the Showdown ended one phase and entered another. Based on the first event, it seemed they were entering the physical stamina stage. More and more demons packed in and Rick had to close his eyes again to avoid growing anxious.

It couldn't stop his event from coming up. When they began, Rick took a deep breath and focused fully on the contestants.

This time there was no boasting or milling around. Each contestant was challenged by a series of fighters with less than a second or two in between. That meant that staying inside the inner ring for a full minute was more of a challenge than it had been during the preliminaries, yet he saw several different contestants manage it.

Worse, there was no simplistic strategy of testing out each contestant as there had been before. Instead the challengers were aggressive from the very beginning. Rick had hoped that they would use entirely physical attacks, but there were still plenty of aura bursts and other ranged attacks. Judging from the crowd reactions, the demons were more impressed by the human ability to endure aura than the physical attacks. That meant he could be up against almost anything.

"You're up soon," H said. "You need to last for at least a minute."

When his name was called, Rick barely felt as though he had a grip on the event. As he walked out, he told himself that it hadn't really changed. All he needed to do was defend himself, and he'd been doing that for years.

Entering the circle, Rick checked the clock... and saw that it was already counting fractions of a second. His eyes widened and he barely had time to set his feet before an attacker rushed in at him from the left.

Off balance and unprepared, Rick only blocked one blow before a second dug into his ribs. The blow might once have been crippling, but his defensive core managed to blunt the blow. He desperately held his ground until the six seconds elapsed and his attacker was swept away by a wave of aura.

He only had one second to prepare, but after pushing himself so hard, that felt like enough. Rick shook out his hands, took a breath, and summoned the Triune Golden Spheres around him. Bathed in the golden light, he felt prepared for the next attacker. This one came at him straight from the front, which was a mistake. The man began releasing bursts of aura, and though they were powerful, Rick now had over 50,000 lucrim in his combined defensive cores.

After weathering the bursts, Rick had a second to look at the screens around him. The demons appeared to be cheering, though not too wildly, since he'd only just begun. It was surreal to see the crowds while hearing nothing but the sound of wind... and quick steps behind him.

The third attacker struck from behind, almost completely silent. If she hadn't needed to reach the outer ring first, Rick would never have even heard her. Instead of closing the distance, she reached out a hand and silvery aura lashed out like a whip.

Whatever it was, it knocked Rick back a step. He desperately knocked aside the second whip strike, only to find a third already lashing into his side. Yet this one didn't sting nearly as much, and he kept his position. The technique might be slightly exotic, but he could feel his defensive core already adapting. If the attack had been able to shatter it, he might have been overwhelmed, but since he was strong enough to endure, he was rapidly mastering it.

Though the woman's assault rose in intensity, perfectly planned for her six second time limit, Rick was adapting faster. Since this might be his best chance to make an impression, Rick just shielded his face and took the attack head on. He saw the woman falter as she finished and realized that he was grinning.

That seemed to draw a wilder response from the demonic crowd and even earned him a few seconds' reprieve. Yet as he watched the timer count from 0:22 to 0:23, Rick realized that the competition was much more intense at this level. Whether or not he could make it to a full minute would depend on whether he encountered someone who could pierce his defenses.

A man wearing modern robes stepped into the outer ring, already raising his hands and releasing emerald bolts of aura... upward. They began raining down on Rick, but he simply braced his arms overhead and weathered them. Others curved and struck his sides, but each individual bolt wasn't that powerful. He was aflame with aura, yet in no real danger of being taken down.

Six seconds elapsed... and the bolts kept hammering into him from all sides.

Rick's eyes widened as he realized the strategy. Was that permitted? No one stopped the fight, but the real question was whether another contestant was allowed to-

Aura spiked directly through his chest. It didn't tear through his body, but it punctured his lucrima soul. Rick staggered, barely deflecting another attack, but he was still blinded by the bolts raining down on him. They had never been intended to eliminate him, just leave him distracted. He could barely see the opponent attacking, and a third blow hit his side, embedding another aura spike through his torso.

Worse, he realized that the spikes remained in his body, draining away his stamina. If he had enough time, he might have been able to resist the effect, but he could barely defend himself. When the round ended, Rick had four spikes driven through his body, still burning away his energy.

Though he managed to straighten painfully, to the roar of the crowd, he saw the next attacker entering. It was a tall man carrying an over-sized war mace, shaped like a lion and nearly the size of an actual lion. Horribly impractical for real combat, but in this event...

When it swung at him, Rick couldn't overcome his instincts: he ducked. The mace whistled overhead, but shifted direction surprisingly quickly, hammering down at him. There was just enough space within the circle for him to dodge aside, even though he knew that wouldn't impress anyone.

The man wielding the mace started to sweep it to the side, to simply push him out of the ring, but Rick finally overcame his survival instincts. While the mace was still nearby, he simply grabbed the over-sized head, binding it in place. His opponent grunted and flexed, trying to use it to push him back out.

As Rick felt his feet scraping across the arena floor, he realized that he'd made a mistake. He might be tough, but he wasn't physically strong enough to compete on the Showdown level. If not for his superior stance and position holding the mace, he would already have been overcome. As it was, he would soon be eliminated...

Only the wave of aura saved him. The large man was pushed from the rings, leaving Rick standing holding the mace. He tried to toss it aside contemptuously, but his arms felt weak and it simply dropped outside the inner ring. Though the aura spikes had mostly dissolved, he was too exhausted to last much longer.

He wanted to check how long he had lasted, but realized that the Triune Golden Spheres had flickered out. There wasn't even time to restore them - there was an attacker sweeping at him with a series of palm strikes.

Finally Rick got a break: the attacker seemed to be striking at his inner organs. The blows still hurt, far stronger than the opponents Granny Whitney had prepared him for, but Rick was familiar with working through the pain. He managed to deflect about half, weather the rest, and endure the round. As soon as his opponent was pushed back, Rick managed to take a deep breath and restore the Triune Golden Spheres.

Though he wasn't completely stable, he was recovering from the rough series of challengers. His body ached, but his Graham's Stake core was slowly restoring him. All he needed was one more easy round...

James Travis emerged more slowly than the others, smirking as he walked forward. Rick had to resist the urge to smirk as well, simply raising his defenses. After enduring two assaults of James's lucrim injection technique, the Dark Blood Kettle was more than ready for it. Assuming he'd become stronger, Rick decided to block as best he could anyway.

The first stabbing strike hit him and did nothing. Nothing at all. Rick was surprised at his own defenses for a split second before a blow exploded against his chest.

Rick staggered backward, the Triune Golden Spheres shattering and his own defensive core breaking. Had James been holding that in reserve? Though Rick knew he was severely weakened, his core could still function. If he could last the round, he might be able to rebuild it enough to...

He was outside the inner ring. Only one step, but it was over.

Across from him, James looked down at his own fist, grimaced as if it had been dirtied, and made a show of cleaning it off with a handkerchief. Rick couldn't even be offended, he just looked past the other man to the screens. He'd completely lost track of time and wasn't sure how long he'd endured.

Only 0:53. As Rick limped off the field, he turned to find H, and saw his mentor shake his head.

Chapter 19: Last Ditch Effort

"I won't say I told you so," H said tersely, "but I will say that you're an utter fool who should have listened to me. You managed to overcome your sloppy decisions through sheer hard-headedness, but in the end you were simply overwhelmed. The additional strength from a demonic bond could have entirely changed the course of this event."

Rick sat numbly, his head low. Not from shame, he told himself, but from simple exhaustion. Less than a minute in a real Showdown event and he was battered as if he'd been through a battle. The fact that he'd gained significantly from the experience wasn't much comfort when he considered that he might well have failed. Both himself and the demon brothers.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" H bent lower, scowling. "You do realize this is your career at stake?"

"I wish I'd done better." Rick took a ragged breath and managed to straighten. "But my life is more important than my career."

"Then maybe you don't actually belong here." Though H stared at him contemptuously, he wasn't throwing Rick out just yet. Instead, he bent down to a small case beneath his seat and pulled out a thermos. Though it was opaque, it still glowed with golden light. "Fortunately for you, I anticipated that you might blunder like this and enrolled you in a second event. You might be able to qualify for the competition, presuming you can recover in time."

"And that will help?" Rick accepted the thermos cautiously, feeling the power thrumming in his hands.

"This is a different variant of Formula T. It is not something that can healthily be taken with regularity, or even more than once a month. It's also an expense I didn't want to waste on you, but we don't have a choice. Otherwise you're not going to be able to compete."

Too tired to argue, Rick screwed open the thermos and drained it in one breath. Or he tried. After only a few gulps, he was gasping for air, feeling the power flooding through him. It was vaguely like the Formula T he knew, but far more intense. Yet H kept urging him to keep drinking, so he forced himself to continue a little at a time.

By the end his vision was swimming and his muscles twitched like they intended to rip out of his skin. Rick sat down and forced himself to focus, going through his usual exercises. This time the energy failed to join his lucrim, instead merely healing his defensive core and refreshing the Triune Golden Spheres. It passed through his spirit in a surprisingly short time, leaving him utterly drained.

Rick collapsed onto his side, all his attention absorbed in simply breathing properly. The world flickered black a few times, and it looked gray even when he could see properly. Yet he was definitely healthier... well, he could fight. The way he currently felt was far from healthy.

"You've watched the Contested Ground events, right?" H didn't look down at him, still watching the events, but his voice carried. "I suppose you'd think of it as king of the hill. It's one of the central events for today, and there will only be one."

"Uhh..." Talking seemed too difficult, so Rick merely nodded. Or slumped his head back and forth against the ground.

"This one will use a series of steps instead of a rounded center. Bluntly speaking, you don't have a chance of actually winning. But the fact that you're an underdog is what makes this a second chance: if you can claim the top position and hold it for even a short period of time, that will be more than anyone expected of you. That will be your goal."

Grunting in acceptance, Rick focused on recovery. His condition was strange: when he focused on his body, he felt like shit, but when he focused on his lucrima soul, everything seemed to be perfect. The real test would be his mental ability to push through the fatigue and pain. He was accustomed to doing that, but he wasn't sure if he could compete at this level.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Rick wasn't aware of most of the events until it was time. H woke him with a foot to the ribs, forcing him to get up. Another event was finishing, something with the black spheres again. The demon audiences seemed disinterested, yet they were trembling with anticipation. Looking forward to what came next.

There was a lull as the arena was cleared, then new platforms began to levitate in. Each was a thick square of dark marble, about a foot high. The first slammed down to the ground, then a second followed, a yard or so smaller on each side. More and more platforms dropped in until they formed a stair-step pyramid of marble with a small block at the top, just large enough for one person to stand on.

So it was time. Rick pulled himself up and limped into the arena, letting himself look weak. It might be a cheap trick, but he needed every advantage he could get.

All around the pyramid he saw powerful fighters, roughly a dozen in total. He saw a few who he recognized from previous events, including the man who had rained endless bolts down on him, but others who looked completely fresh. As he peered around the side of the pyramid, he noticed that Raggest and James were both participating as well. This would be rough.

A gong was struck and the demonic crowds went wild. Most of the competitors leapt forward and Rick just stayed in place.

Three different fighters chose to rush straight for the top, clashing with one another in an explosion of blows that Rick couldn't have kept up with even at his best. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed that several other fighters didn't aim for the top, just tried to hold positions mid-way up the pyramid, presumably to charge the top later.

After one of the first three kicked away the others, he briefly had control and his time began counting up on one of the screens. Yet he hadn't been there long before another attacker came at him... and the man simply leapt away. Was he going for total time and trying to avoid fights? Rick knew that he didn't have that option, since this was his last chance to impress anyone.

The burly fighter who claimed the top held it for several seconds before he was tripped and sent tumbling down the side, smashing into the sharp ridges on the edge of each step. His body knocked over one competitor and sent several others dodging away, briefly clearing part of the pyramid.

Rick decided that might be his best chance and started forward. The very next second he hurled himself back as a sword flashed in front of his face.

Though Rick made a second attempt to climb the side, he was forced back by more competitors with the same idea. He decided to hold back and find a better time. The top was nearly claimed by a man who had a series of swords flying around him, swinging at anyone who came close.

A moment later another fighter arrived in a flood of aura, blasting aside all the swords. She rammed straight through another opponent and hit the man wielding all the swords with a beam of aura that sent him sailing off the pyramid. Once she reached the top, she slammed a fist down into the marble, aura welling up around her.

The result was a shockwave that knocked back all the other nearby fighters... and then it contracted into a sphere surrounding the top block. Several fighters attempted to break through, but surges of aura kept them back. Seconds ticked by, the longest anyone had held the top position so far. Of course, that resulted in her drawing everyone's attention, more and more attacks striking the aura until it began to splutter.

At that moment Raggest lunged up the side and thrust a hand forward. His glimmering beam pierced through the defensive aura, catching the woman in the stomach. In an instant the aura sphere shattered and she was sent flying off the side of the arena, breaking through even the reinforced roof tiles surrounding them.

It looked as though she'd exhausted herself and wouldn't be fighting again, but that had probably been the point. Putting absolutely everything she had into one attempt was definitely a better strategy than wasting strength struggling over position. Rick wished that he could do the same, but didn't think he really had a technique suited to it.

Something flickered in the corner of his eye: James was moving around the side of the pyramid, coming toward him.

Though Rick shifted around the edge of the arena, James kept coming, smiling smugly. This was about eliminating him, then, not winning. Did James just hate him that much? Rick had seen a lot of irrational hatred, but that didn't feel right for someone so polished. Perhaps someone had hired him to fix the outcome of the event? It didn't matter, because he now had an opponent coming straight at him.

Retreating constantly would be a good strategy, but it would make him look like a coward when he needed to make an impression. Rick waited for James to get close, eyes unblinking as he waited for the final movement.

Abruptly James's body twitched as his technique jerked him forward. Rick couldn't entirely follow the movement, but he could react to the twitch. He lunged in, punching for his opponent's face. James twisted his head aside, but that closed the distance and Rick's elbow hit him in the neck.

Though James flew backward, smashing into the lower part of the pyramid and ricocheting into several other fighters, it wasn't enough. Rick knew his blow had connected, but it hadn't dealt crippling damage. Apparently his opponent had a decent defensive core as well.

Worse, he'd been drawn in close. Rick backed away from several bolts of aura, then suddenly had to leap away as James came for him again. This had to be a vendetta or a special objective. There was no time to even watch the top of the pyramid, not and evade his opponent's flashing movements.

Rick had no choice but to retreat, which actually took him closer to the pyramid. James grinned, clearly intending to push him into the main fight, where he'd be taken apart. Though Rick tried to resist and hold position, he now had to worry about threats from all sides.

Without warning, Raggest appeared beside James, punching him in the face. Though the suited man recovered, he wasn't able to dodge the beam of gold that sent him sailing away. Rick wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and tried to straighten.

"Thanks, Raggest."

"It wasn't for you. Just wanted to hit that asshole." Raggest grinned at him, aura gathering around his hands. "Get up and I'll hit you too."

An idea leapt into Rick's mind, not fully formed but enough. He met Raggest's eyes and straightened up, then jumped into the air as if to hit him.

A beam of light met him in midair, of course, blasting him backward. But all of Rick's strength had been focused on his defenses, not attacking. The beam sent him shooting up the side of the pyramid, smashing through one of the other contestants and then colliding with the man who held the top. Rick barely managed to catch one of the corners, which felt like it would tear off his arm, but then he pulled himself up.

The surprise move had, insanely, gotten him to the top of the pyramid. His chest hurt like hell, with a large hole burned through his shirt and a massive burn across his chest. He didn't want to look down to see how bad it was, but even the brief moment of Raggest's technique had done serious damage to his defensive core.

But he'd reached the top. He'd held it for a full second... which meant that now all eyes were on him.

Rick knew that he couldn't possibly see and react to attackers. Simply assuming that they were coming for him, he used a Bunyan's Step to shoot him directly into the air. Several bursts of aura collided where he had been standing, followed shortly by physical attackers. For a surreal moment Rick was suspended high over the pyramid, with a clear view of everyone struggling for the top.

Then he used another Bunyan's Step to shoot himself directly down.

He slammed into the top with all the force he could muster. The impact hurt, but the nearest attackers were knocked back. Did that count as controlling the top? There was no time to check, he already had more people coming at him.

When Rick saw a woman spinning at him with a sword in each hand, he simply hurled himself at her in another Bunyan's Step. He felt the blades bite into his body twice, but he collided with her and sent her sprawling down the side. Landing just beside the top, he backstepped just in time for a large man to tackle him from the side.

Rick staggered, but managed not to fall from the peak. He hit back, not even seeing his attacker, just operating on pure instinct. Everything dissolved into chaotic reactions and then somehow he was still standing at the top, panting for breath.

Then he was sailing through the air.

Whatever had struck him, it hadn't hurt, but he hadn't even seen it. Rick collided with the reinforced roofs and that hurt like hell. His defensive core could protect him a bit, but smashing into ether-reinforced tiles was still painful. He felt surprisingly drained, having poured as much as he could into those few moments atop the pyramid.

Had it been enough? Rick wanted to look to H, but he was disoriented and couldn't find his seat. According to the screen, he had credit for 4.62 seconds at the top of the pyramid. That wasn't the top, but it was better than many of the contestants. Was that enough to rate?

Robes fluttered as someone landed beside him, and Rick looked up in time to see the elderly Chinese woman who had given him a seal in Branton. She was watching him coolly until he looked up, which prompted her to smile.

"You're an interesting one, to fight with such odd handicaps. We would... like to extend you an invitation."

Chapter 20: Meeting an Immortal

With the day's events finished, Rick finally received proper medical care. As before, the healers were extremely professional, but he could barely focus on them. Not only had all the blows left his defensive core overloaded, he was still trying to work through the meaning of what had actually happened.

His performance in the first event had clearly been disappointing, while the second had been at least better than anyone expected. Then he'd received an invitation from a sect he still didn't understand. And why had James gone after him so aggressively? With absolutely no way to resolve any of those mysteries, Rick tried to focus on recovery.

The biggest problem was his overall exhaustion and everything his defensive core needed to absorb, but he was surprised how much his chest hurt. Not just the visible burn that had been healed, but there was a sharp pain through his entire chest, as if the beam had actually ripped straight through him. Whatever Raggest's technique was, it was certainly powerful. If Rick had been a little weaker, or it had been a fully serious blast, he might be dead.

"You got lucky." H appeared beside him, announcing the good news as if it was a disaster. "It sounds as though the immortals have conversed and you're in. On top of that, all of you will be attending a special private event."

"Is that the fight?" Rick tried to sit up and immediately groaned as his body refused. "The bet between them is still on, right?"

"I don't know the details. What I do know is that you'll have a chance to meet your sponsor and more importantly the contestants you'll eventually be fighting."

"Then... I'm still in. Part of the Showdown."

"For now." H folded his arms and glowered, but there was a hint of something else. "You could have done worse out there. Stupid to let a hit propel you to the top, but it worked. At minimum, my boss won't harass me for a while."

"So, what now?"

"We're not going to bother with other Showdown events. So first you focus on recovering completely. This little party they're throwing is in two days, which should be just enough. I'll keep you from ruining yourself and get you something better to wear. Come on, back to the hotel."

Rick forced himself to move through the pain, forcibly reminding his body that it wasn't really injured. It was still rough getting to the taxi and eventually back to his room. When H finally left him, Rick barely had the presence of mind to check that the door was locked before he fell into bed and slept.

In the morning, he was woken up by the sound of the entire hotel collapsing on itself, though it turned out to be just H knocking on his door. Rubbing his aching head, Rick shuffled to answer. The older man looked as though he'd had no need for sleep and just stared at him.

"You have the next two days to get back into shape. There shouldn't be fighting at this party, but... you never can tell."

"Sure." Rick rubbed at his face, which seemed to be covered in sand. "Uh, do I get any Formula T to help me recover?"

"Not like before." H pulled a small case from his coat and handed it to him. Rick fumbled it open and discovered a series of golden vials... surprisingly small vials. "It's best for your development to continue taking it every eight hours, but after your recovery yesterday, you risk forming an addiction."

"So... one of these each time?"

"That's right. It won't be comfortable, but it will teach you to make do with less. There is one, and only one, extra vial in the set. I suggest you try not to use it, but having you in good condition is more important. If you start running into problems, cheating once shouldn't hurt you. Assuming your defensive core can handle it."

"Got it." Rick might have said goodbye or might have forgotten, he honestly wasn't sure. It was hard enough to remember to lock his door. He did realize just how much he wanted the Formula T, however, and quickly downed the vial.

The next two days were a blur. He spent a long time sleeping, waking up without any sense of time and always surprised at the clock by the bed. Every time eight hours had passed, he took another vial, though they felt painfully far between.

When he was awake, he did his best to train again. Hairline fractures had formed in his defensive core and the Triune Golden Spheres, requiring repair that took a lot out of him. Usually by the time he did the maximum amount of training that would be beneficial, he was so exhausted he just wanted to sleep again. Only the Dark Blood Kettle purred along, adapting to everything he had experienced. Perhaps not as dramatically powerful as the best techniques, but he appreciated how it endlessly worked in the background.

Occasionally when he had no training to do and he didn't feel hungry or thirsty, he just lay and thought about the previous fights. There were certainly strategic mistakes he'd made, but the biggest problem was simply lack of power. He could even understand why H was angry that he hadn't taken a demonic bond, if all his competitors had one.

But if he was able to hang on long enough, it could work. His defensive core was a little stronger with each round he endured, plus once he had more time he could complete the Triune Golden Spheres. If he was lucky, Bftgage and Ythsil might even be able to help him out more than in the past. All of that required him to stay alive through this upcoming party.

By the time the morning arrived, Rick felt mostly human again. He showered and shaved, then actually ate the hotel breakfast for once instead of nutrient bars. By the time he returned, he found H waiting for him impatiently, holding a set of pressed combat robes.

"It's formal dress," H said, tossing the hanger at him. "I see you've cleaned up. Be on good behavior."

Rick smiled. "Does that mean you'll be in formal dress too?"

"Don't be absurd. Get changed and let's go."

It didn't take long. The robes were clearly expensive, but just as clearly uncomfortable. Rick thought he could fight in it, but he didn't like how it restricted his movement compared to combat suits. Dress robes weren't generally used for combat, of course, but H had implied that a fight might break out. If so, he was going to struggle not to trip over his own clothes.

Still, when he looked in the mirror, he thought he looked decent. Obviously an American in Chinese robes, but they were expecting that. Rick had a bad feeling that tonight would be one of those times when networking might mean more than actual ability, so he needed everything to come together. When he came back out, H gestured sharply for him to follow.

On their way down, however, he spoke in a low voice. "There are a... few things we need to talk over. For one, there's a reason I haven't introduced you to your sponsor yet. He generally likes not to get involved, and honestly, I much prefer it that way."

"Is this going to be a problem?" Rick asked. He'd never seen an immortal before, except on TV. Even then, those who weren't leaders of some kind tended to stay out of the limelight.

"You just need to keep a few things in mind. Your sponsor's name is Josiah Craw, and he's been immortal for over a century. He isn't strong in terms of skill, but he's richer than sin and he doesn't really interact with other immortals except for these bets. That means that for a hundred years, no one has really said 'no' to him."

Though Rick hadn't thought about it in those terms, he thought it made sense that immortals might be a bit eccentric. The way H talked about it left him a bit nervous, but... "Is that all? You're not going to give me tips?"

"Just be polite. A lot politer than you would be normally. Don't use any slang, curses, or insults. Act like you're talking to your grandfather, but if your grandfather could kill you."

"He, uh, he wouldn't really, right?"

"Probably not, but he could. More importantly, he could fire you. He wants both of us to participate in this bet against the other immortals, but he might stop caring if he gets annoyed enough. Just stay polite and follow my lead."

They left the hotel by a different route than before, a back entrance leading to a taxi which took them to a forest outside Odiyu. Once they arrived at an apparently empty field, H gestured for them to wait. They appeared to be only a few minutes early, because soon enough something arrived. Rick thought it was a floating lantern at first, but as it drifted down toward them, he realized that it was quite large.

As he drew closer, he realized that the blue sphere was larger than most cars. At the center, instead of a candle, there burned a sapphire flame supported by nothing. He wasn't sure how it flew, other than that it appeared to be entirely based on aura. There was a ring-like platform underneath the main lantern that he guessed was a seating area, though he couldn't tell who was inside until it reached the ground.

Though he'd known it would be their hosts, he'd expected the immortal to be along with them. Instead it was merely a young Chinese woman, who bowed to both of them and spoke in crystal clear English. "Has your sponsor not yet arrived?"

"I gave him this location," H said. "Hopefully he will arrive soon."

"Then we will wait." The woman sat back down in the passenger area, which appeared more comfortable than he expected. Though she gestured for them to sit as well, H only shook his head and Rick was too restless. He wandered around the side of the lantern, admiring it as an object of beauty, even if he couldn't quite figure out how it flew. Something to do with manipulating gravity, maybe.

Usually Rick thought of himself as reasonably patient, but he was the first one to start to crack. The woman sat as if utterly content to wait, while H just began to smoke as sourly as usual. Just when Rick was about to break the silence with a question, he heard a strange growling sound.

No, it was an engine. It grew louder so quickly that he quickly located it: a strange contraption was screeching over the trees. Without warning it turned sharply and smashed down into the ground, snapping a nearby tree.

Rick stared at it, because he actually knew what it was: an old Model T car. The fact that it could fly meant that it was clearly powered by lucrim, but as far as he knew, they didn't have effective lucrim-based cars back then. This one had to have been retrofitted, though he couldn't have said why.

The man who stepped out of the car also looked as though he'd stepped from the past. He wore shoes with large buckles, white tights, several bright blue coats with pearl buttons, and a white wig like Rick hadn't seen except in old pictures. Except unlike the clean-shaved men from that era, he also wore long sideburns that flowed into a bristling mustache.

It would have been absurd if he didn't carry with him an aura of immense power. There was some sort of powerful Lucore, the types CEOs used to defend themselves, but beneath it lay a well of lucrim Rick couldn't begin to estimate.

Josiah Craw smoothed down his coats, looked about him, and sniffed. "I do so detest visiting the Orient. I swear that they fog the skies on purpose just to aggravate me. Horatio! Horatio, is everything ready?"

Rick's mouth nearly dropped open as he saw his mentor irritably grind out his cigarette and step forward. H - Horatio - gave him a respectful bow with one hand to his chest. "Thank you for coming, Master Craw. Our hosts have prepared transportation especially to take you to the venue."

"I should jolly well hope they have." Josiah stepped toward the giant lantern and harrumphed. "It will suffice. Is this young Oriental girl to be our guide?"

"Welcome back, Immortal Craw." The young woman gave him a polite curtsy. Josiah stepped forward and took her hand, ignoring how startled she was, and planted a kiss on it.

"Charmed, fair maiden. But would you be a dear and take us to our location post-haste? This environment does not suit me."

"At once, Immortal Craw." She withdrew her hand as soon as she could and looked to them, just a bit of urgency in her eyes. Not wanting to prolong her discomfort, Rick hurried to step into the passenger area. H took his time... Rick was still having a hard time thinking of him by his real name.

Once all four of them were inside, the woman threw a strip of some fabric into the flame overhead. Rick thought it was an unusual container for lucrim, but it was burned away the next moment. The flame burned brighter, yet strangely he felt no heat. For that matter, it was a massive ball of blue fire and staring into it didn't hurt his eyes even slightly. The light it cast over their seating area was actually quite pleasant.

"So, you are the young lad I'm sponsoring, are you?" Josiah looked down his nose at Rick and frowned. "Very unusual business, very unusual indeed. Seems almost a waste of time, but a bet is a bet..."

H leaned in and spoke quietly. "He's exceeded our expectations at every turn. Think of the money you can make from him, and more importantly, the respect you'll earn." He spoke more deferentially than to anyone else, but Rick was surprised how casually he continued.

"Can the boy not speak for himself? Hmm?" Josiah abruptly rose to his feet, making the platform carrying them lurch worryingly. Rick caught a glimpse of their guide hastily correcting their movements, but there was no more time for that because Josiah was thrusting a hand in his direction. "Cat got your tongue, boy?"

"My name is Richard Hunter, sir." Rick carefully stood up and accepted the handshake. The immortal's grip was crushing, actually requiring him to use his full defensive core to prevent his bones from cracking. Josiah didn't let up, either, still gripping.

"I hear you think yourself something of a pugilist, eh?

"Thank you for your investment in me, sir."

"The lad has some respect!" Josiah nodded in approval and finally let go of his hand, sitting back down. He smoothed down his mustaches and regarded Rick calmly. "Much better than most lads these days. Well, boy, I understand you have 100,000 lucrim or so. A solid start for a young man. Do you have a trade, lad?"

"Master Craw..." H again spoke quietly, leaning forward. "At our current speed, it will not be long until we arrive. Perhaps you would like to see his portfolio?"

"Yes! Quite! Let me see your lucrima soul, lad!" Rick obediently brought up his portfolio on his phone and handed it to the immortal. Josiah squinted at the screen and frowned. "Eh? Need I press one of these buttons?" He hit several keys at random, actually moving away from the portfolio and to the general lucrim app, prompting a sigh from H.

"Master Craw, if you would let m-"

"I cannot abide these newfangled contraptions!" With that, Josiah promptly threw Rick's phone over the edge.

Rick jumped to his feet automatically, but he was much too slow to catch the phone. To his surprise, their guide smoothly leapt over the side, snagging the phone below them, and then twirled her way back up with a graceful circular aura. Though Rick wanted to thank her, Josiah and H both demanded his attention, so he remained focused.

"Here is the boy's lucrima soul," H said. He twisted his hand in a strange pattern and several spheres of aura lit up between the seats.

At first Rick was puzzled, then he dimly remembered an archaic method of representing portfolios that looked like that. It was something he'd only seen in the old books in the library, or so he thought. Once he used that framework, he understood: at the core of it was a bright foundation, surrounded by a dark sphere that must be the Dark Blood Kettle. Around it orbited all his other Lucores, though he was uncertain which one was which.

"Hmm, yes." Josiah didn't seem to have the same problem, examining the display closely. "A scrapper's cores, but perhaps a diamond in the rough. The Triune Golden Spheres, very good, very good. But what is this strange stain in the center?"

Rick started to answer, but H beat him to it. "That is a specialized foundation acquired from one of the local tribes of his home."

"Indian lucrim!" The immortal snorted and shook his head. "I suppose there's something to recommend in the savagery of their skills. But I'm quite glad you balanced it out with the civilizing influence of the Spheres."

What was anyone supposed to say to that? Rick thought that his expression was probably blank just because he was stunned. H had a flat expression as if he was exhausted from dealing with this, while their guide sat with an utterly practiced smile. Given how smoothly she reacted, this must not be her first time escorting immortals.

"Well, I suppose it will do. I hope you can win me my little bet, lad." Josiah looked away from the spinning portfolio and examined Rick directly. "Have you family, lad? A sect, a clan?"

"My family is poor, sir." Rick wasn't sure what to say, other than that he didn't want to mention Melissa. "When I started trying to make something of myself, I cut ties with them."

"Very good! Such wastrels will only drag down men of quality. Up from the streets, acquire some flying bootstraps... very good, Horatio. You always did have a knack for finding such promising lads. The question is keeping them on the straight and narrow." Josiah's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "I see no ring, so you must not be married. Engaged? Have you a girl?"

"Uh, no. Not any more."

Josiah nodded seriously. "A wise decision. Carnal relationships drain a man of his masculine vigor. Hinders the development of the lucrima soul, don't you know? The fairer sex may be beautiful and dangerous, but you are better off forging your own path while filled with youthful vigor."

"...thank you for the advice, sir." Rick fixed a neutral smile on his face and desperately hoped for the ride to be over.

Fortunately, it wasn't long. They came into sight of their location, which distracted Josiah thoroughly. He made the platform lurch again as he moved to one corner, so Rick just held the side and observed. Their path had taken them over wooded forests, but now he could see a large building seated atop one of the taller mountains. It was practically a palace, and more importantly, he didn't see any sign of demonic iconography.

Other lanterns sat in a yard near the entrance, their flames quenched. There was another coming in as well, but it began to take a slow circle while they went down. As soon as they landed, Josiah smoothed down his coats and his mustaches and strode out. H gave Rick a shrug and tilted his head to follow.

Less than eager, Rick instead went to their guide. She handed him his phone, which appeared undamaged, and that could have been enough, but he was uncertain.

"Are they..." His first words immediately drew her polite gaze, so he had no choice but to keep talking. Maybe a less direct question. "Do you regularly guide immortals?"

"They aren't all like that." She gave him an amused smile that he thought was authentic. "It is true that most immortals consider the values of the era they grew up in to be correct, and there is no one to tell them differently. They don't care about the well-being of those beneath them, much less their belongings. But Immortal Craw appears to be more eccentric than average."

"That's... that's good. Thanks."

"It is no trouble. Please, relax. This is meant to be a party, not a trial, and I am sure the other immortals will greet you warmly." With that, she gestured toward the path that led to the house. She obviously meant to be reassuring, so Rick smiled at her and began to walk, but he found his stomach churning.

Walking up the hill toward the looming palace was one thing, but knowing that it was filled with immortals from a past era was quite another.

Chapter 21: A Jade Seal's Price

At multiple times in his life, Rick had thought he was surrounded by luxury. Some of the earliest times, when he had barely made it out of his family's trailer park, were a bit embarrassing now that he thought back to them. Other times he was correct in a limited sense, as when he'd entered the buildings of some of the largest firms.

Yet now, as he walked into the palace, he realized that this was a display of wealth like he'd never seen before. There was nothing ostentatious because they had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone. He walked on ancient marble past walls of rich cedar paneling, all of it thoroughly enchanted with ether. When there was a statue or a tapestry, he had no doubt that they were invaluable originals, not copies. Somehow he had imagined that immortals lived like celebrities, but now he understood how wrong he was.

A set of attendants funneled everyone entering into a central raised chamber, which prevented him from wandering through what was no doubt a huge estate. There Rick found himself slightly overwhelmed by a room absolutely filled with fighters. He didn't see a single untrained person, even the waiters carrying drinks having six figure generation rates.

Almost everyone else looked like they belonged, like they were actually comfortable there. Most were wearing the same formal robes he was, but those who weren't looked far more comfortable than he did. Whether the outdated clothing of Josiah or H's scruffy look, they didn't have a single care for what anyone thought of them. Rick felt completely out of place and was sure he looked like it.

"Hey, Rick!" Raggest pushed out of the crowd, grinning. He was wearing robes but hadn't even bothered to tie his belt. "Did you just get here? It's pretty boring. I thought that immortals would have all kinds of amazing training rooms, but they won't let us into that part."

"Are there..." Rick had to swallow to wet his throat, and was surprised when a waiter handed him a glass of what looked like wine. "Have you been here long? Is there going to be any kind of conflict?"

"Oh, I wish. No, everyone just wants to talk. I can totally see why Alger didn't bother coming along. But at least we have a chance to meet all our rivals!"

"Rivals?"

"The others who are going to be in the big fight tournament thing, of course. They didn't tell you? The immortals are resolving some kind of conflict indirectly by having us fight. The Showdown three days ago was just like the first round. Now we all get months to prepare and see if we can do better."

"Huh." Rick took a sip from the glass and found it surprisingly sweet, but decided not to drink any more. "So it isn't scheduled yet?"

"Not yet... but I'll see you there!" Raggest grinned and hit him on the shoulder. "You did pretty great in that match. I figured the medics would have to drag you out, but you actually survived a beam! I mean, I can do a bit worse than that, but even the weakest version is nothing to joke about. I'm really glad we met in Branton. You might be a rival for real."

Rick really had no idea what to say to that, but at that moment he was pulled aside. H gestured for him to follow and headed deeper into the party. Once they were away from Raggest, H spoke in a low voice.

"Josiah insisted on everyone being introduced. I don't like it, but it's not my choice. That's the only important thing you'll do this party. After that, just don't make a fool of yourself."

"How about I just keep my mouth shut?"

"Good plan."

H took him to a gathering circle containing a number of both fighters and immortals. Rick immediately saw James Travis, who gave him an unpleasant smile. The conversation was idle, but Rick quickly figured out that all the young fighters were those who were part of the immortals' bet and decided to look over his competition.

It seemed that each of the major powers was represented. A huge blond man carrying a lance was likely from Siberia, a woman whose age he couldn't determine represented China, and the thin man in traditional Nokan robes could not be easier to identify. From the conversation he gleaned that James was from England, but representing Germany and Europe. Several of them seemed to scorn the USA, though he held his tongue instead of pointing out that it was represented by two different people.

That meant that other than Rick, Alger was behind the only representative from the US. Maybe this was just an idle bet between immortals that meant nothing on the global stage, but that fact left Rick just a little uncomfortable. Eventually Raggest joined them, which only made the conversation more awkward due to his singular focus. It did take some attention off him, at least.

"What a fine collection of lads and lasses." Josiah entered the conversation, joining them with a wine glass in one hand. Rick automatically tensed. "But you... you there, lad, dark of countenance. Who do you represent?"

"I was born in the World Sculptor's court." The Nokan representative spoke with a sharp accent, apparently not offended by the blunt question.

"Ah, good show, then. You will forgive me my prejudice, but you must know how many savages surround the Nokan Empire."

"It has been our battle since time immemorial." The Nokan man's tone was impossible to read. Not that Rick thought he was great at reading people, but the man struck him as unreadable by anyone. His words could have been sincere, mocking, or bitter and Rick would have believed it.

Even if the Nokan man wasn't offended, several of the other representatives were clearly taken aback by Josiah wildly throwing out stereotypes. It would only be a matter of time before James or someone else linked the two of them, and Rick did not want to be in a position where he was trapped between insulting his sponsor and defending whatever outdated thing he said next.

As soon as he got an opportunity, he slipped away from the group. He'd seen his rivals now, though Rick felt no real animosity toward anyone but James. And honestly, even that vendetta was entirely one-sided. This wasn't his bet, after all, he was just a tool. His job was to try to gain as much as he could in the process.

Still, he felt just as uncomfortable everywhere else in the party. Rick wandered away from the central room, hoping to find a path that wasn't blocked off. To his surprise, he soon stumbled across a garden. The region nearest the main building was exquisitely kept, with perfect paths winding around several pagodas and a lake. There were people walking or seated there, but he saw fewer in the distance.

Once he got to the other side of the lake, Rick found that it was far quieter. No one was trying to talk to him now but he also saw no sign that he shouldn't be there. After setting down his wine glass, still mostly untouched, Rick stretched a bit and just stared skyward.

Honestly, the wine didn't tempt him because part of him just wanted to drink more Formula T. He had resisted taking the extra dose, but it was burning a hole in his inner robe pocket. His plan had been to take it if things went bad and his life was at stake, or at least that was what he told himself. Rick rubbed the vial through his robe, then continued wandering.

An enormous dog emerged from the garden ahead of him. Its head came up to his chest and the rest of it was huge, bulky with muscle and fur so dark it was more blue than black. Though he didn't know the breed, he thought it looked similar to a Tibetan mastiff. He could only just see its eyes through the fluff, but they glittered darkly at him.

Rick decided it was best to walk away before it could become aggressive. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be there after all. He took several steps backwards, only to have the dog shuffle forward, closing the distance.

His first instinct was to defend himself, but Rick realized a moment later that it was obviously a pet. Aside from the fact that a place this fancy wouldn't have wild animals roaming around, its fur had clearly been well-groomed. That meant that it was owned by their hosts, and they wouldn't take kindly to him touching a hair on its body, much less killing it.

Instead Rick turned away to run back to the party... only to find the dog rushing in front of him.

There had been so many powerful people at the party that Rick had stopped thinking too much about anyone's generation rate. Yet now he realized that his instincts weren't failing him: the dog was holding lucrim. Unless he'd gone mad, it had over six digits of lucrim, roughly 225,000. Was a dog stronger than him?

Taken off guard, Rick decided to escape as quickly as possible and find the attendants. He used a Bunyan's Step to leap part way across the pond, where he could chain several more together and reach the main party.

The dog let out a loud bark and then suddenly it was blurring in front of him.

Unsettled, Rick tried to Bunyan's Step in another direction, only for the dog to cut him off again. Impossible as it seemed, it wasn't just using raw lucrim or aura like the animals at the Peakless Wildlife Refuge, it was using a technique.

Its jaws opened, revealing a maw filled with large teeth, drool beginning to roll down. Panicking, Rick used another Bunyan's Step to shoot over the dog's head, then changed direction in midair. That bought him a moment of freedom, but suddenly it flashed in front of him again, barking loudly. Rick desperately used several more Bunyan's Steps, but each time he caught a glimpse of dark fur in front of him. Eventually his core was burning out and the dog was almost on him.

Crouching low to the ground, it began wagging its tail fiercely.

"Are you... playing?" Rick faked moving in one direction, but used his new footwork to cut off the movement. The dog partially leapt to block him, let out a happy woof, then hopped back. As they faked back and forth in several directions, Rick found himself smiling.

When the dog came forward, he didn't retreat. Though its jaws could probably tear off an arm, even without lucrim, it merely bumped its head against his chest in a friendly way and then licked his cheek. Rick automatically raised a hand to rub its head, then hesitated. It was clearly a pet, so perhaps touching it would be unwise...

"He likes if you scratch behind his left ear." He recognized the soft voice as the elderly Chinese woman who had granted him the seal. The dog did too, apparently, woofing happily at her.

"I hope it's okay that I played with him," Rick said, scratching the dog behind the ear. It leaned into his hand and let its tongue loll from its mouth.

"It's probably good for him. Too many strangers cause him stress, so he's happy to have someone to play with."

"Ah... I'm sorry, but I don't believe I've ever caught your name."

"You may call me Qing Shan."

Something about that name and the way she said it made him hesitate. He didn't recognize it, at least not consciously, but it might not be her real name. In any case, it was still a token of trust, so he inclined his head to her. "Thank you for your seal. I hope you don't regret it, now that I'm part of the bet."

"Oh, these bets are never simple things. I would not concern yourself over it." Qing Shan stepped closer, stood silently for a time, then placed a hand on the dog's back. "He also enjoys being thrown, since relatively few have the strength and the nerve."

"Thrown?" Rick glanced at the huge dog dubiously and it nuzzled at his hand. Yes, it was huge, but it was true that his strength was vastly increased with lucrim. Since the woman had clearly made a suggestion, he decided to try it, bending down to pick up the dog.

It immediately began to climb up into his arms, as if it was a tiny lapdog. Rick chuckled as it licked at his face, struggling just to get a solid grip. Eventually he managed it, then heaved, sending the dog sailing through the air into the empty part of the garden.

For a moment, he worried that the dog would hit something and he would be in trouble, but it flipped around in the air to land on its feet.

Then it charged. Rick's eyes widened as he saw the dog streaking toward him like a freight train. His instincts screamed to leap out of the way, but he braced his feet, summoned the Triune Golden Spheres, and let it collide with his chest.

So much weight slamming into him sent him staggering back several steps, but it hadn't been an attack. Enough to kill most people, but the dog was still just playing. It scrabbled at him, licking his face while he tried to get a better grip. After it let out a deafening bark into his face, Rick was fairly clear on what it wanted.

The second time, he threw the dog as hard as he could, sending it sailing so deep into the garden that it was lost in the trees. Rick heard a thump, then a rustling, then had to brace himself as a blue-black streak came for him.

After throwing the dog several times, it only seemed more eager, but Rick was starting to feel a bit tired. Fortunately, before he needed to make an awkward decision, Qing Shan uttered a single word in Chinese. The dog immediately dropped down onto all fours beside her, body completely still except its mouth, which panted in a doggish grin.

"Some laugh at the idea that animals can be good judges of character, but I have always found it useful." Qing Shan scratched the dog on the head and then began to walk deeper into the garden. "He clearly likes you. We should talk."

That sounded ominous, but he had no real choice but to follow. Since she didn't immediately ask him anything as they walked, Rick searched for a question to fill the silence. "I've never seen an animal with this much lucrim."

"Yes, I noted that you had experience with wild animals." As they walked, Qing Shan kept her hand resting on the dog's fur. "The stories are filled with mystical creatures, but they are later inventions. The truth is, the way that humans use lucrim is not natural, not in the sense of evolution. It is ultimately technology, allowing us to use natural lucrim in ways that far surpass any animals."

"Perhaps for you, but this dog here definitely surpasses me."

"Ah, but I meant wild animals. Dogs have been our companions for millennia, likely raised from aura wolves. They have been bred for a great many purposes... including, at times, effective use of lucrim. This one is a companion and guardian, but others are bred as true war dogs. Though never equal to the strongest warriors, they are the best companions a human could ask for."

"What about cats?" Rick asked. To his surprise, Qing Shan immediately sniffed.

"Cats should never be bred to use lucrim."

"You don't like cats?"

"I like them well enough, but if they gain that much power, they will kill people." Qing Shan smiled warmly and ruffled her hand through the fluff on the dog's head. "Not like our good boy here. Such a loyal beast, yes you are." She continued praising it in Chinese, her content obvious from her tone, and the dog woofed happily.

Seeing her speaking to the dog so casually made Rick relax a little. That immediately made him suspicious, wondering if she was manipulating him - even monsters loved their dogs, after all. But whatever else was the case, he thought her affection for the dog was genuine, and she had twice helped him. As they approached a pagoda separate from the others, Rick decided to ask another question.

"Other animals can do things that we can't, right? I thought some of the most lethal lucrim-based poisons couldn't be replicated even in labs."

"Oh, the natural world has produced a great many wonders." Qing Shan waved the issue aside, her face suddenly serious. She took a seat inside the pagoda and gestured for him to sit as well, the dog already placing itself over their feet. "But I did not call you here to discuss science lessons."

Rick swallowed. "Why, then?"

"Truth be told, I gave you the original seal for one primary reason: to disrupt Alger. Your performance was adequate, yes, otherwise I would not have bothered. But what concerned me most was his interest in you. Minor investigation into your past has revealed nothing of note, however."

"I... well, that's because I'm not really anyone of note. Alger just likes people he says have a warrior's spirit."

"Actually, I lied." Qing Shan gave him a narrow smile. "There is one notable thing: it seems that you've nearly been involved with Alger several times, but always escaped his orbit. That is unusual. His proteges tend to be like Raggest, overflowing with power and lacking in questions."

"Just how many have there been?"

"I couldn't tell you. The man seems capable of accomplishing so much at once that some have speculated he has an entire organization of agents, yet he seems to work alone. What I can tell you is that those he trains tend to have short and explosive careers, but they don't end well. Some of them have simply disappeared, and all evidence points to their deaths."

"That's... I knew something was off about him, but I didn't know anything about that." It was insane to think that Alger, the wackily-dressed man who had welcomed him to the Underground, could be someone so notorious. "But if you want me to tell you about him, I'm afraid I don't know much of anything."

"A pity. I suspected as much, but it was worth asking." Qing Shan regarded him coolly, the weight of her gaze making him wonder if she was even older than she appeared. Immortals usually adopted a young appearance, but perhaps... "Because Alger seems to care about this little bet, we care as well. One of my younger sect sisters is actually participating, but I am less concerned about that than in making sure that it ends well."

"What would that look like?"

"Alger's candidate not winning, of course. We would take a victory, but truthfully, a Nokan or Siberian victory would be equally satisfactory."

Rick waited a moment longer, but she didn't say anything about him and it obviously wasn't an accident. "But you don't want me to win?"

"I would weep no tears if you did. But this H who trains you has a poor reputation for breaking those he trains, and we are unclear on who he serves. Anyone with unclear loyalties is suspect."

"It isn't Josiah Craw?"

Qing Shan was silent for a time, staring out into the garden. "Josiah Craw hired H, and we don't know why. He has always been an eccentric, but it has been some decades since he participated in any such contests. My master believes that he must know something we don't about the contest, perhaps some reward or consequence."

Though Rick was curious who Qing Shan's master could be, the cool look in her eyes suggested this was not the time to ask questions. After a long pause, she continued.

"I would not ask you to be a spy, at least in part because I believe it would be ineffective. But for this moment, you have deniability. Any information you can give us would be useful."

So that's what it was all about. Rick considered carefully, since it was entirely possible that he was handing intelligence to his enemies. But Qing Shan had actually stood up for him first, before H had stepped in. Telling them a little wouldn't hurt.

"First," Rick said carefully, "I think that you might want to know that Alger was meeting with the Global Lucrim Authority..." He went on to tell what details he could, focusing on Alger since he didn't want to betray H directly. Still, the rumor that had been mentioned... even if it was meant to make him distrust H, Rick had to admit that he had other reasons to distrust the man.

When he finished, Qing Shan nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

"Well, there's this. It might be proprietary, but..." Rick reached into his robe and revealed the vial, but to his surprise, Qing Shan immediately waved it aside.

"Formula T? Perhaps a secret for most, but a known quantity to us. You are taking a great risk in using it, but I suppose you can make your own decisions."

"Huh." Rick hadn't expected it to matter so little, but didn't quite want to let it go. He had an impulse to drink it, and that was what pushed him over the edge. "Could you send this to someone? Secretly, I mean, without H or Alger tracking it."

"It's within our capabilities. Why?"

"There's a woman I know who does this sort of thing professionally. I think... she would like to see this. I've been meaning to send it to her, but I've never had a real opportunity."

An odd smile played on Qing Shan's face, but she reached out and took the vial from him. "That is a small favor to grant, after you have been so helpful. Yes, give us the address and we can send it to her."

Rick did so, handing over the vial with only a little regret. The night had gone in several different directions he never would have expected, but he thought this was a good result. Though he hadn't spoken to Lisa enough due to the recent chaos, he knew she would enjoy studying the Formula T. Before he could wander far into his thoughts, Qing Shan rose to her feet.

"After this, we will not contact you. Compete in the Showdown, prepare for the final contest, and do whatever benefits you personally. However, please keep in mind what I said. If Alger was interested in you once, he may still be. Believe me when I say that his concern for your well-being is more harmful than our self-interest."

With that, she swept away without a farewell. Rick was left thinking about everything that had happened. He still tried to tell himself that everything was great, since he was still being paid to train and had gotten through the crisis period. That was little comfort when an experienced immortal was expressing so much discomfort. It was hard to know what to do.

An enormous head dropped into his lap and the dog whuffed eagerly. Rick smiled and rubbed it behind the ear. Well, there was one thing he could do.

Chapter 22: Intermittent Conversations

Rick spent the rest of the party avoiding human interaction in whatever ways were available. Though the dog clearly would have been happy to sit or play with him forever, as time wore on, Rick realized that he would need to connect with his mentor and sponsor again. He didn't want to find out what would happen if Josiah Craw became truly impatient.

So he did a feeble imitation of socializing. Though he avoided the drinks, some of the food was amazingly good. He got the sense that there were serious politics going on among the immortals, but he was also aware that he was a piece, not a player. Even the immortals here were in the grip of larger social systems and bounds of propriety. It wasn't a life he wanted, just something he was sampling in an effort to take himself upward.

Toward the end of the party, one of the palace aides came and requested his Showdown card. Rick was skeptical for a moment, but he'd seen how the lives of the wealthy relied on certain assumptions of trust, and it wasn't like the card itself had great value. So he handed over the card and tried not to think about it, even though it wasn't returned at the end.

Eventually H showed up beside him and jerked his head toward the door. Josiah was saying farewell to some of their hosts, kissing the hands of all the women and vigorously shaking those of the men. Though Rick had been evading eye contact, when he looked up he saw several lanterns floating overhead, ferrying guests back to their homes.

Or the closest thing they had to homes, if they were competitors.

They were escorted back to their lantern by a young man and Rick found himself a bit disappointed that it wasn't the woman from before. He immediately kicked himself. She had been nothing but professional, it was just him getting distracted. Much of the time he could sink all other thoughts into training, but when he had to be around other people, sometimes other thoughts wormed their way to the surface. Perhaps a reason to do more training, then.

"Quite a bash, eh?" Josiah sat back and laced his fingers over his coats with a look of deep satisfaction. "I've always said it, the Orientals know how to host a man. They also usually have the decency not to allow lesser types into such functions. All very respectable. Even that Siberian fellow was a gentleman in the end."

H and Rick didn't say anything, nodding like bobble-heads.

"Ah, but on that subject, it is time to give you the fruits of your labor." Josiah reached into a pocket and revealed a card that he passed on to Rick. "I hadn't yet given you my stamp of approval, since this was all so irregular, but you seem an able young lad. And you did something right, because our hosts gave you a seal of their own. Two in one day, eh? Not bad for a night of amusements."

"Thank you, sir." Rick took the card and examined the new seals. One of them looked to be of the same shining ink as the first Jade Seal, but this one had an elaborate pair of characters. Though he couldn't read them, he thought they were familiar from some of the art he'd seen throughout the house. By contrast, the other seal was a metallic coat of arms with a tiny assortment of symbols he couldn't make out.

They were silent for a while, then Josiah began rambling in praise of their hosts again. It went on for a short time before H coughed slightly. "Master Craw, perhaps we should discuss our plans?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose." Josiah turned toward Rick and regarded him seriously. "I know that a vigorous young man like yourself must be eager to participate in the Showdown, but this competition between myself and my chums really is the higher priority."

"Has a date been set?" H asked.

"Not at the moment, so you have at least some months. Those are your instructions, man! Keep him in the Showdown and prepare him for the fight to come. We have yet to decide on the terms or venue, so you must be prepared for everything. I expect to see verve from you, lad! Verve and vigor!"

When they returned to Odiyu, Rick was gladder to see the demonic city than he'd thought possible. Josiah left him with a crushing handshake and left in his flying Model T, careening out at a frankly terrifying rate. If he passed over any urban areas on his way back home, the chance of an accident seemed quite high.

Apparently the party's length had been entirely predictable, because by the time they reached the road, a taxi had pulled up waiting for them. H was oddly silent as they entered, but when they started back to the hotel, Rick looked over at him and smiled.

"Horatio, is it?"

"Oh, don't start." H lit up a cigarette, then glared down the taxi driver when the man objected. "My parents were involved in these circles, and they thought 'Horatio' was a very modern-sounding name."

"You could just change it, or tell people to call you anything you want."

"Could, but we are what we are. Have you gotten the jokes out of your system yet?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk about training." Rick settled into his seat and tried to get back into the proper mindset. "Are you really going to pull me out of the Showdown to focus on the fight? I know we have a lot to work on, but that seems... I mean, at minimum, you wouldn't be earning any money off me, right?"

H puffed on his cigarette for a time, then slowly shook his head. "If I get my proper payment from this, it will make up for the rest. But you're not getting any bonuses for seals earned through parties, only from winning. What would be best is to focus on your lucrim growth. We won't worry about winning money or earning seals - three is plenty for someone who's only been doing this for a few months. I'll put you into events when they'll test you in the right way."

"That sounds like a good plan to me. Are we going to participate in the rest of the Showdown in Odiyu?"

"No, you've already shown all your tricks. No point trying to place in the remaining events. Better to use that time to prepare for the next one."

"Alright, where are we going next?"

"New Zealand." H saw his surprised expression and shrugged. "For a little island, they've had more impact on the world than most. They have a dragonweight and Australia doesn't. Go figure."

"It's still not a very big country, right?"

"Yeah. That means that the Showdown won't be huge there, including the prizes. You should still encounter some local Lucores, because they have a few tricks your defensive core needs to experience, but it should give you a month to train."

Rick was mostly glad to hear that, but his mind rolled onward. "And after that is Siberia?"

H nodded, but said nothing for a while. Eventually he finished his cigarette, ground it up in one hand, and then looked back to Rick. "You might have managed so far, but your stubbornness over the demonic bond issue is still a major flaw. Your training will be useless if you won't help yourself."

"I'm trying to set up something with my demonic contacts." Or so he hoped. "They'll be in Siberia. Don't put me in any events too quickly and I should be able to get it worked out."

"I hope so, because you won't be able to sit out Siberia. Their champion will want to test you directly, and they don't have the same laws about personal injury there. If you don't have the power to back up this attitude, you'll pay for it."

Something else to look forward to. Rick sat back and closed his eyes, because he knew he wouldn't get much time to rest.

~ ~ ~

Though Rick had harbored hopes of returning to the demonic side of Odiyu, both to explore it further and to contact Bftgage and Ythsil, H insisted that leaving would be too great an opportunity for spying from other groups. Rick didn't see the point, when he'd be showing his training in public in the next Showdown, but he accepted it since he was interested in training anyway.

After some time correcting errors his hasty training had created, H focused primarily on teaching him something new that seemed completely inexplicable. It was all lucrim constructions that Rick hadn't seen before, and sometimes frankly baffled him. He could tell that they involved transferring energy, and obviously they would be the basis for another Lucore, but beyond that he was clueless. H seemed aggravated by his slow progress, but told him to simply keep at it.

Though it was easy to sink back into his training, it was again texts from Melissa that pulled him out of it. As soon as possible, they arranged another video chat. He saw that she was wearing a new jacket, and as always she looked healthier than before.

"Too busy to talk, Mr. McBigPants?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled.

"Sorry, it's been busy. But how does having big pants relate?"

"You know, the saying about people getting too big for their... well, I guess that's the opposite. Okay, here's how it goes: your pants are getting so large that they're covering your mouth. This also causes you to change your name to Leeroy McBigPants."

Knowing better than to question further, Rick just smiled and changed the subject. "How have things been in the YLAA? I read a little online about you guys going on some sort of field trip?"

"No, that's still coming up." Melissa leaned back in her chair and smiled. "We're going to Europe and I'm actually looking forward to it! Supposedly we'll be meeting our European equivalents - Junge Kämpfer Aus Europa or something - but I think it's really an excuse to travel around. But I'm glad we'll be doing it, since I worry you're going to come back all worldly and experienced."

"Yeah, I was going to mention that. I've been learning so much, I'm losing the ability to speak English. If you can't speak seven new languages by the time I get back, we can't be siblings anymore."

"Don't be silly, brother. How are you going to learn that many new languages when you have a different girlfriend in every city?"

That actually did bring up a current frustration, but it really didn't matter while he was talking to Melissa. "How do you think I'm learning them all? Pillow talk is the best instructor."

"Eww!" Melissa pretended to slap her hands to her face in horror. "Don't scandalize my sensitive ears!"

"I seem to recall your sensitive ears making some pretty suggestive movements... wait, fuck, that doesn't work."

"The ability of my ears to speak is well-known! Legendary, even!"

Rick gave up trying to say anything clever, even by their silly standards, and just grinned at her. "But really, how are things going with you?"

They talked about everything, going longer than usual. Rick began doing his exercises subconsciously and was surprised to note that Melissa seemed to be doing the same thing. Hers involved more lights dimming and dark flames licking up around her, but neither of them paid it any mind.

When it really got too late on her end, Melissa glanced at her wrist, which did not hold a watch, and sighed. "I guess we have to stop soon. Look at the time, and all that. Part of the reason I wanted to do this now is that we might not have so much time during the European tour. But after that... I was wondering if there was any way we could actually get together. In person."

"I'd like that, but would it work? I'm never sure where we're headed nex-"

"Use the gosh darn website, Rick! They post all this stuff way in advance."

"Yeah, you're right. But I'm pretty sure we'll only visit the US rarely, and we likely won't be anywhere near you. I wouldn't mind you coming to watch a Showdown sometime, but it's really not as exciting as you'd think. A few intense events, sure, but most of the time we're training."

"But that leaves us more time to do nothing, which is the point." Melissa slid forward and fiddled with something off the edge of the camera. "Actually, I had something else in mind. After the European tour, we get a month off as a break. Most of the other YLAA people are going to... go to their summer lake houses, or dress up horses all fancy, or whatever they do. It's like they didn't even think that someone might not have a home to go back to."

Rick winced, but he wasn't surprised. "Yeah, shit like that happens. So, from what you said, you're thinking of trying to come wherever I am?"

"Yeah. I mean, if it's possible. I figured that I'd already be in Europe, so there's a good chance it'd be cheaper to fly to wherever you are."

"I'd have to talk to H about whether you could come here. He wouldn't like it, but I might be able to convince him. Or..." Rick had been checking the website while they spoke and seeing how the exact months lined up. "I'll be in Southeast Asia and the Showdown that month won't be so important. What if we flew to see Uncle Frank?"

Melissa perked up and clapped her hands. "That's a great idea! Uh, he is still over there, right? We'll need to get him somehow and ask, but surely we can make it work somehow."

"I don't know if I can get permission, and you should check to see if the flights are too much. But yeah, let's try."

They said a few other farewells, but the call ended on that happy note. Even though it was an idea that had come up on the spur of the moment, Rick found himself fixating on it surprisingly quickly. It had been years since they'd seen Uncle Frank in person. Unless his perpetually busy work made it entirely impossible, it would be fun to visit him and see what he did.

As they prepared to leave China, Rick's training had progressed further, but became no more comprehensible. All the Formula T he drank went into strengthening his defensive sphere, leaving the empty ones conspicuously empty. He thought that he could feel the imbalance in his lucrima soul every time he used the Triune Golden Spheres.

H was gone more often with other business, but implied that they would begin the next step of training when they reached New Zealand. With that in mind, Rick focused more on his original cores. They might not be exploding in strength like the Spheres, but he still relied on them in every fight.

With his mind fully focused on the next step of their trip, he was actually surprised to receive a call from Lisa. He'd nearly forgotten about sending her the sample of Formula T. Come to think of it, he was surprised that she hadn't sent him a message about receiving it. Had Qing Shan simply stolen it after all?

When Lisa appeared on his screen, however, she was smiling. "Hello, Rick."

"Hey." He was suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he was filthy with sweat and was glad that she couldn't smell him through the camera. "Nice to hear from you."

"I got your gift. It was nice... uh, actually a little too nice. It made things awkward for a bit with Nathan until I explained about it being for my work."

"Nathan?" He immediately felt like an idiot for asking, since obviously it was her boyfriend. Lisa also looked awkward and tried to brush it aside.

"Boyfriend, but never mind that. Uh... I don't know why I even mentioned that. It's not a problem, really."

"Actually, I'm not sure what's going on. I thought you might find the Formula T interesting, but you're talking about it like it was a way better gift than I thought."

Lisa gave him a strange look, then bent down off camera. When she rose back up, she was holding a case about the size of a shoe box. It couldn't have been further from a shoe box otherwise, a ceramic case covered in Chinese calligraphy. Rick blinked in confusion.

"Uh... I didn't send you that much. I guess they threw in something else as a bonus."

"Well, I'm not complaining." Lisa opened the case and he saw that the interior had several trays of plush velvet. There were many notches, some filled with pills, but he presumed that the others had once been filled as well. "If you were really dealing with immortals, this was probably a trivial castoff to them, like a party favor or something. But the chance to work directly with so many rare materials has been amazing."

She went on to talk about them in detail and Rick found himself smiling at her passion for the subject. For a while he'd been worried that things had gone wrong, but it seemed sending it to her had been the right idea. Except for the central issue, which he managed to bring up once she finished.

"You did get the Formula T, right?"

"Yes, that was included." Lisa's smile faded and she raised the familiar vial, still mostly full. "I'm not your mother and I don't want to lecture you, but... be careful with this, Rick. I couldn't find any direct information, either online or in any of the databases I have paid access to. But from basic testing, the concentration of lucrim in this is quite high."

"I know. They have me taking a lot of precautions, but I can easily imagine how bad this would be for a power addict."

"Can you tell me how exactly you take it? Melissa also mentioned something about a special formulation that healed you, and that threw me for a loop, so I'd like to understand better."

The fact that the two of them had conversations about him was news to Rick, but he pushed it aside and explained about the schedule of taking it every eight hours. Lisa's expression darkened, though she didn't say anything, so he added every other detail he could. When he finally finished, she stared down at the vial for a time before speaking quietly.

"I think I should do some more tests on this. The risk... well, we've already talked about that. I really truly don't want to lecture."

"I'm glad you're taking the time, Lisa." Rick made sure to smile until she looked up enough to meet his gaze. "And if you have any warnings for me, I'll listen to them, honest. I've blundered into too many problems to think my foresight is all that great."

That got a slight smile from her. "Do you really still want some of my serum? With everything you're taking, and the way I never got an address..."

"No! I mean, no, I actually want it. Things were just crazy for a while and it looked like I might get kicked out of the Showdown. But I'm going to New Zealand next, actually in a few days. I don't know exactly where we'll be staying, but I know the city, so I'll get you an address."

"There was a risk of being kicked out?"

Apparently Melissa hadn't told her everything. Rick explained some of his recent troubles, but felt awkward talking so much about himself. He turned the conversation back to her business, deciding it might be safer to keep things professional.

As Lisa spoke, however, he found himself surprised by the parallels. She was also interested in developing a perpetual soul, though in her case it was more so that she could refine materials and create ether without it being a drain on her. Rick was no expert, but it seemed like she had good ideas. Maybe she wasn't crafting world class supplements yet, but hopefully the chance to work with everything he had sent her would help.

When the call ended, Rick was left smiling and sad. He closed the laptop and dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was easier not to think about that. Tomorrow, he'd be off to yet another new country to begin all over again.

Chapter 23: Completing the Spheres

Rick enjoyed the vistas of New Zealand while their helicopter flew in, then barely at all for the next several days. They might not be in a hotel this time, but the remote training facility had all the same facilities. It was like traveling the world and seeing nothing but hotel rooms. Though he wanted to get a chance to experience more of the country, he also knew that he needed to focus on training.

As soon as they arrived, H started him with a singular focus on the energy-rerouting techniques that Rick couldn't crack. He could master the basics, but there was always a more difficult version, and he still didn't know the purpose of all of it. Still, it was obvious that this was the second Lucore in the Triune Golden Spheres, so he gave it his full attention.

"Let's try this with something on the line." H spoke without preamble when he walked in one day, throwing a glass orb at him. "Hold that and attempt the same technique. You'll figure it out under fire. The burns can be motivation."

"The burns?" Rick cut off as H raised a hand and suddenly shot a burning ember at him.

He tried to block on instinct, ignoring the orb. It hit his forearm without any impact... but then he began to feel it burning into him. Rick cried out and clamped his hand down on it automatically, only for his hand to burn as well. Gritting his teeth, he drew up his defensive core and managed to smother it.

The attack must have been based purely on aura, because it left his sleeve untouched, but he could feel a burn on his arm underneath. Whatever it was, it was fairly dangerous... and there was another one coming at him.

This time Rick thrust forth the orb, desperately trying to repeat the technique he'd been struggling with. The ember hit the orb, burned for a time, then winked out. Across from him, H shook his head.

"That isn't the purpose of the exercise. Do you see now? You need to draw the foreign energy into the core of the technique. It's a whirlpool, just like I showed you. The orb is at the center and it draws everything in."

Another ember was coming at him, so Rick resisted the urge to block or dodge. Instead he focused entirely on his technique, even when the ember burned into his chest. Another came after it, and another. But as the pain spread through his chest, Rick suddenly felt something click. Most of his techniques were like flexing a new muscle, but this was like seeing the world from a new angle.

The last ember shifted in the air and came to rest in the center of the orb without touching him. Having felt it work, Rick finally understood how the technique was supposed to operate. He looked up and smiled. "I see now. It's lik-"

Another ember hit him in the face. Rick cursed and focused on the technique again. He was only able to redirect one in ten at first, but by the time he was aching too badly to continue, he was redirecting one ember in five. They continued to burn in the center of the glass orb until he let it go, when they promptly all winked out.

"Putting pressure on you seems to be the right choice." H folded his arms and scowled approvingly. "You get part of the afternoon off. Have another dose of Formula T as a reward. You may have a bit of trouble recovering anyway."

"For me, it wasn't like a whirlpool," Rick said. Between all the painful hits, he'd had enough time to think it through. "That implies using force to move the attacks, and that got me using physical force. Instead, I thought about it like the orb was a black hole. It doesn't suck in anything, it's the force of gravity that draws the aura."

"Huh. That's actually closer to how it truly works." H regarded him, then nodded as if confirming something to himself. "But I hope you've seen the weakness: it will only work against aura. This technique is completely useless against raw lucrim, a physical blow, or anything ether-enchanted."

"But most ranged attacks are based on aura. I completely get how useful it could be." Rick tossed the glass orb between his hands. "I assume this is a teaching tool, but I'll do my best to master the actual version."

"You'd better. We're behind schedule."

H directed him to sit down and showed him how to tweak the technique he'd been practicing. Then, given an infusion of lucrim from philosopher's elixir, he began gathering all the power into the second of the crystal spheres. Unfortunately, he failed to get the initial spark of the Lucore started three times before H told him to try again once he was rested.

"The defensive core came easily to you," H said, "but this is your weakness. You're too used to beatings with your fists. Normally we'd focus on this technique until you'd built up a basic core, but there's not enough time for that. We'll have to begin developing the third technique as well."

"That's the sensory one?"

"Correct. And it's likely to be difficult for you, because this isn't exactly a common technique. Put aside everything you know about sensing lucrim in modern portfolios. Instead, let your aura grow still and use it to feel the movements of lucrim in others, not yourself."

Rick closed his eyes and attempted to do so. Some of the exercises H had been forcing him to do were clearly preparation for this, and now that he understood their purpose, they came easier. It felt like he had his eyes closed for an hour, but eventually he began to feel his aura thrumming in response to his environment. Disappointingly weak, but after trying several times, he had to give up.

When he opened his eyes, he saw H staring at him. A moment later the other man returned to glowering. "That was too fast. Has someone been teaching you on the side?"

"No, it's because I've done this before." Rick raised his hands across from each other and let aura flow through them, as he had so many times before while working for the Global Lucrim Authority. "They had us search out lucrim anomalies this way. I figured the technique would never be useful for anything else, but I guess it isn't so archaic after all."

"Guess not." H had completely recovered from his surprise and tossed the third crystal sphere to him. "Try to get this Lucore started, if you can. You already understand the basics, it's just that you want the Lucore to react to the environment, not you. We'll worry about connecting it to your senses later."

That was a bit trickier than it sounded. Rick's first workable attempt failed, but he managed to get it on the second. He lifted the sphere with his aura and put the others along with it. One brightly glowing sphere, one with a seed of a Lucore, and one still empty. It was progress.

As he attempted to focus on his own work that evening, Rick found that he had a surprising difficulty: recovering from the embers. They hadn't been intense enough to deal serious damage to him, yet the ache persisted for hours. Worse, his defensive core and even the Dark Blood Kettle were struggling to adapt to them. Whatever the attack was, it seemed it was too well-constructed for him to easily build defenses against it.

For the first week of the Showdown, Rick essentially didn't go outside, just focusing on establishing his new Lucores. He eventually managed to start the ranged defense core and he layered more lucrim onto the sensory core. But when it came time for him to participate in an event, H forbade him from using the Triune Golden Spheres at all, saying they were still too fragile.

So Rick went up against the best in the world with nothing but his base cores. He barely lasted a minute, yet he was proud of his defenses. Reports of the uniqueness of New Zealand's techniques proved mostly true, yet he didn't fall apart at the first blows. If he'd had his full capabilities, he was sure that he would have done better.

Having played his role, he examined the Triune Golden Spheres carefully and then settled in to work.

[Triune Golden Spheres: 27,950

- Defensive Sphere: 20,250

- Absorption Sphere: 1200

- Sensory Sphere: 6500]

That afternoon when H entered, he thrust something forward irritably. "Did you receive a care package? I thought you didn't have family aside from your sister."

"Oh, that must be from Lisa." Rick hopped up, far faster than he would have wanted to admit. The package was indeed from Branton, though it was labeled with a business address. When he took off the outer wrapping, he discovered a simple box that contained multiple cans of serum and a few smaller boxes.

"Other supplements?" H regarded the aluminum cans as if the element of aluminum had murdered his family. "Is all the lucrim we're pouring into you not enough? You do realize how close you're cutting it to becoming a power addict, right?"

"This is just serum, not elixir." Rick opened up a can and took a sip - it was everything he remembered and more. The mint flavor was just a bit sweeter and he felt the refreshment tingling through him almost immediately. Smiling, Rick handed another can to H. "Try it. If you can honestly tell me that in your professional opinion, this will ruin me, I'll reconsider."

H took the can with an expression of distaste, and seemed even less pleased to crack open the top. When he took a sip, his face was completely neutral for several long seconds. His grunt of approval came with extreme displeasure.

"So it's fine?" Rick asked. H set the can down, grumbling under his breath.

"It's ably crafted serum. Warriors shouldn't need serum. Nothing but a low cost alternative for those who can't afford philosopher's elixir. But if you're going to drink it, you could do worse than this."

"I told you, she's a professional." Rick eagerly began finishing off the can, but he regarded H between sips. "So what are we doing for today's lesson?"

"You might be barely adequate when it comes to the core techniques, but you need to start using them together. So today, we use this." H held up a strip of cloth that Rick recognized as a blindfold. "And if you make a single childish joke, I'll just leave."

Rick held his tongue and put on the blindfold. He knew what was coming next, but that actually made him more anxious. All he could do was stand in the center of the room and do his best to defend against the embers flying at him from all directions. For several minutes, that meant fumbling blindly while the blazing pieces of aura burned into him.

In theory, he could use his sensory Lucore to sense the incoming attacks, then absorb them with his ranged Lucore. In practice, it was nothing like that. Being able to sense large scale lucrim anomalies was nothing like being able to pinpoint the direction and angle of an attack in a single second. Even when he felt it approach, he was usually wrong about the direction. And even if everything else miraculously went well, it was difficult to use the final Lucore with so much else on his mind.

He saw why H had started him with juggling. That didn't stop him from still being thrown into the fire.

When he was too burned to keep training, Rick tugged off the blindfold and dropped into a seated position. "So is this technique useless unless I see an attack coming?" he asked. "Because there are plenty of people out there faster than me, and some techniques can literally travel at the speed of light."

"When you fully master the technique, it will absorb everything that gets near you." H shook his head slowly. "The Midas Foundation would still be more idiot-friendly, but I knew you would need something that worked automatically. But you're not there yet."

"Wait a minute. If the final version will absorb everything that gets close, why am I training so hard on using it directionally?"

H scoffed. "You think this is some mythical technique that will just magically absorb any attack whatsoever? Of course not. It's made of lucrim and aura, so it can be broken by lucrim or aura. When you run into someone truly strong, you'll want to have mastered every component of the technique."

"I figured as much." Rick rubbed his shoulder where one ember had burned particularly deep. "But that actually had me wondering. We're investing a lot of time and lucrim into something that's essentially just another defense. I assume that it's better specialized to deal with ranged attacks, or there'd be no point. But what if we just poured everything into defense? How much could I endure?"

"It wouldn't be the worst strategy in the world. You've seen that defense counts for a lot. But it wouldn't be the best, either. Do you think that you're going to have more lucrim invested than every opponent you'll ever face in your life?"

"Obviously not. So what's the advantage?"

"The advantage is the failure state. This specialized Lucore won't absorb everything, but some of what it can't absorb, it could redirect away from you. And if it's overloaded, the sphere will collapse without harming you. Much, anyway. If your over-sized defensive core fails, those attacks are taking a toll on your body."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Rick lifted the ranged sphere and floated it around his palm. "If you're giving out secrets that you've been withholding for no reason-"

"The reason is not wanting to overload your thuggish mind."

"Then why not explain what I actually do with all this energy the Lucore absorbs? I've already tried absorbing it into myself and that doesn't work at all. Can it be thrown back at my opponent?"

"That is... actually a weakness of the Triune Golden Spheres." H hesitated, which was so uncharacteristic for him that Rick narrowed his eyes. "There are techniques that can absorb and return attacks, yes. But they tend to require extreme focus, so they couldn't be built into a compound technique like this. Aura attacks you absorb are converted to pure force, then released when the sphere starts to fail."

"What, creating a shockwave all around me?" Rick wasn't sure, but he thought he was getting a lot better at the fundamental construction of Lucores. He was glad to see H nod without throwing in any insults.

"Correct. It's a desperation move, but it would only appear when you're desperate. And most importantly, it works automatically. So once your mind is capable of handling the full Triune Golden Spheres at once..."

"...I have multiple layers of defenses all working subconsciously," Rick finished. "That makes sense. It's a brilliant choice, really. What was so much better about the Midas Foundation?"

"Bah. You snubbed it, so why do you care? Get up, there's more training to be done."

Over the coming weeks, Rick managed to slowly utilize the full technique. By now, juggling with the resistance spheres was easy, which made it effortless to rotate the Triune Golden Spheres within him. He was still mentally focusing on each one and switching as they were necessary, but he thought he was getting closer. Sometimes when an attack came at him from behind, he absorbed it without thinking, without even being aware that he'd noticed it.

Still, doing it in training was different from doing it in reality. H enrolled him in several less competitive events and even had him help with the qualifying rounds for new contestants. Rick earned no seals and didn't even win any victories, but that was never the point. His only goal was to use the Triune Golden Spheres in actual combat, and through painful mistakes, he was growing used to it.

Yet even though Rick met a huge number of competitors during all the events, he barely remembered any of them. Most of them would fail, and even those who were inducted into the Showdown would probably participate in different events. Anyone local to New Zealand he wouldn't have a chance to see again for years, so it felt pointless to get to know them.

Unfortunately, that was true of most people he met. Traveling the world while having only temporary acquaintances struck Rick as sad, and he often found himself falling back on familiar relationships. Melissa was busy, but their texts gave him life. He enjoyed talking to Lisa, though she seemed even more formal and guarded than before. If she needed that distance, he wouldn't argue.

Given a few extra hours, Rick reached out a little further. He got in touch with Uncle Frank, which was a fun conversation, and arranged for a future visit. Not all the details were certain, but it seemed that everyone could be in Vietnam at the same time. Beyond that, he made contact with Adsila and Wemilat again, only to find out that they'd been following his exploits. Finally he sent a couple emails to Damian, though he didn't get any response.

The trip to Siberia was getting closer, so Rick began to pack his things. It didn't take long, as he'd barely moved out of his suitcase. But while sorting through the new training items and finding a place for Lisa's box of serum, his bike chip fell out. Rick ran his fingers over the dark chip, realizing how long it had been since he'd gone biking. Even though he went everywhere by taxi or private vehicle now, he missed it.

As they ran out of training time, Rick looked at the Triune Golden Spheres one more time and was surprised by how much progress he'd made.

[Triune Golden Spheres: 53,750

- Defensive Sphere: 25,000

- Absorption Sphere: 11,250

- Sensory Sphere: 17,500]

Just over 25,000 lucrim gained... that was a huge advancement, almost like getting a Birthright Core. Yet in a strange way, despite all the pain and suffering he'd gone through for them, they didn't feel his. The crystal spheres floated in his lucrima soul, yes, but they didn't feel part of him like his true Lucores. Maybe that would change as he grew used to the technique, but it left him with an odd dissatisfaction that no amount of success could shake.

On their very last day, H invited him outside the training complex and they sparred atop a gorgeous mountain range. It wasn't a very intense sparring match and H didn't use his embers, so it was actually relaxing. Rick enjoyed himself, letting his expanded senses slide over the mountains all around him as they fought.

It did become more intense in the end, a fierce hand to hand bout atop a rocky outcropping. Rick was surprised to find that he was actually winning, and he wasn't sure that H was holding back. Of course, if the other man was fighting seriously he would have stayed at a distance and used embers, but still. His strength matching up to his mentor's weakness was no small thing. For the first time in his life, Rick actually felt strong.

When they finished, he sat down on the edge and looked out over the rolling landscape. H stood nearby, characteristically silent, and Rick eventually decided he had to ask.

"Why end like this? You haven't been much for relaxation before."

"You could use the break." H didn't criticize like usual, instead staring over the horizon with a strange expression. "Because tomorrow we go to Siberia."

Chapter 24: Entering Siberia

After following the Showdown through four different countries, Rick thought that he knew how everything went. For all the differences in culture and climate, the modern world had flattened the process of traveling. They always flew into a major city, their Showdown cards allowing them to skip customs, and went straight to a training facility.

Not so in Siberia.

Rick had ignored their flight path to focus on training the Triune Golden Spheres when warnings suddenly blared from the cockpit. He leapt to his feet automatically, but saw H shake his head. A voice announced some sort of warning in what Rick assumed was Russian, then their helicopter changed direction and began heading down.

"The Greater Siberian Domain has excellent border security," H explained. "It's just a bit blunt about everything. They need to approve our entry and give us government-issued identification. Just cooperate and it will all be over quickly."

Imagining cavity searches, Rick did his best not to get too concerned as they landed. When they stepped out of the helicopter, it appeared to be in a desolate snowfield with nothing but a small airport nearby. Several soldiers awaited them, wearing military uniforms with white camouflage and more fur than normal. The leader stepped forward and examined them skeptically.

"Showdown, yes? That way." His accent was thick, but the finger stabbing toward one of the buildings was clear enough. As they walked, surrounded by a military escort, Rick shifted closer to H.

"Surely they can't do this for everyone."

"Obviously not, though the normal borders are tight as well." One of the soldiers glowered at them, but talking must be allowed, because H glared right back at her, then continued. "But anyone who is rated as over a certain threat level is treated differently. As Showdown participants, we're automatically on that list. I took this route to get us through faster."

As they walked the biting cold began to get through even Rick's defensive cores, but fortunately they were escorted directly into the building. He hadn't realized how loud the wind had been until it was suddenly gone, the silence within the building surreal.

Within, he saw a gate that reminded him of an airport terminal with a severe-looking man awaiting them on the other side of ether-reinforced glass. Or maybe that was a friendly expression for Siberia. H led them forward and nudged Rick to get out his card. After examining their identification, however, the man only grunted and held out a hand.

"Lucrim portfolios?"

Rick started to get out his phone, only to have the man shake his head severely. Meanwhile, H had revealed a circular metal plate that was accepted by a scanner. When Rick looked toward H for explanation, he just nodded back to the official.

"Siberia does not acknowledge the measurements or rankings of outside nations," the official said flatly. He regarded Rick with pale eyes, then pointed toward a different line. "You must be evaluated and granted an official measurement."

That seemed harmless enough to cooperate with, so Rick nodded and followed his instructions. Another soldier standing on guard opened a gate for him, allowing him to step into another room. There was a large metal panel on the floor with several metal arms arcing around it, reminding him of some sort of standing dental chair.

A technician spoke to him in Russian, but the gesture was clear enough. Rick went to stand in the center where he saw two symbols for feet. Immediately the mechanical arms began to move around him, some revealing ends that looked uncomfortably stabby, but none got close to him. He could feel some technique poking at his lucrima soul, based on aura but not quite an attack. His instinct was still to try to absorb it, but he doubted that would be well-received.

"Good. Now brace self. Defensive cores." The instructions came a moment before a tall metal bar began emitting blinding red light. Rick instinctively raised both his defenses as he felt the light burn into him. This one could well have been an attack for most, though it wasn't enough to scathe him. He could only hope they had modulated its strength based on their first measurements.

Then it seemed he was done. Rick was ushered through a different door back into the main line, where he was glad to see H for once. There he filled out a bit of paperwork, thankfully in English, and was then handed a metal circle similar to the one he had seen before. It had his name and an ID number printed directly into the metal, but he was more interested in the symbols at the center.

It was clearly the Siberian equivalent of the American ether tier system. Rick had vaguely known that the same ratings agencies didn't operate for the whole world, but it hadn't been relevant until that point. This system was rather blunt:

[Strength: 79,000

Rank: Junior Fighter

Affiliation: Showdown Guest - Third Class]

Though the new system immediately interested him, Rick decided that it would just be a distraction. It didn't matter how they measured his strength, only what he could do. The "Third Class" designation made him wonder about the others, but it was all useless without anything to compare.

Fortunately, the whole process wasn't drawn out and they were soon escorted out of the other side of the building, then back to their helicopter. H was already finished and waiting, saying a few words to the soldiers before gesturing for him to follow. No one came after them as they walked the final distance to the helicopter, though Rick couldn't stop himself from looking back.

"They'll just let us go now?"

"They don't like to waste time in Siberia." H made a gesture to lower the ramp, then glanced down at him while they waited. "And they don't need to. Not having your identification badge is a major crime here, even for visitors. The badge itself has a unique ether signature built into it connected to your profile. So everyone will know who you are. And obviously the government can track you."

Rick frowned. "No privacy?"

"They don't really consider that a major value here."

"In that case... I want to see your ID."

"Why should I let you?" H turned away from him and walked up the ramp, which instantly began to retract, forcing Rick to scramble to enter.

Once he was inside, however, he decided that he wouldn't be put off so easily. If the badges allowed anyone to access information, then H's badge wouldn't be private either. Rick tried to extend both his normal senses and his enhanced ones out toward the older man, but got nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet with his new observation Lucore, he sensed a faint thread tying him to his own badge. There must be another one connecting H... yes, there it was. They appeared artificial, an element of technology as opposed to anything more spiritual. If that was the case, perhaps he needed to use his own badge...

Getting it back out of his pocket, Rick pursued the connection, then focused toward H. It worked surprisingly quickly and letters of aura appeared on the back side of his badge:

[Strength: 127,000

Rank: Foreign Trainer

Affiliation: Showdown Guest - Second Class]

No name, though he assumed the government could get that information. Perhaps that was considered less important than a person's strength out here. Though Rick was intrigued by the difference in their rated strength, which wasn't as high as he expected, he reminded himself that it didn't really matter.

"You figured it out?" H glanced over at him and then shook his head. "You've gained basic competence. That's obnoxious."

"I expected the difference to be bigger," Rick said. "I've kind of been assuming you were an immortal too, or at least close to one."

"None of that is any of your business." H sat down and folded his arms, glaring him into a seat across from him. "Now, 79,000 is not a terrible score, but it needs to be higher. This is where a demonic bond would have been extremely useful."

"They count that as part of the number?"

"Everything is part of the number, even equipment. What matters here is efficacy."

Rick nodded acceptance, but H clearly wasn't done.

"As I said, I'm not going to force a bond on you. And I've been patient because you've avoided embarrassing yourself too badly. But here, a few tricks won't cut it. You'd better not have been lying about having some plan to get a better bond, or you're not getting entered into any events."

"I'll do what I can." Rick had been avoiding thinking about the subject, or focusing solely on Bftgage and Ythsil. But though he trusted the two demons, he didn't expect them to ever present him with some amazing combat bond. Hopefully they could at least lead him to something that would appease H.

"Entry into the demon realm isn't too difficult here, due to the number of fusions, but it's highly restricted. I'll set something up for you as soon as possible."

"Thanks." Trying to distract himself from all the other thoughts, Rick tried to refocus. "I assume we'll be in a training center as always, but we'll still see Siberian culture. Anything I need to know?"

"Don't start any fights. If you think the limits on killing are lax in the US, you haven't seen anything." H jabbed a finger at the badge still held in his hands. "Some would argue there's no rule of law here, just rule of affiliations. Fortunately, the Showdown is internationally respected. It won't earn you respect, but it will earn you a bit of protection."

"That's... better than it could be. It seems like this would be a terrible place to start a Showdown career."

"Only idiots send their trainees here first. Some don't let them come to Siberia until a full year of events, but your first few months have been adequate. You shouldn't die, anyway."

Rick took a deep breath, his attempt at a distraction having utterly failed. "Is getting a demonic bond here a mistake, then? Are they going to just take my soul by force?"

"No, the Siberian demon corps are international agencies. Cutthroat, but that's par for the course. Read the fine print and you'll live." H regarded him sternly. "Does that mean you're going to actually go through with this, instead of being a racist coward again?"

The only response Rick had was to shake his head. It seemed like he didn't have a choice, yet he was banking heavily on Bftgage and Ythsil finding a good path for him. Without any contact with them, he was actually nervous. Could they survive in an environment like this one? If he had sent them to their deaths...

As Rick stewed in his thoughts, the helicopter took them deep into Siberia.

Chapter 25: The Burning Snow

Their hotel appeared ordinary enough, but the rooms they were allowed to use were based on their government ranking. It struck Rick as similar to several generations past in the US, when ether tiers had been used for everything. Now they only governed a few services and applications, whereas in Siberia they ruled every interaction. Weaker people were even supposed to step aside in hallways or on the street.

He'd barely had time to set down his things and wash his face when H barged in. Rick thought he had locked the door and frowned, but H only shook his head.

"Local laws don't apply to us, but they do assume that masters have complete control over their trainees."

"How comforting."

"If you don't fail me here, I won't use it." H gestured for him to follow. "The transfer to the demon realm was arranged more quickly than I expected. Apparently you have someone requesting you on the other side. So we need to do this now."

So that was it. Rick had hoped to have at least a day to unwind in the hotel and go through all his training exercises again, maybe even do some final research. He grabbed a can of Lisa's serum and his demonic needle, then followed H out the door. As they walked down the hallway, he decided there was no point asking questions and just drank the serum so he'd be ready for the demon realm.

They entered a special elevator just past the normal one, requiring both of them to scan their badges before it would close the doors and activate the controls. This time, however, they headed up instead of down. Rick had always thought of the demon realm as being "down" but he supposed that wasn't actually correct.

"There's not a lot I can say to help." As they neared the top, H glanced over at him flatly. "Don't fail."

Though Rick wanted to snark back, he didn't have it in him. This visit to the demon realm might be more dangerous than his past two, plus more was on the line, both for the demon brothers and for himself. Even if he succeeded there, he would only be thrown against...

No. Focus.

By the time the elevator stopped, Rick was mostly calm. For the first time, he would be entering the demon realm fully prepared for the transition. That didn't prepare him to step out on top of the roof and see a hole tear itself out of the sky.

Biting shards of ice hit his skin as the wind began to swirl just above the hotel roof. He distantly saw that there was a heavily reinforced fence and several other security measures that set up the portal, but it was hard to focus on them with that entrance to the demon realm yawning above him. Only after he'd stepped forward did he realized that H had stayed back cautiously.

"Do I jump o-" Rick didn't get out the next word before he felt the portal begin to draw him upward. There was a brief moment when he could have resisted, but he instead braced himself and let the force take him. In a flash he seared through the frozen air and then plunged into something that felt even colder.

Rick rocketed out of a pool of water into a pale sky. The air felt colder than before and at first he worried that he'd freeze solid, but then he realized that he wasn't even slightly wet. For a moment he hung in the air at the top of his arc, with a view of the desolate landscape all around him. There was nothing but black tundra and a series of pale blue ponds.

His path down was slower, drifting more like he was used to in the demon realm. When he looked back, he saw only the faintest ripples from the pond behind him. When he gazed into the water, instead of his reflection, he saw a blurry glimpse of the hotel roof. So that was his passage back.

It didn't look like H was there anymore. Rick knew that probably didn't mean anything, so he just turned away to get to work. Though he instinctively tried to rub his arms against his torso for warmth, it did nothing against the supernatural chill.

He'd set up his shielding aura without thinking, but it didn't seem like a single demon was visible. Hiding? Or was this region actually abandoned? When no one arrived after several minutes, Rick bent down and leapt as high as he could.

With the strange drifting physics of the demon realm, he sailed far higher than he could have in real life. For long moments he was suspended over the landscape, his breath momentarily gone as he realized that it was as beautiful as it was harsh. Each of the pools reflected a different scene, glimmering like possibilities from so high above. The black snow reflected the light sky in shimmering waves as he moved, and in the distance he could see trees crystalline with ice.

Aside from the beauty, Rick saw several large fires that might have activity around them. One northwest, two to the south, and one to the east. When he returned to the ground, landing more softly than his jump would have suggested, he decided that there was nothing to do but head toward one.

As he left the region filled with lakes, he began to see more signs of life. Several of the smallest mindless demons moved cautiously through the snow... and then he saw a larger demon chewing on a smaller one. The demons in Branton had all swarmed together, but here he realized that he was seeing predator and prey relationships.

Something began rushing toward him and he considered just how far the "prey" category might extend.

Even though he should have been untouchable here, Rick dodged on instinct, his hands going up by his head in a defensive position. Whatever it was, it was fast, sweeping just past him before tracing a quick arc back to him. Only when it finally reared up to its full height did he get a good look at it.

Though humanoid, it was skeletally thin and clad only in black rags. It grinned with a mouth filled with sharp teeth and raised a clawed hand. "Hello, human."

"I... don't suppose you're here to welcome me?" Rick kept his hands up even when the demon laughed at him.

"You're a Showdown contestant with no demonic affiliation, are you? Well, nothing that means anything. Bold of you to come here. And a bit stupid." With no more warning than that, it lunged forward, its claw wrapping around his throat.

To Rick's shock, it actually hurt, grasping hold of him instead of passing through. The demon must be monstrously powerful, and Rick panicked for a moment... but only a moment. He might not know the demon realm perfectly, but he knew it was a world of aura.

Attempting to push away the arm gripping his neck didn't work, but it didn't seem like it could crush his throat. Ignoring the mild pain, Rick focused on his aura and began to intensify it. At first it seemed to have no effect, but then he felt the Dark Blood Kettle rising within him and his aura burned brighter.

The demon winced and pulled back its hand. Rick prepared to take it down if he could, but it only chuckled.

"Well, it was worth a try. You must have more experience here than I thought."

"Did you just try to kill me?" Rick lowered his arms to a normal position, but he focused on his aura, ready to use it as a bludgeon if necessary. The demon only laughed again.

"I wouldn't have been able to kill you, not here. But I could have done enough to coerce you into an agreement in my favor."

Though still skeptical that he was being lured into letting his guard down, Rick thought the demon actually seemed sincere. "That couldn't possibly be legally valid. Even if it's legal in Siberia, it wouldn't be when I left."

"Oh, I didn't mean a formal bond. An embedded fusion." The demon folded its arms and regarded him curiously, one claw tapping along its arm. "What are you doing here, then? Don't give me that look, I'm just curious now. Maybe I can help you out as an apology."

"I'm here to meet a pair of foreign demons." Rick decided to say nothing else in case it was still a trick. Even if this demon couldn't hurt him, it could almost certainly kill Bftgage and Ythsil. To his surprise, the demon shook its head.

"Business dealings aren't this way. If they're here, they're at the bonfire to the east." With that, the demon sprinted away, rags vanishing into the darkness. Rick stared after it, thinking about possible scams, but eventually decided that going east had to be at least as good as a random direction.

As he went, he found himself pushing off the ground as hard as he could. It was easier not to think about it, but he was getting worried for the demon brothers. Comparing their home to this part of the demon realm, it was obvious that they would be in trouble. He wanted to believe they wouldn't have asked him to send them to Siberia without knowing what they were doing, but it was easy to imagine worst case scenarios.

The closer he came to the bonfire, the larger he realized it was. There was something like civilization around it, with several buildings and multiple demons moving without attacking one another. He thought a few of the buildings were several stories tall, but they looked like huddling shacks surrounding the enormous fire that burned without any visible fuel. Once he looked closer, he saw that the buildings were in an archaic style, all wooden shingles and gnarled beams.

His arrival attracted a little attention, as many of the demons around the fire were strong enough to notice him. Most didn't seem interested, however, simply going about their business or training. No other humans in sight, bonded or free. When Rick finally saw a demon wearing modern combat robes, he decided to stop.

"I was told to meet a pair of demons here?" He let his statement turn up like a question, unsure if it was rude to throw something like that at a stranger. The demon stared at him in surprise, then let out a sigh.

"Oh, you must be the one they're waiting for. Horrible little busybodies. Please get them away from us." The demon left him quickly, but not before directing him to a building around the side of the central flame.

As Rick floated around the side, he began to wonder if he was getting a run-around. He thought the skeletal demon from earlier had truly tried to harm him, so he was reasonably confident that he could defend himself against a direct threat. But in the demon realm, even this demon realm, that was really not his biggest fear.

Then he saw two melted frogs and they were one of the most beautiful sights of his life.

"Rick? Rick!" All three of Ythsil's eyes went wide and he launched himself off the top of the house where the two brothers were sitting. Though Rick raised his arms to catch him, the demon went straight through his body. Bftgage climbed down at a more steady pace, but soon enough the brothers were hopping around his legs.

"I'm glad the two of you are alright." Rick crouched down so he wasn't towering over them, smiling more broadly than he had expected. "This place is more dangerous than I thought."

"We had a formal merchant's pass, so we weren't in danger!" Ythsil declared. But over his head, Rick saw Bftgage vomit some nervous blue mucus.

"This place was... more than we expected. Even the pass might not have been good enough. But they're not all as cruel as they might seem, and so we've made progress."

"What kind of progress?" Rick asked. "I was watching my bond for you two and I noticed that it hasn't changed, but I wasn't sure what to expect."

Ythsil tried to push Rick's legs to make him walk, which was of course ineffectual, but Rick joined the two as they half hopped, half rolled away from the bonfire. That took them further from prying ears, perhaps, though Rick wasn't eager to leave the flame. Being near it was one of the only things that reduced the freezing spirit of the place.

"We realized that we've been going about this wrong," Bftgage explained. "We've been trying to create powerful demonic bonds for fighters, because you're a fighter, and that's what we know. But we could do better with simple economic bonds. We even have connections to resources in Branton that could make them better."

"Right, right!" Ythsil encouragingly blew red spittle over his brother. "I didn't realize humans could have so much lucrim! Even with help we can probably only give bonds worth about 1000. But there are lots of humans who just want little bonds to buy things."

"The really difficult part will be getting the necessary permits. We have a stronger basis now, but doing the same thing back in Branton will be hard, because the big firms control everything."

Rick listened to the two brothers with a smile on his face, glad that they'd made progress and even more glad that he hadn't made a horrible mistake bringing them there. But as they got further and further away from the settlement, he couldn't help but wonder exactly where they were going. He wanted to ask, but the two kept talking over each other.

"And we couldn't have done it without Kat-"

"Ythsil, ssh! She wanted to introduce herself."

The exchange instantly froze Rick's good mood. "Who are you talking about?"

"A demon who helped us! And she wants to help you too!" Ythsil looked up at him with a broad grin, but Rick's skepticism immediately went into overdrive. He looked toward Bftgage, who began hopping faster as he spoke.

"We're almost there anyway. I think this will solve your problem, Rick. You can get a... a real demonic bond, not just the best we can do."

Ahead of them, Rick saw wasteland... and a pool of water. But unlike the others, which reflected the human realm, this one glowed a pale blue that was almost white. As they drew closer, he realized that the pool was frozen over, unlike all the others. The snow around them was black, so he wasn't sure why the ice was so pale, but it stood out in a way that made all his senses scream for caution.

It was true that he needed a demonic bond, and he doubted that H would be satisfied with a simple bond from the brothers. Meeting someone who they trusted was, in theory, exactly what he needed. That didn't make him less nervous about meeting a demon who by implication seemed much more worldly than the two. He trusted their basic good nature, not their infallible judgment.

The ice cracked loudly and a burst of water erupted from it, yet the liquid froze in midair, rapidly taking the form of a woman. She had white hair, unnaturally pale skin, and a predatory smile.

"Richard Hunter. I've been looking forward to meeting with you."

Chapter 26: Katenka

"That's an interesting way to start a conversation." Rick didn't take a step back, but he readied his aura as he analyzed the demon woman, trying to figure out if she was a succubus, or whatever the local equivalent was. Though her face was attractive, it was a slightly unnatural beauty that left him unsettled. Her robes conformed to her body, but no more than normal. Above all, the look in her eyes was far from seductive.

"Oh, but your friends have told me so much about you." She slid across the ice without taking a step, bending low and patting the two frogs on their heads. Ythsil happily vomited mucus onto her hand, which slid off without a trace, while Bftgage looked to Rick seriously.

"We would have been in trouble without her, Rick. She's been so helpful in changing the type of our bonds. Right now she's looking for a strong human. Maybe the two of you can help each other?"

"Maybe," Rick said. He hadn't intended to agree, but he didn't want to disappoint the eager looks on Bftgage and Ythsil's faces. That agreement didn't commit him to anything, so he just resolved to be completely logical when it came time to sign anything. "You have the advantage over me."

"My name is Katenka." The demoness rose and took a grand bow. "Humans call me a rusalka."

"I... don't know what that is."

"You could think of it as a Slavic mermaid, though less singing songs about the surface world and more pulling men to their doom." Katenka smiled, her perfect white teeth just a little too pointed. This time it looked more playful than predatory, or at least a mischievous predation. "But given that you have more experience in the demon realm than most, I would trust you to understand that we aren't actually the same as the stories told about us."

Rick didn't let his guard down, but had to nod at that. "Yeah, I've met a few demons named Lilith, for example."

Katenka laughed briefly, a sound like ice shattering. "Ah yes, they would do that in the west! But I do not intend to play such games with you, Richard Hunter. I truly believe that we could help each other, if you are willing to consider the possibility."

"I'm listening. But I've seen what demonic bonds have done to my family and friends. Taking a small one from friends is one thing, but relying on them is entirely different."

Ythsil interrupted with a gobbet of purple phlegm. "You wouldn't be like that, Rick! You know how to use a bond properly."

Seeing their enthusiasm, Rick hesitated. Before he could figure out what to say, he caught Katenka's eyes shifting between them and he realized that her irises were luminous white. She again turned to the two frogs, smiling broadly at them.

"Richard and I need to discuss some boring contractual details. Why don't you prepare a contract for him to sign? That is, I assume that you've told him about your plans to shift into purely economic bonds. You could do much better for him that way, even right now, but you need to set up the contract properly."

The brothers agreed and began to focus more on each other. Once their attention turned away, Katenka reached out and hooked Rick's shirt with one finger, then suddenly they slid out into the center of the frozen pond. It wasn't violent like the skeletal demon that had attacked him, yet her ability to move him in the demon realm was even more worrying.

Once they were alone, however, the frogs just distant specks, she went silent. Rick decided that whether or not she was on the level, he should just be direct. "I don't like demonic bonds and I've never taken a real one. You're going to have to do better than a little flirtation to convince me."

"Believe me, I intend to." Katenka turned to him and he realized that she could do an icy gaze like none other. "Let me begin with a show of good faith: everything I did for your little friends was purely voluntary, without any strings attached. If you want to turn me down, you can leave with their contract."

"That..." Rick looked toward where they stood on the shore. "Did I make a mistake, sending them here?"

"They may not be the brightest demons in the realm, but don't be condescending. You didn't send them, you helped them come here. But yes, it was probably foolish on their part. Even with their pass, they could very easily have ended up dead, since they would be little missed. Their firm might have asked for compensation, but if you're wealthy enough, that is simply the fee to murder."

Katenka was speaking with brutal directness now, which he preferred. Yet he remembered Lilith and how she had shifted her approach to match his, so he remained cautious. "Thank you for helping them, but I don't need to be convinced of your good nature. You're with one of the Siberian demonic corporations, right?"

"And you don't believe they are in the business of charity?" She raised a cool eyebrow, then smiled. "You're right. But I truly believe that an agreement would be in our mutual best interest. Not only do you need an adviser so you don't err when it comes to the demon realm, few humans compete at the highest level without demonic bonds. Those two spoke of you as invincible, but I think we both know how competitive the Showdown can be."

"Everyone tries to convince me that demonic bonds are normal, but going bankrupt and ruining your life seems pretty normal too, in my experience."

"So skeptical. What can I possibly do to overcome this prejudice?"

"Uh..." He hadn't expected such a direct question, but he realized that he actually had his answer. "I need to understand how a real partnership would be in your self-interest. You want me to overdraw and pay you a lot of lucrim, otherwise you don't make a profit. I can't work with an organization that wants me to fail."

"I won't deny that demonic firms make a great profit off many humans failing, but that doesn't mean we want you in particular to fail." Katenka raised a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "I hope that you know that a demonic bond increases a person's strength, even if they don't draw heavily on it. But I wonder if you know how?"

"Honestly, I assumed that everyone was just drawing heavily all the time."

"Perhaps for the low quality bonds you've seen. But it's more complex than that, and perhaps it would be easiest to explain with an economic bond. When you pay for something with demonic lucrim, do you think that transaction is free? It's not, but the store is the one paying for the transaction fee, not you."

"So you make money off every purchase?" Rick had honestly never heard of that before, but he assumed that she wouldn't lie to his face about something so easily checked. "How does that relate to combat?"

"The power I'd grant you is inherently draining, but not necessarily to you. With every contact with an enemy, you steal away a small percentage of their lucrim, or at least their energy. Some of that goes to me, some of it goes to you, but there's a net profit for both of us."

"Paid by everyone else, then."

"That's right. So you see, demonic firms really make profits in two ways. The lowest classes of bonds are purely exploitative, but those who can't be exploited receive a more prestigious type of bond." Katenka gave him another one of those creepy smiles. "We want to offer you the latter. We don't anticipate you'll ever overdraw the bond, but we'll both still make a profit regardless."

What she said made sense, and it was cynical enough for him to believe it. Of course, that meant he would be draining everyone around him, even if only a little. But apparently this was happening all the time, probably even when other people fought against him, so this was only evening the playing field.

"Not many humans in Siberia have quite your attitude," Katenka went on quietly, "but I've seen it before. They've only encountered the worst of demonic bonds and so they fear them all. People who have only seen them working well are on the other side and can't understand the reluctance. But if you're moving up in the world, this is something you should eventually accept."

"And I should accept it via your contract, is that it?"

Katenka swept her arms to the side in a grandiose bow. "That is exactly what I am proposing. My firm is willing to offer you a moderately-sized bond on normal terms, but I would strongly suggest something better. I don't know if you've seen it, but in Siberia they're quite fond of fusion. What I propose is less drastic than that, but there would be a link between us. I would be able to provide you with information and occasional other services."

If she had been intending to be flirtatious, that would have been the moment for it, but Rick saw nothing but seriousness in her expression. In fact, she seemed more serious than he expected. Though she hid it well, he thought that this mattered to her in some way. Perhaps she simply needed his bond to make her numbers for that quarter or something else so cynical, but he thought there was something deeper to it.

"Mm, you're a hard one to crack. What if I actually showed you the contract?" Katenka waved a hand and a pale scroll emerged from the lake below them. "I assure you, this is legally binding. Please read it over and make your decision."

"Thanks, I will." Rick found that he could touch the scroll, unlike most objects in the demon realm, so he opened it enough to read. After a while he pushed into the air to drift on his back, a trick he'd learned back in Branton. It was more relaxing than constantly shifting near the edges of the ground he couldn't quite touch.

Though not as straightforward as the contract with Bftgage and Ythsil, Rick was surprised to find that the contract wasn't terribly long. After all the negotiations, he could see through the basic legalese, and the important parts were written in plain language. It was a large bond, and despite everything, he was tempted by the immediate increase in power. Even more so, now that he understood how it could work to his advantage.

Several things bugged him about it, though. The part about other services rendered was extremely vague. Several clauses about the consequences of overdrawing the bond seemed odd, actually more in his favor than he'd expected. Above all, the contract implied that she would actually be fused to him in some spiritual way, even in the human realm.

"I'll admit the numbers seem good," Rick said eventually, "but I don't like some of these parts I don't understand."

"Which parts?" Katenka asked. She had stopped paying attention to him, instead bending down and running her fingers over the ice. They left lines of frost, slowing forming some broader pattern in front of them.

"This business about deferring overdrawing consequences. It seems like it's actually too much to my advantage, giving me so much time to pay without any cons-"

"Oh, that part is a little gift to you. I understand that fighters sometimes need to use everything, and it's within my authority to give you a bit of an allowance. Nothing out of the ordinary." She moved her fingers more rapidly, strangely anxious, yet it didn't seem like she was trying to deceive him.

"What's this about you going along with me? You won't be in my head, will you? Or looking over my shoulder?"

"Don't worry, Rick, that will be entirely under your control. If you don't want me to see anything, I'll be blind. On the other hand, I'll be directly on call to offer power or advice at a moment's notice. It really is a good deal... for both of us. Please, look at it carefully."

There was something slightly off about the way she was speaking, prompting Rick to look away from the contract. Her face was calm, yet the way she floated near her ice drawings was slightly stiff. Then he looked down at what she was drawing and he froze as well.

The lines of frost said "Please".

For just a moment she met his gaze and he saw something desperate there. The next moment she tapped her foot against the ice and a rush of cold wind blew away all of her work. Rick briefly closed his eyes against it, and when he looked again, she was the absolute picture of control, an untouchable ice demon.

Was the glimpse of something else he'd seen below just a ploy? Part of Rick insisted that he should try to find out if she was in trouble, while another part told him that he was being an absolute idiot. There seemed to be no way to resolve that conflict, so he focused on the contract, which was written in unambiguous black and white.

The facts were simple: he needed a demonic bond and the terms on this one were good. Rick hoped he wasn't making a mistake, but he didn't think he'd be finding a better option.

"Alright." Rick took a deep breath and rolled up the scroll. "What needs to happen? Can I sign the contract here?"

"No, you'll need to sign one in the human realm." Did he imagine a flicker of relief on Katenka's face? "But since this is partially a fusion, we can conduct the first part of it here. In fact, we must. Let's return to your friends."

With a rush of wind, the two of them returned to the side of the lake. The brothers turned toward Rick, eagerly presenting him with a scroll of their own. It was green and vaguely sticky instead of made of pristine frozen parchment, but Rick was more willing to take it.

"Look at this!" Bftgage said, coughing up mucus proudly. "Our combat demonic bond could only provide you with 800 lucrim. But this one is worth 2000 lucrim, and it will keep generating more! Plus, we can probably make it bigger if we get more economic contracts."

"I'll make this official as soon as I get back to the real world," Rick said, smiling down at the frogs. But his smile didn't last long and he turned to Katenka. "What do we need to do for yours?"

"Normally, this would be difficult." She floated to hover slightly higher over the pond with a bit of a smirk. "But you've led a strange life so far. The first thing you need is a demon mass in your portfolio, but you still have some left. The second thing you need is above average control of aura in our realm... but you have that too. That leaves only the third requirement, which is a bit more of a ceremony."

Rick swallowed, but he'd made his decision. "Fine. Let's seal the deal here."

"Then I need you to plunge your hand through the ice. I should warn you that it will hurt, but you should know pain from your training. It will take only a short time, with no permanent cost to you, and then it will be done."

He stepped out toward her, onto the ice. When she nodded down at the place where he was standing, Rick knelt lower and stared at it. The ice looked rather thick and the glow seemed to be coming from beneath it. His suspicion was that the pool was in some way related to Katenka's power, so it made sense that he needed to do something with it.

"Go on, Rick, you can do it!" Ythsil cheered him on, but the others were silent. Rick started to make a movement, then aborted it and looked at Katenka's reaction. He didn't see any triumph or disappointment, only an increase in tension. It smoothed away a moment later.

There was nothing else to do. Rick reared back and then plunged his arm through the ice.

It froze him to the bone, drawing a grunt of pain, but it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. The next moment he felt something surge into his arm, like ice water in his veins, yet somehow it wasn't painful. Light began to flow from the pond into him and he pulled his hand back on instinct, but the link was already formed and the light flowed through the air into his hand.

He'd expected a demonic tattoo, but instead his right hand was covered in what looked like frost. It didn't feel cold at all, or different to the touch, yet...

Nearby, he saw Katenka watching him. The first expression he saw was relief, then she smiled, absolutely polite once again. "That will be my embodied presence," she explained, "at least once you return to the human realm. It shouldn't inhibit you otherwise."

"My actual hand, though?" Rick tried to brush off the frost, but couldn't feel anything other than his own skin. "That's creepy for a whole bunch of reasons. I don't want you just... sitting in my right hand."

"Would this be more to your taste?" Katenka closed her eyes and the frost crept up his arm, leaving his hand entirely. It settled in a ring around his bicep, but with icy tendrils reaching down toward his forearm. That looked better to him, plus it was something he could hide even with his sleeves rolled up. Certainly better than having his hands permanently changed.

"Yes, that will do." Rick started to straighten up, only to have Bftgage and Ythsil run onto the ice to try to push against him.

"Do you have to go?" Ythsil asked. "I know this was the important part, but I don't want you to leave..."

"Don't worry about us," Bftgage said. "It will take a while to arrange, but we'll be able to pay our way back to Branton. In a few weeks the contract should be ready for you in the human realm."

Rick swept his hand over both of their heads with a fond smile. "Actually, I think I can do better than that. If I could summon you to Siberia, why can't we summon you back to Branton free of charge?"

"That is a good idea, but I don't know if anyone would believe it..."

"But what if it wasn't me? I have friends in Branton. Friends who might actually be interested in a small economic bond, now that I think about it. They could request your presence, then you could talk about contracts. Even if nothing worked out, you'd get back to Branton more easily."

The brothers agreed to this idea with great enthusiasm and vomiting. Though Rick didn't have many relationships left in Branton, he thought that Adsila and Wemilat would actually be interested. Demonic bonds with such low interest rates and simple terms were rare, so surely they could be useful to the Peakless Wildlife Refuge. He'd write them an email explaining the situation and hopefully it would work out well for everyone.

Though Bftgage and Ythsil wanted to talk longer, Rick was suddenly tired of the demon realm. It was partially exhaustion from maintaining his aura, partially the cold piercing through him, and partially just being sick of the bleak landscape. He wanted to go to his hotel and sleep.

So they said their farewells, then Rick drifted back toward the pool he'd entered. He went alone - he'd expected Katenka to follow him, but she was acting strangely distant. His skepticism returned, but he told himself that nothing was permanent until he signed a contract in the human realm. If she'd infected him somehow, he could get H to help eradicate it.

Jumping into the pool proved surprisingly easy and he broke back out standing on the roof of the hotel. H had gone back inside, of course, so Rick went back into the elevator and headed down. Just standing there, listening to the generic music, was deeply surreal after his experience in the demon realm.

As he reached his floor, Rick realized that he was being an idiot and overlooking the obvious. He quickly rolled up his sleeve and confirmed it: the lines of frost were around his arm for real. They didn't look quite so luminous in the human realm, just like pale blue ink. Still, at least it wasn't a hideous tattoo, and it wouldn't be distracting.

Rick still had his sleeve rolled up when he headed down the hall, but he ran into H before getting to his room. The older man examined him carefully, then let out an unreadable grunt. "That bond... how exactly did you land it?"

"I used the demonic connections I'd been building." Seeing his mentor surprised left Rick a little cocky, so he smirked. "Networking."

"Well, it's... adequate. Better than you could have gotten just going to a conventional firm. I bet when it's formally signed and evaluated, it will be counted as worth 20,000 lucrim or more. Looks like it's a partial fusion, too. Not as exceptional as a real fusion, but it might help a bit. Make your defensive core stronger against ice, maybe."

Hearing the number actually stunned Rick more than the surreal experience in the demon realm. There had been a time when his entire lucrim generation rate had been less than 20,000. Even the largest demonic bonds that Henry had taken, ones with horrible consequences, had only been worth 12,000 lucrim. It wasn't a Birthright Core, but it was still an insane amount of power for him to earn in a single decision.

"You're going to need to learn to use it, though." H shook his head and began fishing for a cigarette. "The fact that you've avoided demonic bonds before now puts you at a disadvantage. Too much risk of overdrawing, or of ignoring it and getting no real benefit. We'll need to train w-"

"I'm sure we do, but not right now." Rick surprised himself by interrupting, and H seemed taken aback, but he pushed forward. "Getting this contract was exhausting. To train productively, I need a good long sleep."

"Huh." H stared at him, then grunted his approval and turned away. Soon, Rick was alone in the hallway again.

Now that he was back, he really was increasingly tired. He opened and then relocked his door, eagerly imagining what was to come. Some of Lisa's serum would come first, then he'd take a long hot shower. After that, simple exercises to keep his mind in order, then a solid night of sleep. When he woke in the morning, he could feel more confident he'd made the right decisions.

"Oh, this is going to be fun..." The voice made him flinch violently, only recognizing it as Katenka the next moment. She hovered just beside him, her body ghostly but clearly making eye contact.

Rick groaned. "I didn't expect you to... manifest like this. You said I controlled that, right? Well, right now I want you to go away so I can sleep."

"Ah, but you see, it's a bit more of a negotiation than I implied earlier." Katenka gave him a warm smile and reached out... and he actually felt her fingers trail over his chest, strangely cool. "You knew that you were getting more out of this contract than a little lucrim, right? It's time to seal the deal."

"No, I don't want-" He was interrupted when her hand pressed more firmly against his chest. She couldn't actually move him, but he instinctively retreated from her touch, his legs bumping back against the bed.

"Be honest with yourself, Rick. We need a little privacy right now, don't we?" She gave him a lascivious smile, but when her eyes met his, they were colder than ice. "I insist."

Chapter 27: Post-Contract Negotiations

"You wouldn't want the government spying on our fun, would you?" Katenka swayed toward him, eyes still as hard as before. "You see, there's just one little thing..."

Her fingers walked down his chest toward his pants, but they stopped on his pocket where his official Siberian ID badge lay. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Rick forced himself to think clearly. She obviously had something in mind, and presumably not what she pretended. Since he trusted the government even less than he trusted the demon living in his arm, Rick pulled out the badge.

Katenka jerked her head to the side, toward the simple table in his room. When Rick set down the badge, she floated around behind him, her ghostly body brushing against his back... but her hands reached out to trace a pattern around the badge. A sort of containment field, he thought. Rick generated a sphere of aura around the badge, then glanced back at her.

"Oh, thank fuck." Everything about Katenka's demeanor changed, all the tension draining out of her, and she floated back from him. She didn't look seductive, she looked exhausted. "Keep that barrier up, whatever you do. Tell me if it's going to falter."

"I'm tired, but maintaining something this small is easy." Rick gestured toward the sphere of aura. "That's really enough to hide from the government?"

"It's enough to keep them from listening to us." She swept toward him, but this time she just grabbed his shoulders as if trying to shake him. "You have to get me out of this hellhole."

"That is... not what I expected." Still tired, despite the revelations, Rick dropped down to sit on his bed. Katenka let go and floated some distance away. "Are you going to be fully honest with me now? Because I still haven't signed that contract."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't need any more leverage over me, Rick. You have plenty. Listen, basically everything I said to you was true. The only part I lied about was how much I'm riding along with you. Unless you betray me now, I can leave when you do. I'd prefer that you maintained the contract, but if you insist, there are ways to sever it once we're out."

"What exactly is this 'hellhole' you mentioned? Wherever you were trapped in the Burning Snow? Or do you mean your demonic firm?"

"No, I mean this entire nation, in both realms." Katenka floated on her back in the air, relaxing more the further the conversation went on. "You honestly have no idea what it's like. This is an authoritarian nightmare even for humans, and for demons it's even worse. I'm in a stronger position than most, but everything I've done has been to try to get the hell out."

"And so you targeted me?" Despite himself, Rick was relaxing as well, trusting this version of Katenka much more than those he had seen before. He leaned back against the headboard and regarded her curiously. "How much of this was really coincidence?"

"Some? Most? That's hard to say. I have a strong position with my firm, but unfortunately they wanted me to grant normal bonds to the children of the elite here. The other obvious path is a fusion, but doing that with a human from Siberia, or anywhere in the greater territories, would be pointless. I knew that a foreigner from the Showdown would be my best bet."

"And so you stumbled on me."

"Yes, but you weren't the first." Katenka smiled down at him, her expression much more casual, but with a bit of that predatory look. "Your demon friends spoke highly of you, which got my attention, so I did a little research. I might know a little bit more about you than you'd want. But I assure you, it's in my best interests to serve your best interests."

Rick considered that for a while, part of him wanting to believe her but another part of him still a bit skeptical. "And is that your only goal? Escape Siberia?"

"I've had ideas for what happens after, but they've been theoretical. If you work with me, that could actually be interesting. If you cut me loose, I'll need to find a way into a foreign firm. Long term, I might want to bring a few friends out of Siberia as well, but their positions are so much weaker than mine, it simply isn't possible now. Basically, I just want to live in a proper capitalist society."

"It's not as great as it sounds, trust me."

"No, trust me." Katenka drew herself up, ice swirling around her, and though it had no effect in the human realm, it was still a striking sight. "We talk about Siberia as if survival of the fittest produces the greatest warriors in either realm. Maybe it does, but it also produces villages filled with disease-ridden illiterate peasants. On our side, the lesser demons are used as little more than fodder. It's a horrible system that preys on the weak to enrich the few."

Rick could only shake his head. "Then I have some bad news for you about capitalism."

"What, are you saying you'd rather live under a fascist government?" She folded her arms and regarded him sternly. "I'm not naive, Rick. I know your system is harsh, but it's also produced so much good in the world."

"That might be true, but I've spent most of my life feeling that system kick me directly in the face."

"Mmm, I can see that we're going to disagree about a few things. But if you take me out of this place, I don't care about your political beliefs. I'll give you as much power as I can to make that happen, though we'll need to be careful until the Showdown leaves Siberia. Or more accurately, until we're away from the Burning Snow long enough for any lingering connections to fade."

Since things had turned out better than expected, Rick regarded her with a new set of questions. "If we're being all direct with each other, maybe this would be a good time to be honest about all the ambiguous contract stuff. You lied about me being able to shut you up, apparently."

The ice demon winced at that. "Yes, I did, mainly because I was trying to obfuscate my plan. This is going to have to be an agreement with some trust between us. What I can promise you is that I won't be voyeuristically looking over your shoulder at all times. The exact mechanics are difficult to explain, but you can think of me as between demon and human realms, linked by your mind."

"Then... if other people were looking in..."

"You'd look like a crazy person talking to yourself. No one else can hear me, unless you make an investment that allows me to manifest physically. But that would be a more drastic measure, not something we need to get into."

"No, let's do that." Rick laced his fingers over his stomach and regarded her. "What exactly can you do for me, other than loaning lucrim?"

"For a start, you should be mostly immune to demonic manipulation now. I can advise you of anything I notice, and the effects themselves should slip off you. What I said about draining from your opponents is true, and I happen to be unusually good at it. That probably won't ever decide a battle for you, but it should improve your stamina. That's all you get for free."

"But if I invest lucrim into you?"

"Then it depends on how much you're willing to spend." Katenka continued with a casual shrug. "With my help, you might be able to create some kind of ice spike, but I wouldn't rely on it. With just a little lucrim, I can make you immune to cold. Maybe to drowning, though I wouldn't test that recklessly. If you're willing to throw in a lot, you could temporarily manifest me in the human world, like demon leaders do, but that will be expensive and it would probably exhaust me for days."

"Good to know." It had all been a huge risk based on incomplete information, but Rick was finally starting to believe he'd made the right decision. He'd feared demonic bonds for years, but it looked like he could get along with Katenka. "I think we can work together. Help me compete in the Showdown and I'll definitely make sure you get wherever you want to go."

Relief was visible on her face as she took a deep breath, then the expression disappeared into a mask. But that mask soon relaxed into a smile. "I told you that you weren't the first, Rick. A human who stumbles into the demon realm and gives out his blood to demons like Bftgage and Ythsil? That's unusual. I thought that you might be my ticket out of the Burning Snow, but I don't mind working with you."

"And I don't regret making the contract with you, even if you're a horrible demonic temptress."

"Heh." Her chuckle was still more like ice breaking than a human sound, but it felt authentic. "I do hope this will be fun. There are so many somber warriors here who care about nothing but bloodlust, it grows rather dull."

"Actually..." Rick sat back up, looking at her curiously. "You know, I've never really thought about demons having relationships. That can happen, right?"

"Where do you think baby demons come from?" Katenka smiled, but it was a weary expression. "What you may not realize was that forming the contract was actually more exhausting for me than it was for you. Especially because I've been nervous that you would decide to turn me in the entire time. I will be going dormant, which means you won't be able to contact me even if you need to."

"So it's a good time to take a shower without you being a problem?"

"I'll take pictures and use them as blackmail in case you ever turn against me." The demon began to fade, but then resolved a little more and looked back at him. "Thank you for this, Rick. I'll make sure it isn't charity."

He waved off her thanks, but he wasn't sure if she saw, since she was already fading away. When he concentrated more carefully, he thought that he could actually feel the difference in his portfolio. Even if it wasn't official yet, he had access to a significant quantity of power via the demonic bond. Everything else she had promised was absent and her presence itself lay still.

Rick glanced at the clock, groaned, and then shuffled to take a shower. That had not been the day he expected, but he didn't have any room to complain.

Chapter 28: Demonic Fusion

After his experiences in the demon realm, Rick was more than ready to spend several days inside focused on training. Normally he regretted not getting to see more of the country, but everything he'd seen of Siberia had been bleak so far. From chatter among other contestants, he gathered that some of the larger cities in areas such as the former Russia could be enjoyable, but this year they were stationed further north.

Rick signed the demonic bond's formal contract after confirming that it was as discussed, but then ignored it for several days. Katenka said that she needed to rest and adjust to her new environment in the human realm, and H either understood or chose not to focus on it.

So instead they focused on fully establishing the Triune Golden Spheres. Rick was building up all three, but only the defensive sphere was fully gold, so H set him on a program to finish the others. Rick drank more Formula T every eight hours, at concentrations that had him dizzy in a way that he rarely was. They were pushing the limit he could manage without addiction, but Rick was glad to see the golden spheres grow a little more each day.

Before they were completed, H called for a break to give his body time to recover from the over-training. Instead they focused on the demonic bond, which proved to require more technique than Rick had imagined. It did add a little more weight to his lucrima soul just by being there, and when he focused, he could sense the drain on others that Katenka had described.

There was an art to it, however, and it ran against all his instincts. The technique itself was easy, actually too easy. But his mind resisted drawing on the demonic bond, both naturally and especially when he considered it. Unlike his personal Lucores, he was always aware that every time he drew on it, he would need to repay the lucrim later. It ran deeply against how his gut felt fighting should be.

H attacked him relentlessly, trying to drill those "bad habits" out of him. Rick actually reacted poorly to that, falling back on his own instincts. But the lectures that went along with it helped a little: H reminded him that he would be drinking philosopher's elixir afterwards and could just repay the bond then. If he was going to exert himself either way, it made more sense to use the demonic bond efficiently. Bit by bit, Rick managed to adjust to using it to strengthen everything else he did.

Every day's training session came in two waves, first with H and then a second with Katenka. After she adjusted, she was happy to give her own suggestions about use of demonic bonds. Apparently she had been bonded to a number of warriors, so she had significant experience from the other side. She confirmed that he was particularly bad at it, but didn't seem troubled.

Though Rick looked forward to the Ultimate Defense Ring after a couple weeks, H decided to change their fundamental strategy. The competition in Siberia was likely to be brutal and fighting at the top level before he had mastery of the Triune Golden Spheres risked damage. So instead Rick was enrolled in many lesser defensive events, which gained him no glory but plenty of experience.

As expected, Rick found the new techniques brutal. Katenka made him nearly immune to any attacks based on cold, but he was still stabbed by more than a few ice shards as well as pummeled by all kinds of strange aura. Yet with each event, Rick found his defenses adapting a little faster. His own defensive core, the second one in the Triune Golden Spheres, and the demonic bond all reinforced one another, giving the Dark Blood Kettle plenty of space to grow.

In his recovery time, Rick checked the Showdown website to read up on the event he'd be participating in later. It was essentially an endurance melee, the fighters trapped within a sphere of aura small enough that they ended up beating the hell out of each other. He realized that it would be a brutal test not only of his defensive core, but of his new senses as well.

While researching, Rick found himself wandering into other topics and finding there were some uniquely Siberian events. One involved candidates having their legs locked in place, then they essentially punched each other in the face until one of them fell unconscious or gave up. It sounded ridiculous and yet he kind of wanted to try it.

After watching a few videos of the event online, he changed his mind. Even the lower ranked fighters could strike with absolutely brutal force, giving up defense for raw offense. The winners often had concussions and long term brain damage, which was a higher price than he was willing to pay. Than anyone should have had to pay, though he began to realize that Siberia made people desperate.

As they grew used to each other, Katenka would comment more frequently, swirling into being beside him to add her thoughts. She never distracted him while he was fighting or doing something important, and she had quite politely avoided speaking to him while he was showering or sleeping. The reduced privacy should have bothered him, yet he found himself growing accustomed to her presence.

"We should go out," Katenka said one evening. Rick had just been lying back on the bed, recovering from his training and trying to figure out what to do with the time he couldn't train - having Melissa in Europe really cut into his options. He lifted his head up enough to look at her.

"Why would you want to walk around this, and I quote, hellhole?"

"You might be happy staying in hotels all the time, but I'm used to being outside." Katenka floated overhead and smoothed back a lock of her hair, which he only then realized didn't obey gravity. "It's snowing, but you don't have to worry about that thanks to me. Come on, you'll enjoy getting some fresh air."

Though he considered whether or not this could be some kind of long game to kidnap him, by the time Rick pulled on his shoes, he decided that was just paranoia. Katenka had been nothing but helpful so far and everything she'd said about his leverage over her seemed to be true. Besides, he'd been mentally complaining about being stuck inside, so he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't take the opportunity.

The guards outside the hotel observed his badge very sternly, but they let him through. As Katenka had said, it was indeed snowing, heavy white flakes slowly blanketing the dark streets. Rick automatically put his hands into his jacket pockets, though as promised, he wasn't cold.

"See? Isn't this nice?" Katenka floated beside him, floating in a way that reminded him of how he drifted in the demon realm. "I find your white snow so beautifully exotic, though I understand that it's normal here."

"Yeah, it was good to get outside." Rick glanced over and regarded her thoughtfully. "You know, I'd just assumed that your white motif was because of snow. I mean: hair, skin, eyes, clothes..."

"You don't need to convince me about my own coloring, Rick."

"But you get what I mean? I assumed that it was all white because you were a snow demon or whatever. If your snow is black, that doesn't actually make sense, unless it's just a cover you put on to match human expectations?"

"It's actually more complicated than that." Katenka tapped a finger on her lips as if considering how much she wanted to say and he noticed that her fingernails were pearly white too. Eventually she smiled. "Perhaps the place to start is with stories. The thing is, when humans write stories about demons, they don't think of us as people, just symbols. And symbols have a lot of meaning, but they don't have very much life, if you understand me."

"I think I do."

"But the demon realm has been around as long as the human realm. Some argue longer, though I've always been tempted to believe they're inseparable. There have always been people going across the divide in both directions. We influenced your cultures and myths, but you also influenced ours."

"If it goes both ways, do you tell human stories? Humans coming in the night to kill naughty little demons?"

Katenka chuckled. "It's not really the same, as young demons are not what you'd consider children. But yes, we do have stories. Perhaps I'll tell you some, at some point."

"And you're a rusalka?" Rick glanced over at her again, trying to fit her appearance to those he had seen. "I did a little research, but I wasn't sure if it was really relevant to you."

"Only a little. Because I was born in the far, far north, I'm more ice than water. They're the same chemically, of course, but our world doesn't operate quite like yours. Those transitions tend to be larger barriers than they are here."

"So if I was dying of thirst in a desert, you couldn't make water?"

"I could make ice that would melt instantly, so does it matter?"

"Just asking. If we're going to work together, we might as well understand those limits."

He thought that Katenka might have smiled at that, but her gaze shifted away from him and she spoke in a quiet voice. "In any case, while it isn't inaccurate to call me a rusalka, don't think of it as a species label. It's more like calling someone a painter... that can be more or less accurate, but it doesn't reflect something deep in their DNA. I don't really care if someone uses the word, but if we're being all friendly, I'd prefer you just called me Katenka."

Though he considered asking her whether demons actually had DNA, Rick found himself utterly distracted. The streets had been rather mundane up to that point, but as he turned a corner he saw something looming overhead. A statue towered over all the nearby buildings, blocked from the hotel only by a skyscraper between them.

As Rick got closer, the sense of scale just became more and more difficult to grasp. He'd seen large statues before, but none that looked so heavy. It was built from black stone and something about the presence of it gave him the sense that it was solid rock all the way through. Despite all the snow swirling around them, none had gathered on the statue.

The presence had so caught his attention that he didn't manage to look at the features more carefully until he drew nearer. It portrayed a powerfully built man wearing a fur cloak, but his face looked more like a monster's, with unnaturally large jaws. Though his expression was probably meant to look strong, Rick thought it looked cruel.

"That's Tsar Chernobog, isn't it?" He couldn't read the placard, but it looked close enough to the drawings he'd seen. Katenka shifted beside him and nodded.

"The Peerless of Siberia, one of the most powerful people in either realm. When it comes to raw strength, anyway."

"I'd always thought the drawings of his head were symbolic, or just weirdly drawn, but this statue looks photo-realistic. Does he actually look like that?"

"I don't know, Rick, I'll snap a picture the next time I'm having tea with him."

He just rolled his eyes. "I just mean that's not really human. Technically it's possible that he completely transformed himself, I suppose, but I was wondering if he'd fused with a demon. Surely that much is public knowledge."

"Oh, yes, it's a fusion. The only debate is over whether he's a human who took on a demon, or a demon who took control of a human. It's been so long, I doubt that it really matters now. Whoever he was, he's just Tsar Chernobog now."

After admiring the statue a while longer, Rick turned away and headed down a different street. There was a roundabout surrounding the statue, but he only saw a couple cars while he was there. From what he'd seen, the elite of Siberia liked to travel under their own power, and this city largely catered to them. It still surprised him, making him think back to the arguments about economics.

They walked on from the grand statue and Rick found his gaze attracted by something much more mundane: a boxy building that stood beside a convenience store. The front was mostly glass, allowing him to see a series of contraptions inside that he thought were exercise machines for a moment, but another part of his mind insisted were something much worse.

"What's that?" Rick walked closer, examining the machines. There seemed to be differences, especially in the helmet that people wore to use them, but something about it seemed so familiar...

"The sign says 'Lucrim-Up'. I haven't actually seen one from this side before." Katenka floated next to the window, frowning inside. "They're a method of loaning humans lucrim against their future training, essentially. It provides instant lucrim, but hampers future growth. Most of the core Siberian sects forbid the use of them, so they're mostly used by the poorest humans. I think it's stolen from American technology... maybe you've heard of it."

"Uh... you could say that." He hadn't wanted to believe it, but this was the local equivalent of the Advanced Lucrim stations made by Maguire Incorporated. "It was a strange coincidence, but I was actually involved with one of the prototypes for this. Not as a tester, just as an accident."

"Good. I was hoping you weren't actually interested, because this path is a dead end."

"Definitely not, I was just surprised to see it here." Rick turned aside and headed back to the bleak streets, but his mind remained stuck on the store behind him. "You said that most of them are used by the poorest humans?"

"That's right, those who can't get a decent demonic bond. At least, that's what most demons say. I shouldn't pretend to be an expert on human behavior. They should all know that these places are horrible, practically digging their own graves, but they keep using them."

"And I shouldn't pretend to be an expert on Siberia. But I've been poor, and I know it's always the little things. Someone has to go to the emergency room. Your car breaks and you'll lose your job without it. It's the sort of thing you could handle if you knew it was coming, but you never know what's coming. What gets me, now that I'm dealing with so much lucrim, is how tiny a lot of the expenses are. Like, there was a time in my life when 50 lucrim was a big deal."

"It's the same for a lot of demons. They just tend to get eaten, around here."

"That's... hmm." Rick paused, looking over at her thoughtfully. He realized that he'd have to control that tendency in public, but there was basically nobody else on the street anyway. "Can small demons grant demonic bonds? I know Bftgage and Ythsil barely managed, but I don't know how much of that is skill, or power, or just administration."

"Some of everything." She met his gaze with a cool one, but kept speaking. "In theory any demon could grant a bond, but if it was too small then it wouldn't be worth the costs involved in setting it up. Just what are you thinking, Rick?"

"I don't know, I just wish there was a way that both sides could help each other. When poor humans need just a little bit of money, they could get a small bond from poor demons. Wouldn't that work? Like, as a business? I mean, it would depend on local laws and licenses and all that..."

"If it was profitable, wouldn't the demonic firms already be doing it?"

"But that's just it: they need to be profitable. Their goal is to be as profitable as possible." Rick knew he was probably rambling about things way over his head, but he still found himself smiling. "But from the point of view of combat, profits are inefficiencies. What if you could set up a system that just needed to sustain itself... couldn't you undercut the big firms with cheaper bonds?"

At least Katenka didn't call him an idiot, instead considering his idea quietly as they proceeded. When she spoke, her tone was odd. "In many places, laws in the demon realm would prevent you. But in theory it could work, at least in terms of the bond. I'm fairly sure it would fail as a business, though."

"Why? Couldn't you run the numbers and make sure that it worked out?"

"For one bond, yes. But how often do people fail to pay back their debts? Your little operation would probably be taking on high risk bonds, even considering how small they are, and it would all eventually collapse on you."

Rick sighed and nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. If it worked, somebody would have thought of it already."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that." Katenka gave him a surprisingly warm smile for an ice demon. "Your one little bond made a big difference for those two frogs. I would have been glad to find a reliable poor human when I was younger. It's possible that it's never been done not because it wouldn't work, but because it wouldn't be profitable enough."

Though the idea was still wriggling in his mind, he knew he was no expert and couldn't figure it out himself. Instead he focused on what she'd implied about herself. "So when you were a young demon... I'm guessing you weren't a frog, but what were you? A snowflake?"

"Most demons become more humanoid as they grow stronger. Those two frogs are actually close to the tipping point. They asked me a lot of questions about what kinds of humans are most attractive. I think they're both interested in you."

"Wait, wha... no, you're fucking with me." Rick grinned and Katenka grinned back before continuing.

"To be honest, I struggle to remember that part of my life. Most demons do begin as something simple and grow more complex, but becoming humanoid isn't inevitable, just common because that usually makes it easier to work with humans. The brothers will likely just become bigger frogs."

"But your history, whatever you can remember of it... I'd honestly like to know."

"And I'd like to tell you sometime, but I already covered it back in our hotel room." Her eyes were like sharp points of ice and he nodded to indicate that he understood she couldn't discuss it here. The intensity faded and she hovered closer to him. "But I'd be interested in your history as well. The brothers talked about how you ended up in the demon realm by accident, but you were also involved in a secret Lucore prototype? You've had a more interesting life than I thought."

"Well..." Rick shrugged and began heading back to the hotel. "I guess that's true, but it involves a lot more getting punched in the face than you might think..."

Chapter 29: Caged Aura Sphere

As Rick and H fought back and forth across the training room, Rick reflected on how well he was doing. He didn't actually expect to win, but he felt... competent. After so long struggling to pull together his new portfolio, it was an amazing feeling.

Fighting hand to hand, he could mostly keep up with his mentor, and if any blows slipped through, his defensive cores shrugged them off. When H launched aura bolts or embers from the sides or behind, he could feel them like flies tickling in the back of his brain. Each time ranged attacks approached him, they were sucked into the last of his crystal spheres. Though he was often overpowered by his mentor, he naturally drew on his demonic bond and managed to hold his ground.

When at last they parted, H gave him a reluctant nod. "That wasn't embarrassing. You've come a long way."

"Thanks." Rick could feel the improvement in himself, but wanted to check his portfolio to see the difference in hard numbers.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 11th

Ether Score: 489

Lucrim Generation: 91,000

Enhanced Generation: 164,350

Current Lucrim: 12,900]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3800 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 17,900 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 73,350

- Defensive Sphere: 26,250

- Absorption Sphere: 22,600

- Sensory Sphere: 24,500

Offensive Lucore: 14,350 (Lv VIII)

Defensive Lucore: 38,700 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 16,250 (Lv IX)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 24,500 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 30,150 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2000 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 147,650

Enhanced Total: 221,000]

If someone looked at his generation rate from the outside, they might conclude that he had over 200,000 lucrim, which was insane. Rick had made the app separate out the values of the Triune Golden Spheres and the demonic bond so that he could still see his base generation rate. It continued to slow as it got closer to six figures, which he'd heard was a major hurdle. Now he could understand why fighters valued alternative methods like the spheres or bonds.

The difference between himself now and the fighter he'd been several years ago was huge. An ordinary Birthrighter with lazy training and a generation rate of 100,000 lucrim would no longer be an overwhelming threat to him. Of course, he'd moved on to more dangerous opponents, so at times it felt like he'd made no progress at all.

That thought made him frown and look to H. "How far have I come, on the scale of the Showdown? I can win a few minor events, but I'm obviously no celebrity."

"Your momentum is good, but your current position isn't." H pulled out a cigarette and lit it slowly while he spoke. "There are a lot of people in the junior Showdown who could beat you, it's just that you haven't gone up against them yet. Obviously the senior Showdown is out of your league, much less those who are truly at the top of the world. But you're on an upward trajectory, unlike those who will clearly plateau long before that."

"What happens to those who do?"

"Some become the elites of a specific tier. Others retire and try to get a job training others. After all, those who train wouldn't work with others if they could fight at the highest level themselves."

It sounded self-deprecating, but Rick didn't believe it. There was too much of a vicious edge to H, both his personality and his skills. So Rick only smiled and said, "And how does this all compare to those who fight with their lives on the line?"

"Good question." H stared at him without expression for a time, his cigarette burning away at an unnaturally swift rate. Eventually he turned away. "Get ready for your match tomorrow. This one will require everything you have."

Despite the rising tension, Rick slept well that night. Maybe elite athletes worried about their records, but he was happy so long as he was growing and also getting paid. Yes, it would be good to do well in the fight and get a seal, but the recognition meant nothing to him. A loss could actually be more valuable, if it allowed his defensive core to grow.

In the morning, Rick was up early and ready. H gave him a sour nod and then guided them to an armored limousine that took them directly to the Showdown arena.

While most of the arenas Rick had fought in looked like modern sports stadiums because they also served that purpose, the Siberian arena was nothing like that. It was a menacing circle of dark stone several stories high, used for nothing but combat events. There were large stands, but in the events so far, they'd mostly been filled by grim-eyed fighters, not true audiences.

When they passed through into the fighter areas beneath the stands, Rick noticed that things were a little different this time. He still saw the usual fighters and other representatives, but he could hear a crowd. A crowd that had already been drinking, from the sound of it. Profit might not be as important in Siberia, but tonight was clearly the one that mattered for honor or whatever standard they used.

"There's only one Caged Aura Sphere event and I don't have the sphere generation technology, so unfortunately your only preparation will be video." As soon as they entered their room, which was completely bare, H turned to him and began pulling something up on his tablet. "The event should be well-suited to your current level of skill, but you need to make sure there are no surprise disqualifications due to the arena."

Not sure what that meant, Rick took the tablet and watched the video of past matches. The competitors fought within a large sphere of nearly clear aura, attempting to knock one another out of the sphere. Though the bottom of the sphere touched the ground, there was nearly nothing to stand on - which meant that getting pushed in any direction could disqualify a person.

He'd expected the competitors to be holding themselves in place with Lucores, but watching past matches quickly revealed that the sphere itself was the trick. The aura seemed to react a bit like a floor, but a weak one. Fighters could land on any part of it and stick there, or even run along the sides, but if they struck it at speed, they broke through and were disqualified.

After reviewing the past matches queued up for him, Rick realized that H was right. Not understanding how the sphere worked might cause a few problems, but it wasn't the center of the event. Simply a staging ground for the battle within.

Rick set it aside and meditated until it was time for his event. It felt like almost no time at all before H was kicking him in the side and grunting at the screen. Taking a deep breath, Rick rose to his feet and headed out toward the arena.

In past events, he'd been able to ignore the roar of the crowds. The stadiums had been bigger than the time he'd participated in the multi-tier tournament, but it was much the same. But that day, the crowds were chanting and even singing. When he looked into the audience, he saw many groups of grim fighters, some of them looking less than human due to demonic fusions.

Though he tried to pull his gaze back down to the aura sphere glimmering in the center of the arena, Rick's attention was caught by a small group opposite him. Little different from the other groups of sponsors, yet...

Alger stood among them, his hands laced atop his cane. For once he wasn't wearing absurd colors, simply a black coat with blue linings. It made him menacing, though in a slightly generic way... but the manic grin on his face was visible even from the distance.

"Someone you know?" Katenka spoke softly from over one shoulder.

Not wanting to look crazy, Rick merely shook his head slightly and kept moving forward.

"Focus. I'll do what I can, but this is mostly on you."

With that, she faded away, but it had been enough. Rick kept his gaze down, instead examining all the other contestants approaching the sphere. Most he didn't recognize, but Raggest was on the opposite side. The younger man looked utterly focused, as if he wasn't even aware of the audience around them.

An official stepped up beside the aura sphere and raised a finger just beside it. "The Caged Aura Sphere will now begin. As soon as the sphere is lit, warriors may enter. Any remaining on the ground when the sphere is completed will be disqualified. The match will continue until only one warrior is within or in contact with the sphere. Begin!"

The woman's finger tapped the side of the aura sphere and it burned brighter with the infusion of energy. Several fighters launched themselves into the sphere immediately, one getting hit in the face with a burst of white light from Raggest, who fired instead of entering. Clever, but it wouldn't last long, because the rush of aura was now sweeping over the floor to disqualify any who lingered.

Rick leapt just before it reached him. As he flew through the air, for a moment he was sure that he would bounce off the aura and fall, disqualified in utter humiliation. But not only did he push through the barrier without much trouble, no one attacked him when he entered.

With space to breathe, Rick experimented with the oddly sticky aura. Even though he was against a nearly vertical wall, his shoe had traction and he could stick his hand in the aura and hold himself in place easily. This wasn't so bad. He summoned the Triune Golden Spheres around himself and got ready.

Almost immediately, the golden gleam attracted the attention of a woman near the top of the sphere. She had her legs hooked into the aura so she could hang upside-down, using both hands to rain destruction on all the other competitors.

Rick had no choice but to leap aside to avoid the bursts of aura, which sent him sailing through the center of the sphere. Other fighters tried to target him as he moved... yet he could feel them. He didn't need to think about it, he just felt something moving toward his back. In mid-air Rick used a Bunyan's Step to change his direction, throwing himself to the side of the sphere again.

As soon as he finished, there was a fist flying for his face. Rick jerked his head back, tumbling down the side of the sphere and barely righting himself. He should have known that no one at this level of competition would be surprised by his swift movement, so they'd already calculated his trajectory and moved to intercept him.

With another fighter swooping down toward him, Rick used another Bunyan's Step to escape. Once again, he had someone attacking him almost as soon as the movement had stopped. If not for all his footwork training, he would almost certainly have been knocked straight through the side of the sphere and disqualified. He realized that they could easily predict his movements because he would always stop against the sphere.

On his third leap, Rick stretched his sensory Lucore to its maximum. He appeared on the side of the aura sphere with a foot flying toward his head, but this time he expected it.

Rick grabbed the kick and swung the person directly through the side of the sphere. The man broke through the aura, desperately scrabbling to get a grip on him, and shot out into the arena. As far as Rick was concerned, that meant he no longer existed. All that mattered was the world contained within the sphere, which was still filled with warriors.

Eliminating one of the people targeting him had earned Rick a bit of breathing room, since they knew that he wasn't an easy target. He took the time to examine the rest of the fight, but it was a chaotic brawl. Too many of the other fighters had flight or agility Lucores, leaving his Bunyan's Step feeling a little rudimentary. Throwing himself into the middle of that fight would be a mistake.

But there was one person remaining stationary: the woman at the top of the sphere. A fighter attempted to creep up the side toward her, only for her to turn at the last second, an arc of aura bursts hammering him into the side of the sphere. He barely managed to cling to it instead of being knocked through, but had to fall back. Clearly she was prepared for a frontal assault.

Smiling, Rick readied his ranged defense Lucore and prepared to leap. He threw himself directly at the woman and she naturally met him with a series of bursts that would have hammered him straight back down. But at the last second Rick drew all of the bursts into the crystal sphere within him.

For a split second he saw the shock on her face, then his knee slammed into her chin. She smashed back through the top of the aura sphere, briefly flailing in the air before coming back down.

Though she landed on top of the sphere, furious and only slightly injured, red aura began to cling to her. She'd been out of contact with the aura sphere and was thus disqualified. Cursing in Russian, she jumped off the side and fell away.

Realizing he was a target at the top of the sphere, Rick leapt through three different Bunyan's Steps around the sides of the sphere, just to escape anyone pursuing him. Clinging to the side of the sphere was easy, but it was also risky, since a good blow might knock him out regardless of his defensive cores. He crept closer to the bottom where it met the ground, trying to find another target.

Someone flashed in front of him and Rick caught a glimpse of fists covered in flames. He dodged the first strike, but his attacker was coming with a rapid flurry of blows and eventually he could only block, bracing his aura against the flames.

Suddenly Rick was hurtling backward through the air. He realized that he had been tricked: the flames were a distraction, hiding the true nature of the attack. It hadn't attempted to harm him, simply push him with a great deal of force so he was disqualified.

He felt his back hit the aura sphere and break into the cold air.

Chapter 30: Warrior's Reward

If Rick had been the fighter he was a year ago, he would have lost. He might have given up, or he might have fallen from the sphere before he even realized what was happening. But after juggling so many different Lucores, Rick had already figured out what had happened and he reacted on instinct. As he broke through, he reached out and used his own aura to grab the edge of the sphere.

His body jerked away from him, out in the cold air, but his arm remained inside the sphere.

For a moment he hung there, disoriented outside the sphere. The crowd cheered thunderously, nearly stunning him, but his instincts insisted there was no time for that. If he wasn't disqualified, he needed to get back inside before he was targeted.

Bursts of aura began slamming into him, but Rick held his defensive cores firm and dragged himself back inside the sphere. He'd barely pulled his head in when he was hit head on by a blizzard, but he channeled lucrim to Katenka and she manifested around him in a swirl of snow. Not only did she prevent it from freezing him, she managed to blunt the force and he was able to fully pull himself back into the sphere.

"That was great!" Despite the fight still going on, Raggest turned to him with a grin. "But others are going to try to copy you."

Rick didn't understand at first, then saw that the idea of partially leaving the sphere had caught on. A woman was crawling around the outside to get into a better position, while someone else hung on the outer curve with just one hand inside.

Raggest gathered aura in his fists and then unleashed two massive beams simultaneously. Without a firm grip, both of the contestants were blown away from the sphere and immediately disqualified. Though Rick braced himself as Raggest clenched fists again, no more blasts came his way.

"I want to fight you without any tricks!" Raggest grinned, then threw himself at another opponent instead.

Did that mean a temporary truce? Though Rick didn't trust it entirely, he didn't target Raggest. There were fewer competitors now, which gave him more space to work... but also made him a target. A huge woman was stomping around the side of the sphere toward him, walking on the steep angle as if it was even ground. Running would just seem like cowardice, so he braced himself for a brawl.

Her fist hit hard, but it was nothing his defensive core couldn't handle. But the force pushed him back a step, and he lost his balance while trying to keep his foot in the aura. Before he could catch himself, another blow came. Rick managed to block that too, but it sent him staggering.

He realized that if he kept that up, he would never regain his balance. So Rick gritted his teeth and let the blows through. They hammered into his chest and head, each one slamming into his defensive core. But without trying to block, Rick was able to regain his balance and push back, gripping the side of the sphere some distance away. That earned him a moment, but only a moment as the woman leapt at him with both fists rising overhead.

In midair, a white-hot beam of aura blasted her out of the side of the sphere. From the other side, Raggest gave him a thumbs up.

But a moment later, he was struck by a flurry of dark motes. They impacted strangely as they struck him, not exploding but seeming to shake his entire body. Raggest shuddered as his body was battered by the flood of motes, but managed to raise his hand toward the man who was releasing them.

A beam shot out, but for the first time, Raggest saw it stopped. It hit a wall of motes and they seemed to consume it, eating pieces of the beam with each impact until it was reduced to nothing. The storm of particles only intensified, battering Raggest down to the bottom of the sphere. He tried to summon a barrier around himself, but the motes ate away at it as well. They would obviously overcome him soon and he would be forced outside the sphere.

For a moment, Rick hesitated. It would be a good strategy to let Raggest get eliminated, but he discarded that as bad sportsmanship. What made him hesitate was the hungry way Alger watched the match, and that nearly forgotten dream...

Rick leapt off the side of the sphere, trying to absorb the motes. They shifted direction, swept into one of the crystalline spheres, and Rick closed the distance to his target. But the man frowned at him and began releasing more, and suddenly the sphere felt unbelievably heavy. Though Rick tried to absorb them better, he realized that was a mistake. They were overwhelming his capacity to absorb and some motes began to touch his body.

Each impact didn't hurt, they simply left part of his body feeling as though it was completely gone. If he hadn't been under assault, he would have looked down to check that they hadn't erased holes in his flesh. His defensive core strained to compensate, and the Dark Blood Kettle surged as it rarely did, but he could tell that it wouldn't be enough.

Then a beam hit the man in the chest and the assault of motes stopped. He managed to hold on, but Raggest released another beam and struck him against the side of the sphere. Their opponent struggled, forming a wall of motes that ate away Raggest's next attempt.

Rick plunged directly through it, his elbow slamming into the man's jaw. Their opponent finally flew backward, leaving the sphere and collapsing to the ground.

When Rick turned around, he realized that the sphere was almost completely empty. Only Raggest remained, straightening and wiping some blood from his mouth. He grinned, but didn't say anything. Rick found himself smiling back and let himself skid down the side of the sphere so they were facing each other.

For a moment they were silent and Rick became aware of the crowds roaring around them. He let that sound fall away and just focused on his opponent. At any moment Raggest would move, then the fight would begin.

He saw the other man's arm shift and leapt in a Bunyan's Step. When Rick caught the side of the arena, he saw blinding beams shooting both where he had been standing, and where he was most likely to have leaped beside Raggest. Doubting he could outplay his opponent that way, Rick went straight for him the next moment.

Though he felt a beam impact his body, Rick hadn't been planning to appear beside Raggest and then strike him: he ran straight into the other man shoulder first. Unfortunately, Raggest wasn't knocked back enough, digging his feet in and blasting Rick in the face with another beam.

There was no more time for technique, Rick just tried to pummel his opponent. He wasn't sure if his absorption Lucore was overloaded or if it didn't work against the pale beams, but every impact seared through him. Despite all the lucrim combined into so many cores, they were rapidly being burned apart. Rick started drawing heavily on Katenka's bond just to hang on a little longer and land a few more blows.

All at once he saw it: Raggest failed to defend his neck. Rick struck for the target even as he saw a blinding light flash at his chest.

When Rick could feel again, he was flat on his back on the arena floor. The bleary smears of white and black gradually focused into the dark stands around the stadium. Rick realized that he had made a mistake, going for a weak point when the actual goal was to knock his opponent out of the arena.

Which was empty.

Rick struggled painfully to get up, staring at the empty sphere. Across the arena, he saw Raggest lying on his back, having fallen out of the sphere as well. He had absolutely no idea what had happened... but then his attention was captured by the large screens overhead.

They were showing a slow motion replay: Raggest's blast had knocked Rick out of the sphere immediately, but the blow to the neck had sent Raggest falling backward. Rick had left the sphere nearly a full second before Raggest, yet the announcers and commentators seemed to be talking excitedly. One of the replays showed a close up of the strike to the neck, apparently approving of its brutality.

Abruptly worried, Rick looked down, but Raggest was struggling to his feet, grinning. "That was - ow - that was amazing!" He rubbed his neck in pain, but then rushed over to Rick. Though Rick thought he was probably in better shape, he felt burned out and didn't feel like moving so quickly.

Still, when the other man thrust a hand toward him, Rick was able to lift his arm enough to shake it. The crowd roared approval around them.

The aura sphere finally faded, leaving Rick momentarily blinded in the absence of its light. An enormous man with a beard half the size of his considerable chest smashed down onto the arena beside them. Rick instinctively tried to raise his arms to fight, only to have his wrist grasped and thrust into the air alongside Raggest's.

"Best fight I've seen in years!" The man roared out something in Russian, then turned back to them and stopped dangling the two by their wrists. "Mark my words, you both receive great seal of Siberia."

Rick found himself smiling. It hurt to stand and it was taking all his self-control not to rub his scorched torso, but he actually felt good. For winning, yes, but more importantly because the fight had been a satisfying success for him.

"I would like to pay my respects as well."

The sound of the smooth voice made all Rick's sense of accomplishment drain away. Alger stood beside them, both hands still over his cane, looking genteel except for the grin on his face. It spread wider and wider, as if it would tear out the sides of his face.

"This is what the Showdown should be! This is what the new generation needs!" Alger raised one hand toward them and a stylized letter A burned into the air in front of their faces. "I grant you both my seal as well, in the hope that you will go on to do great things!"

It should have been his moment of triumph, yet Rick could only stare at the mad grimace that no longer resembled a smile. Alger walked toward him, eyes burning with the fires of a thousand battles. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, ignoring the arena to speak to Rick alone.

"This is all I've ever wanted from you. Brutal striving, endless ambition. This is only the beginning, you know. In time you will grow stronger and stronger, leaving behind the limits of these civilized matches. There will be only the savagery of true warriors' spirits, and then, in the end, there will be only power."

Rick turned away from the mad grin and tried to focus on the cheering crowds.

Chapter 31: Ether Experimentation

Normally Melissa didn't pay too much attention to her brother's matches, beyond keeping up with the results so that she could talk to him. She was happy for his progress, but a lot of the fighting was just too fast for her, and it wasn't her favorite thing to watch anyway. Yet now that she was traveling and couldn't talk to him easily, she found herself absorbing everything she could.

A frustrating number of Showdown events weren't put online, or were only put up on special services you had to pay for, and Melissa didn't have time for that. The last really good one she'd seen had been his fight in Siberia, which had actually been pretty exciting. After that, he seemed to have kept a lower profile to build on what he'd learned in that fight.

Sighing, Melissa closed her laptop and rolled over in her bed. Thinking about her brother would just make her loneliness worse and remind her how many days it was until they could meet.

Instead she lay there for a while, thinking about her project. Everyone was supposed to come up with something big for the conclusion of their time as a Young Lucrim Artist of America. For most, that seemed to be just assumed to be either some kind of financial Lucore, or some kind of combat gimmick.

Emphasis on the "gimmick". So many of the things Melissa had seen were basically just a known skill tweaked a tiny little bit so that it would technically count as something new. She didn't get the financial stuff, but she'd bet actual money that it was a similar thing. The point for most of her peers was to get a line on their resume, or their curriculum vitae as they insisted on calling it.

For her part, she wanted to come up with something that was actually useful. This was her best chance, since as a YLAA person she had access to experts, expensive databases, and even some free resources. She thought it was funny how some of the experts actually seemed relieved to see her. A few were corporate tools, but others just seemed glad to get an interesting problem for once and became super helpful as soon as they realized she wasn't crazy.

The problem was that she needed to come up with something that didn't just boil down to making use of her ether void. That would be unique, but it would also just be taking advantage of what she was. She could do that whenever she wanted, so she was trying to develop something cool.

It would have been much, much easier to just stand up and get her stuff, but instead Melissa spent a while stretching half-way across her floor to grab it without standing up. Eventually she pulled back her notebook and pack of a few supplies. Manifesting her ether void had become easy and she no longer burned anything, which she was sure the expensive bed and carpet thanked the heavens for. Creating an aura that took advantage of it without just replicating it, though...

According to the big fancy database of aura techniques, there were 108 classes of manifestation and 108 variations, meaning 11,664 total combinations. Melissa didn't have time to try them all, but she was methodically going through the major classes and recording her results. One at a time, she summoned up her aura, combined it with her ether void, and hoped for some sort of reaction.

A negative result. Most of them were. Melissa dutifully marked it down in her notebook and moved on to the next one. Science!

Most of the others thought she was weird, and not only because she hadn't explained about her ether void. It was actually about how seriously she took it. Even the really committed people assumed that they'd have a cushy position waiting for them after they left the YLAA. The idea of tapping into raw desperation struck them as lower class in some way.

Her work didn't come up with anything new, but Melissa got so wrapped up in it that she jumped and dropped her notebook when her phone beeped. Just a notification... a reminder about Lisa's call! She'd known she'd forget and put in the reminder for that very reason. Setting aside her work, Melissa grabbed her laptop again and got ready.

"Melissa, you look well!" As usual, Lisa smiled broadly when she saw her. She was looking pretty good herself, clearly putting in extra effort while she was part of the dating scene. Normally Lisa only wore small studs in her ears, but she had larger earrings and a silver necklace on that day.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew that I was sitting in our hotel instead of going on the trip." Melissa slumped down on the bed and sighed. "But they're touring a freaking wine cellar today. Maybe I'm just poor, but that strikes me as so ridiculously boring. I can't tell the different between a '91 Baguette and a '97 Eiffel Tower."

Lisa smiled, but also cocked her head. "I didn't think you were in France?"

"Nope, still Spain. Wine is just... very French-seeming to me."

"You might not have enjoyed the tour, but the process of creating wine is actually quite interesting. The flavor is obviously impacted by the weather and differences in the soil, but even natural lucrim drift has an impact."

"Wait, really?" Melissa's head jerked up and she stared toward the door, as if she could see to the tour. "You don't think this was actually some kind of training in disguise, do you?"

"Probably not. As far as I know, wine has never been significantly enriched with lucrim, at least not without ruining the taste. But I know a little bit about it because the natural processes are similar to those for plants that can be used for supplements."

"I should have known! Everything is supplements with you!" Melissa grinned just to make it clear that she was joking, since she didn't mind talking about that stuff. "Speaking of, did you get my package thing? What do you think? Could it work?"

Instead of answering immediately, Lisa picked up an object that proved to be the little black bottle Melissa had sent. Lisa let the pause stretch, which was super anxiety-inducing, but eventually she spoke. "As a supplement, it would function. You've come remarkably far in so little time. But even if you can produce these for no cost..."

"I can't. Come on, LisLis, just lay it on me."

"It's too niche as a supplement and if you tried to make a business off it, the business wouldn't survive." Lisa set down the bottle and gave an apologetic shrug. "You know I wouldn't buy any from you out of pity, so that means I'd get, at most, one or two bottles a year."

"I figured." Melissa groaned and slumped down on the bed, not caring that the camera would be mostly her hair. "It's really, really hard to make a living when all the big corps are... well, it'd be silly to lecture you about that. But I'm glad at least it worked."

"There is one exception. If you knew someone who needed a lot of this kind of supplement, a private deal with them could make your career. Because the pill is partially fashioned within your ether void, the number of people who can make it is extremely low. That part was really clever, if I'm coming off too critical. Find the right person and this alone could get you a job."

Though Melissa's heart leapt for a moment, it leapt straight back down as she understood. "As a dependent, you mean. I'd be completely reliant on that person needing me. They stop needing my pills and bam, I'm jobless and homeless."

"That's true, but it's really true of most people." Lisa gave her a weak smile. "Almost everyone could get fired at any moment, and they're probably not ready. People think that they're safer in normal jobs, but when the economy turns bad, it's really not. A corporation doesn't care about you, but if your employer knows you personally, they might be more generous."

"But they could also be a real creep. No, no... thanks for giving it to me straight, Lisa. I'll keep working on the idea, but I think my aura thing is more likely to be my project."

"Hey, it's up to you. If we're talking about work, wh-"

"Ugh. I know I brought it up, but I get too much talking about work here." Melissa perked back up and twisted a lock of hair around her finger with exaggerated sass. "So come on, girlfriend, dish. How are things with your boytoy lately?"

"I regret starting to tell you about my personal life every day." Lisa smiled as she spoke, but then released a heavy sigh it seemed like she'd been holding for a long time. "I don't think things are going to work out with Nathan. I liked his confidence and I thought the arrogance would wear off once we got to know each other, but instead it's getting under my skin."

Lisa went on to explain about several minor incidents, mostly looking for affirmation. Normally Melissa was not into that sort of thing, but she liked Lisa, and the older woman obviously needed someone to confide in. Melissa mostly kept herself to simple confirmations and a few questions until Lisa finally brought herself around to the conclusion she'd really known all along.

"So I'm thinking of breaking up. I thought I might do it indirectly, because I don't want a lecture... is that bad of me?"

"No way! Nathan is a douche." Melissa shook her head slowly. "I never liked him, I just didn't say anything because I wasn't going to insult your boyfriend. You should call Diego again. He was nice."

"But he wanted a family right away, and I just don't think our goals..." Lisa wiped her eyes with one hand and her gaze became clearer. "No, I can't do that. I just have to keep playing the numbers game, I guess."

"Hey, hey, don't focus on the negative. As far as I can tell, your business is doing great, right? I'm basing that entirely based on the number of abs I counted in your new website intro."

Though she laughed awkwardly, the tension at the corners of Lisa's eyes eased. "I didn't like that, but everybody says that's what draws in customers. I'm finally turning a profit, but you can't make much money just focusing on discerning clients. You need to cater to a few power addicts and jocks."

"I wasn't complaining about the abs, mind you." Melissa actually found Lisa's ongoing success a bit inspirational, though she couldn't bring herself to say that. In Melissa's family, "self-employed" meant either being a bum or running a multi-level marketing scheme. The fact that Lisa was making it on her own was nice.

"If we're back on this..." Lisa leaned forward onto one arm. "I really am curious about the sample I sent you. Did you run the tests?"

"The golden stuff? Sure." Melissa actually had that within scrabbling distance, so she grabbed the petri dish and showed it off on the camera. "It burned right up, just like the previous one. I don't know how good the color is for you, but it's all that green-gold residue."

To Melissa's surprise, Lisa's expression immediately turned serious. "You really ran that through your ether void?"

"Just like you said, yeah. Do you need me to do it again right in front of you or something?"

"I trust you, it's just..." Lisa ran both hands through her hair, suddenly very distant. "I thought I removed all the lucrim and lucrim-boosting components. There shouldn't be a reaction like that..."

"I think you did. At least as far as I could tell." Melissa shifted her head to the side, letting some concern onto her face. "Is this a problem?"

"It might be, but I can't be sure yet. What could be reacting?" Lisa stared at nothing for a while, then suddenly gathered herself. "Melissa, I'm sorry, but I need to cut this short. If there are trace components in there, that's a bad sign. They're toxic at best, or maybe... listen, I need to look into this."

There was no sense in talking to Lisa when she got that focused, which Melissa reflected was a bit like her brother. She just smiled and nodded. "Okay, I understand. Just let me know if you need any more help, okay?"

Lisa nodded and then ended the call, presumably to go investigate her theory. Melissa stared at the residue in the petri dish, puzzled by how it could have contained such shocking results. But it was way beyond her pay grade and she had a lot of other stuff to do, so she set it aside and grabbed her notebook again.

She needed to get through as many of the formulas as possible. Once she finally met her brother, she wasn't going to want to work.

Chapter 32: Family in Vietnam

Though Rick failed to earn any more seals, it didn't bother him at all. His card held five seals, which was unusually high for a new Showdown contestant. In most events he performed closer to the top of the group now, which was enough to keep H happy. Even that wasn't too important to him: every month was a victory, taking him a little closer to all his goals.

As the month in Vietnam, and the meeting with Melissa, drew closer, he knew that he would be training less. But not only would that be worth it to spend time with family, it actually coincided well with a plateau in his growth. He still took Formula T regularly, but it grew more and more difficult to layer lucrim onto the Triune Golden Spheres. H suggested that he needed something more dramatic to break through and that all he could do for the time being was proceed slowly.

When at last the helicopter headed down toward their destination, Rick found himself pacing back and forth across the main chamber. They were headed to the hotel as planned and he'd gotten texts from Melissa confirming that she had arrived first. Also confirmations that she had developed a crippling heroin addiction and sold her kidneys.

Yet he still found himself struggling against formless anxiety. Maybe it was just the amount of time it had been since he'd seen his sister in person, or maybe it was the abrupt shift away from his focus on the Showdown. It was easy to fall into a cycle of training and fighting, and that cycle was now disrupted.

"Stop that." H emerged from the cockpit, glaring at Rick's feet as if his shoes had personally insulted him. "Have you been keeping something from me?"

"It's exactly what I said. I'm just anxious to meet my sister."

"I don't care about that. Showdown candidates have family visit them all the time. What I don't like is taking us in to a smaller location just so you can meet this uncle."

"He's busy with work. This is the best way to make it convenient." Rick smiled at his mentor, anticipation briefly overcoming both annoyance and anxiety. "Thanks for this, H. Trust me, I'll keep up my training and I'll be there to meet you for every event."

"You'd better. And don't neglect your exact schedule." H shoved a case of Formula T at him, which Rick took carefully. Not long after, they landed at their destination. It was a small airfield cleared from the jungle, not a helipad, but the town nearby catered to many international travelers with large amounts of lucrim.

Rick checked into his hotel, confirmed the training schedule, and dropped off his things. Meaningless details. Since he was running exactly on time, he headed down to find Melissa.

They'd agreed to meet in a plaza that, on the internet, looked like a safe public place. In reality there were a lot more street carts and random people. Given how many of them were foreigners there for work or pleasure, it wasn't easy to find Melissa either, but eventually he spotted familiar waves of brown hair.

She was just sitting on a bench, toying with her phone and occasionally looking around, yet Rick felt a huge flood of relief. He'd been planning to sneak up on her or play some sort of trick, but all such thoughts vanished as soon as he got close. Somehow she still hadn't noticed, so he just shuffled up beside her, taking a moment to swallow before he could speak.

"Hey." It wasn't eloquent, but it was enough.

"Brother!" Melissa beamed as soon as she saw him, abandoning her phone to leap up and hug him. He squeezed back tightly before they parted to grin at one another. "God, it's so good to see you again. I mean, I've seen you a lot, but you know what I mean. Have you found Uncle Frank yet?"

"I literally just flew in. I sent him a message about meeting up at a town further north, but haven't gotten a response back yet. So let's just catch up."

"I have so much to tell you about Europe! Did you know that mimes aren't actually trapped in boxes?" Melissa grabbed her things, which included his arm. She stayed latched to him as they wandered back toward the hotel, talking about everything that had passed since they'd last spoken.

It turned out that Melissa kept fairly close tabs on him, which made him regret that he couldn't do the same for her. But the Showdown was a public event, whereas YLAA activities were decidedly not. He reconsidered his thought as he realized how much she enjoyed telling him about everything, and how much he enjoyed hearing it.

When they got back to the hotel, Melissa insisted they walk a little longer. He was happy to do so, but it made him realize just how hot it was. It hadn't reached him much when he'd just come out of the air-conditioned hotel, but now it was seeping into his body and oozing from his pores. When they got back, he let Melissa set up her things on the second bed while he ducked into the bathroom to clean up and change.

Rick returned in a short-sleeved shirt and saw Melissa staring at him. He expected a joke of some kind, then all at once realized that her eyes were on his demonic tattoo.

"When did you get that?" she asked, much quieter than before.

"In Siberia - not everything that happened there was public. But don't worry, it's not like the demonic bonds we've always worried about. Actually... well, I imagine you don't want to talk about finance right now, but I'm starting to think we might have been misled about those."

"Oh, that isn't going to shock me." Melissa sat down on her bed and swung her legs idly. "A lot of people in the YLAA pay for everything via a demonic bond. Like they didn't even think about it, or couldn't imagine that bonds could be bad. I figured maybe that only applied to the types of bonds you get if you were mega rich, but I guess it makes sense."

Having worried about a potential conflict, Rick smiled in relief. "It really depends on the quality. And picking the right demon, of course."

"The right demon, huh?" Melissa wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Is that what they call it these days? Do you have a sexy succubus living in your right arm, dearest brother?"

"So this is your sister?" Katenka swirled into being beside her. "I understand that she's just joking, but tell her that assumption is offensive."

"Uh..." Rick looked back and forth between the two of them, attention suddenly split. "Is there any way I can manifest you so we can just talk?"

"It would be an unnecessary expense, really."

"Are you talking to the demon now?" Melissa poked her head up into his line of sight. "Oh, dang, I didn't think there would actually be an intelligent demon around. Or, wait, is this a bit? Are you just messing with me?"

Rick focused back on his sister. "She's actually here, but she's not a succubus. It's some sort of demonic fusion they do in Siberia. Anyway, she didn't like your joke."

"Oh no!" Melissa abruptly bowed down against the bed, though not quite facing Katenka. "Please don't eat me for my impertinence, oh devourer of souls!"

Katenka chuckled. "I think I will get along with your sister."

"Hmm? What's that?" Rick pretended to cock his head in her direction, then looked back to Melissa. "She says you're a big doodoo head."

"Oh dearie me!" Melissa drew back with a fake gasp. "You don't think she's into coprophilia, do you?"

That drew a curious glance from Katenka - apparently she didn't know everything about the human realm after all. "It's when you're aroused by..." Rick cut off his explanation. "You know what, you can figure it out on your own. Am I going to have to keep repeating everything you say?"

"You haven't repeated much of anything," Katenka pointed out, but she began to fade away. "Tell your sister that it was nice to meet her, but that I'll leave the two of you alone for now."

Once Katenka left, Rick was able to relax. Not because the demon bothered him - he actually thought that she would get along with Melissa - but because participating in two separated conversations at once had been chaotic. Melissa had a ton of questions to ask him about what had happened, so they both lounged on their beds and just caught up.

They didn't hear from Uncle Frank that night, but the next morning Rick got a text. Not only was their uncle ready for them, he was coming to meet them. The two wolfed down the hotel's breakfast, grabbed a few simple things, and then headed out.

It took them longer than he expected, since they were meeting their uncle half way. Though Rick considered manifesting his bike, some of the streets had horrible potholes and the lanes weren't very well respected. For that matter, displaying something that expensive might mark him as a target. In the end it didn't matter at all, as taking the rickety buses together with Melissa was fun in a different way.

Though they kept chatting as they headed north of the city, their conversation faded when they finally saw their uncle. They'd seen him many times via video, but Rick still paused to finally see him in the flesh. He was a bit heavier than he had been before, but the durable pants, brightly colored shirt, and broad hat were much the same. When he saw them, he spread his arms wide in the middle of the street.

"Rick! Melissa!"

"Uncle Frank!" Melissa ran to embrace him and he squeezed her tight. Rick followed at a more measured pace, though he didn't really care that people were watching them. When Melissa pulled away, their uncle turned to Rick and clasped his hand firmly. His grip was strong, but it was a warm strength that didn't try to break his hand.

"You're looking strong, Rick. I worried that the Showdown might be bad for you, but you seem to have done well for yourself."

"I'm managing so far." Rick smiled back at their uncle, but found himself considering. Uncle Frank's generation rate was only 85,000 lucrim... he immediately hesitated at the word "only".

For so many years, his uncle had been far stronger, wealthier, and more successful than the rest of their family. That was still unquestionably true, and Rick could tell that his uncle's Lucores were formidable. Yet in terms of raw power, he wasn't a monster like so many of the people he'd encountered with generation rates in six digits.

"I'm so glad this finally worked out." Uncle Frank gestured for them to follow him and began heading down a smaller side street. "I'd wanted you to visit for years, but I've been traveling too much, and some areas are too risky. But the timing couldn't be better."

"You don't have too much work?" Melissa asked. Their uncle shook his head.

"Not that, exactly, more that I've been in Vietnam long enough to know a little about it. If we'd met up somewhere I just arrived, I'd be as much a tourist as you and we'd... all go around being tourists, I suppose. But this way, I can actually improve your visit."

"Yup, that's the real reason we visited you, Uncle Frank. We just wanted a free tour guide."

Uncle Frank chuckled. "Well, I can only tell you very narrow things about history, but if you want some good food, you've come to the right place. Is it too early for lunch? I skipped breakfast."

He led them to a noodle place, and just as promised, it was good. Despite the fact that they'd spoken many times, they found themselves catching up anyway. Just being together in person brought up so many details lost in their brief conversations. There was relatively little new, and everything Melissa shared was repetitive, but Rick found that he didn't care.

Despite the hideously moist heat, Rick kept a long-sleeved shirt on the entire time, as he didn't want to have a conversation with his uncle about the demonic bond. Maybe it would have been nothing. Uncle Frank certainly wouldn't have raged like so many in their family often did. But he would have noticed, and it would have shifted the conversation. At the moment, he preferred their comfortable family ties.

They spent the rest of the day without any set agenda, but their uncle had more than a few things he wanted to show them. He only pointed out a local museum he said was worth visiting, instead using their time together to go see a series of waterfalls. Though not usually Rick's thing, he could admit they were beautiful, and Melissa seemed entranced.

For the most part Rick simply relaxed, but he couldn't help but go through his exercises during one of their trips on a bus. He noticed that Melissa was doing something as well, her inner void seething in a way that was new. It was unclear if Uncle Frank was training as well, but there were a couple occasions when he had to step aside to take a call. Apparently even now he couldn't get entirely off work.

As the sun set, they visited a hole in the wall restaurant for dinner and ate slowly. At the end of the meal, Uncle Frank ordered some sort of local alcohol and seemed surprised when Rick ordered some as well. Melissa played at doing the same, and likely could have given local laws, but instead got some locally squeezed fruit juice. By the end of the night, they both followed her lead.

"You two need to get back, don't you?" Uncle Frank eventually sat back and laced his fingers over his stomach. "It's a couple hours at least, and sometimes the power goes out. Best to be in a hotel with a generator when that happens."

"We can't stay wherever you sleep?" Melissa asked. Their uncle only shook his head.

"It's just a little tent alongside other tents. Plus, there are a few shady types."

Rick hadn't been thinking about the length of the trip back, but now considered the darkness skeptically. "How cautious do we need to be on the way back?"

"Not very." To his surprise, Uncle Frank waved the issue aside. "The towns and cities are actually safer in this part of the country, so someone with your strength doesn't need to be worried. If you want to avoid getting into any fights, take a taxi. I can tell you the names of reputable ones when you go."

Melissa sat forward, watching him carefully. "Did you imply that it's more dangerous out in the wild? Does that mean we won't get to see your work?"

"Don't worry, it's not so bad as all that. No, I actually had a few secure locations to show you. I may not be able to narrate the history of every location, but they'll probably be different from anything else you've seen before."

"So we can see you tomorrow?"

"I don't know about tomorrow, but the day after, maybe. Let's set a date."

They scheduled the next time they'd meet, then finally headed back to their hotel. Though the day had been relaxed compared to many lately, it felt richer and fuller than most of them in a way that Rick didn't expect. In the taxi Melissa slumped against him and actually drifted to sleep.

He would have picked her up and carried her to bed... except he realized how incredibly suspicious that would look. So he poked his sister awake and kept her that way long enough for them to get back. She kicked off her shoes and fell straight onto her bed, while he cleaned up a bit and went through final exercises before retiring as well.

His sister began snoring, but he only fell asleep more easily.

Chapter 33: Ancient Ruins

Over the next week, the two of them met with Uncle Frank when they could, and just chatted or trained when he was too busy. The conversation didn't seem endless the way it had during the first couple days, but it was still great to be around family. Some of the ruins their uncle took them to were interesting, but they were all relatively close to nearby towns. Rick got the sense that the real work, and the most interesting finds, lay further into the jungle.

When it came time for him to participate in a Showdown event, he was surprised how much he resented it. He found himself feeling spite over tiny details: the arena was smaller, the crowds noisier, the events less tightly organized. But the truth was that he didn't care about any of those things, if they were even substantially different, he just hated losing time with family.

The events themselves went well, as usual trying less prestigious events to familiarize himself with new varieties of aura. H told him that Vietnam had a few truly formidable sects, but they tended toward the spiritual and few got involved with events like the Showdown. In any case, they didn't make an appearance and Rick was left feeling a bit like he'd wasted his time.

During his absence, however, Melissa seemed to have wheedled their uncle into letting them come along with him on a more exciting trip. It would take another few days, during which time he laid the groundwork, so Rick stayed at the hotel and focused on training. Melissa trained alongside him, performing a number of unusual experiments he wanted to ask her about later.

That seemed less interesting than finally being able to see their uncle's work, however. Rick actually spent a little while figuring out what to wear for the first time in months, since he needed to balance multiple factors. His defensive core would protect him from most things, but his clothes could still get caught on branches or torn up.

Eventually they headed out to meet Uncle Frank, though not at any of the usual locations, just a random street at the edge of the city. When they arrived, Rick finally understood: this time they were met with a vehicle. It flew in like a hovering beige brick, all unusual angles and metal frames. The seats themselves looked relatively normal, they were just surrounded by defensive structures.

"Ooh, is that a lucrim jeep?" Melissa headed forward as soon as it landed, examining it curiously. Rick was thinking of calling it a lucrim tank, but decided to keep that to himself.

"I do a lot of my work in this baby." Uncle Frank slapped the side of the car and then gestured for them to climb in. "This is a high end all terrain vehicle. It was top of the line when I bought it, and that was years ago, but I've kept it in good shape and kept tweaking."

"What makes it an all terrain vehicle?" Melissa hopped over the side to sit in the shotgun position, so Rick jumped into the back. "I mean, if they can all fly..."

"Mostly durability - it could plow through a jungle if necessary. I'm going to keep the barriers down, because the air conditioning doesn't work great, but it can close almost air-tight. I'm not saying that it could go underwater or into space, but falling into either wouldn't be an immediate disaster."

"Hmph! If you can't go into space, what's the point?"

The vehicle lifted into the air and they headed away from the city. They didn't follow any roads, so Rick expected to be in unoccupied territory almost immediately, but to his surprise there continued to be small villages beneath them. No one seemed to care about the lucrim vehicle floating overhead, so he just examined the landscape while the others talked.

"So far, this actually seems really calm." Melissa sat back in her seat, staring idly over the landscape. "Were you just lying about it being so dangerous to make us think you were cool, Uncle Frank? Because if you want us to think you're cool, just say you smoke marijuana."

Uncle Frank chuckled. "Oh, there are real risks. Usually not much worse than some of what you two have faced, but they do occur."

"Come on, I was joking, but I was serious. Uh... you know what I mean. What makes this job risky?"

"Several things." Their uncle was silent for a time, his hands on the wheel even though the lucrim vehicle continued without changing course. "First, there's a difference between jobs that are dangerous for the average person and jobs that are dangerous for a skilled professional. Many ancient sites have enough residual lucrim to serve as nests for lucrim-using animals, for example. They're a good reason that no one untrained should go out there, but they aren't really more of a threat than anything Rick would have encountered at his old job."

"The Peakless Wildlife Refuge is that dangerous?" Rick asked. His uncle smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"You've seen an aura bear. A creature that big that can generate aura? I'm not saying it's the most lethal animal or anything, but it's nothing to sneeze at."

"Ooh!" Melissa sat forward eagerly. "What is the most lethal animal?"

"In terms of total deaths per year, the hippopotamus. I know, you wouldn't expect it, but they're aggressive." Uncle Frank was silent for a while, almost as if he wouldn't continue, then abruptly did. "But in terms of killing people with Lucores, it's the South American emerald dragon. It actually isn't technically a dragon, but it looks similar. Anyway, it's fairly poisonous, but what makes it the most lethal is that it lives near cities and it doesn't flee humans."

That was mildly interesting, but nothing they couldn't get from a documentary. Before Melissa could ask more questions about animals, Rick spoke up. "If those are the dangers to untrained people, what's the real threat?"

Uncle Frank went silent again, then nodded, as if to himself. "When you two were younger I didn't talk about these things because I didn't want to scare you. But I suppose you're adults now. The real danger, as usual, is humans. The fact that the things we find are valuable means that there are people who might want to take them. Usually everything is peaceful enough, but not always."

"You mean there are lucrim pirates?" Melissa asked eagerly. That got a chuckle, but a weak one.

"Don't imagine them wearing eyepatches, but yes. Now, it's nothing too serious recently. Most of the time when a government is funding a job, there's just competition between researchers and freelancers like myself. But when sects hire people to search out obscure plants or ruins, those can fetch a high enough price that it draws less reputable types."

"But I assume we're not checking one of those today."

"Of course not. This one isn't actually a local government job, it's a point of interest for the Global Lucrim Authority. We already staked out the region and confirmed there was nothing dangerous, but the ruins are broken into many fragments that will require careful searching. You two can help with that, just don't touch anything."

Rick frowned at the mention of the GLA. "Why is it a point of interest for them? Is it a lucrim anomaly?"

"Not at all, but it's somewhat related. It's hard to explain." Uncle Frank was silent for a while, idly tapping his hands on the steering wheel. "Okay, think about it like this. Earth runs into lucrim as it moves through space. Sometimes there's a little bit more, sometimes a little bit less, but the differences are small, rounding errors. Usually."

"But not now?"

"For the past ten years or so, there's been a steady increase in lucrim... but even that is controversial. The thing is, there can be brief spikes, something to do with sun spots and solar wind. During that time, there have been more of those than usual. So some people think that there hasn't been any real increase, just a coincidental bunch of events raising the average. The numbers are arguable."

"Lies, darned lies, and statistics." Melissa nodded along, but with a puzzled expression. "What does that have to do with your job, though?"

"All that new lucrim is more intense, or maybe a little different from normal. It doesn't really matter for individuals or businesses, but the stuff is degrading lucrim and ether patterns in old ruins faster than normal. Suddenly a lot of groups that thought they had decades to find their old scrolls or finish an archaeological survey want it done ASAP. That means more work for me, but the field is also more crowded."

That was a much more indirect reason than Rick had expected, but he realized that he should have known. Everything in the modern world was increasingly interconnected, with cause and effect often separated by a dozen little systems. At least it seemed like the trip might be fun, and Uncle Frank relaxed once he talked about the interesting parts of his work.

As they spoke, they'd finally left civilized areas and begun flying over unoccupied jungle. When they finally stopped, Rick didn't see anything particularly unusual. As they circled, Uncle Frank pointed out that several strange hills were actually overgrown buildings. Eventually he found a place and stopped the vehicle just over the trees.

"You two jump down and I'll lock up," he said. "Just don't touch anything that looks built by human hands. There shouldn't be any dangerous plants or animals here, but we don't want to damage anything."

They nodded and then hopped over the edge, Rick jumping directly after Melissa in case there turned out to be any surprises. But they snapped through a few branches and landed on the dirt without any problems. The area seemed almost dead, actually, with the plants growing more sparsely and few animal sounds surrounding them.

Overhead, Uncle Frank jumped out as well, but not before initiating a process that left the lucrim vehicle covered in a shell of ether-enhanced armor. A way of preventing anyone from running off with it, presumably. Rick didn't know how expensive a vehicle like that was, but it had to be a pretty big part of their uncle's livelihood.

"Okay, kids, let's head this way. I thought I saw something good over there." Uncle Frank led them a short distance to one of the lumpy hills, showing them where to step and leaning aside from overhanging branches.

What they found appeared to be a shrine. It was overgrown by moss and small plants, and part of it had been broken down by a tree's roots, yet there was a strange beauty to it. The stone of the shrine had been carved extensively, the complex ridges and patterns clear even after age had eroded them. Rick and Melissa looked over it while Uncle Frank made a note on a small electronic device Rick didn't recognize. Some sort of special GPS, maybe.

"Okay, this one is good. Let's move southeast next." As he started away, Melissa stared after him in surprise.

"Wait, that's it? We don't... I don't know, extract it or investigate the inside?"

"This place is mostly important to historians and for scientific measurements." Their uncle cast her an amused smile as they began to move away. "Did you think that we'd be finding golden idols and ancient training manuals?"

"I mean, not really, but a girl can hope." As they trekked on, the trees parted to reveal an overgrown plaza and Melissa perked up. "Hey, that looks like some kind of ancient sect hideout! Any chance there will be something fun there?"

"Possibly." Uncle Frank made a note on his device and frowned. "We actually didn't think there would be any structures of this size, so this one might be valuable. Hmm... the stones appear to be damaged. They probably had inscriptions, but they're lost to time now. We can walk on them, but walk softly. I think there might be a basement underneath."

As they explored into the courtyard, Rick was surprised to see several large faces carved into the stone. The complex patterns of stonework looked similar to the small shrine they had found first, but there hadn't been any human features. These looked like normal humans wearing elaborate crowns, except perhaps for the eyes. He wasn't sure if there had been heavy damage to them or if there were strange patterns carved in the pupils.

Just when he was about to ask who had made them, Melissa spoke up. "Guys, there's a staircase going down over here!"

"Really?" Uncle Frank headed over toward her quickly. "Definitely don't go down. We should get a team for that."

"Ooh, why? Could there be traps?"

"Of course not. Even if they left anything like that, it would have degraded long ago - ancient people might have been able to create ether, but they were much worse at using it to enchant solid matter. Any residue would be of interest to lucrim archaeologists, not something we could notice."

"Aww... can you at least tell me that you've run into a trap at some point?"

"Actually, yes." Uncle Frank stopped with an odd smile on his face. "There was this tiny little Egyptian tomb, not related to any of their dynasties, and no one thought it would contain anything of great value. But the entrance had a pit trap that had been rebuilt several times, with almost perfectly preserved skeletons at the bottom. That's still the most valuable find I've ever seen personally."

"A pit trap!" Melissa thrust both fists over her head. "I'll take it!"

Though Rick listened to their conversation with a slight smile on his face, he was fairly distracted. Not just with looking at the ruins and trying not to step on anything, but automatically sensing the area around him. He hadn't intended to, but being in a natural environment triggered his old instincts searching for lucrim anomalies. There was nothing of the sort, though the average activity around the ruins was higher than normal.

And then there was the massive source of lucrim hovering overhead.

Rick looked up in time to see the slim vehicle slide down to the other side of the courtyard. It folded back into a small bar, similar to his bicycle, leaving a man wearing camouflage. And carrying a gun.

"Looks like this was a good tip after all." The man smiled and lowered the weapon to point at them. "It's mine now."

Chapter 34: Lucrim Pirate

As everyone stared, Rick had a moment to examine the man threatening them. Though the camouflage had struck him first, the ragged belt and sandals suggested he wasn't military. Rick didn't know enough about guns to be sure about the one aimed at them, other than that it struck him as a bit old-fashioned... and heavy enough to fire lucrim bullets. Some sort of mercenary, then.

"Now, this can end easily." The mercenary gave them all an insincere smile revealing several broken teeth. "Lay down whatever weapons you're carrying, turn around, and walk away. If you never come back, I'll let you go."

"You two, get behind me." Uncle Frank stepped in front of them, one fist clenching at his side.

"Oh, you don't want to fight me, old man. Even if you can, do you think you're able to protect those dear children?"

"I think that you're working illegally. You couldn't be paid for this find if the authorities are notified, so you always intended to kill us. But you didn't try a sneak attack because you weren't confident in winning, so you took the coward's route."

Immediately the mercenary's smile disappeared. "It would have been easier for you to take a bullet in the back of the head. I'll kill them first."

"You can still walk away from this. I'll ignore the threat if y-" Uncle Frank's words were cut off by a hail of semi-automatic gunfire.

The bullets ricocheted off a hand of blue aura that manifested in front of their uncle. Rick remembered that hand picking them up when they were children and taking them on rides over the yard. This version was far larger, as tall as their uncle and packed with aura. Lucrim bullets could often penetrate aura defenses, but the hand showed no signs of damage.

An instant later, it swept out to strike their opponent, but he skipped to the side: a speed technique just like the Bunyan's Step. Though he fired again, Uncle Frank had automatically manifested another aura hand that deflected the bullets. The mercenary then shifted to firing at Rick instead, but the hand expanded to cover his new target.

While Uncle Frank was focused on that, the mercenary pulled something else from his belt. Rick saw it, but he was too deep in analysis to say something in time. Some sort of aura flared to activate the grenade, then it was flung toward them.

"Move!" Uncle Frank leapt to the side, grabbing Melissa as he went. Rick leapt in the opposite direction before the grenade hit.

There was no explosion, just an expanding blue fog. Yet Rick realized a moment later that all the plants within it were curling up and dying. Whatever it was, he had a feeling that aura wouldn't stop it. He didn't even want to risk his defensive core against a killer's weapon.

The mercenary moved to fire at Rick, and he was about to Bunyan's Step away when a blue hand manifested to defend him. Yet the mercenary seemed to have anticipated this, instead firing at Uncle Frank. This time, he kept up the burst of lucrim bullets, the muzzle of his gun glowing with aura. Uncle Frank staggered back a step and his barrier began to crack.

Rick realized that he had waited for too long, analyzing when he needed to act. He used a Bunyan's Step to leap at their attacker.

He didn't hear the gunshot, just saw that the gun had turned on him as soon as he moved. It must have hit him straight in the chest.

Yet he wasn't dead.

Throwing aside thought, Rick slammed his fist into the mercenary's face. The man went down hard, but he was already raising his gun again. Rick kicked it out of his hands, sending it sailing into the jungle. He intended to kick down at his opponent, but the man flashed away in another swift movement, vanishing from the ruin.

Though Rick kept his eyes on the jungle, he backed up to check the others were okay. Only after he saw that Melissa had taken cover behind a shrine and Uncle Frank was back on his feet did he look down at his chest. His shirt had been torn, he was bleeding, and it felt like a huge area would bruise, but he'd survived a lucrim bullet. That had been without the Triune Golden Spheres, which he quickly activated to prepare for the next attack.

"The two of you can take care of yourselves." Uncle Frank only glanced at them briefly, but he looked a bit guilty. "If I hadn't spent so much time trying to defend you, that might have gone better."

"Are you okay, Rick?" Melissa asked quietly from her position. Rick nodded, but Uncle Frank hushed them both.

"There's no time to talk. Get ready. I don't know who that is, but he's suspiciously well-equipped. He won't give up, so we need to find and disable him before he ambushes us."

Before they could plan any further, a sphere sailed in from the jungle. When it hit there was no explosion, the sphere simply began to sprout legs. It rapidly curled into a scorpion with a presence like a demon, but Rick had never seen anything like it before. As the creature scuttled toward them, he felt a cold presence at his back.

"The enemy has numerous demonic contracts," Katenka whispered into his ear. "The manifestations can be destroyed with force, but he's using them as a distraction."

It was too late to share the warning, as the demonic scorpion was already advancing on them. Uncle Frank had tightened his hand, a blue palm moving down to smash it. But Rick looked past them and saw the mercenary in the trees, hurling another sphere.

Directly overhead. Even as the first scorpion was being crushed, the second was forming above them, rushing down at Uncle Frank's head.

Rick tackled it in midair, slamming the demon into one of the ancient walls. It stabbed at him with its tail, but he was surprised how slow it seemed. He caught the pincer in one hand and struck the creature's head with his elbow until the chitin shattered and the demon dissipated into aura.

As he looked up to defend himself from the mercenary, he found the man gripped in a blue fist. Either he hadn't found his gun or it had fallen, because he merely struggled with his bare hands. Uncle Frank needed a moment to restabilize his aura, but then stepped closer.

"We won't kill you, but-"

"That's right, you won't." The mercenary suddenly spoke... in a woman's voice. His body melted into a succubus, who gave them a cheerful wave before vanishing into demonic aura.

"Don't move." This time it was the mercenary's real voice, coming from behind them. Despite the warning, Rick whirled around to look.

The mercenary had his gun pointed directly at Melissa.

"You're right that I intended to kill you, but circumstances have changed." The mercenary gave them all an unpleasant smile, his finger tense on the trigger. "I still can't let you report this, but we migh-"

Melissa's eyes flared black and a dark field flickered into being between her and the mercenary. Rick wanted to yell at her not to take the risk, but she'd made the right choice: her manifested void had targeted the gun.

The mercenary pulled the trigger... too late to prevent the lucrim in his gun from being drained into the void. It began to drain his hand as well, forcing him to take a step back, eyes widening in shock.

Though Uncle Frank started to move, Rick was there first. He had intended to tackle the mercenary to the ground, but the man leapt away. Rick followed him instantly, colliding with his opponent just as they landed. The mercenary kicked at his legs, but the blow deflected harmlessly, giving Rick time to strike him in the chest.

The mercenary went skidding back across the ruins, tumbling once before hitting a low wall at the end. A blue hand tried to grasp him again, but he pushed himself off the ground, landing atop one of the shrines. Rick tensed as he saw that the mercenary was smiling.

"Well, it seems I've found something even more valuable..." He threw another grenade and Rick realized too late that this one wasn't lethal. Uncle Frank tried to intercept it, but the grenade went directly through the aura hand, then exploded in midair.

Not in a fiery explosion, but tearing open a hole into the demon realm. And not above them, but targeting Melissa. She had a moment to stare in shock before the force of the explosion pulled her in.

Then the portal closed, forming a locked pillar of aura. Rick didn't know what had happened, but he knew that Melissa was trapped on the other side. He saw Katenka appear out of the corner of his eyes, a grim expression on her face. Yet before she could say anything, the mercenary unhooked another pair of grenades and smiled.

"Was that a fully mature ether void? I've never actually seen one. But oh, I know someone who will pay for one."

Rick ignored him and struck the pillar of aura, hoping that he could force it back open. The aura simply ignored his blows, leaving him separated from his sister.

Chapter 35: Bone Contract

Melissa let out a gasp that was suffocated by the sudden force wrenching her from the world. She suddenly found herself adrift in an expanse of pitch black ground and pale sky. Though she hadn't seen what had happened, her surroundings looked like how her brother had described the demon realm.

That meant that she needed to figure out how to summon her aura. When she tried, she found it inaccessible, but he'd said something about that too. She tried to remain calm, since she needed to keep her head if she was going to get back and help her family.

Suddenly a terrible pain shot through Melissa's stomach and she crumpled to her knees. It was exactly where she felt her ether void, and for a terrible moment she feared that it had turned against her again. Yet the pain wasn't the same, it was as if all the life was being drained from her...

"I've only seen this in simulation." The voice was warm and buttery, nothing like how she would have expected a demon to sound. She struggled to look up and saw a creature approaching, looking like a human skeleton with a horned head, face formed from bone.

"It... it hurts..." Melissa tried to summon her aura again and once more failed. It was like she was slowly eroding from the inside...

"We're naturally suited to our own realm, of course." The demon bent down beside her, helping her up. When she touched its hand, the bone felt strangely cool, yet the pain receded. "Humans are mostly unsuited, yet you do have an aura spark at the core of your souls. Most of you. How unusual for a human to have an ether void that was never fixed."

"Just who are you?" As soon as she was standing, Melissa pulled her hand back, even though the pain began to return. Old fears were beginning to rise, but she thought she had overcome them. The ether void wasn't her enemy, it was part of her.

"I am... something like a scientist, you could say. If you agree to let me study you, I'd be happy to help you return to your own realm."

"Study me?"

"Oh yes. Your condition is poor now, but if we were to meet under better circumstances..." The demon waved its hand and a tablet appeared, just like a tablet from the real world. "I'll help you get back, but I'd feel much better if you signed an agreement to work together with me."

Melissa tried to look at the words, but the pain was getting worse and her vision was blurring. Besides, it didn't really matter.

"Screw you!" She tried to strike the tablet, but her hand passed directly through. "You really think I'm that stupid? That somebody helpful just shows up? You're obviously working with that mercenary guy."

"I suppose that would have been too easy." The demon smiled, bone lips pressed together... until they ripped apart, the bone tearing in a jagged line. All of its bones shifted, soft edges becoming cruel spikes. "You're right, I'm not being helpful. But you should still consider yourself lucky. That human fool would have just killed you, wasting all your potential profit."

Shaking her head and gripping her stomach tighter, Melissa tried to shake off the pain. She regained enough focus and managed to push off the ground, sending herself sailing into the air.

A spike of bone exploded through her chest.

The power of it seemed to pin her in place, even as it sent agony through her chest. Yet despite all the pain, Melissa found herself staring downward in horror. Though the spike hadn't torn her skin or shirt, it felt as though it was embedded in her soul. When she struggled to pull it out, the spike felt more solid than the rest of the demon realm, yet she couldn't grip it.

"You don't understand how much danger you're in." The demon floated up in front of her, holding the tablet in one hand and a bone spear in the other. "I may need you alive, but I can cause you a great deal of suffering. And I don't need to do a thing to watch you destroy yourself. The only person who can protect you from the effects is me."

"My... my bro-" The spear of bone cut through her side and she cried out in agony again. Her world completely dissolved into the pain for an instant that seemed to go on far too long.

When she was aware of herself again, pain came first, both from the spikes through her body and the void eroding her from the inside. Her eyes had been open, they just told her nothing. She slowly came back to herself, realizing she was still pinned in midair, the skeleton demon regarding her with its terrible grin.

"You think anyone is coming for you? Passing between realms isn't easy. Even our human partner only has one grenade that can create a portal. Your only choice is to sign the contract with me."

"I..." Her voice came out weak and pained, forcing her to take several gulping breaths to get herself under control. There were tears in the corners of her eyes, no matter how much she tried to blink them away. "Then why are you so desperate to get me to sign?"

"I'm not desperate." The demon smiled, face cracking broader. It manifested another bone spear from the darkness, then very slowly slid it through her heart.

Melissa promised herself that she wouldn't scream and broke that promise. This one hurt so much more, a growing agony spreading through her entire being instead of a single sharp pain. She didn't feel like she would pass out this time, which meant that she felt every bit of it.

When the spike was all the way through her heart, Melissa thought the demon would offer her the contract again. Instead it merely smiled cruelly and formed another, stabbing this one into her thigh. Melissa screamed and thrashed, each pained movement tugging the other spikes impaling her and increasing the pain.

Worse than that was the sheer helplessness. She desperately reached for her aura, but there was nothing. Her ether void pulsed in response, but it still consumed her. There was absolutely nothing she could do, leaving her with a humiliating mix of emotions she could barely name.

At last it ended. A bony hand grasped her arm, briefly making all the pain recede. Now the demon bent close, raising the contract to her again.

"Do you know how long I could torture you here? I don't, but I would be happy to find out. Just watching you come apart would be useful information."

"What... what do I need to do?" She hated how weak her voice sounded.

"All I need is a bit of your blood to sign the contract. You need a special device to bleed here, and I wasn't quite prepared for this, but I can acquire the proper needle."

"No, I... I have one..." Melissa shakily raised her hand into the inner pocket of her robe... and removed it with her middle finger raised.

For just a moment, as the demon stared at her in shock, it was worth it. Then a spear of bone drove through her face and she screamed.

~ ~ ~

As soon as he understood the emergency, Rick began channeling lucrim to Katenka. Far more than he ever had before, but he was desperate to find a way to get to Melissa. As he did so, she seemed to become more solid and flew to the pillar of aura.

"This... they broke the barrier..." She grimaced as she dug her fingers into the aura, as if trying to wrench it back open. "Still weak... but it's not easy..."

"What can I do?" He was ready to throw all the lucrim he had at her, but she shook her head.

"Don't need more... just stop him..."

Rick's movements had bought him a little time, but now the mercenary understood what he was trying to do. The man hurled both grenades, one directly toward them and one toward the ground.

On instinct Rick leapt away, just before another cloud of fog expanded. He desperately looked for the others, but saw that Uncle Frank had pulled himself over it with an aura hand, while Katenka was still working within the fog, apparently unharmed. Still, the life-consuming fog was expanding, preventing access to the closed portal.

No, that was a distraction. The real threat was the second grenade... "He has another demon!" Rick called the warning just before another one of the demonic scorpions leapt at his uncle from behind.

Uncle Frank summoned a blue fist around his entire body, smashing the scorpion skyward. It wasn't dead, but that didn't matter since the mercenary was drawing a sidearm. Given how well-equipped he was, Rick had to assume it could fire lucrim bullets, or was essential to a firearms technique. He leapt directly at his opponent in a Bunyan's Step.

This time the mercenary didn't try to fire at him, just leapt away. Rick was after him the next second and the two of them flashed back and forth across the ruin. Several times the mercenary suddenly reversed, trying to drive him into the clouds of gas, but Rick kept after him. Thoughts of Melissa set his blood boiling, yet instead of blind rage he found himself overflowing with calculated thoughts of murder.

All at once he was on his opponent, reacting on instinct and hitting the man's neck with his fist. Yet the mercenary had already been firing, several gunshots impacting on Rick's torso. The force of the lucrim bullets sent him staggering back a step, his defensive cores struggling.

Before any more could be fired, a blue palm slammed down between them. The mercenary sneered and raised his gun to fire through it, only for the hand to suddenly sweep at him, slapping him into the jungle. Uncle Frank limped closer, but there was fire in his eyes.

"Go, Rick. Save Melissa."

"But..." Rick looked toward where the mercenary was no doubt regrouping and preparing for an ambush. Yet he saw that within the fog, a portal had been torn open. Katenka was nowhere in sight, but there was no time to think about that.

"I trust you despite these demonic bonds. Trust me to handle this." Something in Uncle Frank's tone broke through to him. Rick nodded sharply to him, then ran toward the portal.

He plunged through the fog in an instant, feeling it eating into him, then suddenly he was skating into the demon realm. His aura lit up around his body almost without thinking, but the Triune Golden Spheres winked out. Fighting here wasn't really an option.

Almost immediately he saw her: Melissa hung in the air, impaled by several long spears that looked like they were made of bone. His heart leapt to his throat: he would have thought she was dead except for how her body shook, yet the agony on her face was almost worse.

Only after seeing her did he even notice the demons. Several scorpions were frozen in swaths of ice, Katenka storming forward. Yet she struggled against a skeletal demon that shattered through her ice and hurled more bone spears at her.

"You!" Realizing that the demon was the one torturing his sister, Rick roared out the word and nearly leapt toward him. Yet he realized, just before the demon gave him a jagged grin, that he couldn't attack the demon. Not here, at least not effectively.

His sister let out an anguished cry and Rick ran. Toward the demon, but no longer intending to attack him. At the last second, Rick changed direction, instead turning toward Katenka. He bit hard into the meat of his palm, salty blood filling his mouth, and reached out toward her.

Immediately she grasped his palm. He felt the strength flow out of him into her as he gave her the power deep within his blood. A solid blue beam swept out, freezing everything in its path, including the skeletal demon. Rick staggered, but didn't let himself fall, trying to rush on toward Melissa.

For a moment, he thought that he was going to make it, but then he heard the ice shatter. The demon came after them, waving a hand, and bone-like scorpions began springing up from the ground all around them. Rick attempted to charge through, and Katenka laid waste to them with bursts of ice, but the sheer force of the scorpion rush drove both of them back.

On the other side of the summoned demons, the leader floated toward Melissa again. It created another spear of bone, this one dripping something foul and black. Rick let out a cry, smashing directly through demons in his path, but he knew that he was too late...

Melissa let out another scream. Not of pain, but something inhuman.

Darkness exploded from her, a sphere so utterly black that it cast the demon realm in shades of gray. The sphere expanded rapidly, consuming the spurs of bone impaling her. For a moment the demon looked shocked, then it leapt away to escape the sphere.

Rick leapt into its path, flaring his aura as much as he could. The demon faltered and then the sphere swept up toward them. A pulse of fear sent Rick leaping back, but the demon was too slow, swallowed by the darkness. It gave a loud cry, then it shattered into fragments of bone that were consumed by the void.

It continued expanding until it was far larger than Melissa, carving a vast crater out of the ground and consuming many of the demonic scorpions. Rick could only stare, trying to find his sister in the darkness. He was only dimly aware of Katenka freezing the remaining scorpions until she stepped up beside him, staring at the dark sphere.

"That..." Katenka took a deep breath, watching it with wide eyes. "That is a soul void made manifest. I... I can't go into that."

"But I have to." Deep within, Rick could see Melissa, and her mouth was still open in a silent cry. Before anyone could stop him, he hurled himself into the air toward his sister.

When he hit the sphere of darkness, it swept through him, and for a moment he thought that it would tear him apart. He struggled on, relying not so much on his defensive cores as on raw unwillingness to surrender to it. Not until he got to her.

He'd lost his vision entirely, but he felt himself collide with his sister. She was the first solid thing he'd felt in the demon realm, and he immediately clung to her. For a moment the void raged even more intensely around them, then all at once it vanished.

Melissa collapsed into his arms, still whimpering in pain. He held her tightly, wishing that he could do something, but he was still too numb. All the demons around them were dead, yet it didn't feel like a victory. Not when he could feel her tears in his shirt, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

"Rick..." Katenka appeared beside them with a concerned look on her face. "You need to go back through before the portal closes for good. You might be able to survive here, but your sister..."

"Right." Rick took a deep breath and refocused as he drifted back down to the ground. As soon as he touched down, he pushed himself off at an angle, back toward the rift in the sky through which he could see the human realm. It was growing smaller, but there was enough time. "Katenka... thank you."

She closed her eyes sadly. "Have her thank me."

There was no more time. Rick plunged back into the human realm, bracing himself for the lethal fog, but there was nothing but scorched air. He staggered on the uneven stones, struggling to keep Melissa from falling. She had floated in the demon realm, but now lay completely limp, almost like a dead body.

Adrenaline surged through Rick's blood, but the fight was over. Uncle Frank sat on a broken pillar nearby, his shirt stained with blood but with no other signs of injury. The mercenary was unconscious and pinned in the grip of another aura hand.

"I've contacted the authorities." Uncle Frank sounded ragged, concern bleeding into his voice. "Melissa... is she?"

"I'm alive." She grated out the words in a much lower voice than normal. "I'm fine."

It could not have been more obviously a lie, even if she didn't fall into his chest and begin crying again. Rick wrapped his arms around her, but his legs gave out and they both slumped to the ground.

Only then did everything catch up to him. The battle against the mercenary, the exposure to the lethal fog, traveling between realms, and giving so much of his blood... willpower had taken him that far, but he had reached his absolute limit.

Rick fell unconscious still clutching his weeping sister in his arms.

Chapter 36: Demonic Trauma

When Rick woke, he stared at a sterile white ceiling. He tried to get up, only for a doctor to press him back down, then create a quick aura technique that eased the sudden ache in his chest. The man looked vaguely familiar to Rick, so he assumed that the doctor was one of the dedicated Showdown healers. Yet when he tried to ask questions, the man just shook his head and left.

Soon after, H entered with a grimace. It was worse than his normal glower, a truly grim expression that focused entirely on Rick. "You do realize you're on thin ice with this. Your Showdown insurance will cover extracurricular activities, but if you exploit it, that will become a problem for both of us."

"My sister almost died." Rick didn't want to show any weakness, but the statement fell bluntly from his lips. H sighed, started to raise a cigarette to his lips, then returned it to his pocket.

"I suspected I would get family problems with you. Try to keep it under control." H rubbed his eyes wearily and shifted to lean back against the wall of the hospital room.

"Is she alright?"

"She was discharged without any major expenses. They say she needs to work through whatever it is herself. I took her costs from your upcoming income. I forgave the extra expenses for you because everything you encountered was good for your defensive cores. Getting shot isn't ideal training, but if you survive it, that's worth something."

Rick didn't answer, just stared at him. Eventually H turned away, though he paused at the door.

"You don't have another event for five days. Take care of everything by then. Whatever else is happening, you need to get your head straight."

Once his mentor was gone, Rick sat up. He still hurt, especially in every place where he'd been shot, but the doctors had done a good job healing him. His clothes and other things all sat in a box near the bed, so he changed into them. As he did so, he found himself coughing a bit - the gas grenades must have done a number on his lungs even though he'd tried not to breathe any of it.

Other than one of the nurses letting him check out, no one bothered him. He supposed that they were used to Showdown fighters getting injured in various surprising ways. A few people tried to talk to him on the way back to the hotel, but he ignored all of them.

When he came to their hallway, he saw Uncle Frank seated outside their hotel room. He looked so grim that for a moment Rick feared the worst, but his uncle only looked up at him with a somber expression. "I tried to talk to Melissa, but... I think she'd be happy to have you there."

Accepting that wordlessly, Rick stepped inside. Immediately he saw that Melissa's bed was a lump of sheets and blankets, all the covers from both beds gathered into one pile. He could only presume that she was at the center of it, because none of her was visible, so he approached slowly.

"Melissa... I just woke up in the hospital." He didn't get a response, so he carefully sat down on the side of the bed near the pile of blankets. "I'm glad you weren't hurt worse. I'm... sorry I couldn't do more to help you."

There were muffled sounds, then Melissa's head poked out from one side of the blankets. "Brother... don't say that... Uncle Frank has been that way too..."

"How are you feeling?" It looked as though she'd been crying, but she didn't look as broken as he'd worried. His question made her sigh and pull the blankets back over her head.

"I'm fine. The doctors said I was healthy, so I'm healthy. It's just in my head... but I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to." Rick shifted closer and rubbed her back through the blankets. "I'm here to talk if you ever want to, but I don't want to force it. Is there anything you do want?"

"Just... could I have some water? And then... just... stay for a bit..."

Rick quickly went to pour her a glass of water. She was so quiet and subdued that he desperately wanted to do something for her, crack some joke that would make her laugh again. But despite whatever the doctors said, he knew that she had been injured in a deeper way, and trying any of that could make things worse.

When he returned with the water, Melissa emerged enough to drink it. He stayed nearby awkwardly, again putting a hand on her back. It shivered, but when he started to pull away, she aggressively moved into him. Suddenly he had a mess of blankets and his sister in his arms. All he could do was wrap his arms around the bundle and hold her as best she could. She wept, but completely silently.

Eventually she seemed to fall asleep. Rick waited until he was sure, then gently lowered her down into a more comfortable position with one of the pillows beneath her head. Even in sleep she didn't seem peaceful, leading him to wonder if there was some leftover demonic condition.

Not wanting to have that conversation with his uncle, Rick instead retreated to the bathroom so he wouldn't wake his sister and spoke softly. "Katenka, is there any lingering demonic effect?"

"The doctors would have noticed it." She manifested beside him, eyes pale and sorrowful. "It would be... easier if there was an explanation like that. But I fear this is simply a matter of trauma."

"What the demon was trying... what did it do to her?"

"From what I can tell, his goal was partially to cause pain, partially to lower her control. He wanted to use her for her ether void, though I don't know how."

"Figure out, if you can." Rick stared at his reflection and was surprised at how dead his eyes looked. He washed his face, but didn't feel much better. At some point during that process, Katenka disappeared, hopefully to learn more.

But no, she was probably right. There would be no easy lucrim solution here.

With nothing else to do, Rick left the room again. Uncle Frank was still seated on the bench, his hands trying to strangle one another. Rick didn't say anything, just sat down beside him. They were silent for a long time, the air conditioning of the hotel a disturbingly normal backdrop, and then his uncle spoke quietly.

"I was a fool to invite you here."

In all their years together, Rick had never seen his uncle so turned against himself. Part of him wanted to offer reassurance, but another part... "How often do things like this happen?"

"Sometimes. Never. Maybe more often than I've told myself." Uncle Frank vigorously rubbed his face with both hands. "That mercenary was the worst, by far. Most scavengers flee when they see someone can defend themselves... I've never seen anyone with such developed Lucores, much less extensive demonic contracts.

"But... but how many times have I run into someone using a lucrim gun? I think I've tricked myself into believing it almost never happens, but that isn't true. God... I once invited the two of you to come work with me. Such a fool... that would have been a disaster. It could have gotten you killed. And now, Melissa..."

His uncle trailed off, staring into nothing with a haunted expression. Rick didn't know what to say to him, and didn't have much to give. But the self-recrimination he heard was enough to soften his heart. "It wasn't your fault, Uncle Frank. You couldn't have predicted that we'd run into someone like that."

"But I knew it was a risk, and I took it."

"We were the ones who asked."

"But I'm supposed to be the one who guides you, not who..." Uncle Frank took a deep breath and straightened up a little. "But that's the past now. Without you, that would have gone much worse. I don't think I would have been able to rescue Melissa without you, or without that demonic bond. What... what actually happened in there?"

"You don't know?" Rick looked over in surprise. "I assumed that the authorities... what happened to the mercenary?"

"I sent a distress call to international authorities as soon as I saw he had a gun, it's just that it took them some time to arrive. When they did, they gave you emergency treatment and had him arrested. It... feels wrong to say, but they actually paid us for this. There was a price on his head."

"Then just who is he?"

"That, we don't know. Apparently they had a tip that someone had violated their borders in a lucrim vehicle, but there seems to be no information about how. They said they'd call me back, but I don't think they will. There's always some game among the wealthy and powerful, and no one who's responsible will ever ever face any justice. At least the bastard is behind bars."

All Rick could do was consider that in silence. It certainly wasn't satisfying - part of him still wanted to tear the man apart with his own hands. At least the mercenary hadn't been put in a local jail where he would probably end up released due to some corruption or other. As far as he knew, when international authorities took someone down, that was the end of their free lives.

"I won't judge." Uncle Frank looked over at him and again twisted his hands together. "Just... tell me what happened in there."

"A demon tortured Melissa." It hurt to say it, but there was no point trying to soften the truth. "I think the mercenary might actually have been working for it, though I don't know why. It seemed to be bad luck, just... opportunistic."

"And what happened to it?"

"The demon that did that to her? It was destroyed. Melissa actually did it herself, but the whole ordeal..." Rick lapsed into silence, because there was nothing else to really say. He hadn't explained half of what he'd seen, but it was enough. All they could do now was try to cope as best they could.

Over the next day, they simply abided in the hotel. When they spoke, it was quietly and without substance. Melissa slept a lot, but Rick tried to be nearby whenever she needed something. Though it felt wrong to train while she was suffering, he ended up going through his usual routine just because he felt so helpless and there was nothing else he could do.

While seated with his legs crossed one evening, he was surprised when Melissa suddenly shifted up against his back. He hadn't heard her leave the bed even though she'd dragged all the blankets with her.

"Melissa? I'm sorry, I was just..."

"Don't stop." She wriggled around so that her bundle was partially propped against him. "Just feeling that makes things seem more... normal. Actually, I want to..."

After taking a deep breath, Melissa let it out slowly and darkness expanded around her. At first Rick was tense, remembering the destructive aura that had torn into him, but the void left him untouched. It was her Manifest Destruction technique, he realized, though improved since the last time he'd seen it. Since it knew him, it just wrapped him in shadows. Soon the lights flickered out and they sat alone in near total darkness.

"I'm sorry." Melissa took a shuddering breath before continuing. "Because of me, both of you..."

"How can you say that?" Rick found her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You weren't responsible for us being attacked. Uncle Frank has been beating himself up over this ever since. I've wished that I could do more. But the truth is, it was just one terrible man."

"But I pushed us to go out further and didn't take the risks seriously. I thought that I could defend myself, but I was so naive..."

"Don't say that. You were unlucky. Do you know how many risks I've taken? How many times I've nearly been dismembered or could have ruined our lives over stupid mistakes? Most of those worked out, but that was just dumb luck too."

"I guess... we're both just lucky idiots." Melissa sniffled, but shifted to lean her head against him. "Um, please thank Katenka for me. I tried to be brave, but I was starting to lose hope. But then she came through and started fighting the other demon and I was able to hold on."

"If she didn't hear, I'll tell her." Rick wanted to say more, but all words felt inadequate. He settled for just rubbing her shoulder and back.

Now Melissa was no longer crying, but she still seemed fragile. There was no grinning or joking and he wondered if those would ever return. Would this one accident be something that changed her life forever? He didn't think so, having seen her overcome so much, but he couldn't know what she was feeling. All he could do was resolve to help her as much as he could.

"I..." Melissa spoke up, then paused for an extremely long time, so long that Rick wondered if she'd changed her mind. But eventually she spoke just above a whisper. "I felt so helpless. That's what still claws at me from the inside. I've been in some scary situations, but I've never felt..."

Rick could listen to her words, but he couldn't know exactly what she was feeling. All he had were the same simple comforts that felt so inadequate. Yet when his hand stopped rubbing her back, she jostled his arm for more. It was almost like her old self, and when she looked at him, she gave a teary smile.

"I'll be alright, Rick. Really, I will. But I need time."

"We'll give it to you." He hugged her close and this time they both wept.

The moment stretched until his phone beeped. Rick saw that H had scheduled him for another Showdown event. He methodically turned off the phone, set it aside, and wrapped his arms around his sister.

Chapter 37: Separations

Though Rick had seriously considered brushing off the entire event, in the end he still found himself waiting at the side of the arena in his combat gear. Melissa had insisted that he go, and he understood that she would feel even more guilt if she kept him from competing. Besides, he knew that he wasn't really doing much good, just lingering near her.

That day he was only scheduled to compete in another Unlimited Defensive Ring. According to H, Vietnam wasn't known for any particularly novel forms of attack, but the average level of competition was reasonably high. That meant that with all his combined defenses, he had a decent shot at success.

Assuming he could somehow forget the most important thing in his life.

"You're up after this round." H had been watching the ring sourly, though none of the contestants had lasted more than a minute up to that point. "You've done everything you can to prepare your Lucores, but we do have some more information about what you'll be up against."

"How could you know what's coming?"

"Rumors among trainers. Information from Josiah Craw." H shrugged the question aside. "What we know is that the protege of the Siberian immortals intends to take you down. He saw you fight extensively in his home arena, so he's ready for you. Expect him to come out later in the match, fifth or more."

"Why then?" The warning might have been meant to prepare him, but Rick was beginning to feel more tense.

"Because there's a chance that he may attempt to cripple you. Not overtly, but with some sort of attack that will inhibit your Lucores. Now, I think you're most likely prepared. But if it comes to that, focus on defense. It doesn't matter if he knocks you out of the ring, so long as your defenses hold firm."

"And so long as I get experience against this special attack of his?"

H gave him an approving nod. "That's right. Now get out there and take the hits."

As soon as the previous round ended, Rick headed out to the central ring. This stadium was reasonably large, but not terribly full: apparently the defensive events weren't as popular in Vietnam. He blocked out those who remained and just focused on the fights to come. Though he looked for his Siberian rival, he didn't spot anyone before...

0.00 seconds. It began.

This time, the first attacker was quite a bruiser, with a generation rate over 200,000 lucrim who came in with fists flying. But Rick's instincts were good and he'd been working on retraining himself, so he managed to deflect or blunt the blows until time ran out. As soon as his first attacker was pushed away by aura, his sensory Lucore told him that another form of aura was surging behind him.

Demonic aura.

Though he only hesitated for just a moment, it was enough. Rick didn't properly set his feet and the assault of aura bursts drove him back a step, nearly out of the ring. He barely managed to hold himself in place, forcing his brain to focus again. His attacker was just a young woman who looked like a private sect member, no one related to the mercenary. She wasn't even particularly powerful, for the Showdown, and the demonic aura was nothing like what he'd felt before.

Still, it took him long enough to regroup that he ended up severely battered. His defensive cores had held, but he was still dangerously close to the edge. As soon as her round ended, Rick started to step forward, only to see a leg flying for his face out of nowhere.

He leaned back just enough to dodge, not leaving the central ring. But in midair his opponent reversed direction, spinning violently to slam that same kick into his back. This time it smashed him downward, driving his face against the stadium floor and sending him skidding.

Rick winced, but his defensive cores had held. Yet when he pushed back up, he realized the truth: he was outside the ring. The time on the scoreboard said only 13 seconds.

As he lay there against the turf, Rick found that he didn't care. Whether one number or a higher one appeared on the board, it just didn't matter to him. Even the raucous disapproval of the crowds barely penetrated. Yet when he got back to his feet and saw the look on his mentor's face, he knew that it wouldn't be so simple to ignore the results.

H waited for him to enter, then slammed the door and whirled on him. "13 seconds? That's all? You didn't even face your rival!"

"I got caught off guard." Rick rubbed his cheek, trying to remove some of the turf that had been ground into his skin. "It was an accident."

"No, it wasn't. It was carelessness because your head wasn't in the game." H pulled out a cigarette, but when he tried to light it, burned the entire thing to ashes. He tossed them down irritably. "You realize this will look like cowardice. That you didn't want to face Siberia. Josiah Craw is going to be on me for this, you know that?"

Rick just sat down against the wall and said nothing. But if he thought that he could escape his mentor's wrath with passivity, he was wrong.

"You've gotten arrogant because you've done well so far, but do you understand what you're up against? There are hundreds of other fighters in the world who work day and night to be part of the Showdown. All of them have your talent or more and most of them have better backing. They would give anything to achieve those goals. You stepping onto that field with divided loyalties is disrespecting everything they strive for."

Not having expected that approach, Rick hesitated. He wanted to say "fuck the Showdown" but couldn't bring himself to. Instead... "You expect me to put the Showdown over my family?"

"I expect you to find a way to balance your life so that competing isn't playing second fiddle." H lit a second cigarette without incinerating it and took a long drag before he continued, fury in his voice giving way to a grim tone. "There are those who gave up family to be here. There are those who think of nothing else. You won't be able to compete with them, if you aren't focused on what matters."

"I'll keep that in mind." Yet when he thought about what mattered, he didn't think of the Showdown. Rick kept that silent, but he thought that H knew.

"If it were up to me, I'd throw you out after your next failure. But thanks to Josiah's idiotic bet, I'm stuck with you... until the big fight. By the time you fight the other immortals' champions, I expect you to have figured out what matters to you. I don't care if you win or lose, but if I believe you aren't 100% invested in that fight, I will ensure that you never fight again. Understand?"

"I understand."

There had been one more event scheduled for the end of their time in Vietnam, but H canceled it and instead focused on brutal training. Aside from pushing him harder to improve the Triune Golden Spheres, he advanced him to a more difficult set of supplements and higher concentrations of Formula T. They left Rick feeling a bit queasy, but he felt that he owed his best in the time he gave the Showdown.

As before, training couldn't consume the entire day, so Rick made sure that he still spent time with Melissa. Sometimes she wanted him to talk, even if he didn't have anything to say, and other times she just wanted to sit in silence. To his surprise, she often trained her Manifest Destruction along with him in the evenings.

In those times, she seemed less broken, but not in a way he liked. There was a sharp edge to the void that he hadn't seen before, and though it never harmed him, he could feel the lethal potential. He wished that he had some wisdom to give her, but all he could do was offer support. When she asked lucrim questions, he answered all of them, even those he suspected most people wouldn't tell a young person.

Some days they met with Uncle Frank again, though it felt like a cheap imitation of their carefree conversations before. Melissa seemed to enjoy herself and rarely looked unhappy, but the few times she joked, they were only silly statements, not her usual mischievous barbs. For his part, Uncle Frank played the jovial uncle, but Rick could tell that the experience had scarred him. They never once discussed it, but they didn't leave the towns to explore any further.

One evening after Melissa went to sleep, Rick noticed that he had a call on his laptop. Lisa had been oddly silent lately, occasionally replying to something business-related but rarely on a personal level. He'd assumed that he'd stepped over some line he hadn't noticed, yet now she was calling him.

"Lisa!" He answered the video call gladly, ready for something to alleviate his tension. When he saw her flat expression, he knew it wouldn't be that kind of call.

"Rick, I'm afraid I have some bad news. I waited a long time on this... maybe too long, but I wanted to be absolutely sure."

"What is it?"

"It's about the Formula T..." She leaned closer to her camera, hesitated, then shifted away, her hair partially obscuring her. Only then did he notice that she wasn't wearing her customary ponytail and seemed much less composed than usual. "I think you should stop taking it."

"Why?" He'd intended to ask more gently, but he was exhausted and so he just threw the question at her. "You realize that advancing in the Showdown is based on that, right? That's the only way I'm supporting myself and it might be my career. Are you telling me that it's actually bad for me?"

Lisa winced, but soldiered on. "Not like that. It's obviously an extremely potent training aid. But it's also highly addictive."

"How could it not be, with so much lucrim packed into it?"

"I don't mean like a power addict, Rick. I mean that they designed it to be addictive."

He wanted to argue, but Melissa was sleeping not far away, so he managed to keep his voice down. "Are you completely sure about that? Because that's a pretty big charge to be leveling."

"I'm sure. I double checked." Lisa refused to meet his eyes, but she spoke confidently. "I isolated the different components, taking out everything that contained lucrim or increased strength. But there were still ingredients left, ones that had nothing to do with any of that. It's like... you could think of it as an ether narcotic. The only possible reason for them to include it is to motivate you to keep taking it."

"Then how bad is it, actually? I haven't gotten a high off it, and it's not like I go into withdrawal."

"How would you know, if you take it every eight hours? If I'm right, they'll have to keep increasing the dose."

"But they would do that anyway as my training progresses." Even as he said it, Rick didn't quite believe his own argument. There was no way to get around the fact that it looked bad. If H had thought he needed the motivation to keep taking it, then he should have been worried about Rick overdosing.

"I don't know what else I can say to convince you..." Lisa trailed off, looking at him in concern. Her expression simultaneously frustrated him and cut through his other thoughts. In the end, it was simple, as it always was. He'd just gotten a harsh reminder that H didn't actually care about him, so this was only repeating the same lesson.

"No, I believe you. Say that Formula T is addictive. Is it harmful in any other way?"

"Being addictive is harmful in and of itself! I don't see... but no, there shouldn't be many side effects. It's perfectly designed to increase your strength without causing other harms, but it also makes you dependent on them. Eventually you'll stop taking it, either because they take it away or because your body has built up too much resistance, and when that happens, it won't be pretty."

"Because they don't really care about me. I know." Rick looked straight into the camera to try to make it clear how serious he was. "The Showdown is cutthroat. It wouldn't surprise me if they made it addictive just in case someone else tries to make me cross over to their team. It's cruel, but it's what I signed on for."

Lisa stared at him sadly. "But is that what you want?"

"No, but since when has that mattered? This is what I have to do."

"You're always..." Lisa abruptly struck the table with her fist, a brief flash of anger that almost immediately submerged into the same sad look. "It's your choice, Rick. I gave you what warning I could, and I still think you shouldn't take it."

It was obvious that they wouldn't talk further after that. Rick stayed at his laptop, staring at the blank screen long after the call. In a sense, it didn't change anything, because he'd always known that the Showdown was risking his health for the sake of developing himself and gathering money. This just reinforced what he already knew.

That night the call wouldn't leave his mind. He'd probably pushed Lisa away, yet again. It wasn't just a trivial argument - her abortive statement had made it clear that she had problems with how he made decisions. And she was probably right, too, since he'd barreled straight into a lot of problems in his life. None of that changed the facts.

Rick didn't really get much sleep that night, yet he was able to keep going the next day. Every time he took his Formula T he thought about what she'd said. It was true that he started to feel worn down before the next dose, though he didn't feel like an addict. He wondered what it would feel like to skip a dose, yet that experiment would only damage his growth.

In the end, he changed nothing. Going through withdrawal would just make him miserable when he needed to be there to support Melissa, plus he needed to keep H happy for the near future. At minimum, he resolved to keep everything together until she was somewhere safe.

On their last night in Vietnam, Melissa joined him for a final meal with Uncle Frank. They revisited their favorite of all the restaurants they'd tried. Melissa was surprisingly cheerful that night, mocking him mercilessly, poking at Uncle Frank's gut, and generally acting like her old self.

Emphasis on the acting. Rick kept that thought in mind until they had bid Uncle Frank farewell, then was mostly quiet as they headed to the airport. It might have been unnecessary, but he wanted to escort Melissa until she was safely on board. She didn't object.

As they waited outside the gate, he decided that he had to speak up. "Sis... you don't need to act that way with me if you don't want to."

"I won't." She regarded him with eyes that were more tired than sad. "I didn't want Uncle Frank to blame himself. He's always been so good to us, and this wasn't his fault."

"It wasn't yours, either."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, but that doesn't really matter." Melissa took a deep breath and then gave him a feeble smile. "I promise you this, Rick: I won't mess around with you unless I really, truly feel like it. Right now, I don't. But I think that I will eventually, I just need time."

"Okay." He shifted closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders, and he was relieved when she leaned against him. "I'm always here if you need something. What are you going to do when you go back to the YLAA?"

"Follow the programs, mostly. I... think I might change my focus. There's no point doing something to impress them, I need something that will stay with me for the rest of my life."

"That seems like a good plan."

"Yeah."

For one of the first times in their lives, their conversation petered out uncomfortably. They stayed there in silence, his sister putting an arm around his waist and squeezing him tightly. Eventually her flight came and they departed with final farewells, but they all reached Rick as if through a haze.

He just sat down in the airport and didn't think for a while. In another day, he would leave to the Showdown's next location. Eventually he would look up where he was going, but for now he didn't care.

Chapter 38: Angelic Bond

Though he didn't like to admit it to himself, life became easier once Melissa left. There was simply nothing else for him to do but train, so he dedicated himself entirely to it. At the end of every day, when he looked at his portfolio, he should have been satisfied with his advancement:

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 11th

Ether Score: 525

Lucrim Generation: 92,450

Enhanced Generation: 226,400

Current Lucrim: 9,200]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3800 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 18,500 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 133,950

- Defensive Sphere: 49,750

- Absorption Sphere: 39,900

- Sensory Sphere: 44,300

Offensive Lucore: 14,500 (Lv VIII)

Defensive Lucore: 39,300 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 16,350 (Lv IX)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 33,000 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 39,250 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2100 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 168,900

Enhanced Total: 302,850]

But afterward, he always found himself sitting listlessly, wishing that he could train again without doing more harm than good. H said that he'd done sufficiently well when it came to technique, so all he required now was raw power. And outside of implanted Lucores, there was nothing he could do but continue pouring lucrim into himself.

"Yo, Rick!" Without warning, Raggest barged into his room and struck him on the shoulder. "Let's sneak out and do something fun!"

"I'm in the middle of something." Rick covered his desk as if it was a training secret, though it was quite the opposite. "Sorry, but I need to focus right now."

"Come on, you've been in your room ever since we arrived in Germany! You have all kinds of crazy experiences behind you, like bears and stuff. Don't lose that fire! Let's get out there and find some amazing new training!"

"Not today, Raggest." Rick just smiled and shook his head until the young man finally gave up. For the hundredth time, Rick considered whether or not he should lock his door more often. There was a good chance that Raggest would just bang on the outside and be even more annoying.

Unlike the other nations Rick had experienced so far, Germany had built a "Showdown Village" - a compound specifically to house all of the contestants, or perhaps to keep them out of the rest of the city. It had plenty of housing and training rooms, places to eat, and a number of parks. If Rick had been in a slightly different frame of mind, he might have found it limiting, like they were just in the theme park version of the country.

As things were, he didn't mind the chance to focus. The only problem was that other contestants seemed to take it as an opportunity to spend more time with one another than training. Rick had rebuffed a few requests and soon been left alone... except by Raggest, who continued to reach out to try to get him to come along with extracurricular training.

Though Rick really was dedicated to his work, at the moment what he was doing had nothing to do with training. Instead, he had been doing his best to draw a hamster. Despite looking at references and the past hamster drawings Melissa had sent him, his work still looked like a potato with a face.

For a while he'd been tormented about how much to message his sister. He'd been worried that checking in with her constantly would seem condescending, and she would see right through attempts to be too lighthearted. At the same time, he thought that abandoning her to her current mindset was unacceptable. Even if they were half a world apart, he couldn't leave her alone.

So in the idle time when he couldn't train, he had decided that he would put so much effort into one message that his intent would come through. His idea had been that he'd draw a cartoon hamster like the ones she left him sometimes, but drawing turned out to be way harder than he'd expected.

Eventually Rick decided that his potato hamster wasn't going to get any better. He gave it a speech bubble saying "I am the greatest of hamsters!", took a picture, and sent it to Melissa with no explanation. No response, but of course there wouldn't be. Instead he paced around the room, trying to decide if doing another round of training would be harmful or not.

"You need a break." Katenka appeared by the doorway, pale eyes watching compassionately. "The drawing was a good idea, but you need to get your mind away from all your problems."

"I have nothing but problems." Rick realized how bitter he sounded and sighed. "Okay, fine. We can take a walk, but I don't know if it will help."

She smiled and faded through the door, prompting him to follow. Rick headed to the end of the hall and out the fire exit, but simply jumped over the side to land on the street below. Around here, that didn't even attract any attention. He stuck his hands into his pockets and began ambling down the street.

The Showdown Village was unnaturally clean except when it occasionally wasn't: he saw a messy pile of wrappers and beer bottles that had yet to be cleaned up by the staff. No doubt because there were still several Showdown candidates lying among them, sleeping off hangovers.

Some of the fighters in the Showdown seemed to consider this to be their end goal, their reward for all the work they had put in. Many had never fought anyone on par with themselves before, so they faltered when they encountered so many with similar strength. Rick had overheard conversations by some who didn't take Germany seriously as a location, not because it wasn't a world power, but simply because it was a time for them to drink and sleep with each other.

On the other hand, there were many who were like him, or even more focused. They tended to stay on their own and he only caught glimpses of them. Some even had special secure chambers aside from the main lodging area, though H said those cost more and that Rick didn't deserve them yet. In any case, for all that he trained, Rick couldn't feel in any way superior to his fellow candidates.

Thoughts of the village helped him for only a short time before his mood began to deteriorate. Just when all the old thoughts started to take over, Katenka spoke up.

"I've been thinking about your idea for demonic bonds."

"I had an idea for demonic bonds?" Rick asked. She smiled as if it was a joke, but that conversation in Siberia felt a lifetime ago.

"The concept of smaller demons giving out minor loans was interesting, though as I said there were several serious difficulties. Well, the idea stuck in my mind, so I've been giving it thought since then. I don't know if it would work, but I do think I have one clever thought."

"Go ahead, since you so obviously want to."

Katenka smiled and waved a hand, demonic snow floating in front of them to show a chart. "I started with your idea of maximizing sustainability instead of maximizing profit. There are lots of ways to structure a small bond that can't be abused easily. The problem is, they rely on people to plan ahead instead of drawing on the bond in an emergency."

Rick frowned, wondering where she was going, but decided not to interrupt as her snow diagram shifted to include a Lucore design he didn't fully understand.

"So I had a thought: what if we ask them to invest future lucrim? You've said that humans say they'll make better decisions, but actually don't when the time comes. It's the same with demons. But in this model, both sides will absolutely commit to a future investment that will create a small permanent bond. Not a legal commitment, but one forged in actual lucrim."

"And just how is that going to work?"

"By the same technology they use for Advanced Lucrim stations, of course. People use them because they think of 'future lucrim' as not really existing, so they don't think they're giving up future growth. How hard would it be to get them to instead commit that lucrim toward a demonic bond? Normally demons couldn't make a profit off it, but small types? They'd line up to get a chance at a small bond."

"That's nice in theory, but how would... wait." Rick trailed off as he saw her predatory gaze turn on him. "Let me guess: you need someone with direct experiences with Advanced Lucrim stations?"

"If it was that easy, more people would already have copied the technology. But I have direct physical access to someone who had a prototype Lucore implanted in them for a long time... combined with what Siberia has already stolen, I think I could do it."

"That's crazy. I haven't thought about that 'Golden Lucore' in so long... would it actually work?"

"It would require a lot of testing, but I think we could do it together." Katenka's smile faded slightly and she waved a hand through all her diagrams to dissipate them. "A model alone isn't sufficient, however. A bond like this would be considered too experimental and we might get rejected out of hand without approval from someone higher up. Think you can do anything about that with your human contacts?"

"What, like the Global Lucrim Authority?" Rick rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll just call them right up."

"Are you sure that's so ridiculous? It seems to me that you do have a contact... but that's only one problem. The other I really don't know about: we need someone who has heavily abused both systems. Your lucrima soul is much too stable for me to get certain kinds of data. I need someone who's an utter mess to properly calibrate things."

Though Rick had scorned the idea only moments ago, he now found himself reconsidering. Though he didn't keep in touch with Damian, he knew the man had been accepted into the GLA. Furthermore, he did have a private line to contact him in the event of something interesting, and this was the first time Rick had run into anything interesting.

As for someone who was an utter mess... Rick hadn't thought about his coworker Henry in quite a while, but still had his number. Smiling, Rick messaged them both, then found the nearest park bench to sit down and plan.

"Okay, Katenka, I might have contacts for you. Henry will... probably do anything if we pay him. But Damian will need a really convincing case to stick his neck out even a tiny bit for us. Do you really think we can put together something like this?"

"I think there's no reason not to try." Katenka smiled again and floated down onto the bench beside him, beginning to show him their work.

It might have looked strange anywhere else, but in the Showdown Village, candidates had mental links, spirit companions, and who knew what else. Him sitting on a bench and apparently talking to himself didn't even merit a second glance. Instead he just let himself delve deeper into the problem.

The core issues involved lucrim engineering he couldn't even begin to understand and detailed demonic contract theory, which Katenka had to oversimplify for him. But Rick did know a little about Lucore construction, and he was surprised how relevant his experience long ago proved. That Golden Lucore might not have transformed his life, but perhaps it would change someone else's.

Eventually things started to come together and he began to believe it might actually work. They were months from completing anything, of course, but Katenka was confident the theory was sound. Working with her proved surprisingly enjoyable and he felt a vague retroactive guilt for all his negative thoughts toward demons.

Of course, it might still all come to nothing. Damian hadn't responded and there would be other hurdles. But somehow, his crazy idea seemed closer to reality than he'd ever expected.

Once they were far enough along to do actual lucrim work, Katenka reminded him that they shouldn't do it in public. The sun had dropped to the horizon and Rick realized that it was almost time for his last training of the day. He headed back to his quarters, dodging several revelers slumping down the street.

Until one shifted toward him, Raggest waving a sack with little regard for anything around him. "Rick, check this out! Sacred pills forged by the Demonic Legionnaire herself! Alger says I'm not strong enough to handle anything like this, but I'll show him!"

"Just how did you get those?" Rick asked. They didn't feel like anything special to him, but they might not, necessarily. He'd suspect that they were a tourist trap... if it wasn't Raggest.

"I ran into this chick who challenged me to a fight! She was a heavyweight and she kicked my ass, but I impressed her enough that she gave me these!" Raggest swung his sack around to hit Rick in the shoulder. "You missed out, Rick! You've gotta come with me next time!"

"Yeah, maybe I will."

Though Rick smiled and nodded until he got past, in actuality he barely gave Raggest a thought. His mind was absorbed by this idea of this new type of bond and what it could potentially do. He tried not to get ahead of himself, but if it actually worked, it could make a real difference.

When he got back to his room, his thoughts were finally interrupted, but in a good way: Melissa had responded. She sent him a picture of his attempt at drawing inside a mirror, with a cartoon potato looking into the mirror proudly. Rick laughed out loud as he realized that her mind had gone to exactly the same place and he heard Katenka laughing over his shoulder.

His door banged open and he was about to get angry at Raggest... but it was H, his expression as serious as always. Rick's mentor closed the door behind him and spoke in a low voice.

"The immortals have finally made their decision: the fight will take place in two and a half months."

"Two and a half..." Rick considered briefly and nodded. "So that's three locations from now?"

"Correct. The Showdown will move from Germany to Brazil, then the Nokan Empire, then the battle will take place separately. Most likely in the United States, as Josiah is insisting he's traveled too much this year." H folded his arms and fixated on Rick. "There's no time to waste: we'll skip events here and in Brazil. You need to compete with the Nokans, but we'll consider that a test run before the final event. Can you focus on this?"

"Yeah, I will." The answer came automatically, despite everything swirling through Rick's head. H wasn't satisfied, but he accepted it sourly and stormed out.

Two and a half months. Given everything he was trying to balance, they would be over before he knew it. Rick locked his door, then sat down and got to work.

Chapter 39: Besting Evolution

After more than half a year in the Showdown, Rick had adjusted to the cycle of spending each month in a different location. It didn't coincide with the beginning of the calendar month, and occasionally there were differences of a day or two, but he knew what to expect. The rhythm of preparation, participation, and recovery had gotten deep into him.

So when H announced that they were leaving Germany over a week early, Rick was surprised. He was even more surprised when they entered the helicopter only to find a woman waiting for them. His first instinct was that it was an ambush, but H strolled past her with barely a nod.

"Rick, this is Abril. She'll be getting you physically ready for the competition."

"I work in Brazil, so I'll be hitching a ride along with you." Abril gave him a polite smile. The helicopter lifted into the air next, briefly deafening before the noise canceling field took effect. While they lifted off, Rick tried to look at her without making it obvious what he was doing.

He thought Abril was about his age at first, but realized that she was probably several years older, just exceptionally healthy. Her brown skin positively glowed in a way that he wasn't sure was quite natural, though it wasn't aura. She wore her dark hair in an ear-length bob, which combined with the loose pants and shirt to give a casual look.

When the sound of the helicopter cut out, she gave him another smile. "So, Rick, I understand that you're interested in body modification."

"I am?" Rick glanced toward the cockpit, but H had yet to emerge. Abril paused for a moment, then shook her head.

"Just like him, not to explain anything. I suppose I might as well, while we travel." She spread her hands, bracelets he hadn't noticed before jangling. "I am a body enhancement expert, specializing in combat modifications. Yes, the same field is a step toward immortality, but that goes much further. I assume that Horatio merely wants you to better prepare you for Showdown combat."

"So, what, you're going to implant ether into me?" Rick had a sense that was a thing, just far too expensive for him, but to his surprise Abril shook her head.

"We'll use ether, but implantation isn't really my specialty. Also far more expensive, and requiring complex Lucores. No, what I generally do is actually change your DNA to improve you as a fighter."

Rick frowned, immediately suspicious. He had relatives who had wasted money on bullshit like that. "I don't know if I want to mess with my DNA. I figure that evolution does a pretty good job making people and I don't think I know better than it."

"A common misunderstanding." Abril tapped the side of her face with one carefully manicured finger, then spoke smoothly, as if she'd had this conversation many times before. "Tell me, what does evolution actually select for?"

"Uh, like a scientific answer? I don't know... making animals stronger, or faster, or generally better suited to their environment."

"Not quite. Evolution favors species that are better able to spread their genes, full stop. If making an animal stronger helps with that, then you might see it happen, but evolution doesn't care about strength. It also doesn't care how long you live beyond reproduction age, or if it does, it might want you to stop living after breeding. Evolution doesn't care about any of the things we do as individuals."

That was a new way to think about it. Rick sat back and tried to think it through, wondering just how unqualified he was to deal with this. She could claim a lot of things and he wouldn't know if she was telling the truth. What she said seemed to make logical sense, however.

"Sorry if this is throwing too much at you," Abril said. "Do you have any questions?"

"Oh, I have a lot. But I guess I'm mostly wondering what is actually going to be done to me."

"Making you less pathetic." The cockpit door slammed open as H entered the main chamber. "Don't expect me to pay for fixing your back problems or curing any congenital diseases. But improving your body enough to fight a little better is possible. We're doing blood and skin."

"Blood and skin?" Rick frowned at his mentor. "I assumed it would be changing something about how my body uses lucrim."

Abril shook her head. "Only a small part of that process is biological. It can be improved, but that's an extremely expensive process for minor gains. On the other hand, we can improve your skin to better conduct aura, which would make your Lucores work a little more efficiently. Blood doesn't carry lucrim, but we can still significantly improve its functioning."

"If these changes are possible, why don't humans already have them?"

"Because they're expensive in a biological sense. Think about growing horns: larger ones might be useful in some ways, but they also require more nutrition. Evolution doesn't select for the biggest horns, only the most balanced. But since we've developed DNA-modifying Lucores, we can optimize for the things we care about."

H sat down beside them and folded his arms. "Enough theory. You need to choose where you're going with this. Better blood will help anything, and improved skin is suited to your defensive style. But if you intend to compete in the senior Showdown, you need to decide on a highly specialized form."

Though Rick had found himself trusting Abril, this activated his suspicions again. "What do you mean by specialized?"

"Exactly what the word means. Take the aura javelin throwers: you think they just throw aura like that naturally? No, they've modified everything about themselves to improve that technique. Generally the real elites at some point liquefy their entire lucrim portfolios and rebuild them to synergize perfectly with their new bodies. For you, that will mean dedicating everything to power the Triune Golden Spheres."

"That feels like it's going too far. Why not just change things so I'm in peak physical condition?"

To his surprise, H sneered. "That's utter nonsense. Think about the best athletes: does the same person win the Olympics in both running and weight-lifting? Of course not. Generally they can't even compete in both sprinting and distance running. Someone who tries to have everything will be beaten in each event, because they'll always be inferior to someone who optimized for one result."

Rick couldn't deny the logic, though his mind certainly tried. "I thought I was competing as more of a generalist. I don't like the idea of completely giving up Lucores that don't support a single goal."

It looked like H was about to lecture him, but Abril spoke up first. "Is there really any need to argue over this? You wouldn't be making such decisions now, and certainly not with me. Let's start with a few modifications that will be helpful no matter what, okay?"

"Fine." H crossed his arms tighter, muscles flexing. "But when the time comes, Rick, I don't want to hear any childish talk. I'm already doubting your commitment to this. Don't think that we'll give you everything in exchange for your second best."

There was nothing he could say to that, so Rick only nodded. The rest of the helicopter ride was in stony silence, H glaring at the air as if he could personally choke out any attempt at conversation. Rick went through his usual exercises and Abril pulled out a book, which she read contentedly. If she was this accustomed to H, Rick wanted to learn how much she knew about him.

When they arrived, as usual, there was no time to explore. Rick caught a glimpse of beaches and forests, but they sped onward to a city, as usual. It went slowly, but he was surprised how grimy the skies were. He'd heard about the pollution problems, but seeing it for himself was something else.

"The schedule is already closer than I'd like," H announced as they exited the helicopter. "We need him to participate in the Nokan Showdown, which gives us two months at most. In actuality less. So I expect you to get started right away."

"Fortunately, my facilities are in the same building." Abril smiled at them both, though Rick was starting to notice that she never showed her teeth when she smiled. She hooked a finger over her shoulder at him. "Come along this way. Don't worry, I'm happier to answer questions than your grumpy mentor here. I'd like you to feel completely comfortable with the process before we begin."

She took him to a laboratory that looked downright futuristic to him: glistening metal instruments, pristine white surfaces, several devices that looked like MRI machines, except they had huge amounts of lucrim cycling through them. Now that he thought about it, he thought he remembered something about Brazil being a world leader in body modification, though he didn't think most of it was focused on combat.

Though there were many others in the outer rooms, both patients and specialists, Abril led him past all of them. Several of them came to greet her like they were colleagues, but she gestured back to him and they nodded. Eventually she took him to a clean office, where she sat down on the opposite side of a desk and gestured invitingly.

"Please, sit. Horatio wanted you to begin the first process as quickly as possible, but I want you to be comfortable first. Do you have any more questions?"

"How well do you know H?"

Abril blinked in surprise, but took the question in stride. "Certainly not very well on a personal level. I take it that you don't entirely trust him? Honestly, I've never seen him have a good relationship with any other human being, so that's not surprising."

"But you've worked with him before. Just how many trainees has he brought to you?"

"Four? No, five." Abril's faint smile grew even fainter. "You seem cynical, so I hope I'm not surprising you when I say that the Showdown tends to be hard on its participants. Your mentor in particular seems to push everyone to a breaking point. I'm not sure, but I don't think he cares about maximizing each person's performance. He wants to find someone who can keep up with his training program... and he doesn't care how many he ruins in the process."

It was more or less what he expected, but hearing it stated so plainly was still sobering. "And these procedures... are they going to have any nasty side effects?"

"Oh no, not these. Please set your mind at ease. Tell me, how old do you think I am?"

"Uh... I'm pretty sure that question is a trap."

For the first time he saw Abril laugh, though only briefly. "How wise of you. As it happens, I am 34 years old, but I know I look younger. I've had extensive skin modifications here in our own clinic. Of course, mine were focused on overall health more than defense, but yours will also be quite stable."

"Implying that some aren't?"

"There are certain options that, shall we say, optimize for factors other than health or stability." All trace of amusement vanished from her face and her dark eyes regarded him seriously. "I'll be honest with you: optimizing for combat efficiency means optimizing against overall lifespan. The top celebrity fighters think it's worth it, to earn millions of lucrim per year, but they do pay a price."

"But what about immortals?" Rick asked. After everything else he'd been told, this didn't exactly shock him, but it still ran against his usual thinking.

"In terms of raw efficiency, they're beneath peak athletes. But that doesn't really matter when you have billions of lucrim." Abril shrugged and then settled back into her chair. "That's quite a ways above you. This is just two relatively simple procedures, nothing to get concerned about. Any other questions?"

Rick felt like too many facts had been jammed into his mind already, so he focused on something more important. "Do you know what happened to H's other trainees? Did they just break and get thrown aside?"

For a minute she didn't answer, for the first time turning away from him and staring over the pictures on her wall. Eventually she glanced back at him. "I don't keep track of all my clients, of course. But I told you, he's particularly rough on them. His trainees seem to end up in conflicts with Alger for some reason, and many of them end up maimed or worse."

"Alger? I knew the two of them disliked each other, but do they have some sort of vendetta?"

"Oh, they're actually enemies? You probably know more about that than I do, because I don't really keep up with Showdown politics. There is, you'll forgive me, too much machismo for my taste. Now, if you're ready, can we get started?"

"I guess so." Rick had his doubts, but he was locked onto this path. "Can you tell me exactly what will be involved with this procedure? You aren't going to be grafting new skin onto me, are you?"

"Of course not! Here, I'll show you some diagrams." Abril turned on her computer, then glanced to him as it booted up. "Generally speaking, fast solutions are poor solutions. A body can't be reforged in a day! What we're going to do is use a DNA-modifying Lucore so that your body starts creating better skin cells. Nothing will happen to the old ones, but your body replaces all your surface skin cells in two to three weeks."

Realizing that he wasn't going to step into a chamber and pop out with strangely colored skin was actually a slight relief. Abril pulled up some pictures on her computer and turned her monitor around to show him, but he could only really grasp the general concepts of the procedure. The fact that they had ready-made explanatory images was even more of a relief.

"But we won't actually begin with your skin. The blood process will take longer, so we start with that. Then, as soon as you're in good shape again, we move on to the second procedure. Here, let me pull up the explanations for those..."

"How long will the blood process take? I... well, I guess I figured you were just replacing mine."

"Oh no. What we're doing is replacing your bone marrow, and it will then create superior blood cells forever. Don't worry, they'll be your blood type and your body will accept them just the same. It will actually take four months to feel a difference in stamina. Now, for combat you mainly need red blood cells, but we'll throw in the white ones for free." Abril gave him a wink. "Those will take a year or so, but eventually you should start feeling a little healthier."

"And you have this one too?"

"Practically everybody has that procedure who can help it. A lot of people who are born into rich families have all that work done as soon as physically possible, generally just before puberty. There's more to Birthrighters than just Birthright Cores, you see."

Maybe it was intended to set him at ease, but Rick found himself more comfortable to hear her casually denigrate Birthrighters that way. Abril was probably wealthy due to her job, and he thought her generation rate was around 150,000 lucrim. Yet she was very clearly not like the arrogant Birthrighters he'd known, or the many obsessives he'd met in the Showdown.

So he decided to go through with it. They took a blood sample, which was immediately given to a lab assistant, and Abril guided him down to one of the lower rooms. There was a large machine with a lot more needles than he was comfortable with, but he'd already come this far.

"Now, we are going to need you to take off some clothes so we can do the procedure smoothly." Abril winked at him again, but the expression seemed like an act to him, something she did because patients reacted positively to it. "Don't worry, you aren't going to scandalize me."

Rick stripped off his shirt and pants, trying not to be self-conscious. Abril barely even looked at him, suddenly all business. She directed him to lie down on the operating table beside the needle machine, then put a hand on his shoulder.

"I should warn you, this next part of the process is extremely painful. Some fighters like to do it without any painkiller, but most regret it. Either way, this process is going to require every iota of stamina and willpower you possess."

"Uh... why do I need to be conscious for this?"

Abril laughed, and this time he thought it was a real reaction. "You're absolutely right. You fighter types tend to assume that everything needs to be a gruesome test of fortitude. I was joking: you're going to be unconscious for the entire thing. There will be some discomfort when you wake, but we've been doing this procedure for years and we'll do everything we can to minimize it. Now, try to relax and get comfortable."

Eventually, he did, despite everything. Rick accepted the needle in his arm and wondered when he would become...

Chapter 40: Body Reforging

Rick woke up slowly, first becoming aware of the quiet sounds of a hospital before he managed to open his eyes. He was lying in a soft bed with a sheet covering him, but it felt like he was wearing little underneath. The instant he tried to move, he felt deep aches all over his body, though he'd felt worse. The question was if anything had changed.

He managed to raise his right arm and wiggle his fingers. Other than the pain, he felt mostly normal. The sluggishness might simply have been him coming awake after the anesthesia, and there was certainly nothing abnormal that he could see. Did his blood look a little darker than normal? No, that was definitely just his imagination.

The clock on the opposite wall suggested that he had been unconscious for twelve hours. A moment later he realized that meant he'd missed two different doses of Formula T. If it was really addictive, he should be feeling withdrawal, yet he felt pretty good overall. Maybe Lisa had been wrong.

When he started to move his left arm, he felt it tug on something. Shaking himself awake, Rick realized that there was a needle in the back of his hand. The tube attached to it was golden... and he saw an IV drip filled with what could only be Formula T. He sighed and started trying to ease off the tape, eventually pulling out the needle. Compared to the deep aching, it didn't hurt at all.

Spotting his clothes neatly folded beside the bed, Rick decided that he might as well dress. It seemed as though they'd been cleaned as well, smelling faintly like a flower he couldn't identify. No sooner had he finished pulling on his shirt than Abril poked her head in the doorway.

"Hello! Glad to see you up and around already."

"Is this standard procedure?" Rick pointed to the Formula T drip, only then realizing that he was being too blunt.

"No, it was specific to you."

"Uh, sorry. Just got up and I'm feeling a bit off." He smiled back at her. "Did the operation go well?"

Her smile had gone back to that thin line, but he didn't think it was directed at him this time. "It did, but I wanted to speak to you about some-"

"Enough." H stormed into the room after her, looked Rick over, and grunted. "Even you couldn't spend more time in bed, huh? Come on, we have a lot of conditioning to do."

Abril gave him a helpless shrug and gestured for him to go. He sighed and followed H into the domestic wing of the building. He'd been distracted by thoughts of the operation when they arrived, but now marveled at just how massive the building was. And based on what he had seen, every floor and room of it catered to fighters in one way or another.

Though Rick expected his "conditioning" to involve getting the shit kicked out of him, H was actually rather gentle, if gruff. They began with his ordinary meditation, making sure that the serious operation hadn't damaged his lucrima soul. Rick had only heard a little about such complications, but it seemed that everything had gone well.

Over the next several days, he carefully tested himself. The deep aches in his body lasted much longer than he expected, even with regular supplements and additional healing. Based on what he read online, he was actually healing unusually quickly. He could feel the Dark Blood Kettle running along his bones and considered asking H about it, but in the end decided that it couldn't be doing any harm. It didn't seem to be attacking the new bone marrow, so presumably it was helping integrate everything.

The pain made him hesitate when physically exercising, but he slowly found that it actually didn't harm him. A few times a nurse helped him with physical therapy, which helped worked out the stiffness. He saw Abril occasionally, but they never had time to really talk.

Once he was feeling better, they began to spar again, but it was more like their old footwork training: H focused on his form and insulted him when he misstepped, but wasn't trying to beat the lessons into him. That more than anything helped Rick relax about the whole procedure. His mentor might be trying to control him, but H did ultimately want him to succeed as a fighter.

For a while, conditioning was his life, except for occasional studying and texts with Melissa. His sister had been quieter than usual, then out of nowhere sent him the potato drawing, now with the entire image contained within a duck's head. It was so nonsensical that it made him laugh, but he couldn't figure out how to follow up on it and just made sure he didn't ignore her.

Trying to contact Damian hadn't been successful, though he got one acknowledgment that his message had been received. It made sense that he wouldn't want to talk about anything strange over emails, even indirectly. Rick also spent some time working with Katenka, but they stuck to theory because she said he shouldn't push himself too hard.

Eventually he was sent back over to the medical wing for further tests, to confirm that he was producing the right kinds of blood cells. The test took much longer than usual, and for a while he worried that the operation hadn't taken somehow. But when Abril eventually walked into his room, she was smiling at the tablet in her hands.

"Only good news, Rick. There's some odd lucrim shadowing in your blood that slowed us down, but the marrow is doing its job. Every day for the next year or so you'll be just a little bit stronger."

"Lucrim shadowing?" Rick was usually familiar with lucrim terminology, even if he didn't know the details, but he'd never even heard of that one.

"Ah, that's medical jargon. Lucrim is... I don't want to say 'spiritual' but that's the tempting word." She paused, tapping a finger against the side of her face. "Some people also say 'metaphysical' but it's a physical reality. The point is this: usually your lucrima soul operates alongside your biological body. But with some techniques, or in some rare cases, the lucrim casts a 'shadow' that has a measurable impact on your biology, even when you're not using lucrim or generating aura."

"Is that... good?"

"It's great, in your case. We always scan portfolios for potential negative interactions, but positive reactions are much rarer. Presumably it's something about your Lucores or some technique you've trained, but you're adjusting to the new marrow faster than usual."

He guessed that had to be the Dark Blood Kettle and so simply nodded. "So the operation is a success. Do we do the skin part next?"

"You're not quite ready yet, and I actually wanted to talk to you about that." Abril pulled a chair over to sit opposite him and placed her tablet in her lap. "I understand that you're taking a high end combat elixir. Horatio wanted me to give you a specific type of artificial marrow that would have used it to work more efficiently, but I rejected it because it hadn't been approved for use in humans."

"H wanted my marrow to run on Formula T?"

"I wouldn't say that, but the results have yet to be thoroughly tested, so there could have been unintended side effects. There are many fighters who try untested procedures on themselves, but the elites usually won't, and we definitely won't perform any untested operations here. It would be hard to find a true professional who would."

Though the fact that H had tried such a thing left Rick cold, he was glad that Abril was looking out for him. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I suppose if you're not surprised, it's fine. But we need to talk about the next operation." Abril picked up her tablet and began bringing up several diagrams. "When it comes to your enhanced skin, you have several options. All of them have been tested safe, but that doesn't mean they're without drawbacks. Your mentor is pushing for this last one, but it's ultimately up to you."

"What are the differences?"

"There are some extreme options, like the X1 or X2 models. Those harden your skin substantially and permanently, but they also deaden your sense of touch and can encourage melanoma. I said those were out of the question for now, so just be aware that he'll push for it later."

Given their conversation, Rick wasn't surprised. He gestured to the lower set of diagrams. "So we're looking at this set? T1 through T3?"

"That's right. All of them increase your ability to channel aura through your skin, which in practice will make you much tougher. T1 is the weakest, but it's self-sustaining. The T2 model allows you to channel your special elixir directly and produce an even stronger defense. I mean shrugging off lucrim bullets, that sort of thing. Now, T3 is even more durable, and it doesn't have any health disadvantages, but it requires a nearly constant stream of lucrim in specific forms."

"And if I run out?"

"Well... your skin wouldn't fall off, but it would start weakening and discoloring. Wouldn't be pleasant." Abril shook her head slowly. "I don't think I'd recommend that one, not unless you think you can keep Horatio happy forever. But between T1 and T2, that's up to you."

"T1." There wasn't really a question in his mind: this was another ploy to make him dependent on Formula T and the Showdown in general. If he had a choice, he'd take this one. "No question about it."

"Great!" Abril smiled her usual polite smile, but he thought he saw her relax a little. "I thought that would be better for you anyway. Now, today all we need to do is take a few skin samples and test your lucrima portfolio, but you'll be back in a week or so for another operation."

Rick spent that week preparing, both with increased supplements and more intense training. Though H wasn't brutal yet, he made it very obvious that he wanted Rick to be able to fight at peak condition soon. Apparently the skin procedure was much less invasive, as the effects would slowly appear over time, so it was just a matter of making sure his body was fully recovered by the time of the competition.

He finally got a reply from Damian, but it was infuriatingly vague, just saying that the two of them should meet in Brazil. Rick wasn't sure how to respond to that and just set it aside. If Damian was brushing him off, he wasn't worth the time, and if he intended to make something happen, that was well within his capabilities.

Other than his sister and a few emails with Uncle Frank about body modification, Rick didn't get any messages... until he suddenly started receiving appeals from his family. Uncle Alan and many of the others didn't come right out and say it, but they were begging him for money. So many sob stories about broken vehicles, health problems, and debts.

Rick deleted all of them as soon as he received them.

Presumably they must have seen him participating in the Showdown and were now trying to beg money off him. He'd seen it before, anyone in the family who got a little money instantly acquiring several leeches of the human variety. The only question was how they managed to get his contact information, but they could be resourceful when it came to certain very specific things.

Once Raggest showed up in the building, trying to recruit Rick for some harebrained scheme, but this time H ran him off. His period of recovery and preparation actually went very smoothly, and on the day of the operation itself nothing went wrong. He was unconscious for a while as they used the DNA therapy Lucore, then he woke without any symptoms.

Despite the fact that he knew nothing had changed yet, Rick still stared at the skin on his arms. They looked the same, and supposedly they would continue to look the same even once the process was done. But from that day, as dead skin cells flaked away, they would be slowly replaced by skin better designed to channel aura from his defensive cores.

Abril pronounced him healthy and free to go afterwards. He was no longer her patient, but instead of saying farewell she said that she'd see him around. Rick spent a while trying to figure out what she meant by that. It might have been a threat, or more flirtation, or possibly just the suggestion that he'd return for more operations.

Possibly. Though Rick disliked the idea of optimizing his body so much that he abandoned everything but a specific goal, the idea of optimizing for his life overall still appealed. It might be far beyond him at the moment, but maybe one day he and Melissa could achieve immortality, or at least long and healthy lives.

Since he didn't participate in any events in Brazil, Rick was beginning to think that he'd never get to see the country. H was watching him like a hawk, insisting that he stay focused, so there was no time to sneak out and do anything else. Once more, he regretted that his focus locked off so much else.

But before their time ended, Rick heard another helicopter arrive. They weren't so uncommon, as many warriors used the helipad, but this one was solid silver and looked more like a futuristic hovercraft than a helicopter. It got attention from some others and H wasn't around, so Rick decided to go find out who was inside it. At the very least, he could see something in the building other than the training chambers.

It took him a while to reach the roof, and when he did, he saw what he'd almost expected. Damian stood in his usual perfectly-tailored suit, but this time he had his arms around two women wearing bikinis. When Rick walked up, Damian immediately grinned.

"There you are! You just missed the bikini competition, but I have the winners here with me. Come on, let's have a night on the town!"

Rick smiled flatly and hoped that calling Damian hadn't been a mistake.

Chapter 41: Indecent Proposals

The first fifteen minutes with Damian were a whirlwind, riding along with him in an expensive limousine into the city. Thankfully, the women he used as accessories didn't try to engage with Rick in any way. Damian was perfectly on point as a vapid and self-absorbed Birthrighter. Given his salary with the GLA, he could likely do so even more effectively.

Eventually, however, they ended up in a restaurant. Rick felt a flicker of worry about the price, though he suspected that Damian would cover it. The restaurant looked far too prestigious for them, but Damian showed his GLA identification and they were escorted to a private room.

"Okay, girls, we need to do a bit of business now." Damian kissed one of the women on the cheek and gestured to a booth just outside the room. "Get whatever you want, on me."

They laughed and moved away, leaving Rick watching them in irritation. He didn't like Damian treating them that way when they just wanted to compete in their bikini contest, yet he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to look for different reasons. Though he'd been consumed by training for a long time, he was still human.

Still smiling lazily, Damian reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small black device. It emitted some sort of aura field that surrounded the table, the sounds from the restaurant immediately falling away to nothing. Damian's smile dropped away as well, and he removed his mirrored sunglasses to reveal hard eyes.

"There, now we have our privacy. I also have a good reason to be here for business and personal alibis, so if you're going to suggest something stupid, it won't blow back on me." Damian regarded him seriously. "So, are you going to suggest something stupid?"

"Uh, I hope not. I was just going to suggest wrecking the world economy."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I regret ever telling you anything."

"How has that gone, by the way?" Rick asked. "You seem to have done a good job convincing everyone in the GLA that you're no one to be concerned about."

"What I want is for them to believe I buy into the whole system. I'm not advancing as fast as I'd hoped, but I'm making progress. It's all about seeing how the system works together."

"I'm sure that it is."

"Cut the bullshit." Damian abruptly sat forward, eyes moving directly to Katenka's tattoo, even though it was covered by Rick's sleeve. "What demon are you bringing into this? I didn't think you the type for a partial fusion, so you have to admit this is suspicious. If you've been forced into the meeting, you need to tell me now, so I can sever the b-"

"Calm down." Rick glanced to the side and found Katenka manifested there, regarding Damian coolly. More coolly than normal. "I chose to get this and Katenka is... my partner, I guess. I couldn't have developed this bond proposal without her."

All at once Damian's tension faded and he instead fixed Rick with a smirk. "Partner, is it? Not a very good choice, considering that you can't really touch each other."

Though Damian's concern had been valid, Rick wasn't really in the mood for any more games. "Do you want to hear about it or not, Damian? I couldn't give you all the details because I assumed the message might be read, but this is important. Maybe not to you, but it matters to me."

"If we're going to have this conversation, we all need to be able to talk to each other. Take this." Damian removed a small box from his suit jacket and pushed it across the table. Inside lay a single black flake that instantly struck Rick as reminiscent of the ground in the demon realm. "Eat that and you'll be able to manifest her visually. I hope this is worth the expense."

Rick carefully picked up the flake, feeling lucrim throbbing against his fingertips. He saw Katenka give him a nod, so he stuck it into his mouth and swallowed.

Searing power shot through him, but he couldn't grasp any of it. His instincts were to try to fold it into himself or to improve the Triune Golden Spheres, but the lucrim slipped from his fingers. Instead they flooded down his throat and into his right arm, soon concentrating on the tattoo so that he could feel every line. It was so cold that he felt his arm should freeze off, yet there was no pain.

Something shimmered over Katenka. She looked no different to him, but Damian's gaze shifted to look at her the way no one else ever had. His eyebrows rose. "A Siberian rusalka? That's not exactly what I expected."

"Rick has told me about you," Katenka said calmly. "I heard you intend to replace the world economy with a hellscape ruled by warlords."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Just what have you been telling her?" Before Rick could answer, Katenka continued sharply.

"He was more positive, but I have my own opinion of your plans to break capitalism."

"I'm not about to debate economics with you. Either of you. If you want my help, you need to tell me exactly what kind of bond you have in mind."

Though they hadn't planned a formal pitch, they'd discussed the bond idea enough between themselves that it came easily. Rick started with his experience with the Golden Lucore, Katenka took over to explain the appeal of small bonds to demons, and they traded off talking about the new structure.

Putting it all together and explaining it aloud to another person, Rick was actually a bit surprised. It sounded impressive to him, and beyond that, it sounded like something far too complex for him to have ever figured out. Even if Katenka had done much of the contract and bond structure work, he would have had a hard time imagining being part of something like this.

Damian listened the entire time without the slightest flicker of emotion crossing his face. When they finished he remained silent, but Rick played the same game and waited. Eventually Damian sat back in his seat and sighed.

"Your idea is sound. You'd need some input from a lucrim engineer and more testing, but I think it would work."

"Really?" Rick knew he sounded over-eager, but he was honestly just glad to hear it. "Do you think the political side would work out? Would the GLA disapprove?"

"They wouldn't, and that's the problem. This doesn't really move the needle." Damian slowly shook his head, playing with the glass of wine he had yet to drink. "Even if your bond idea was wildly successful, it will only help a few people. Poor people, yes. But it will only keep propping up the system by making their lives a little more bearable, when what they need to do is overthrow it."

"I am sure," Katenka said precisely, "that all those waiting on your grand change are happy to apply the same logic."

"I didn't say that I rejected it completely. I absolutely can't help you myself, of course, as even this idea is too revolutionary for the persona I need to portray. But I can give you the contact information for several people in sub-organizations of the GLA. Check your spam folder over the next few days and you'll find some people who can help the bond get finished and approved."

Suddenly Rick's mind was racing with the possibilities. If the idea wouldn't work, Damian would definitely have shot him down, so this was actual validation instead of wishful thinking. They'd still need to work out the details, but then they could go to Bftgage and Ythsil with the new bonds. It might start with just a few, but people like him would have less terrible ways to improve their lives.

The silence stretched as it became clear that their business was done. Eventually Rick raised an eyebrow at Damian. "Did you really come across the world just to grope a few models and have a brief conversation with us?"

"Well, you know how much our deep, life-long friendship means to me." Damian smirked at him and finally took a drink. "No, I've been wanting an excuse to investigate South America anyway. It's a curious situation... Brazil is the modern world power that attracts all the attention, but the remnants of the Incan Empire have many old secrets. So I'll be quite busy and we probably won't be able to meet again."

"I guess we should do as much chumming around as possible now, then."

"Hah. This needs to last a little longer to seem like a business meeting, plus you don't want your demon visible to everyone, but I'm not much for small talk. Anything else?"

Rick glanced over to Katenka, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly. What they really needed was Damian's contact info, which wouldn't come until later, so he decided to take a different approach. "What do you actually do at the Global Lucrim Authority? I assume they don't let a junior employee broker agreements between nations, so is it lucrim anomalies all the time?"

"There's much less of that than you'd expect. There are lucrim fall simulations and a great deal of math, but the GLA gets qualified PhDs to handle that sort of thing." Damian waved a hand idly. "Part of the job is interacting with national and corporate leaders, and I'm taking that role. But there's more blue sky research than you'd expect. Not just looking into harvesting lucrim, but studying lucrim itself."

"Huh. I would have thought it was pretty well understood by now."

"You might think so, but some aspects of it remain mysterious. For example, there was a group of three immortals that used their endless wealth to build a rocket and take themselves out to Jupiter. They figured they could cut the GLA out of the equation that way and absorb even more lucrim than on Earth."

"And... it didn't work? I assume not, or we'd have heard about it."

"It was strange." Damian looked uncharacteristically troubled for a time. "One lucrim should be one lucrim, no matter where you go. But though those immortals were extremely experienced, one of them died during his training and the other two... they were stronger, but their Lucores were disrupted. They came back to Earth and didn't leave again."

Rick considered that for a moment, not sure what to make of it. "Maybe you don't know the reasons, but how does it work? The further away you get from Earth, the worse it gets?"

"We're not sure, because it's difficult to measure. There was actually an attempt to send several GLA employees out beyond the solar system several generations ago. They simply never came back. Honestly, I think that's for the best, because if the lucrim out there is really so exotic, I don't want to know what it would do to a person."

They discussed some more of Damian's work for a while longer, which gradually turned into Damian taking the opportunity to complain about how much he hated his coworkers. Eventually Katenka began to fade, still clearly visible to his eyes but somehow less solid. Once she was nearly entirely gone, the meeting was clearly over.

"I need to stay here, but I'll get you a car back to your hotel." Damian paused, then gave him a real smile for once. "And I was too hard on you earlier. This bond thing... it won't change the world, but it will help a few people. You've done good, Rick."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Then Damian slipped his mirrored sunglasses back on, called for the bikini models, and the real Damian was gone.

They were silent as they left the restaurant, and in the limousine they only discussed the next steps regarding their demonic bond idea. Yet he could tell that something else was on Katenka's mind. When they were finally back in their building and alone, she spoke quietly.

"That man... he has more demonic connections than he lets on. Not bonds, but... I can't put my finger on it, but I'm sure."

"When he was in Branton, he was up to something in the demon realm." Rick could only shrug. "I don't know what it was and I think it would probably be healthier not to get involved."

"Possibly so. But for now, I think it was good that you called him. His contacts could be the breakthrough we need."

After the tense meeting with Damian, a day of training felt both dull and relaxing. After sparring with H one more time, Rick was sent over to the medical wing for one more checkup. They took a few blood and skin samples, and while he waited he looked over his portfolio.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 10th

Ether Score: 545

Lucrim Generation: 95,050

Enhanced Generation: 243,450

Current Lucrim: 8,700]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3800 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 19,400 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 148,400

- Defensive Sphere: 52,250

- Absorption Sphere: 46,300

- Sensory Sphere: 49,850

Offensive Lucore: 14,900 (Lv IX)

Defensive Lucore: 40,400 (Lv XII)

Bunyan's Step: 16,550 (Lv IX)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 33,000 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 43,350 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2200 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 173,100

Enhanced Total: 321,500]

The improvements in raw numerical strength were nothing shocking, but he was glad to see that his defensive core had finally increased its Level classification. After being stuck at IX for so long, he had exploded up to XII. His Lucore might not contain more raw power, but his new skin must offer a significant boost in efficiency. Hopefully that was one more advantage Birthrighters had over him eliminated.

Abril walked into the room with her tablet and a polite smile. "You have a completely clean bill of health, Rick. There's no need for any more checkups: your new skin has completely settled and your new blood is stable. You can train as normal and enjoy the benefits."

"Thanks for all your work." Rick smiled back at her. "So is that it for us?"

"You are no longer my patient in any way, shape, or form." Abril's smile broadened to something real. "Which means that it would no longer be unethical to ask you this: do you want to hook up sometime?"

"Uh..." Rick stared at her in shock, trying to figure out if she could possibly have said what he thought she just did. She was smiling in amusement, but he didn't think she was mocking him.

"I don't mean anything long term, but I need something to take me away from work and I think you do too. Really, I'm serious. I've worked on a lot of fighters with nice bodies, but they're idiots. I like that you can laugh at yourself."

"That's, uh, flattering, I just really didn't expect it..." Yet Rick found that he was now thinking of nothing else. It was true that he didn't know Abril very well, but she wasn't asking him to marry her. Based on the glimpses of her he'd seen when she wasn't being polite, he thought that she'd be fun. And though her clothes were baggy, there was no question that underneath...

"Absolutely not!" H stormed into the room as if he had somehow sensed Rick about to get lucky, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out. "My trainees are off limits, Abril. Under no circumstances will I allow this."

Sighing, Abril threw up her hands and turned away. As Rick was pulled from the room, he realized that his chance was definitely gone. He swatted H's hand off his arm and glowered at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really." H regarded him with a flat gaze. "I've seen how you interact with the people in your life. You'd just fall into the relationship, then invest too much into it. I'd turn around and then you'd be running off or starting a blood feud or something worse."

"Oh, come on."

"No. If you insist upon having sexual desires, prostitutes can be hired. They're less likely to carry diseases, if properly curated, and more efficient in terms of time wasted."

Time efficiency and careful curation: potent aphrodisiacs indeed. Giving up on the idea, Rick rubbed his eyes and looked away from his mentor. "Fine, message received. Just go away and let me train."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

Chapter 42: Nokan Defensive Ring

Rick had never been to the Nokan Empire in his life and found the experience somewhat strange. Like Siberia, it was an ancient power that still retained a sense of superiority to the rest of the world. But where Siberia wanted to make it clear that outsiders weren't welcome, the Nokan Empire wanted everyone to know how fortunate they were to be allowed inside.

While waiting for their paperwork to be processed, they had to sit in a room and watch a video extolling the virtues of Nokan culture. It went on about being the seat of human civilization and the oldest continuous government in the world, though Rick thought that one was arguable. Getting bored and starting to look things up online, he saw that China and several other nations also made the same claim.

There was no questioning that the Nokan Empire was powerful, however. It had control of many resources in central Africa and a solid grip on Middle Eastern oil. If having its lucrim controlled by an imperial family seemed a bit outdated, it also meant they had an excess to continue refining their lucrim techniques. Even though H said he could use more recovery time, he would be participating in the Showdown because he couldn't miss exposure to local varieties of aura.

Once they got to the hotel, however, things weren't so different. The aesthetic was definitely more rustic than the typical austere hotel, with carved wooden walls and hallways filled with trees and statues. But fundamentally it still catered to the same people, so there was an ice machine hidden behind one of the trees and a training chamber equal to those anywhere else.

"We want to keep our heads down here," H said as soon as they were set up in their rooms. "Not because of the location, but because of the chance of sabotage. After this, we go to a special facility in the US, where cheating will be difficult. This is their last chance to target you."

Since he couldn't really argue, Rick settled into his usual training routine. He no longer felt even the slightest residual pain from the operations and they were back to training at full intensity. With his physical reconditioning complete, H returned to focusing on the Triune Golden Spheres. Despite H's frequent complaints that the Midas Foundation would have been better, Rick felt as though everything was working together well.

When it came time for him to participate, he felt ready. The Nokan stadium was an ancient building of red marble, huge for its time but smaller than modern stadiums. That meant that it had a smaller and more selective crowd, with only raised balconies for the future contestants to watch instead of closed off areas.

H and Rick were alone on their balcony, watching the previous events complete before the defensive events began. This set involved one of the highly dense black spheres, but the contestants were keeping it in midair with kicks alone. The idea of one of those spheres smashing into leg bones at high speed made even Rick wince, which H immediately noticed.

"That's what you could achieve with a properly optimized body." H took his cigarette from his mouth and jabbed the burning end toward the athletes. "Attaining such defenses with raw power would require tens of millions of lucrim, but they can manage it with specialized bodies and portfolios."

Rick wanted to ask what they gave up to attain that state, but kept silent. Though he'd performed well, he could tell that H was still keeping him on probation, looking for an opportunity. He needed to stay in the Showdown, so that meant cooperating.

Once the game was complete, multiple Nokan workers headed into the field to begin reorganizing it. They were strikingly efficient, yet it would still take a few minutes, so Rick's attention wandered. The crowds were mostly ordinary people, but he could feel substantial powers on most of the reserved balconies. In fact, by the standards of many, his seating area was rather under-powered.

He saw Raggest sitting alone in one of them, shuffling around idly. At least Alger wasn't present. While Rick watched, Raggest checked his phone, then grinned and went to pull something out of a cooler at his feet. It looked like a thermos, presumably with a mixture that was also on a tight schedule.

On the opposite side of the arena, Rick noticed a group entirely in tight black combat suits and tensed slightly. Either this group just used the same model, or they represented the American Basilisk. He hadn't heard anything about the notorious gangster in a long time, so he'd hoped that the criminal wasn't involved with the Showdown at all. The hint of him just made Rick even more nervous and his eyes began to shift over the crowd.

Abruptly he spotted someone he hadn't seen in years: Teragen. The warrior sat with his arms folded, his biceps larger than the torsos some of the people around him. Worse than that were his eyes, which still burned like molten fire. Even in elite company such as this, Teragen stood out, his lucrima soul incredibly powerful even when partially veiled.

But that didn't make Rick nearly as nervous as the little old woman seated beside him.

Granny Whitney was carrying a tray of cookies and passing them out to everyone seated with her, a cheerful smile on her face. It was terrifying. He didn't want to know what she was doing there, but if it really was the American Basilisk and Raggest represented Alger, then the three of them must be betting against one another again. Likely with the lives of all the young warriors she had with her.

This time, at least, Rick had nothing to do with it. He tried to reassure himself of that, yet he found his calm slipping. Maybe it was just old instincts, but her presence unnerved him. Even as the defensive events began, he found himself shifting in his seat.

"Stop that," H snapped. "This is your last opportunity to make anything of yourself before the immortals' fight. You need to be focused."

Though Rick nodded, he found himself looking away from the events, trying to figure out what was going on even though he didn't have enough evidence. Teragen didn't seem to care about anything around him, so presumably Granny Whitney had hired him again. Once more, Rick wondered just what she could possibly have over such a powerful warrior.

Just when his anxiety was peaking, Rick heard his phone beep. He should have turned it off, and H immediately glared. But with his discipline cracking, Rick decided to see about the notification.

It seemed that Melissa had sent him another variation on the image they had been throwing back and forth. This time, a cartoon hamster was painting a picture that contained all of the past images. Despite himself, Rick started smiling.

His awful potato hamster seemed to have really captured her interest. The joke was more redundant than usual, but she seemed to find it funny, or maybe she needed the dumb joke to keep her mind off other things. Rick wanted to reply, but there was no way he could draw anything while in the stands. After thinking about it for a while, he created a box around her picture like it was a political cartoon, labeled the whole thing "Capitalism", and then sent it back.

Strangely, as he turned off his phone, Rick felt calm. This fight didn't really matter compared to helping his sister. Whatever Granny Whitney was up to, he needed to stand apart and focus on what mattered.

When it was finally time for the Unlimited Defensive Ring, Rick walked out onto the field without any trepidation. He didn't look up to see if anyone was watching, he just activated the Triune Golden Spheres and waited. For the time being, his world would be the rings surrounding him and nothing more.

The first two fighters to attack him were surprisingly young Nokans. They were powerful for their age, but clearly just intended to soften him up. Rick didn't even move, first as one of them punched and kicked, then as the second rained down aura bursts against him. With his new skin channeling aura so effectively, he wasn't even scratched.

After completely ignoring the attackers, the arena was hushed for a time. That brought him all the way up to 17 seconds, but then a fighter approached with a heavy sword over one shoulder. This one wouldn't be so easy.

Rick had to dodge the first swing, as he could feel six digits of lucrim behind it. Fortunately, his opponent was slow by the standards of the Showdown and failed to connect. Not wanting to spend the entire time dodging, Rick blocked the very last blow with his forearm.

He winced as the blade bit into his arm, nearly slicing through his defensive cores. Avoiding the attacks had been the right decision. But blocking the last one definitely made for a more impressive round, as he stood almost untouched while his opponent was pushed away by the next wave of aura.

His fourth challenger was a middle-aged woman who walked into the outer ring calmly. She wasted almost all of her six seconds walking toward him, dark aura growing in her hands. Assuming that she would put everything into one strike, Rick braced himself and readied his defensive cores, hoping that he could survive the attack.

Yet there was no pain and no assault. Darkness simply descended around him.

For a split second Rick panicked, unable to understand what was hiding his vision. Yet he could feel someone else approaching through his sensory core and he understood: they'd disabled his vision to weaken him for future challengers. However it worked, he couldn't break the technique, so all he could do was endure despite his blindness.

A spear flew toward him from behind, completely silent. It should have impaled him through the back, but in his sensory sphere, he could feel its path easily. Rick turned and caught it out of the air.

He heard a gasp from the crowds all around him. Even his opponent hesitated for a moment, though they were too professional to waste more than that. But as they lifted another spear, Rick hurled the one he had caught back at them. Via his sensory sphere he felt them stumble back in surprise, unprepared for a blind opponent to strike back so effectively.

Rick thought that there was some sort of lucrim clinging to his eyes, but couldn't find a way to break it down. The Dark Blood Kettle was surging within him as it usually did when it tried to adapt to something, yet by now he had a sense that it wouldn't react in time. He had no choice but to continue fighting blind.

And yet that was fine. Rick trusted in his instincts and his sensory core and held his ground no matter what they threw at him. One challenger launched a series of truly dangerous aura spikes, so he used his absorption sphere to consume them. Several attempted to strike him physically, but when they were close he almost didn't need his sensory core, he could feel their movements as he deflected the blows. A few attempted poisons or internal disruption, which only slowed him down slightly. Some idiot attacked him with a fierce blizzard of aura that Katenka entirely nullified.

Of course, he was up against some of the best fighters in the world, so he couldn't last forever. One of his opponents was able to nullify her presence in his sensory sphere, coming out of nowhere with palm strikes he couldn't sense until they struck his body, leaving him severely battered. Another launched a spear of aura so fast that it entered his range and hit him before he had time to react. Bit by bit, they wore him down.

The shadows around his eyes were fading, but it almost didn't matter. Rick didn't care about the time or the event, he was simply a creature of pure defense. When he began to see the world fuzzily, he closed his eyes and continued focusing on the next challenger.

Abruptly a monstrous beam of aura encompassed him, instantly incinerating everything not supported by his defensive cores. Rick braced his arms against it and struggled as long as he could, but he was exhausted. Eventually it threw him back and he hit the stone arena hard.

When his vision stopped spinning, however, it was completely clear, the darkness washed away by that final attack. Rick slowly sat up and looked to the scoreboard, shocked when he saw that it declared "3:09". He'd endured a full three minutes in the Unlimited Defensive Ring, in the heart of the Nokan Empire. Even H couldn't be dissatisfied with that.

Though Rick tried to leave, he found himself stopped by a man in a traditional Nokan robe. "The woman who blinded you was my dear niece." The man's voice boomed over the arena solemnly, but Rick saw a twinkle in his eyes. "It has been years since I saw anyone endure her technique and survive so masterfully. I grant you the First Nokan Seal, young warrior."

Rick bowed to be polite, though he had no idea who was awarding him. The man grabbed his wrist and raised his fist to the rest of the arena, which roared out approval. For just a moment, Rick felt a bit of satisfaction, especially at the grudging respect on H's face, but then his gaze turned elsewhere.

Granny Whitney watched with a smile, knitting needles flashing in her hands. Behind her, Teragen might as well have been a statue.

Medics helped Rick recover as they took him back to his seat, but he was honestly still in decent shape. Not in any condition to fight, but his defensive cores would recover stronger for the experience, as usual. As he started to get near his box, however, Rick decided that he needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

He didn't want to get involved with Granny Whitney in any way, but he did want to talk to Teragen. After all, the other man had voluntarily helped him increase his strength for the multi-tier tournament. Though he didn't seem impressed, nothing seemed to impress Teragen. Rick didn't plan to repeat his stunt of punching the stronger warrior again, but just talking with him could produce better results than more time spent on mundane training.

So instead of returning to watch, Rick avoided his own seat and made his way around the arena. The paths weren't as straightforward as in a modern stadium, but they followed logic of a sort. What he needed to do was figure out exactly which path Teragen would take when he left the arena.

As he got into position, Rick realized that he'd jumped the gun. There would be at least another hour of events, and he didn't intend to wait that long... or maybe he could. Rick stretched his legs for a while, checked his phone, and went through recovery exercises.

"Excuse me, sir?" The voice startled him and he realized that there were several security guards in Nokan robes regarding him. "Why are you loitering here?"

"Uh, I wanted to greet my friend when he came out." Rick saw that they were closing on him and realized that he must look like a serious risk to security. He could easily have been an assassin or a crazed fan, and he doubted they would buy his explanation. "I can wait somewhere else."

"I do not think so, sir. We must ask you to come with us and answer some questions."

Rick tried to take a step back, but there were already guards behind him. Most of them had six figure generation rates, and even if he could fight them, going up against the legitimate authorities would be stupid. Yet he didn't like the hard look in their eyes or the idea of being interrogated...

"Wait." The deep voice cut through all the rest of them and Rick saw Teragen emerge from the arena, eyes burning. "I'll take this."

Chapter 43: Casual Drinking

The Nokan guards stepped away, bowing in respect as Teragen walked forward. Soon it was only the two of them outside the arena, the street troublingly empty. Rick thought it was just his imagination that the ground shook as Teragen walked forward, but he couldn't escape the feeling.

Rick pulled himself together and took a deep breath, not backing away. The distance between them had definitely decreased, not that it would matter if it came to a fight. But he wasn't expecting a fight.

"Hm." Teragen walked up to face him and simply folded his arms, waiting. Rick hadn't exactly expected that, but he was at least prepared with something he thought might make Teragen stay.

"I've been told that there is no peak of combat ability. Do you agree?"

Teragen regarded him with those unnatural eyes for a long time before speaking. "Lucrim numbers are linear. Power isn't."

"I understand that," Rick said carefully, "but they're telling me that I need to give up everything else to maximize one strength."

"True. Just shortsighted." Teragen's head shifted slightly to the side, regarding him like he was a small animal that had just done something interesting. "Absolute specialists are strong, but they are pets who do tricks for the world's true masters. The Peerless are old and their eyes are dim, but what they maximized was flexibility. Anyone who tells you that power is a single mountain is a fool."

It was the longest speech Rick had ever heard from the warrior. He wanted to take more time to think about it, but fearing that Teragen would get bored, he filed the words away and pressed on. "You aren't the equal to the Peerless, are you?

"No. I stand among those who stand beneath them."

"Then what is it that you seek? To be able to fight them?"

A low rumble turned out to be a chuckle. "I seek strength for myself. That is the only reason to do anything."

Rick almost laughed along, since that was a bit more philosophical than he'd been expecting, but managed to hold back. "Why do you work with Granny Whitney?"

"Resources." It seemed like Teragen would say nothing more, and Rick was puzzled for a moment before Granny Whitney hobbled from out of the tunnel behind them. She gave him a beaming smile as she approached.

"Wonderful to see you again, dearie. And before you upset yourself, you should know that this was nothing but a happy coincidence. My only business with you at the moment is that you're occupying my heavyweight when he should be defending me."

Though Rick wanted to turn and run, he'd known this might happen and just shifted his attention to the old woman. "I won't ask why you're here, if that's going to pull me into another scheme."

"Oh, it's just another little bet with Gerald and Alger. Nothing to concern yourself with, dearie." Granny Whitney beamed at him. "But today's events were becoming so boring. I suggest this: we will amuse one another for a little information over a drink. At the end of it, I will count us as even as we have always been, unless we come to another agreement. Does that seem fair?"

"Sure." Rick assumed that nothing she had anything to do with was remotely fair, but he figured that this was the best choice. If she truly wanted nothing from him, it could be a useful exchange of information. If she did want something, refusal would just provoke her.

"Wonderful!" Granny Whitney clapped her hands together and headed off down the street. "There is a lovely place just down the way. Their drinks are... very discreet."

So just like that, he was having drinks with a crime boss and a dragonweight. Rick tried not to think about the fact and just kept his head around him as they advanced down the Nokan street.

Though most of the buildings were ordinary enough, one of them appeared to be carved directly into the side of a gigantic tree. He could see levels that were nearly hollowed and balconies formed from branches, but they entered on the lowest level and were escorted to a small room without windows.

A waiter appeared beside them almost immediately. Granny Whitney asked for vodka in English, so Rick just asked for local serum. He wasn't sure if she was paying, but that would hopefully be both interesting and inexpensive. Teragen spoke in what must be Nokan and the server immediately bowed away.

"Now, there is just a little information I wouldn't mind getting from you." Granny Whitney leaned forward and clasped her hands over the purse in her lap. "I think you must be familiar with the boy sitting alone on Alger's balcony, simply by fighting in the Showdown together. Do you know much of him?"

"Uh, not very much." Rick didn't want to sell out Raggest, but simply refusing wouldn't go well. "His name is Raggest and he hasn't exactly given much personal information."

"That's the curious thing. Usually Alger picks up mongrels from one street or another who already have training, but this boy seemed to have come from nowhere. It is... puzzling, to say the least. One must wonder whose agent he is, behind the innocent facade."

"I'm not sure there's anything behind any facade. From what I've seen, Raggest lives to train and doesn't care about anything else. He seems to have been working with Alger for a long time. That's about all I know." Hopefully those few details wouldn't cause any problems, but Granny Whitney shook her head slowly.

"Trained by Alger from a young age, perhaps? I didn't think he had the patience, but that would be troubling. That is... an interesting piece of information."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the server, setting down three very different drinks on a tray carved like an elephant. Granny Whitney's vodka was in a spiral-carved glass, Rick's serum bubbled in a glass bottle, and Teragen's drink was some sort of white mist in a wooden cup.

As Granny Whitney took a moment to remove a flask from her purse and pour something bright blue into her drink, Rick realized that he should seize the initiative. He twisted the cap off his serum so it wouldn't be too obvious, but then spoke up first.

"Just what can you give Teragen that he's willing to travel across the world to work for you?"

"Oh, dearie, that's between me and the man himself." Granny Whitney glanced toward Teragen, who gave no response except to take a drink from his cup. "That's a no, I believe. Are you really surprised that a kindly old woman would have a trick or two up her sleeve?"

"Honestly, yes. I'd imagine that anything he needed, he could get from a government, or a group of immortals, or one of the Peerless."

Granny Whitney took a sip from her glass, then set it down and fixed him with a steel gaze. "Would you like for me to explain to you how the world really works, Rick? You're a smart boy, so you shouldn't be blundering around like most of those fools."

"Can you resist the chance to lecture me?" He intended the words to be cutting, but the old woman didn't acknowledge them except to begin speaking.

"The Peerless are the most powerful warriors on Earth, without a doubt, but only if what you need is immense destructive power. They've built organizations and countries around themselves, but those are also bonds. You see, over the years, those great warriors have discovered that they like modernity. Technology and thriving nations have improved their lives in ways that destructive power never could. But if any of them act directly, their peers could take that all away from them."

"Mutually assured destruction."

"Just so, dearie. And honestly, most of them are quite happy with the status quo. Those governments without that raw power try to carve out whatever niche they can, but they're locked into the global stalemate. They either decay into outdated tradition, like Siberia or the Nokan Empire, or they fracture into disagreement."

"So who does control things?" Rick asked. "I know you're not going to say it's you. What about all the corporations?"

"Oh, they certainly represent power in this world. The Global Lucrim Authority controls a great deal, and countless international corporations are truly shaping the lives of the common people. But they move like elemental forces, demanding as much as they give. So, there exists a specific and critical niche: a place for those with power and also the ability to use it freely."

Rick nodded as it came together for him. "Those like you. Or Alger, or the American Basilisk."

"See, you're catching on." Granny Whitney reached out to pat his cheek, then took another sip from her glass. "Alger specializes in working with insane fighters for reasons I've never been able to discover. Gerald represents very traditional organized crime, effective but dull. I may be weaker than Alger and far smaller than the Basilisk's organization, but I've found my own little place in the world."

As he thought it over, Rick finally took a drink from his bottle. The serum tasted good, but to his surprise reminded him of coffee. It was a strange flavor, but he felt the energy rush through him immediately. He wondered what Lisa would make of it, but pushed that distraction aside.

After his drink, he realized a glaring omission. "You didn't say anything about immortals. Or are they the ones leading governments and corporations?"

"Immortals." Granny Whitney snorted. "Some of them are Peerless or CEOs or something else of great import. But far more of them are obsolete relics, wasting their money on email scams and placebo supplements they hope will restore their greatness. Now that they can't control everything around them, they're being left behind."

"That is... certainly a different perspective." Rick took a longer drink, glancing at Teragen and wondering what the warrior thought. He didn't seem inclined to join the conversation, having finished his drink and now sitting silently.

"Now, these remedial lessons have been mildly interesting, but do you have anything else for me? I was wondering what else you could tell me of Alger's movements."

"I honestly don't know very much. The last I encountered him was in Siberia, and that was in public."

Granny Whitney frowned, her eyes glittering sharply. "Don't lie to me, boy."

"Lie to you? Why do you think I would know more?"

"Because you're working with this H fellow. I refuse to believe that no information passes down to you."

"What? That doesn't..." Rick shook his head, not sure if he could have heard correctly or if he wanted to understand. "Alger and H hate each other."

"Is that what they told you?" The old woman shook her head at him sadly. "Then it seems I will repay your information after all. I assure you, the two of them are not enemies. I believe that Alger may have trained H, when he was younger. Are you sure you haven't been deceived?"

The idea was so shocking that he was immediately suspicious of it. Granny Whitney would lie to him in an instant if it would benefit her in the slightest, and he could easily imagine reasons why she might want to make him mistrust H. Or this could be some far more elaborate scheme against Alger in which he was just a playing piece.

Yet the possibility that she was telling the truth stuck in his mind. Against his will, he considered that Alger might not be as mad as he seemed. The strange man would have known that Rick would never willingly work with him, so he might have sent an agent...

"H isn't working for Alger. His patron is an immortal named Josiah Craw." The words sounded weak even to him, and Granny Whitney snorted.

"Josiah is a racist old coot who hasn't been relevant in a century. It would be easy for Alger to convince him to get involved with one of the little immortal games to use him as a front."

"Do you have proof of all of this?" Rick asked. But Granny Whitney simply shook her head, knocked back the entire rest of her vodka at once, and stood up.

"That would exceed the terms of our agreement, dearie. And besides, if you don't really know what you're doing, you could well be used against me. So I hope our little chat has been useful to you, but I will gladly step away from it. Teragen, let us return."

"Not yet." The massive warrior rose, but remained there staring down at Rick. Granny Whitney reversed direction, giving Rick a syrupy smile.

"If you're thinking of using Teragen to train again, I'm afraid I really must stop you. Just sparring with someone like him is worth more than someone like you can afford. Now, if you are willing to make a small agreement regarding Alg-"

"This is personal." Teragen spoke the words quietly, but Rick felt the force within them. Granny Whitney was silent for a moment, then sighed and turned away without another word.

That meant it was only the two of them in the small room. Rick could only dream that one day he might be able to command silence like that. He felt awkward sitting and so stood up, unsure what was to come.

"I expected you to retire or die," Teragen said slowly. "Either the ambition that made you attack me would lead to your death, or you would choose another path. Instead, I find you here. This surprises me, and I am not accustomed to being surprised."

"Uh... is that good or bad?" Though Rick could stare into those molten eyes without freezing or cowering, they were more than a little unnerving.

"It is interesting, which is neither. But I have chosen to help you take a small step forward. I hope that you have a better idea than being beaten half to death."

"Well, I don't have any Deathbane anyway." It wasn't really a joke, but he said it anyway. Though Rick had been hoping that Teragen might be willing to help him, now that he finally reached that point, he had trouble getting his thoughts out. "...my best Lucore is something called the Triune Golden Spheres. With exposure to your lucrim, it c-"

"No. It is a tool, and you are not your tools." Teragen stared down at him without any expression, but Rick knew that refusal would never budge. He'd been afraid of that, but he had a second choice.

"I have a foundation called the Dark Blood Kettle that develops along with me. I'm unclear on the exact mechanism, but it's never encountered someone as strong as you. I was wondering... well...

"Hm. Interesting."

Without warning, Teragen reached forward, grasping Rick's face as if to crush his head in one hand. There was no pressure, just an immense rush of power so intense that Rick couldn't have said if it was lucrim, aura, or ether. All he knew was that he felt as though his head was being scoured clean from the inside by green fire.

When he could see again, he had slumped against one of the walls and Teragen was gone. Rick could feel that his defensive cores were scorched and all excess lucrim had been burned away. But strangest of all, the Dark Blood Kettle seemed to be boiling.

Most likely, that was a good thing. It was the only part of Rick's life that he was sure about, because when he considered everything Granny Whitney had said, he was left with nothing but difficult questions.

Chapter 44: Sobering Realization

Having just received another seal, Rick caught a bit of slack from H, and he should have been happy. It wasn't as if he had any intention of relaxing on his training, especially when he was still trying to rebuild all the Lucores that Teragen had thoroughly disrupted.

But doing that required focus and certainty. For once, Rick was lacking in both, still troubled by everything Granny Whitney had said. At times he could almost convince himself that she had been telling lies for the sake of manipulating him, but at others he worried he might be burying his head in the sand. It made it very difficult to really take a step forward.

Which was why he had allowed Raggest to drag him out of their hotel to some sort of fighting ring. As they walked to the location, Rick was still trying to figure out exactly what it was, which was made more difficult by the fact that even Raggest didn't seem to know. But he'd heard something about a unique Nokan arena, so that was where they were headed.

"Oh, hey, there it is!" Raggest slapped him on the shoulder excitedly. "Come on, let's see what it's like!"

The building itself was all gleaming chrome and sharp angles, yet the entrance was an archway of carved stone that looked ancient. When they approached, a bouncer in traditional Nokan robes stepped into their path with a polite smile.

"Welcome to the Emperor's Menagerie. As the two of you are foreigners, if you wish to observe, you will need to purchase a membership or a one time pass."

"Sure, whatever." Raggest dug around in one pocket and shoved a bar of lucrim at the man, briefly surprising both of them. Rick thought that everyone knew that lucrim was stored in different ways in different countries, and they'd even discussed it back in South Africa, but Raggest seemed oblivious.

"Sir... this is not a money exchange. If you wish to use foreign currency, there will be a 50% markup."

"Eh? You need more?" Raggest started to hand over a couple more bars, but Rick stepped in before he could waste all his money.

"They just want Nokan lucrim containers, man," Rick said. "Or... I hope that pure lucrim would be accepted?"

The bouncer immediately bowed and revealed a wooden rod from within his sleeve. "Please simply convert the appropriate amounts into this vessel. It will be 125 lucrim for each of you, presuming you desire only a one day pass."

Rick nodded and transferred the lucrim straight from his lucrima soul. Normally he would have needed to convert his lucrim containers for every country, suffering fees all along the way. Thanks to all the training he'd done for useless job interviews at banks, he was adept at storing it in raw form. Nearly everyone would accept lucrim that way, so he saved a lot of money on fees. Maybe not so much money compared to his current life, but he couldn't stand to lose lucrim for no reason.

Of course, now he was paying 250 lucrim just to enter some random arena. As they were allowed inside, Raggest handed him the bars of lucrim instead, saying it was to repay his fee. The bars were worth well over 400, leading Rick to wonder if the younger man had any sense for money at all, but then they were entering and his attention was thoroughly distracted.

The crowded hallways were ordinary enough, filled with tourists and fight enthusiasts alongside different vendors. But most of the images on the walls showed demons instead of humans, and one of the largest posters seemed to promote a fight between a human and a demon. He wasn't sure exactly how that was possible, but Raggest was eagerly pulling him onward to the arena itself.

As they entered, Rick felt a strange aura pass over his body and shivered. He felt as if he was coated in a thin layer of oil, the world sliding past him. Yet even that couldn't distract him from the sight of the arena floor: a team of three humans was fighting against a team of demonic apes.

Both sides actually made contact with one another, as if they existed in the same realm. Rick tried to look more carefully, examining if the demons had bonded animals somehow, yet he didn't think that was actually the case. When he turned to ask Raggest, he discovered that the other man was already rushing to the edge, hollering his approval at the fighters below.

"How exactly does that work?" Rick directed the question towards Katenka, and when she swirled into being, something was slightly different about her.

"Most parts of the world have a firm barrier between the human and demon realms," she said, then reached out and tapped him on the side of the head. He actually felt her finger, though not quite like a physical touch. "The Nokan Empire has fundamentally different beliefs, and they've long taken steps to thin the barrier."

"Huh. I've never heard of anything like that... though I guess that thing Damian used was similar."

"You could think of that as an isolated instance of the policy that is applied nation-wide here." Katenka smiled and gestured forward. "But perhaps you should follow your friend and see what all the fuss is about."

As it turned out, the fuss was entirely understandable: you couldn't see humans and demons fighting each other in very many places in the world. Otherwise, it struck him as the same as every other pit fight, not so dissimilar from the Underground. Raggest seemed enraptured, but Rick just watched the fights carefully.

What quickly became obvious to him was that the fighters had very different levels of experience. Some of the humans came in with wrestling techniques, unprepared for opponents with inhuman bodies and multiple limbs. But on the other side, some of the demons were surprisingly clumsy, making leaping movements that might have worked in the demon realm but let them be easily taken down. On both sides, there were a few who clearly understood how to fight different opponents, and those were the ones who attracted the largest cheers from the audience.

It might have been interesting to participate, though Rick wasn't sure how much that would cost. He suspected that he could do fairly well, even if they found opponents with strength similar to his. Though he hadn't fought many demons directly, he had some experience with their techniques, and fighting against jackalopes and other animals had rounded out his style.

Raggest was not actually much fun, just cheering anyone who succeeded and booing those who failed. Katenka proved more interesting, remaining manifest beside him and occasionally commenting on the specific demons. He quickly learned that while she hadn't been to the Nokan Empire before, she had some exposure to their customs in the demon realm.

Here, there was no "Siberia" and "Burning Snow" - it was the Nokan Empire on both sides. Apparently they considered demonic fusion to be a clumsy foreign concept, though Katenka argued it was better suited to the modern world. It might have been an interesting conversation, if not for the next fighter.

It was a young Nokan man struggling against a massive demon with six arms, all of them sending bursts of aura fire cascading around him. The other humans had fallen earlier in the fight, which Rick had a feeling was like the "Slayer" matches: it was bloodsport for the audience, watching a superior opponent curbstomp weaker enemies.

Yet his last opponent struggled on, despite the blood sliding down the side of his head. His portfolio wasn't anything special, but he had a speed Lucore that he'd clearly spent a lot of time on. Against his opponent's strategy of blanketing the field with aura flames, it let him keep dodging while his opponent wasted more and more energy.

Not enough. An aura flame eventually caught the young man in the chest and sent him crumpling against the arena wall. Most cheered the triumphant demon, while Rick watched to make sure that healers attended the young man. A few did, but he doubted they would heal everything.

Meanwhile, Raggest sat back with a look of disgust. "A failure. I really thought he was going to pull that off, the way he was dodging. Leap in there and punch the demon through the face!"

"He couldn't have done that," Rick said. "The demon had shrugged off stronger blows and he didn't have a good offensive Lucore."

"That's his fault, isn't it?"

Rick frowned over at the other man. "Seriously? Look at his clothes: do you think he's swimming in lucrim? I would have thought that you'd have admired him, enduring that long even when he knew he couldn't win. He was getting faster during the fight, too, learning from it."

"Yeah, and then he folded after taking just a few hits." Raggest shook his head. "I'd have been impressed if he won, sure. But that one just danced around and then got the shit kicked out of him. I would have blasted the demon straight to hell. You probably could have walked straight into all those flames and not even flinched."

"Probably, but he didn't have our advantages."

"Huh?" Raggest turned to look at him, baffled. "Come on, Rick, are you going to spout this kind of bullshit at me? Everything we have, we earned. If he didn't work as hard as we have, that's his fault."

Sitting in a packed arena, Rick sat completely alone. He just stared at Raggest, searching for anything other than earnestness in the other man's expression. That Nokan man could have been Rick, several years ago, struggling to make his one strength into a career. The only difference between them...

"Raggest, that's not fair." He was angrier than he expected, but couldn't hold back. "You've had Alger giving you valuable supplements, pills, and elixirs for years. He's given you world class techniques and constant guidance. You can't compare y-"

"What, you think I haven't earned this?" Raggest turned on him, more baffled than angry. "I've worked hard every day, harder than anyone else. And you don't have any room to talk. Your mentor has been feeding you constant Formula T, giving you that awesome golden technique, and paying for body reforging. You think that you didn't earn all that?"

All at once, Rick realized that he hadn't.

Yes, he'd been working hard for months, and yes, he'd struggled to earn each step. But he imagined that Mike and every other asshole Birthrighter thought that they earned what they had as well. Rick might not have been the same as them, yet the thought tore into him, forcing him to reconsider everything...

He didn't want to believe it, but Granny Whitney's words returned heavier than before. Worse than that, he started looking at all his own experiences in the Showdown under a new light. Not wanting to accept the conclusion, Rick decided to charge straight into it.

"How did you meet Alger?" he asked quietly. Raggest blinked at him in surprise.

"What, are you saying that I didn't earn that? You think he picked me like I won a lucrim lottery? I had to prove myself to him. Everyone else failed to reach his home through all the traps, but I followed the dreams and fought m-"

"What did you say?" Rick had grabbed the front of Raggest's shirt without even realizing it. The younger man immediately bashed away his hands and glared at him.

"Dreams of destiny, man. I know some people don't believe in them, but I thought you might know about this. Alger says that those who are destined for more than a boring life have lucrim dreams of what they will become."

"And what did you dream?"

"Myself as a powerful warrior, mostly. But I dreamed the path to Alger's house and I had the courage to follow it!"

Rick slowly took a step back and his leg nearly collapsed. The words might as well have been a physical blow, and the realizations he'd been holding off crashed into him in an assault he couldn't hold back.

What had led him to the Showdown was the inexplicable dream of a dangerous opponent. From there, Alger had made a clumsy attempt to recruit him... only to drive him directly into the hands of H. His mentor had given him everything, funneling him onto a path where he was completely controlled. In the Showdown, there was only one path upward, and that was Alger's path.

Though most of Rick was absolutely certain that it was true, he didn't want to accept such a conclusion without more evidence. Somehow he was still moving instead of collapsing under the weight of it. He patted Raggest on the shoulder and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, man, I've just had a lot on my mind lately. Plus, I think I lost track of time and didn't get any Formula T when I should have."

"Oh, that's not good at all." Raggest smiled as if the argument was entirely forgotten. "I'd give you some of mine, but I think my version is different."

"You drink Formula T too? Can I see?"

"I mean, I'm not actually sure what mine is called. Alger just gives it to me to help me get stronger." Raggest cooperatively bent down to his pack and pulled out the thermos. "I really don't think you should take too much, but if you want to try, why not? Might be a fun challenge."

Hands trembling slightly, Rick unscrewed the thermos lid and stared down at the golden liquid within. It looked almost exactly the same. He hesitantly took a sip and immediately felt the surge of power rush through him. Yes, it was Formula T. What Raggest was taking was more concentrated, but he couldn't doubt it was the same thing, and in turn he couldn't doubt his full conclusions.

"You're right, I shouldn't take yours." Rick handed it back, trying and failing to smile. "Listen, I need to run back and get mine. But thanks for taking me to the arena."

"Oh, sure thing. I was hoping we could both fight, but we'll get it figured out later." With that, Raggest turned away from him, focusing on nothing but the fights.

Rick walked out of the arena completely numb. As he stepped onto the street, the spiritually oily sensation vanished, but he still felt coated in the realizations. He'd been a fool for a long time, walking the path set before him and addicting himself. The only difference between him and a power addict was that he had backers who kept feeding him lucrim.

But they could withdraw it at any time.

That was what troubled him most. He could try to convince himself that even if Alger was using him, he was using Alger in return, but that wasn't really true. Alger had him entirely in his power, and when the time came, he could use his leverage to make Rick do whatever he wanted. Or more likely, play the villain and have H send him to do what Alger really wanted.

If Rick had been alone, he wasn't sure what he would have done. But Katenka had been hovering silently behind him during the entire conversation and she hadn't faded even when he left the arena. He turned and stared at her, almost too dazed to focus.

"I'm an idiot. You put it together too, didn't you? He's been manipulating me from the beginning."

"I haven't heard of anyone who can directly manipulate dreams," Katenka said softly. "But I don't think it's theoretically impossible. And which is more likely: that someone learned how to create dreams, or that prophetic dreams of the future exist?"

"Right. I've fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. I thought Raggest was oblivious, but I'm just as much of an idiot." Rick sat down on the curb and dropped his head into his hands. Yet before he could curl into misery, Katenka continued speaking.

"That isn't true, and I'm proof of that."

"...what do you mean?"

"One thing I can promise you is that I'm not part of this manipulation. I don't know what demonic contract H had prepared for you, but I'm sure that it would have put you further under his control. And you told me that he wanted you to use something called a Midas Foundation... imagine if your entire portfolio was built around power he controlled."

"That's..." Rick wanted to snap back on instinct, but forced himself to think. "Maybe you're right. But I have to assume that Lisa was right and I'm addicted to Formula T. Even if I could escape it, I couldn't compete in the Showdown without it."

"Do you want to?" Katenka watched him thoughtfully. "I can't answer that question for you, Rick. But you helped me escape Siberia. I'll support you as well as I can, whatever you decide."

It was a surprisingly good question. Rick sat back and stared at the sky for a while, his mind sliding around the thought instead of fully addressing it. The Showdown had never been his dream, it had been something that he'd stumbled into because it seemed like the best option. Just like fighting in the Underground or working for the Global Lucrim Authority. Alger might have unnatural abilities, but he wasn't a god. Rick made it easy to manipulate him because of how he plunged blindly toward his goals, just like Raggest.

Once he thought about it that way, the problem wasn't so impossible. Rick rubbed his eyes until he could see clearly, then stood up. It was time to make some calls.

Chapter 45: Dependents

Melissa paced back and forth across the floor of her room. It should have made her feel like her brother, scowling about something, but instead there was only formless uncertainty and discontent. Her research and other projects lay half-finished on her desk, abandoned as she became restless again.

Rick had messaged her to say that he was coming due to "the family emergency". That was obviously a lie, though Melissa had checked with Uncle Frank just in case. The thing was, he said it in a way they had a long time ago, when their parents had been drunk or high and caused problems. She knew that her brother had shielded her from much of it, but there had been times when he hadn't been able to pick her up because he was bailing their parents out of jail.

So what did he mean this time? There was something off about his text, like he thought that someone else might be reading it. If that was true, then it was a secret message. She worried that she might need to do something, but the way he said he was coming to her suggested that she should stay put. Unless the message was even more deeply embedded?

Accepting that there was nothing she could do for now, Melissa forced herself to stop pacing, sit down, and breathe. Unfortunately, when she stopped moving, that left her alone with her thoughts.

Months since the incident, she still occasionally awoke from a nightmare of the demon torturing her. But it wasn't the pain that crept under her skin and left her feeling disgusted. It was the way she had been helpless, treated as nothing but an asset to be exploited. She had tried to explain all the exact reasons, but the closest she had ever gotten was with her brother.

Now that she was back in the YLAA, she felt both separated from those experiences and unable to escape them. The young, rich, and successful people all around her didn't seem to deal with trauma, they just went on their merry ways. Melissa had thrown herself into her studies with such ferocity that several people had asked her if something was wrong, but she didn't see what else she could do.

The problem at the core of it was that she didn't think there was any real solution. It wasn't as if she could become so powerful that no one could ever hurt her: even the strongest people in the world still had peers, and anyone could threaten people she cared about. In fact, some of the strongest YLAA fighters struck her as paranoid, desperately needing to prove themselves strong in a way that meant they would never be happy.

So it was all in her head. That didn't help at all when her head insisted she had a cold knot in the pit of her stomach.

All she could do was try to keep her wild swinging between anger and pain under control, and keep herself productive the entire time. She still had several months as a Young Lucrim Artist of America and she intended to use them to their fullest. After that, in theory the world would be open to her.

By the time it was over, she doubted that she would feel completely comfortable with herself again. But she hoped that by then, she would know exactly where she wanted to go next. There were plenty of positions related to medical research, or even advocacy groups regarding unusual aura conditions. The issue was putting aside everything else to really focus on herself.

When there was a knock on the door, she stopped focusing on herself and leapt up to get it. Most likely it was just another YLAA member, but it might be...

Rick stood on the other side, shivering with his shoulders hunched. Melissa instantly knew that something was deeply wrong and moved to help support him, but when she touched his arm, it didn't seem like he was going to collapse. The muscles of his arm were flexing strangely and it actually seemed like he had too much energy, like he couldn't keep it contained.

"I need your help this time, sis." He stumbled forward, shuddering violently.

Quickly helping him inside, taking his pack, and getting him seated, Melissa locked the door and then turned back to him. He sat on the edge of her bed, still trembling, his eyes unfocused. She didn't think he was cold, but she lifted up the blanket to wrap around him and then sat beside him as he had done for her.

"I'm here, Rick, I'm here," she said soothingly. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Are you the family emergency?"

"That was... an excuse to put H on the wrong track. To buy time." Rick began scratching at his arms, then stopped the motion only with obvious effort. "I left. It's crazy, but I had to leave. I stopped taking the Formula T just one time and it was bad. And just keeps getting worse. It hasn't even been 24 hours and I'm already... already..."

"Slow down, Rick. Tell me what's going on."

He eventually explained, his words slowly coming together more as he focused on the conversation. Though it seemed a bit crazy, Melissa didn't doubt him for a second. Whatever he intended to do, she knew that she'd support him, but she was unclear on just what he was up to. When he finally trailed off into uncertainty, she spoke up.

"So what now? Did you quit the Showdown?"

"No. Can't." He shook his head violently and Melissa gently rubbed his shoulder.

"Why not? Alger may have been manipulating you, but he didn't get you contractually obligated to fight in the whole Showdown. They can cut off your funding but they can't repossess what they've already given you, right? All you need to do is quit, like a normal job."

"The fight for the immortals... that isn't normal... I need to at least show up." Rick took a deep breath and became a little more stable. "But Alger will be there and might notice... and I'm worried that H will try to do something. Not sure what."

"Well, whatever happens, you're planning on getting clean first, right? You didn't bring any Formula T with you?"

"I... I did. Haven't taken it, but Lisa might want to see... not sure. You should probably... take it away. And can I have some water?"

Melissa immediately hopped up to get him a glass. She also took his pack and locked it away in the personal safe that came with her room. Rick didn't know the combination, so he couldn't be tempted to take more Formula T. If he begged her for it, as their parents sometimes had, that would be agonizing, but she would stay strong to help him get through the withdrawal.

The first thing they tried was having her manifest her void through him, the way they had improved his foundation. Melissa hadn't really expected that she could burn away the addiction, but she'd still hoped. Neither of them was surprised when it didn't work. He'd been taking an incredibly potent drug for months and his body couldn't just magically get over that, even with an ether void.

Actually, his foundation and all his Lucores felt strange, like they'd been dismantled. That couldn't possibly have happened just because he went off the Formula T, but Rick was getting less coherent and so she couldn't ask him. It didn't feel like his portfolio was collapsing, just definitely messed up. The Dark Blood Kettle was everywhere, but she thought it was trying to help.

Her brother was starting to sweat more, so Melissa helped him get his shirt off and put him to bed. He fell into a restless sleep and there was nothing more she could do for him. At least not directly.

Though he'd come to her in bad shape, her brother hadn't plunged into this completely unprepared. It hadn't been completely coherent, but he'd suggested that he'd called the Peakless Wildlife Refuge and others to try to get what help he could. And the public library, for some reason he hadn't properly explained. So he had a plan to survive the withdrawal, he just needed her help.

For a start, Melissa decided to call Lisa. They tried not to talk about Rick, but this was obviously an exception. The other woman picked up on the second ring. "Melissa? Is everything okay?"

"Wait, what? I haven't said anything yet!"

"No, it's because of the message Rick sent me." Lisa sounded nervous. "Do you know where he is? He said that he needed my help about the Formula T, but there was so little information, I was worried th-"

"He's here, with me." Melissa was surprised that her brother had contacted Lisa, but supposed that she shouldn't have been. That made things easier. "You're in Branton, right? Wait, no, you moved. Do I need to come to you, or can you come here? Because we can afford a flight, but... he's going into withdrawal, I think. His life isn't in danger, but it's bad."

"Given the potency of what he was taking, that's not surprising." Lisa was silent for a long time, so long that Melissa checked to make sure that the call hadn't disconnected, but when she spoke, her voice was firm. "I'll come to you. Send me the YLAA address and I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Great. Thank you so much, Lisa."

With that call finished, things were a little more hopeful, but Melissa was alone again. She desperately wanted to help, but handling it all alone felt a bit much, especially since she knew so little about his condition.

Abruptly Melissa realized that she wasn't alone: Rick's demon must still be hanging around invisibly. Just having someone to talk to would help, but there didn't seem to be any way to make contact. Melissa poked at her brother's tattoo, with no response except an incoherent mumble from him. Going to the demon realm was impossible, but there must be another way...

Melissa actually snapped her fingers as she remembered a minor detail from weeks ago. She headed out, carefully locking the door behind her, and padded down the hall to another one of the YLAA rooms. There was another girl in the program named Jane who was somewhat friendly, even if a bit more of a party girl than Melissa.

More importantly, she had something useful. When Melissa reached the door, she was relieved to find it unlocked and the other woman inside. "Hey, Jane!" Melissa poked her head in and waved. "Is there any way that I can borrow that mirror of yours? The demon one?"

"Just why do you need it?" Jane looked up from where she sat on her bed and narrowed her eyes. "I mean, I'm not using it right now, but I doubt you want it to throw a demon party. If this is for some experiment, I can't risk it being damaged. That thing is a family heirloom."

"It's just for conversation purposes, honest! There's, uh, a cute demon boy I want to flirt with."

Jane snorted. "Right. I totally believe you. Really, Melissa, can you promise me that you aren't going to do anything weird to it?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die!"

Thankfully, Jane didn't interrogate her further, just handed over the mirror. Melissa took it and immediately scrambled back to her room, even though there wasn't any real rush. The ornately gilded mirror had an oddly black surface that barely reflected her at all, but she'd seen it used to make a connection. It was actually considered too old-fashioned and limited to be practical, but it could be used to talk to her brother's demon.

She got back and discovered that her brother was still resting, thankfully. Not that she'd really expected him to disappear. Melissa balanced the mirror on her desk against the wall, then tried to figure out how to activate it. There wasn't any obvious switch and she couldn't find anything to consume aura.

"Uh, Melissa? What the heck?"

Only when she heard Jane speak did Melissa realize two things: she hadn't locked the door, and Jane had followed. Her sort-of friend was now standing in the doorway, staring at Rick as he lay in Melissa's bed, only partially covered by the blanket. She realized how it must look to non-family... and that she didn't care.

"That's just last night's hot hookup," Melissa said, pushing Jane out the door. "Now I'm trying to set up a threesome with a demon. Give us some privacy, okay?"

Though Jane looked flabbergasted, she didn't object as Melissa closed the door. As soon as it latched, Melissa found herself smiling.

The dumb joke had just spilled out of her without thinking about it, or without feeling forced. For a long time after the torture, she hadn't been able to joke around except occasionally with her brother. Yet at the moment, she was feeling much more free than before. Her memories still weighed on her, but she felt strong enough to bear them.

Perhaps it was the fact that she was out of her head, and this time she was helping him. For so many years, her brother had sacrificed to keep her healthy, always caring for her. She knew that he didn't resent that in the slightest, but it was satisfying to be able to take care of him for once. Now, when he really needed help, she wasn't just a dependent, she was family.

"That was a pretty casual incest joke." The voice came from the mirror, where Melissa now saw her brother's demon. Katenka turned out to be stunningly beautiful in an unnatural sort of way, but more importantly she was smirking. Melissa could understand a demon like that.

"Oh, hush, you vile temptress." Melissa walked over to the mirror and stared back at her. "I'm sure you've done a lot worse."

"I might be able to make myself look like an incubus, but I'm not really that type of demon. My illusions tend to be... rather cold. So I'm afraid I won't be able to fulfill your creepy fantasies."

Melissa grinned. "Says the demon literally living in my brother's arm. I don't think I even need to get into how creepy that is."

Though Katenka smiled back, her expression sobered. "I don't watch at all times, but I've been watching now. What you've done for him is an excellent first step, but you're right, that won't be enough. From what I've seen, this withdrawal will be brutal, and I won't be able to directly help in any way."

"You're helping just by being here so I don't go crazy. Really." Melissa gave the demon in the mirror an earnest smile. Mad as it seemed, the two of them were going to work together to help her brother recover from addiction to a secretive lucrim elixir.

This was her life now. She wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter 46: Withdrawal

Rick woke up staring at the ceiling, briefly disoriented. A convulsion clenched through his entire body, forcing him to roll onto his side. By the time it passed, he had started to remember.

Though his sense of time was utterly distorted, he thought that it had been a day or two since Melissa had moved him to a hotel. That was part of what had disoriented him at first, since he'd been expecting her room. Here they had privacy as well as hopefully a hidden location, if H did attempt to track him down.

Suddenly paranoid, Rick groped on the nightstand for his phone to check his messages. More from H disapproving of the family emergency and insisting that he continue his training to prepare for the upcoming fight. Also offers to send him more Formula T if he ran out, which now seemed doubly suspicious.

Setting down the phone, Rick lay back and tried to get the shivering out of his system. He wasn't sure if the paranoia was part of his withdrawal symptoms, but he definitely felt mentally unstable. But as Lisa had pointed out, feeling this miserable overall was likely to have mental consequences entirely separate from the withdrawal. Not that it mattered, since he needed to suffer through it all regardless.

The one constant was the shaking, ranging from trembling in his fingers to painful convulsions. For most of one day he'd lived bent over the toilet, emptying his guts, but thankfully that seemed to have passed. He'd been running a fever for a while, though that symptom was allegedly a necessary part of healing. His body would wildly range from aching and just wanting sleep to suddenly overflowing with energy and needing to train.

Worst of all was the immense sense of weakness, even during his manic periods. When he tried to summon aura, it felt as if he didn't have enough lucrim, even though it was obviously there. Testing his Bunyan's Step, he'd frequently faltered out mid-way through the technique. Even his defensive core felt like it was constantly running on fumes.

He tried to tell himself that it was just a lie, his body demanding more Formula T and insisting that it couldn't cope without it. Sometimes it felt like he'd fall apart without the drug, but he forced himself to repeat his exercises no matter how wrong it felt.

Strangely, the cravings weren't as bad as he expected. Every eight hours he had an intense urge to take more Formula T, but if he could suffer through those times, it didn't consume his mind too much. He was still glad that Melissa had locked away all of it so that he couldn't be tempted. Being across the world from his source certainly made it easier to quit cold turkey.

"You doing okay?" Melissa came in, speaking gently as she always did. She'd brought food and water, so he made himself sit up.

"It could be worse, but I don't feel like the symptoms are getting any weaker. I was hoping they'd wear off after a day or two." As he spoke, Rick mechanically chewed and swallowed the bread, though it didn't taste like anything.

"Lisa said that it could be longer than that. She let me know she departed, by the way, so she should be here soon."

"That's good."

"Also, the library called back. Are you feeling good enough to talk? I'm not sure what you have in mind with them, but I assume you want to be at your best."

"Oh. I forgot... yeah, I'll try." Rick rubbed his eyes, which constantly felt filled with sand. "How bad do I look?"

"Well... you're not going to be winning any seals in the beauty contest part of the Showdown."

"Let me clean up and get myself awake. Then I should talk to them."

Shaving and washing his face helped a little, though his body insisted that it wanted to curl up and die. Rick forced himself to exercise and forced lucrim through all his old channels. It got adrenaline moving and made him feel briefly better, though his body would keep demanding more lucrim and eventually he'd slump back into withdrawal symptoms. Still, he should be alert enough for a phone call.

To his surprise, Melissa instead brought a small blue pyramid into the room. "Uh, they said we're supposed to use this thing for private communication? Not sure exactly how it works, but I'll let you figure that out. Let me know if you need anything else."

The pyramid was a strange communication device, but it was modern tech: it had idiot-friendly labels saying which side should be set down and a normal switch. Rick set it up at the side of the room and flipped the switch. After a bit of static, he saw Heather on the other side, sitting in the scroll room of the library.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Given what you said about wanting to quit the whole fucking Showdown, I wasn't sure what to make of it..."

"I'm fine." A blatant lie, but she didn't need to know about his withdrawal symptoms. "But I'm going to leave and you said to remember the public libraries. I'm willing to cooperate with you in any way, I just don't know how valuable what I know is."

Heather winced. "I hope I didn't set your expectations too high, but... probably not very. There are a shit ton of people who fail or quit the junior leagues, so we have some information that way. It's the top levels of the Showdown where we really need both information and sponsors."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

"But, listen, that doesn't mean I'm not glad you called. You've probably ran into some interesting things while you were traveling, right?"

"I hope so." Rick had thought through what he wanted to say, but wasn't sure where to start. Maybe with the most striking one. "I have direct evidence that some people are creating lucrim elixirs that are intended to addict the people taking them. Not just power addiction, but creating dependents. I don't think that's publicly known, is it?"

"No, but unfortunately that's 'dog bites man' type news. Don't get me wrong, if you really have evidence, I'm real fucking interested. But most people already assume that elite athletes are doping in unhealthy ways, just like corporations don't have our best interests at heart. It's normal."

He'd been afraid of that, but the rest might be grasping at straws. Since straws were all he had, Rick pushed on. "I may not have been at the top of the Showdown, but I've interacted with more immortals than you'd expect. There's some sort of competition between several major groups of them..." He went on to tell Heather about Josiah Craw, Qing Shan, and the others. Mostly he left out anything that sounded conspiratorial about H and Alger because he wasn't sure it would be believable.

Surprisingly, the thing that interested her most was the Triune Golden Spheres. Apparently they were a relatively rare technique and librarians would jump at the chance to publicly log it. Though Rick knew that would instantly tie the information to him, he was also likely to make a lot of enemies anyway, so he wasn't sure it made a difference.

When he was finished, Heather spent a while muttering curses under her breath, then finally nodded. "Okay. Let's just fucking do this. I should say, I didn't expect this to be so dramatic when I mentioned it to you, but I guess you don't do anything half way."

"Uh, what do you mean by doing this?"

"The public library system is a neutral party, so we can't get directly involved or help you materially. At least not right now - if you want to let us study the lucrim techniques you know, you'd be compensated for that. But I can pledge to help out with anything knowledge-related."

Rick could only nod. He knew that the library system sticking out its neck to help him had been a long shot and hadn't been counting on it. "Do you know any secrets about overcoming addiction or rebuilding lucrim portfolios?"

"I could send you some books, but..." Heather shrugged. "You probably know the basics already. No easy solutions there. Anything else?"

"What about ways of forging demonic bonds? I've been putting together an idea that would pair weak demons with poor humans."

Heather's eyebrows, which he only that moment realized were dyed the same green as her hair, shot up. "That is not what I fucking expected when I started this call. Hell, not what I expected from you at all. Hmm... though the library is not in the bond business, we do have a great deal of information about demonic contracts. If you can deliver everything you've said, I'd be happy to connect you to the right people."

"Great. Thanks, Heather."

"It was the least I can do. Really, I'm sorry I can't do more."

After the call ended, the blue pyramid went dead. It was probably far too much security for a simple conversation, but the public library system didn't mess around. Soon after Rick began shivering again, his adrenaline running out and his symptoms returning in force.

When he sat down on the side of the bed, clutching his stomach, he just tried not to black out for a while. But when he recovered enough to straighten, he saw Katenka floating beside the pyramid, regarding it curiously.

"I think this was the last step we needed, Rick. We don't have any real public libraries in Siberia, not in the sense you do here. But with their help combined with everything else, I think we can create the demonic bonds."

"Great." Rick turned over onto his side and tried to squirm under the covers. "Now we just have to survive the rest."

"I think you're doing better, and you'll have more help soon. Stay strong."

He nodded in response, but that wasn't what he'd meant. Rick knew that he'd get through the withdrawal - he was worried about what came after.

Chapter 47: Community

Over the course of several weeks, Rick began to find the other side of withdrawal. His fever subsided and his body only trembled involuntarily on occasion, or when he was particularly stressed. Unfortunately, the urge to drink more Formula T was as high as ever, grinding at him every eight hours. He also thought he was far more restless than he had been before, seeking energy to burn.

Lisa's arrival had been immensely helpful, though she kept a professional distance at all times. That seemed impossible, given that she had come across several states just to help him. Yes, he was more than paying her back in the form of all the excess Formula T, but she hadn't known about that. She'd come solely because she cared.

Several times when she'd helped ease the withdrawal symptoms, he was so grateful he could have kissed her. Rick chalked that up to being delirious, or in any case he didn't want to make any decisions while he wasn't thinking clearly. She gave an odd smile when he thanked her that he didn't really understand.

As he finished his meditation, Rick got to his feet and ate everything she'd left for him. She said he shouldn't have any serum or philosopher's elixir, since it might inhibit his recovery, but there were plenty of other supplements to help him. Some to reduce withdrawal symptoms, some to rebuild his lucrim portfolio, and some to make sure his body modifications remained stable during the time of heavy transition. He hadn't even thought about the last one, but Lisa seemed to have a handle on everything.

Once he'd eaten, Rick returned to his training. His physical condition was still good, but there was something oddly off. Not just the occasional feeling that he didn't have enough strength, but odd twitches that inhibited his movements. Despite all his footwork training, occasionally he clumsily used too much power and smashed himself directly into a wall.

Overall, however, he felt much stronger. His base lucrim generation rate still lagged at the edge of six digits, but everything else had improved.

His defensive cores seemed to have taken the ordeal as an opportunity to grow, and if the Triune Golden Spheres had languished, at least the rest of him was stronger. Strangely, his foundation seemed to have dissolved into the Dark Blood Kettle, but he didn't feel weakened by it, so he assumed that it could only be a good thing.

Most likely, the fact that he'd been able to rebuild himself was due to what Teragen had done to him. That assault had dissolved the boundaries of his portfolio so that he could rebuild it more efficiently, so it was good timing that it had happened at the same time he'd been trying to get off Formula T... unless Teragen had predicted that as well.

The door to his room clicked open and Rick leapt, raising his fists before he realized he was being unnecessarily jumpy. On the other side, Melissa raised her hands cautiously. "Easy there, brother. Let's not have any sibling on sibling violence."

"Sorry. I'm just tense." Rick gestured for her to enter and then shut the door after her. "Are you doing okay?"

"I should be the one asking that, but yes. Having Lisa and Katenka to help me honestly makes my YLAA work a breeze. But more importantly..." Melissa triumphantly raised something in one hand, a vial containing a dark gray liquid, and imitated a victory sound effect. "This is done!"

"I, uh, don't know what that is."

"Yes, the announcement would have been a lot more dramatic if I'd ever told you that I was working on it. The thing is, I wasn't sure it would work. I abandoned the idea a while back because Lisa said it didn't have much commercial application, but it's very well-suited to you in particular. Here, take a look."

Rick accepted the vial and flinched slightly as a shock went through his fingers. The gray liquid felt just a bit like Melissa's aura, as if it was acid that could eat at him on a spiritual level. "So you're using me as a guinea pig for this, huh?"

"Yes, and all those supplements are actually just chopped carrots." Melissa grinned briefly, but then tapped the vial. "I'm actually proud of this, Rick. The problem with giving you anything that provides an instant boost in power is that your body might end up dependent on the rush of that instead of the Formula T. But this is actually negative power, filtered through my ether void."

"So it's like a bottled version of what you do to help increase efficiency?"

"It's more than that. If you carry a void flame from me, it should be stronger. Somebody who takes it will be less harmed by my Manifest Destruction. Hopefully your defensive cores will be able to adapt to it too. Now, I'm not saying it will transform your life, but I think you're one of the only people who could get some real use out of it."

"Thanks, sis." He opened the vial and tried not to show any hesitation as he drank the gray liquid.

Almost the same instant it hit his throat, it flowed through him on a spiritual level. His vision went completely black for a moment, then he saw the world in negative. Only slowly did it fade back to normal, his body thrumming with the echo of the void.

"Uh, Rick, you okay?" Melissa was looking at him in concern, so he smiled.

"My head is... completely clear. I think it will only be temporary, but I feel scoured clean. I don't know about the deeper effects, but in the short term, this is great."

"Wonderful! I'll work together with Lisa and make you some more."

"I appreciate it." Since he wasn't weak or restless for once, Rick sat down on the bed and tried to enjoy the momentary peace. Melissa sat down beside him, but didn't say anything. It might ruin the vibes, but he decided it was best to ask her about one of his concerns. "Did Lisa send this with you for a particular reason? I feel like she's been avoiding me."

"Oh, pooh. One, this was my extra special formula. Two, she's really busy, still trying to run her business remotely."

"If you say so. I feel like whenever I thank her for helping me, things get strange."

"That is... something else. It's because you talked a lot while you were unconscious." Melissa saw the shock and horror on his face and smiled. "Relax, bro, you didn't say anything humiliating. While you were semi-conscious, you were actually so grateful that it was a bit silly. Like, Lisa would give you the normal supplements for the day and you would tell her that she was a great friend and that you couldn't repay her for her kindness. You did it more than once."

Rick dropped his head into his hands. "Oh god. I guess it could have been worse, but..."

"I thought it was sweet, actually. But it does make thanking her now a bit funny." Melissa smiled at him and rubbed his shoulders and back. "She came all the way out here to help you. Don't get yourself worked up about that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Melissa leaned closer and lowered her voice. "There is a little bit of tension between the two of you, though. Do you know what you should do?"

"Don't."

"You two should totally bang."

"Har har." Rick pushed her head away and ruffled her hair. "Don't joke about that while she has a boyfriend. I screwed up enough with her, I don't want to be an asshole."

"Oh, but she doesn't have one right now." Melissa regarded him so seriously that he wondered if it was a joke, but her expression remained somber. "I guess I shouldn't talk about her life. But seriously, don't worry about any of that. Actually, you should ask her to give you a lucrim massage. When I touched your shoulder earlier, it was super, super stiff."

"Well then, I guess my shoulders should bang."

Melissa laughed and for a while all was right with the world. By the end of the day, some of the trembling and craving returned, but he'd gotten an excellent day of training in meanwhile. Just going through all the old exercises without any distractions helped him immensely to remember the proper forms even when the withdrawal hit harder.

Soon, however, he would be out of time. Every message from H was getting more urgent and Rick was starting to worry that his mentor - his former mentor - would come to drag him back. He'd been given the location of the immortals' battle, which fortunately wasn't absurdly far. Apparently it would take place at one of Josiah Craw's estates, this one deep in the American South.

One day Melissa skipped into his room with a large brown package. Rick was puzzled until he saw that the return address was the office of the Peakless Wildlife Refuge. Melissa beamed as she handed it over.

"I got responses from them, but I was keeping it a secret! I don't know exactly what they sent, but I'm sure it will be able to help. So come on, unbox this stuff!"

Rick opened the package and removed the protective wrapping. Though the interior was nothing special, it was clearly divided into three different compartments. The largest one had some sort of... fuzzy ball? When he picked it up, puzzled, it was shockingly soft in his hand, but he wasn't sure what it was supposed to be.

"There's a letter here..." Melissa picked it up, then giggled. "Apparently that thing is from the tail of something called an 'elysian rabbit' and it's supposed to reduce the stress from lucrim-based conditions. So it's a bunny stress ball. Isn't that hilarious?"

"Uh, no." Rick's eyes were wide as he felt his fingers squeeze into it. "This thing is actually amazing. I don't know how it works, but the rabbit's fur must channel aura or something. I was feeling way more jittery before."

"Are you pulling my leg? Give me that, if this thing is... oh my god, that's amazing. Getting an elysian rabbit is now officially one of my goals. I know you need it, but this fluffy is mine for now. You'll have to content yourself with the other presents."

"I think I'll manage." Rick started by taking the letter, reading over it quickly. As he'd expected, the ball was a gift from Wemilat, who went on to emphasize that the fur had been harvested humanely from a rabbit that had died of old age.

Setting it aside, he moved to the next compartment. Adsila had given him several vials that she explained had been developed from the jackalope extract he'd helped them with so long ago. It would allegedly improve his offensive core, which frankly needed the help.

The third compartment contained a dark brown flask. Rick picked it up carefully but didn't feel any power. He assumed it was a gift from Delsin, but there was no explanatory note. As Rick unscrewed the lid and sniffed it, Melissa finally took note.

"What's that, some sort of special elixir?"

"Not sure." Rick took a sip and immediately coughed violently. "Nope, it's whiskey."

"Well then, I guess he wants you to replace your power addiction with alcoholism. Seems like wise mentorly advice to me!"

After Melissa left, Rick paced for a while. Squeezing the stress ball actually did help reduce the tension inside him, though mostly it only made him realize just how much of it he'd been carrying. Part of the problem was that this time, he wasn't trapped between an enemy and a wall. For everything to work out, he needed to walk back into danger.

While he was shoving food into his mouth for dinner, Katenka emerged across from him. She hadn't been present for a few days, but judging from her expression, she had good news. "Bftgage and Ythsil are doing well. They're vomiting all sorts of colors worrying about your fight, but I convinced them that it would be better for them to focus on the future."

"That's probably for the best. How did the bond thing land with them?"

"We still need to actually set it up and clear some hurdles, but those who heard about it were enthusiastic. This could work..." Katenka trailed off, her pale eyes meeting his. "If we survive this conflict. Well, if you survive, but I don't want to see any of you hurt."

Rick couldn't help but smile. "Have I softened the demon's heart? Melted the cold ice of-"

"Oh, you're so funny. But really, you don't see this sort of thing in the Burning Snow or in Siberia. People might be loyal to their family, but very rarely beyond it. For all that you complain about how your society pits people against each other, it can produce real unity as well."

"This time, I'm not going to argue with you." Suddenly no longer hungry, Rick set down the meal bar and took a drink of water. "Thank you, Katenka. If I didn't thank you while I was unconscious already. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you."

"I just hope that you can do the rest. Call on me if things get bad. Any lucrim you borrow from me, I promise that you won't regret it."

So now he was accepting promises from demons. Strange how his life had changed. Rick was about to say more when there was a knock on the door. Katenka glanced toward it with a slightly unusual expression, then vanished.

As it turned out, it was Lisa. She carried a bottle that gleamed a dull gold, which surprised him. "Uh, hi. Can I come in?"

"Sure." Rick guided her in and closed the door. "What is that?"

"This is Formula T completely purged of the addictive component. Now, personally, I wouldn't advise that you take this, because it could still form a habit and it's relying too heavily on outside sources of lucrim. But... given upcoming events, I thought... well, if you need an extra boost, it's here."

He almost thanked her before remembering himself. "That's very kind of you. I'm... sorry that I'm always running straight into these things."

Lisa smiled sadly at him. "But I suppose you'd be bored with a more normal life, huh?"

"Actually, no. Being in the Showdown, I've seen so much striving... I want to keep working and I don't think I'd ever be happy as an accountant or something. But I don't want to live throwing myself constantly into danger, never connecting with anyone. It's impossible to build anything that way."

"Huh." She regarded him thoughtfully, her smile submerged. "It seems you've been through even more than you've told us. I'd... like to hear even more about it, when you have time."

"Yeah, maybe we could." Rick looked down at the bottle in this hands, then handed it back to her. "I don't think I should take any more of this, but I do have another use for it. How much do you have? Can you send some with me?"

"Oh, I purified it all. Sure, I can send some."

"And... you've been offering a massage for years, but I've never taken you up on it, except that one time I was unconscious. But, uh, I think I could use it now more than ever. If that's okay."

"Of course." Lisa smiled surprisingly broadly, then turned away. "Why don't we get started?"

Rick had been afraid that having her touching his back would be awkward, and there was certainly something sensual about her skilled fingers working over his muscles. But as she massaged his back, he realized just how much tension he was carrying. Not just during the brutal period of withdrawal, but from years and years of that life.

Setting everything else aside for the moment, Rick relaxed into the warmth.

~ ~ ~

Rain battered the top of the skyscraper and Rick wasn't himself. He could feel the rain stinging against his bare back and the aura pulsing through his body, but something was wrong.

Something was very wrong. Part of him knew that this couldn't be real, but he didn't remember why that mattered or what reality really was. He knew that if he looked up, he would see someone on the other side of the roof, yet he kept his eyes closed. What was the essential thing he needed to remember?

The Dark Blood Kettle surged within him and suddenly the fragments of memories filtered back. This was a dream. Of course it was, it was exactly the same dream that had gotten him into the mess. Around him, the city lights and then the skyscraper began to go out, dissolving into the shadows of pure unconsciousness.

As his mind cleared, he realized something more important: if the Dark Blood Kettle could react to the dream, it was a lucrim technique. Not a mystical dream, or prophecy, or destiny. He'd been confident that it was just manipulation from Alger, but this confirmed it. In fact, it suggested that the man might be getting desperate, using another dream to try to lure Rick back in.

When he woke up, the room was still dark, but he felt surprisingly rested. More than that, he felt strangely settled, the complete opposite of the disturbance he'd felt after the first dream. It was just another trick.

More than that, he was suddenly aware of just how many people had helped him. Not to gain something from him or to force him into a specific role, but because they were his friends and allies. For a long time, he'd been struggling alone against a hostile world. That was no longer true.

There was no point trying to sleep further, not when he was so awake. Rick got his phone and checked his portfolio after all their work.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 10th

Ether Score: 547

Lucrim Generation: 99,100

Enhanced Generation: 256,100

Current Lucrim: 22,125]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Dark Blood Kettle Foundation: 25,200 (Lv VII)

Triune Golden Spheres: 157,000

- Defensive Sphere: 54,000

- Absorption Sphere: 51,000

- Sensory Sphere: 52,000

Offensive Lucore: 15,400 (Lv X)

Defensive Lucore: 41,700 (Lv XII)

Bunyan's Step: 16,800 (Lv X)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 33,000 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 49,650 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2300 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 184,050

Enhanced Total: 341,050]

Though the Triune Golden Spheres had diminished slightly due to everything he'd done, he felt good about the rest. His Bunyan's Step and offensive Lucores had finally broken through the barrier to being classified as Level X, and he felt the difference. Despite still falling beneath six digits without his bond or Spheres, he wasn't the fighter he'd been a month ago.

When Melissa and Lisa came to check on him, he'd already finished breakfast long ago and was going through final polishing exercises. Melissa raised her eyebrows, noticing the difference immediately. "Did you get called to the fight?"

"No, but it's time to go." Rick stood up and smiled at both of them. "Melissa, can you get me another of those void elixirs? I also need a void flame... as big of one as you think is safe."

"You got it, bro!"

Lisa, meanwhile, watched him thoughtfully. "Are you doing this alone?"

"Mostly. Melissa... I'll depend on your void flame, but I think you might want to stay back for this." He met her gaze and an unspoken understanding passed between them. "But Lisa... would you be willing to do something for me? Something that shouldn't be dangerous even if this goes bad."

"And do you think this will go bad?" Lisa asked. Rick had to shake his head.

"I hope this will end without any violence at all. But I don't expect it."

Chapter 48: The Immortals' Tournament Begins

There were two constants: the whirring of the helicopter blades and the angry admonitions from H. Rick simply sat in his seat, looking out the window as they neared their destination.

H was saying all the same things he'd heard before: that Rick's discipline was lagging, that he'd be left behind other fighters, that family matters needed to be managed, that he needed to decide if he wanted to be in the Showdown at all. Now that Rick was certain that H was merely one of Alger's tools, none of them stung. Part of him wanted to just bluntly ask the other man exactly what he'd been ordered to do, though of course he kept his mouth shut.

Though Rick had expected a city at first, as they passed over empty southern plains, he realized that of course Josiah wouldn't live near anyone else. As the helicopter began flying lower, he saw nothing but a single highway stretching forever in both directions, surrounded by desolate fields. Not even the crops Rick was used to, but patchy gray and brown wasteland.

Finally something else came into view: an isolated bus station. For about a mile around it, there were street lamps, a few still flickering in the morning shadows. Just as those began to disappear behind them, he spotted it: an enormous mansion off the side of the road. The driveway out to the mansion looked half a mile long and it was all finely ground rock.

"Almost here." H finally stopped his ranting to turn back to him. "Take off that stupid jacket and put on a proper combat suit before we land. You'll be representing Josiah in his own home, so you need to put in a good appearance as well as a good fight."

Rick cooperated, carefully removing his favored red jacket. It had been a comforting bit of familiarity, but it wasn't what mattered. He slid it into his backpack along with the other things he'd prepared. If they were searched, he might have a problem, but it all should be explainable enough.

His fingers twitched, wishing for the elysian rabbit fur Wemilat had sent. Bringing it along would have reduced his stress, but he didn't want to risk losing it. Most of what he carried was the modified Formula T, plus he had a vial of Melissa's void elixir in his pocket. That would have to be enough.

As they landed beside the mansion, however, there was no sign of any guards. Rick did spot servants in archaic uniforms moving around closer to the house and in the garden. Past them, he saw a pool surrounding an octagon of stone in the center: no doubt a traditional combat ring. So that was where the fights would take place.

"Yo, Rick! You're finally here!" Raggest burst out from the front of one of the mansion doors, rushing toward him. "I thought you weren't going to make it!"

"He nearly didn't." H managed to halt Raggest's charge with a concentrated glower. "I don't want you to distract him with any hare-brained schemes. We need time to prepare."

"Naw, I'm sure Rick has been training. Besides, I think now that he's here, we're probably going to get things started pretty soon. Everyone is bored of eating and staring down each other."

So it was happening already. Rick had assumed it would be soon, but the unknown number of days spent among the immortals had been an uncomfortable variable in his plan. Hopefully everyone would be limited with all their fellow immortals watching, but he couldn't be sure if H wouldn't try one last scheme to capture him in the name of power.

Though the mansion looked large enough to house all the immortals' entourages, he didn't see any of them... except Alger stood on the roof, twirling his cane and looking down with a pleased expression.

Learning the truth had made Rick less concerned about H, but he shivered when he saw Alger. The strange man had been manipulating him for so long, even reaching into his dreams and toying with his deepest fears. And now he stood there, twirling his cane merrily as if he was having the time of his life. Rick impulsively tried to check the man's lucrim portfolio, but came up with absolutely nothing.

"I thought you'd run off!" James Travis emerged from the garden, smirking at Rick. "Guess you're not so much of a coward after all. Or did you find your confidence because you have the home field advantage in fly-over country just like this?"

Instead of responding, Rick just examined the suited man carefully. The insults didn't even touch him, but James did make him uneasy because he wasn't sure what the man actually wanted. Other than hating him for some reason, James didn't seem connected to the rest. He might be irrelevant, but he could also be a piece of the puzzle that Rick had entirely missed.

"You look like you've slacked off while you were away. Let's find out." With no more warning than that, James leapt forward, fingers flying in a stabbing movement.

Rick caught his wrist.

The force from the charge made him take a single step back, but he stopped all the rest of the charge's momentum. A shockwave from the rushing force swept past him a moment later, blowing his hair and clothes but otherwise having no impact. James's eyes widened and his entire body jerked back out of range, not that Rick had planned to attack him.

As if drawn by the strike, others were emerging from the mansion and surrounding grounds. He saw that the Siberian competitor looked impressed and the Nokan competitor watched impassively. Qing Shan was there along with her candidate, smiling as if she approved. James pulled his wrist back and rubbed it slightly, even though Rick hadn't applied any force.

Above the roof, Alger's smile only grew wider.

"Jolly good show!" Josiah Craw stood on a balcony on the third floor of the mansion, looking down at them. He wore outdated clothes that could just as easily be his best coats, leisure robes, or the equivalent of a stained t-shirt. "Now that you are all here, perhaps you can prevent yourselves from starting fights and ruining my grounds. My poor shrubberies..."

"Immortal Josiah." Qing Shan spoke quietly, but used some aura trick to amplify her voice. "I suggest that we move the day of the competition forward so that our youths may expend their energy in proper combat."

"An excellent suggestion, yes indeed! Tonight, please avail yourselves of my hospitality. Tomorrow morning when the cock crows, we shall do battle." Josiah smoothed down his mustaches, pleased with himself. "There shall be no crude brawling, no melee. No, I believe this should be decided with a tournament of single combat. With eight of you, a single elimination tournament shall be set up by lots. Good day!"

With that, he turned around and vanished into the mansion, leaving all the rest of them to eye one another. Rick thought that all eight candidates had appeared one way or another, but he didn't really care about them. Most likely, he would only fight one of them, chosen randomly.

Instead he looked toward the immortal's vacant balcony. Yes, it seemed entirely possible to him that Josiah Craw was a dupe in all this. If Alger could induce dreams and travel so easily across the world, influencing a lonely old immortal to serve as a proxy wouldn't be beyond his power.

Though servants came offering to take Rick's things, he declined and went to find a room on his own. There were servants everywhere, which made him uncomfortable. He supposed that he should be glad they weren't all black, though he could easily imagine Josiah grumbling about the American Civil Wars. Fortunately, he was soon left alone.

It seemed that everyone was allowed to ask the servants for anything, including any food they wanted, but Rick wasn't hungry. He was just about to begin scouting the mansion properly when H appeared in his doorway.

"Do you still have enough Formula T?" he asked. "You need to be at your best tomorrow."

"Still got more than enough." Rick gestured with an opaque thermos at his pack that only contained Lisa's serum. "But if this fight is really so important, maybe you could give me something a bit stronger?"

"A reasonable suggestion, though you'd better not waste it." H seemed to have been prepared for exactly that, because he handed Rick a thin aluminum can without markings. "Don't take this until the morning just before the fight. But not immediately before, because it will take you a while to get used to the kick."

"Thanks." Rick honestly smiled as he took it, though that became more difficult when he felt the tingle of the power pulling at him. He quickly set down the can on the table in his room. It didn't tempt him badly, but he looked forward to giving it to Lisa so it wouldn't be on his mind.

"Can I trust you not to get into any idiotic fights or otherwise cause problems in your last night before the tournament?"

"Absolutely. After everything I've been through, I just want to sleep."

Though H looked a little skeptical, eventually he grunted acceptance and left. Rick remained for a while, repositioning the can on his desk before he shoved it into a drawer. He'd put considerable effort into fighting with only his own power, so he wouldn't go back on his decision now.

Instead he investigated the mansion to prepare for the next step, which was the most uncomfortable part of his plan. He quickly ran into Raggest leaving his room, which was good timing. This time, he hit the younger man on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Raggest, can we talk?"

"About what?" Raggest tried to push past him, but stopped when Rick stayed in his path. "That Chinese fighter keeps insulting me, so we were going to settle things before the tournament."

"That's... never mind. We need to talk about Alger." Rick knew it was a huge risk to say anything, since he might tell Alger, but the younger man was something close to a friend. An innocent, oblivious friend. It would be wrong to just leave him. "He's just using you. If you don't believe me, look into the Formula T. It's made to addict you."

"Does it really matter? I'm going to keep taking it anyway." Raggest gave him a long look as if he was talking nonsense. "Besides, I'm not going to get addicted. If I do, I'll get over it. Are you getting cold feet, man?"

"Listen to me, dammit! Alger has been manipulating me and he's manipulating you too. He doesn't want what's best for you, and if you tr-"

Though he saw the blow coming, Rick was too startled to do anything more than brace against it. The fist struck his jaw and his head rocked back, unharmed but surprised. Raggest rubbed his knuckles and scowled. "Don't give me boring lectures, Rick. If you want to teach me a lesson, beat me in the tournament."

With that, he pushed past, tromping down into the house. Rick stayed in the hallway, rubbing his jaw and thinking. Before he came to any conclusions, he saw Raggest stomp out into the garden and confront the Chinese candidate.

Then he didn't really have a choice.

Rick headed to Raggest's room, trying to look casual and making sure there were no servants watching. His backpack felt heavy and suspicious, but he tried to ignore that. This was nerve-wracking as it was, but arguing with Raggest had proved pointless and he wouldn't feel right just leaving him. All that would convince him was direct proof.

Unsurprisingly, Raggest hadn't bothered to lock his door or secure any of his things. Most likely he'd spent almost his entire life controlled by Alger, avoiding any hardship except trials specifically designed as training. Rick was briefly paranoid that Alger might be watching, but didn't see any sign of anyone.

Soon he found the place where Raggest stored all his Formula T, then began carefully replacing all the contents. His backpack contained a few personal items, but almost all of it was the Formula T that Lisa had scrubbed of the addictive component. Without it, Raggest should slowly start feeling the effects of withdrawal and figure it out. After the tournament he'd start really feeling it, and perhaps even manage to escape Alger.

Lingering was a needless risk, so Rick headed back to his room. He laid back on his bed and just stared at the ceiling for a while. Part of him wanted to call Melissa just to talk to her, or to check if Lisa was in position, but it was better to leave them out of this. Katenka manifested briefly, but they only shared a nervous glance before she swirled away.

Tomorrow should go well, but there were too many variables. He still hadn't decided how exactly he intended to leave the competition. Simply stepping out of the ring to forfeit might anger immortals who would come after him, while throwing a fight or pretending to be injured could prove him a liar. There was also the possibility that H would be able to tell that he wasn't using the Formula T anymore - Lisa didn't think it would be possible, but Rick didn't want to underestimate his old mentor.

Regardless, it would be decided tomorrow.

~ ~ ~

Though Rick didn't remember falling asleep, he awoke to light across his face. He scrambled to sit up, wondering when the "cock's crow" was. When he emerged from his room, he found that some of the other fighters and immortals were still eating, so apparently not yet. More to calm himself than to prepare, Rick went through his exercises one last time.

He drank the vial of Melissa's void elixir and felt the empty clarity rush through his body. After that, he took his bike chip, the concentrated Formula T, and a handful of small items along with him in a secure pack. Everything else he left behind, possibly to abandon.

As the servants began to set up everything around the combat arena, Rick realized that he hadn't seen Raggest at all. Perhaps it would be best to talk to him again. If he'd missed a dose of the addictive component, he should be feeling just a little jittery, and perhaps he'd be more willing to listen. Since there might not be another chance to talk to him, he wanted to take the risk.

When he went to Raggest's room, a growing horror clawed through Rick. The younger man looked shellshocked, groaning and twisting on his bed. He'd smashed the table in his room into kindling and several empty bottles lay around the room.

"Rick... something's wrong..." Raggest clawed his way up, tearing through part of the bed. "I'm so thirsty... and so weak... what's happening to me?"

"Raggest, listen to me." Rick looked around for listeners, took a deep breath, and spoke as clearly as he could. "This is exactly what I was saying about Alger. He wants to own you. The elixirs he's been feeding you were all designed to be addictive, so you can't fight without them."

"What?" Raggest stared at him with bloodshot eyes, actually listening this time. He tried to take a step forward but tripped, only keeping himself up by grasping Rick's shirt. "But the... the elixirs make me stronger... I can feel it..."

"I'm telling you this for your own good." Rick realized that he sounded condescending, but he had to get through Raggest's skull. "Alger is using you. Even when you think you're sneaking out, he's set up everything in your life. Do you really think that it's normal for you to run into something special or legendary every time you go for training?"

"You... you're just jealous..." Raggest's fingers gripped his shirt with strength born of withdrawal. "Good things come to those who work. You're not bad, but... you're not me..."

"Raggest... look, it's up to you what you want to believe. But I hope you can make it through this." With that, Rick forcibly pulled off the other man's hand and stepped away. "I hope to see you again when neither of us is under Alger's control."

In response, Raggest simply groaned and curled up against the side of the bed. Rick realized just how much he had underestimated the effect of withdrawal, either because Raggest was more addicted or because he took the symptoms harder. It made him regret trying to reach the younger man, but he didn't see what else he could do. When he tried to help Raggest up, his hand was knocked away.

All he could do was walk down to the combat arena and end things.

When he arrived, he found that most of the others were already waiting. Instead of anything so pedestrian as stands, there were thrones set up around the octagon, one block for a faction on each side. He noted that Alger was sitting alone, looking bored and irritable. James Travis sat with a pair of immortals Rick didn't recognize at all. Qing Shan made eye contact with him, but he couldn't see what message she meant to impart.

Everyone looked at him as he arrived... and their eyes remained on him. Rick was puzzled until he realized that Josiah Craw wasn't simply standing in the center of the arena for no reason. There was a screen of lucrim showing the tournament brackets, and as Rick walked to get a better angle, he had a feeling he knew what he would see.

The first fight was him against Raggest.

Chapter 49: Rick vs Raggest

"Finally finished your dawdling?" Josiah smoothed down his bristling mustaches. "Step into the ring, Richard. And do send a servant to summon Raggest! My lands, the cock crowed hours ago!"

Most of the other immortals watching looked apathetic about the delays, and while Rick had been standing there, several others had arrived. Clearly, starting on time was not as much of a priority for them as it was for Josiah. Yet as the delay stretched on, he had to wonder what they would think.

Part of him wanted to flee right then, but Rick forced himself to jump the pool surrounding the octagon. He sat down to meditate as if preparing for the fight, though he was really just keeping himself calm. Time stretched on, and on, and some of those waiting began to suggest that the match be forfeited.

"Rick!" Raggest thundered the word as he exploded from the front door, staggering toward them. All eyes were on him and Rick was shocked at how much worse the other man looked. He had dark bags under his eyes, his forearms were torn up, and there was blood under his fingernails.

"You... you did this..." Raggest slurred his words so much that Rick wasn't sure whether anyone else could understand, but in any case he was frozen in shock. Even if he could act, what should he do?

Trying to leap the circular pool, Raggest tripped and nearly fell. He recovered and leapt over it, landing in the arena with too much force. There wasn't rage in his eyes, just bloodshot desperation. Everyone else looked taken aback, and fortunately they weren't focused on Rick yet, but he wasn't sure how to react.

Then Raggest let out a cry and released a beam of aura. The threat snapped Rick out of his trance and he used a Bunyan's Step to evade it. He glanced toward the others, not sure if the fight would really begin like this.

"If you arrive looking like a ragamuffin, you can fight that way!" Josiah glared daggers at Raggest, then jumped backward out of the arena. "Let the match begin!"

Immediately Raggest staggered forward, trying to strike Rick physically. His blows each carried huge surges of lucrim, but they were clumsy and slow. Rick could have blocked them easily, but it felt almost wrong, like beating up a child. He had never even imagined that the withdrawal would hit Raggest so hard.

Before Rick could decide what to do, Raggest let out a roar and charged him headlong. Again Rick shifted just to the side, but to his surprise Raggest stumbled onward, tripping off the side of the pool. His head cracked against the sharp edge and even some of the immortals winced.

Though there wasn't any blood, Rick wasn't about to risk it. He quickly leapt to the side and shoved his arm in, grabbing the back of Raggest's shirt and dragging him out. For a moment the other man lay troublingly still, then he began to cough, expelling water from his lungs. The mania seemed to have faded, leaving him groaning and convulsing again, so he would live.

Rick couldn't say the same for himself. Everyone around the arena was staring at them, and him in particular. Alger watched with a cold anger, but it was nothing like the rage that Rick would have expected if Alger had known the truth. But he had to figure out what had happened soon enough, and when he did, it was obvious where his suspicions would go.

"The boy spoke of blame," one of the Nokan immortals said. "Could he have been poisoned?"

The bottom dropped out of Rick's stomach. His instinct was to run, but he knew that would only make him guilty in their eyes. Everything was ruined because he'd tried to help Raggest. He should have kept arguing with him, or ignored him entirely, but now his life was on the line.

Then the Siberian candidate spoke scornfully. "If he can be brought down by poison, then he deserves to lose."

"I didn't poison him!" Rick almost shouted out the words, drawing everyone's attention over the rising voices. He could only hope that his truthfulness was clearer than his guilt. "I don't know anything about using poison. Feel free to test him and search my things."

"There is another possibility," Qing Shan said, rising to her feet. "Who is this boy's sponsor? None other than our host, who has been in complete control of everything the candidates eat and drink. I cannot help but note that his candidate focuses on defense and the most powerful offensive candidate has just been eliminated."

"You dare?" Josiah leapt to his feet, looking like he would attack then and there, but others were joining in as well, shouting over one another.

Would it actually come to a fight? Rick saw everything sprawling into chaos and knew that the sensible thing to do would be to run. Other than the servants, the weakest people in the mansion were those equal to him. Getting involved could be suicide... yet standing back could be worse. All at once, he knew that this was his chance.

"I forfeit!" Rick's shout was barely audible over the commotion, but his words led to an immediate silence and all attention turned toward him. "There's no need to insult my honor as a fighter or Master Craw's honor as a host. Neither of us want a victory that was unearned. So I voluntarily resign from the tournament."

There was a moment of silence in which Rick caught his breath. He hadn't been sure how Josiah would react, but the immortal actually seemed pleased at the chance to restore his honor. Both Alger and H looked furious. If there had been any doubt left in his mind, it would have died then.

Arguments immediately exploded, but they had changed in tone. Some wanted to investigate before doing anything else, others wanted to reorganize the tournament, and some seemed to argue simply to disturb their rivals. Thankfully, Alger and H were both too engaged by others to come after him, so Rick began to walk away. This was exactly why he'd carried everything he needed with him.

No one stopped him as he left the tournament grounds, but as he reached the driveway Qing Shan appeared in front of him, watching him thoughtfully. "Were you behind this after all?"

"All I want is to be done with this." Rick just stared back at her, letting her see his weariness. "Shouldn't you be happy? Two of your opponents are taken off the table in the very first round."

"Ah yes, our house is quite pleased. We will make sure that the others cannot force you to take back your forfeit or otherwise disturb you. In fact, I would like to bestow one last Jade Seal on you, if I could have your card."

"Sorry, but it's back in my room. You can apply it to my record." With that, Rick walked past her. This time, she didn't stop him, merely examining him with inscrutable eyes.

Miraculously, no one else stopped him as he headed away from the mansion toward the highway. Or maybe the truth was that he just wasn't important enough in the grand scheme of things. Alger and H had used him in order to play these games, after all, not because they cared about him. Maybe he could actually walk away. Rick texted Lisa and Melissa to tell them what had happened.

A swift blow struck the phone out of his hands, shattering it before it even hit the ground. Rick leapt back, arms raised defensively, and saw James Travis standing in his way.

"So you're a cowardly little shit after all." James readjusted his tie and sneered at him. "Have you realized that you can't match your superiors? Just what I'd expect from someone like you. But the thing is, I really hate you, so I'm not going to let y-"

"Why do you hate me?" Rick threw the question like a blow and saw James hesitate for just a moment.

"It would take too long to count all the reasons! I hate mouthy little shits who don't know their place. I hate the commoners fouling the Showdown with thei-"

"I don't believe you." After everything that had happened, the hatred just seemed too flat, too forced. It was a bit of a shot in the dark, but as he thought about how he'd met James, Rick realized the truth. "Did Alger hire you to harass me?"

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then all the hatred on James's face melted into a slightly irritated expression. "How the hell did you figure that out?"

"I guess I'm used to being manipulated by now. Let me guess: he had you insult us in order to motivate Raggest and me to give us a rival. Everything you've done makes a lot more sense if I assume you were working for him. I just can't figure out what you get out of it."

"Money." The suited man shrugged casually, all the anger gone from his face. "He hired me to make sure you and Raggest met up, then to keep you motivated in the Showdown. So you're right, it's not personal at all."

That fact was troubling, but not nearly as troubling as the potential implications. "Has he done this before? Did he ever talk about hiring mercenaries, or someone named Jack?"

"This is just a job to me. All I care about is getting paid."

Realizing that he'd find no answers, Rick simply gave the other man his best stare. "Are you paid to actually fight me?"

"I guess not, if I can't trick you into staying."

"Do you want to fight me?"

Rick was gratified to see just a flicker of fear in James's eyes. The other man hesitated, then stepped aside and let Rick pass. In the end, he was just another employee, another way Alger intended to control him. He was also a dangerous opponent that Rick wasn't confident he could defeat, but he'd avoided the fight without throwing a single punch.

No one else stopped him as he reached the highway. Rick pulled out his bike chip and manifested it again after so long. Though he worried that he'd have lost the knack, he was soon cruising down the completely empty highway.

The oblivion of the wasteland around him was strangely calming, as if the mansion behind him and all its scheming immortals didn't exist. There was only the wind cutting into his body as he increased his pace. It seemed to stream over him, pulling away all the secondary thoughts and leaving him free.

It had been terrifying for a time, but somehow he had passed through. If the immortals did investigate, they would find absolutely nothing in Raggest's system. It occurred to him that his fingerprints and DNA would be in the room, but given how everyone roamed through the mansion, that hopefully wouldn't prove anything. He also thought that Qing Shan would help a little, for her own self-interest if not for his.

At last Rick began to pass by lampposts, which meant he was near the bus stop. He looked back over his shoulder and could no longer see the mansion in the distance, lost in the endless plain. Of course, there might not be any bus scheduled for a while, so he'd end up with a boring wait. All the planning he'd done and he hadn't thought to check the bus schedule before-

Molten aura smashed into him from above and suddenly Rick was flying, his momentum smashing him into the highway several times before he ground to a halt. Hitting the tarmac hadn't injured him, but his body burned from whatever had struck him.

Some distance away, he saw his bike lying as a crumpled piece of metal. Behind it, H stood without expression, a cigarette between his lips, embers burning bright.

Chapter 50: A Mentor's Guidance

This was the point beyond any plans, where Rick could only hope that he could pull himself through. He activated the Triune Golden Spheres so that he would be fully aware and defended, but he hoped that it wouldn't come to a fight. Going up against his former mentor would be a bad idea, even if he only needed to buy time.

"You think you can just walk away?" H spoke as gruffly as usual, but there was something new in his eyes. Rick slowly rolled his shoulders and stood firm.

"Yes, I think I can. Our contract said exactly that."

"After humiliating me in front of all those immortals? After throwing away your chance at-"

"I know you work for Alger." Rick saw no reason to play games, so he just struck out with the accusation. He saw the hesitation in H's eyes, the consideration of whether or not to try to deceive him. Eventually his former mentor's scowl faded into an empty gaze.

"So, you figured it out." H took a long drag on his cigarette. "Alger thought you would never catch on, so long as I was rude enough."

That set Rick back a bit, but he didn't let it slow him down. "So you're telling me you aren't really an asshole, you were just playing one?"

"I do my job."

"And exactly what job is that?" Rick stared forward, trying to find some trace of emotion or intent in the older man's face. "Why do all of this? It can't be to make lucrim, since Alger obviously has more than he knows what to do with."

"Alger likes his toys." After a pause to blow a long stream of smoke, H continued. "He does this every few years, getting excited about some new young warrior he thinks will upend the status quo. Eventually he grows tired of them and throws them away. I guess this is happening sooner rather than later."

"What, you're going to kill me?"

Rick had said it mockingly, but H only stared at him without expression, face wreathed in smoke. For a long time they stood facing one another, the highway stretching forever in either direction, the only two people in the world.

Then H moved his hand, faster than Rick had known he could move, and golden light encompassed him. He could feel it pulsing through his veins, trying to drain everything he had... and failing.

There was no time to think, Rick just used a Bunyan's Step to propel his elbow into his opponent's face. The attack that H had once scorned and easily blocked now smashed into his shocked expression, sending him tumbling back over the asphalt. His cigarette spun in a different direction, embers fading in the wind before they snuffed out on the ground.

"You..." H started to pull himself up, and though Rick tried to kick him while he rose, this attack was easily blocked. Rick backed away, watching carefully. "So it was the Formula T that tipped you off, huh? I wouldn't have expected you to get clean so quickly."

"So it had a method to disable me built in?" Rick was surprised that they hadn't even noticed such a thing, but he should have known, given how good his opponents were. "Why go to so much effort? I would have gladly worked for you just based on the terms we agreed upon."

"No, you wouldn't have. You didn't even last a year before you began rebelling. So we needed hooks to reel you back in."

With that, H flicked his fingers, releasing a wave of burning embers. Rick's defenses hadn't been able to handle the attack the last time they'd sparred, so he used his absorption sphere to consume the embers as he closed the distance between them again. This time he didn't aim for an elbow, just a blow to the ribs to soften his opponent.

It didn't land, and H was hitting back just as quickly. The two of them exchanged blows, a far more vicious version of their common sparring. Rick realized that he was actually the better hand to hand fighter, but H had a larger portfolio and could hit harder and faster. Those two might cancel each other out, except they were intimately familiar with the other's style.

Instead of just using his sensory sphere for incoming attacks, Rick directed it toward his opponent's every movement. He could feel each shift in H's weight, each movement of muscle and lucrim. Using that, he could get a slight edge, anticipating each step until at last he had opened the tiniest of windows to strike...

Then his senses went dead and fire struck him directly in the face.

Rick skidded backward across the road, still in shock and unsure what was happening. He couldn't sense anything at all, but he could see that H was leaping after him. Without thinking about it, Rick Bunyan's Stepped away from the stomp that smashed deep into the road and scrambled into a better defensive position.

"You should know that we gave you everything." H advanced on him with a simple confidence, sure of his victory. "You were a mediocre talent before Alger noticed you. Everything you have is a gift, and these gifts can be taken away."

The spheres of light rotating around Rick had flickered out. He desperately tried to relight the Triune Golden Spheres, but they felt dead inside him, refusing to respond to the flow of his lucrim. His eyes widened as he saw the crystal spheres fall from out of his soul like dead weight, then shatter into dull shards. A hollow space remained in his portfolio where the Triune Golden Spheres had been.

He knew an attack was coming and used a Bunyan's Step to escape, but his spirit was in shock and he could only manage leaping straight back. H was already coming for him, so Rick rushed back to the fragments of the spheres, trying to gather them up. Yet the lucrim seemed dead and unresponsive, refusing to...

A hand clamped over his face.

Embers poured into his eyes and nose, and when he screamed in pain, they flooded down his throat. Rick collapsed backward, trailing flames as the embers seared into him from within and without.

His extra defenses were gone, he could no longer absorb aura, and he could sense nothing. Yet as Rick lay on the asphalt, half-blinded by the embers, he realized that he still knew his opponent was attacking. Not through lucrim senses, but simple instinct. And though the embers hurt deeply, his original defensive core was up to the challenge.

When H lunged down to deliver the killing blow, Rick struck back, ramming him with a shoulder. He tried to follow up with a knee to the chest, but his opponent straightened back up too quickly. Rick focused on staying on his feet and wiping away the embers while his opponent recovered.

"You're really going to keep fighting?" H stared at him flatly, slowly drawing a cigarette from his pocket and putting it to his lips. "You realize that without the Triune Golden Spheres, you're nothing. You've been strutting around as if you really had a six digit generation rate, as if you weren't as much of a guided fool as Raggest. You can't win this fight."

"If you expect me to lie down and die, you haven't been paying attention." Rick kept his shoulders up, now mostly free of the embers. Yet it was true that he didn't see a way to win. The Triune Golden Spheres had left a space hollowed out in his soul and vastly decreased his total strength. Without them, the difference in raw power stretched wide.

"No, but I expect you to posture." H flicked the burning cigarette from his mouth, and for a moment Rick thought that he had drawn it for no reason.

Where the cigarette landed, smoke began to billow up from the ground. It spread in a circle around them, and as it grew, it began to glow with the light of hidden embers. Soon they were both trapped within a broad ring of smoke and flame. The walls continued to grow, forming a dome. Not only did it keep him in, Rick realized that he had to assume that it might hide them as well.

Then there was no more time to think, because H was attacking brutally. No more physical blows, he simply released ember after ember. Though Rick dodged the first ones with Bunyan's Steps, he knew that he would become exhausted far faster than his opponent. Dodging was a path to failure, yet he saw that H was keeping his other hand ready, preparing for a direct attack.

The embers came more quickly and soon Rick was drawing on the demonic bond just to survive. There was no anger or glowering in H now: his former mentor simply continued to kill him in tiny cuts of a few lucrim at a time.

But holding on to survival gave Rick time to realize something: H must be vulnerable to his own embers. If not, he would have made the cloud simply close over them both. Even now, he stood carefully several paces away from the smoke.

It was a desperate gamble, but Rick would have to take it. He used a Bunyan's Step to charge at his opponent, then instantly leapt away.

As expected, H hurled a torrent of embers at his former position. But Rick had moved directly next to the wall of smoke... and plunged his leg into it, a spinning kick swift enough to create a gust of wind. It blew smoke and embers into H's face, sending the man staggering back, and Rick struck.

He didn't see the blow impact his chest, just felt it send him hurtling backward. The next moment his back collided with the column of a street lamp at the edge of the circle, bending the metal. Its light fell to the asphalt, but it only cracked instead of shattering.

Rick realized that the blow had been carefully calculated to keep him within the imprisoning ring. Even taken off guard, H still had enough of an edge over him to plan that. The gap between them was simply too large. As Rick struggled to smooth the cracks beginning in his defensive core, H smothered a few embers and began to walk toward him.

"I'm not trying to kill you, Rick. I'm trying to show you that fighting is utterly hopeless. If you surrender, you could still have a life, of a sort."

All Rick could do was raise his fists alongside his face. H sighed and continued approaching, more embers gathering in his palms.

"Very well, then. Keep showing me the very tricks I taught you."

When the embers came toward him, Rick plunged into them instead of dodging. They burned fiercely across his chest, but it took H off guard. And there was one thing that his former mentor had never seen.

Rick slapped a hand to H's chest and pushed the void flame deep inside him.

The resulting scream of pain caused a shockwave that made Rick stagger back as the void began to consume H from within. He cried out in pain and clawed at himself, lucrim attempting to smother the attack but only feeding it. Embers began snuffing out all around them, the smoke fading as H was overwhelmed by the flame.

Though H tried to struggle to his feet, Rick kicked him in the side, knocking him onto his back. The other man fell unconscious, his lucrima soul barely surviving as the void flame began to flicker out. Standing over him, Rick realized that he could kill him in that moment. A kick to the throat would be all that it would take.

But he didn't want to be a murderer, he just wanted to escape. Rick took a deep breath and a step back.

A column of red light erupted around them and Rick staggered away, crying out.

He had a single glimpse of H rising in the air, floating on his burning aura. Rick knew that he should have moved, but he was too worn down from the many embers and all he could do was brace himself as the hand within the red column flickered.

When the ember hit him, it was like being struck by a small meteor. Rick staggered to the side, clutching his ribs where the massive ember still burned into him. He struck it away and leapt to a different position, but there was already another ember flying for him. The light had faded around H, but he hovered above the road, eyes burning like coals as he released ember after ember.

There were no more words, no more lectures. As Rick dodged yet another ember flying toward his face, he realized that H was striking to kill. With his life on the line, he should have been driven to new levels, but he only realized the truth.

This was not a fight that he could win with raw determination. His opponent was too experienced, too skilled, too familiar with him. If he had a dozen void flames, he might have been able to come up with a strategy, but he had spent everything Melissa gave him. If he had somehow been able to master entirely new Lucores in his spare time, he could have surprised his old mentor again, but that was a fantasy.

Instead, all he had were his familiar techniques and the gaping void where the Triune Golden Spheres should have been. Those wouldn't be enough. Just when he started to despair, he felt a cool breeze whispering into his ear.

"I can buy you time, Rick. Draw everything from our bond."

Katenka was right. Rick reached for his demonic bond and demanded every single lucrim it could possibly give him. In an instant, he was deeply in debt, having done everything he'd promised he'd never do with a demonic bond.

But the next moment, Katenka materialized in the air overhead. H had a split second to look shocked before a spear of ice impaled him through the arm. He sagged toward the ground, already retaliating with embers, but a blizzard swept up from nothing, sweeping away his remaining smoke and assaulting him from all sides.

Rick staggered away, bracing himself against the bent lamp post. Though Katenka had meant to buy him time to escape, he knew that wasn't an option. With his bike gone, he couldn't get far enough away. Even if the bus came, there was no guarantee H wouldn't attack him anyway. And if he fled now, they would only pursue him.

No, what he needed to do was use this precious time to regain some advantage. The only thing he could possibly leverage was all his training in the Triune Golden Spheres: the lucrim in them might have been stolen from him, but H couldn't take the knowledge from his mind. There had to be something...

His eyes fell on the cracked street bulb. A crude object compared to the perfect crystal spheres, but maybe that was enough. H had said the crystals were the best focus for the technique, which implied that worse focuses were possible. Rick picked up the cracked bulb and began doing his best to rework the technique in the broken structure.

It would once have been impossible, but he'd spent a long time working on his theory and practicing construction with the demons. The Lucore came together surprisingly quickly, as if he was tracing old lines he could still faintly see. His new version wouldn't add any strength or work on its own, but it just might be enough to let him absorb aura.

There was still a war of embers and ice, so Rick looked further. A sensory orb was next most important, but that would also be difficult. Defense might be easier. Rick looked to the concrete at the base of the lamp post, then smashed it apart with his hand. He grasped one of the chunks of concrete, forcing his lucrim into it.

As expected, the defensive sphere was easiest, completed almost immediately. It wouldn't multiply his defenses, but it would spread out each hit a little more. The two objects began to rotate around him, but their orbit was unstable. He needed something for the third Lucore...

Then a bell rang through the air and the blizzard simply vanished. When he turned to look, there was no sign of Katenka or any of her ice.

"I didn't expect your little demon to be so much of a problem." H looked weary, but the blood running down his arm didn't prevent him from drawing another cigarette. "But now, nothing is getting through from the demon realm here, not even the tiniest of bonds. So now you're nothing but a thug."

"You think I'm going to give up?" Rick knew it was a stupid question, he was just desperate to buy time to get his new Lucores fully working. H gave him a disappointed stare.

"You think that this is going to be another fight perfectly calibrated to challenge you but make you feel good about yourself? I'm not some mercenary Alger hired to motivate you."

"Did he hire the mercenary in Vietnam?" Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Rick growled out the question. His makeshift spheres trembled, but he didn't care, just watching his former mentor for any hint as to the answer.

"I don't make those decisions, but I believe so. You were growing confident and distracted, so you needed something to m-"

Rick let out a cry of rage and rushed forward.

H scornfully shot an ember directly at him, but Rick felt only a cold murderous fury. He concentrated fully on his absorption and didn't slow down. Just before they collided, the ember shivered and was drawn into the street lamp. H had a moment to look shocked and then Rick was pummeling him across the face and shoulders.

But though he landed several good hits, the next was blocked, and then H started hitting back. His former mentor might not be a defensive master, but he had a massive portfolio capable of taking a beating. And now that Rick didn't have a sensory Lucore, he couldn't keep up as they fought.

In that case, he only had one choice. Rick let one of the blows through, wincing as it cracked into his side... and then hammered H in the throat.

Choking and staggering back, H threw up a wall of embers to defend himself, but Rick wasn't intending to attack. He needed the moment to catch up himself.

The chunk of concrete and broken lamp bulb still floated above his head. They were laughable compared to the priceless crystal spheres, yet they'd worked. He knew that he couldn't absorb very many embers, and the concrete already had a few cracks through it, but having them vastly improved his ability to fight. His lucrima soul was almost flowing normally again around the absence, if only he had a third Lucore to balance the others...

Except he wasn't going to get one. H straightened up, drawing a cigarette and lighting it with one finger. As the end reflected in his burning eyes, there was no question of it being posturing.

"You think you can win with an imitation of what I taught you? That's an insult." Despite his words, H was moving more slowly from all his injuries. Where once he would have attacked immediately, now he needed time to prepare his technique.

But then aura erupted from him and Rick felt a growing sense of horror. Embers began rising into the air, smaller and sharper than the others. Dozens of them, then hundreds. They formed a cloud, then suddenly one of them zipped forward.

Rick ducked aside, but a second ember hit his chest the next moment. Instead of clinging and burning, it bit straight through his shirt and his skin, sending a line of blood sailing into the air. Though Rick used a Bunyan's Step to get away from the massive rush of shards, he was free for only a moment before the cloud turned on him.

Bit by bit, he was cut apart. His defensive core could prevent the ember shards from burning holes straight through his body or disemboweling him, but each one tore a bloody line across his body. By the time Rick staggered to a halt, he was bleeding from countless wounds, his blood staining the asphalt even darker black.

There were shards all around him now, preparing to sweep in and slice him apart from all sides. Rick desperately sought a solution, surging everything he had, but he knew that he couldn't survive all the ember shards stabbing into him at once.

Then one of them plunged toward the back of his neck and he felt it. Rick didn't think, he just dodged. More were already flying at him, but he felt the arc of every one.

As H hesitated for just a moment in surprise, Rick struck. He crossed the distance between them instantly with no time for a blow, he just smashed the crown of his head directly into his opponent's face. H hurtled backward and all the embers winked out.

Though Rick knew that he should have taken advantage, he was too wounded and dizzy to keep moving. He could feel a sensory Lucore within him, but where the hell had it come from? There shouldn't have been any focus...

Over his head, he saw a third sphere rotating with the others, formed from his own blood. It glistened darkly in the light as the Dark Blood Kettle surged inside him.

"A shadow version of the spheres." H had yet to stand, but his face was hard. Somehow he hadn't lost the cigarette, holding it from his lips as he slowly rose and spoke. "I see what Alger saw in you, but it doesn't matter. You need to die."

The cigarette suddenly burned away, becoming ash in an instant. H breathed in all of it, then exhaled hell itself.

Rick threw himself directly up with a Bunyan's Step and that instinct was all that saved him. While he hung suspended in the air, he saw a terrible mass of smoke and flame roiling over the highway. Had that struck him...

But it had to be almost over. Though Rick was injured and exhausted, he knew that his opponent was flagging as well. Multiple blows had rattled H and using such lucrim-intensive techniques must be draining his reserves. Rick managed to squeeze out one final Bunyan's Step, taking him to the road behind H instead of into the maelstrom of embers.

Instantly another one hit him in the chest and Rick realized his mistake. H was on his feet, bracing his injured arm but still calm. He'd tracked Rick perfectly and now sent ember after ember toward him.

The second one Rick managed to absorb, but with the third, he could feel his sphere heating up. Even his old sphere couldn't keep absorbing such potent aura attacks, and the street lamp was much weaker. He heard it crack and staggered back a step, but he was too weak to fully dodge. Besides, H could just keep targeting him without needing to move a step.

Was this all he was? A brute using city trash to imitate the skills of his betters? As he heard another crack, he almost believed it.

But no. The blood, trash, and concrete rotating above his head might represent who he was, but he refused to believe that was a limitation. Rick drew the Dark Blood Kettle higher and thrust it into the absorption Lucore - not to imitate the old skill, but to create something new.

All the embers began spilling from the broken light, tumbling down over his body... but they didn't burn.

Each of the embers was drawn into his lucrima soul, burning in a shell around him that flexed like a second skin. It happened almost automatically, more instinct than technique, but they kept flowing. H growled and began hurling more embers at him. As the heat rose, Rick cried out in pain and threw everything he had into absorbing the assault.

When the next ember struck, it hit a wall of fire and was absorbed. Rick was surrounded in a massive suit of armor formed of burning embers, barely holding it together, barely able to see the world around him. But he endured, and he could see H staring at him in shock.

Rick stepped forward and drove the entire fist filled with embers down on his former mentor.

Then everything faded and Rick dropped onto the ground. His opponent lay unmoving, lucrima soul burned to ashes, possibly beyond repair. Rick was completely exhausted, far beyond his limits, having tapped everything he had. He was alive, but he was so drained that all his injuries were still bleeding freely.

What next? At first Rick just sat there, too numb to answer his own question. But eventually, he managed to haul himself back to his feet and think again.

H was still alive, which meant he wasn't a murderer. Thinking about what had been done to Melissa, he wanted to be. Yet he couldn't help but realize that the authorities might be on their way, and he couldn't know how they would react.

As Rick thought about it, he gathered up the fragments of the Triune Golden Spheres. They remained dead, and he doubted that he would ever be able to access the lucrim within them again. Rick shoved the fragments into his pockets and stared down at H's body.

No, killing him wouldn't be a victory. It wouldn't take away Melissa's torment and it wouldn't strike at Alger. He needed to contact the authorities and reveal whatever he could. His phone had been destroyed, but he thought there had been an archaic pay phone at the bus stop. If he could limp his way there, he might be able to place a call, or at least sit until Melissa arrived.

For a few limping steps down the highway, Rick felt a bit of relief. Then he saw a man in a black suit standing in the center of the road, his hands laced over his cane. Alger was smiling.

Chapter 51: The Last Match

"I have never been so simultaneously proud of and disappointed in one person." Alger walked forward calmly, his cane tapping against the road, his face fixed in that awful smile. "You've essentially ruined poor Horatio, after he served me well for so long. Pity."

Alger flicked a finger and Rick started to raise his fists, but the attack wasn't aimed at him. A roar of aura surrounded H's body, tearing him apart in an instant and leaving only a bloody splatter. Rick took a shuddering breath and lowered his hands.

"But all of that remarkable growth is matched by equally remarkable unwillingness to take a rational path to power. Always getting in my way, working with my rivals, being a nuisance. I'd have killed you already if you weren't so much fun."

"What do you want?" The question came out ragged, but Rick didn't care if he was facing down death. He just wanted answers.

"I told you exactly that from the beginning!" Alger spread his arms wide and his grin even wider. "I want to see a warrior's spirit in this dying age! Clashing rivals, perilous training, desperate last second gambits! I want the flames of your ambition to burn this world down to ashes!"

All Rick could do was stare as he realized that Alger's strange clothing had nothing to do with the madness seething within him.

"I'm really quite irate, you know. Not only did you kill H, you've nearly ruined Raggest. That boy was an almost perfect find... utterly naive and devoted to nothing but strength, happy to go from step to step without ever stopping to think about why. In a way, he was one of my most perfect toys, shaped exactly to my specifications."

"Using him that way is just cruel. Let him go."

"But you... you are a toy of a different sort." Alger went on as if Rick hadn't even spoken. "A toy that I discarded and assumed would break. At every turn, you try to defy me, and yet you grow stronger. It makes it so much fun to watch your growth."

"I want nothing to do with your plans." Though Rick doubted that he could get through to Alger, he refused to back down and listen to the insane manifesto. "Now that I've seen how you work, you won't be able to manipulate me any more."

"Don't you understand? Everything is part of my plan. If you turn away from the paths of power, you will become yet another disappointment in a long line of forgotten disappointments. If you continue fighting me, you will either die or become ever more interesting."

"And if I get strong enough to kill you?"

Alger's eyes lit up and he leaned forward, his voice coming in an eager whisper. "Do it."

The sight of his joy at the thought forced Rick to look away. He was fairly sure that Alger wouldn't kill him now, but he was coming to realize that there were much worse things than death. Yet he was utterly exhausted, rendering any attempt to flee useless.

"But I suppose I cannot allow this to go unanswered." Alger became slightly less manic, staring down his nose at Rick. "All those seals you've earned... yes, they would be a bit annoying. I think I'll take them away. Before you went against me and ruined the tournament, you should have thought about the fact that your entire card is vulnerable. Once you're dishonorably disqualified from the Showdown, none of those seals have any meaning at all."

"Can you disqualify someone who's already retired?" Rick asked. Alger's eyes immediately narrowed, and for a moment Rick thought he would attack, but then the madman smiled.

"Clever lad. You were still a Showdown member when the tournament was officially organized, so I can only assume..."

"Someone else has my card and all the documents needed to retire me. It's already over, unless you can go up against all the world powers alone."

"Oh, there would be no point in that." Alger tapped his cane on the street thoughtfully. "But I can't leave you to continue meddling, because if you had your way, the world would be less fun. You've done so well with torment, let me see if you won't grow to meet a new challenge..."

From the corner of his eyes, Rick saw the soft glow of several lanterns. He didn't want to turn to look, but it was already too late, Alger had noticed. There were three floating lantern vessels moving toward them from the direction of the mansion, Qing Shan at the front with her aura blazing. Rick breathed a sigh of relief.

The sky descended and crushed everyone against the ground.

Rick's face was pressed against the asphalt and he struggled just to breathe. He could feel Alger's raw power hitting him like a waterfall, but it didn't seem to pour from Alger, it struck down from the heavens themselves. When he managed to turn his head to the side, he saw that all the lanterns had been grounded, warriors and immortals just as pinned as he was, his hope extinguished.

Just what was this incredible force? It was lucrim, but lucrim that was absolutely nothing like anything he'd felt before. Rick had fought warriors from many countries, wild beasts, and demonic techniques, yet all of them felt like first cousins compared to the alien lucrim driving him to the ground.

"Oh, now this is becoming tedious." Alger sighed and tapped his fingers along the top of his cane, as if casually considering whether or not to kill everyone. "The pity of it all is, I still need other players for all these games. This does make it rather more difficult to punish you."

Though Rick couldn't possibly fight the power that was bearing down on him, he realized that his lucrim portfolio was reacting automatically. His battered defensive core struggled to let him rise against it. Deeper than that, the Dark Blood Kettle was attempting to absorb the alien lucrim. It would never master it, but he was adapting, one small step at a time.

"How vexing... but I suppose you've always been outside the plan. Yes, perhaps it's better this way. I'll let you persist in following a path I think is a mistake and perhaps it will become something interesting. After all, you'll either come to nothing and disappoint me, or you'll defy me and make me proud."

Rick took a deep breath and managed to rise to one knee. The force overhead still felt overwhelming, but his soul could recognize it as a lucrim flow. An unimaginably powerful one, yet he struggled to get his other foot under him, then strained to his feet. Standing was all he could do, but he was able to straighten and look Alger in the eye.

"Marvelous!" Alger clapped cheerfully. "At the moment, you are certainly making me proud, so perh-"

"I don't want to make you proud or excited or disappointed," Rick said, staring Alger in the eye. "I want to make you worried."

For the first time, Rick saw the strange man hesitate, a moment of uncertainty crossing his face. Then he tapped his cane on the ground and he was gone, along with all of his impossible lucrim.

The air that remained felt thin, leaving Rick gasping for breath. Within him, he could feel the Dark Blood Kettle subside, overwhelmed by its attempt to adapt to such a force. He had absolutely nothing left, but he thought it was finally over.

Behind him, he saw one of the lanterns rise into the air, though two of the others had been crushed beyond repair. Rick thought of going to help them, but they could obviously handle themselves. And truthfully, they didn't really have his best interests at heart. Rick continued limping forward to reach the bus stop.

He managed to drop down onto the bench and just sat there for a while. Eventually he caught his breath and gained the presence of mind to stare around the landscape. He saw that the lanterns were only partially repaired, someone returning for another vehicle. If the sect followed him, he'd talk to them, but for the time being he'd just sit.

The bus actually arrived first, moving to park next to the stop. The driver kept the engine running but stepped out to take a smoke break. Rick flinched at the sight of the cigarette, but a moment later he saw a much more welcome sight.

"Brother!" Melissa nearly tumbled down the bus steps before rushing to embrace him. "You're alive! ...though just barely."

"Yeah. Uh, be gentle, my defensive core is shot." Still, he was glad for the pain of her embrace and patted her on the back.

Behind her, Lisa emerged from the bus as well, relief and concern mixing in her eyes. "I did everything as soon as I got your text, Rick. They accepted your resignation just like you said. So unless something went wrong here... are we done?"

"Plenty went wrong, but... yeah, we might be." Rick let his head roll back and stared skyward.

"So what now? You're unemployed again, but I suppose that's fine?"

"No. This time it's not." Rick pried Melissa a little further from his neck and sat forward. "I need to reestablish contact with Katenka and then work on our demonic bonds. I doubt it will be much of a business, but it should make a difference. Beyond that... maybe I should open a gym. I have the credentials for it now, and I might be able to do better than the House of the Cosmic Fist did for me."

"That's... a remarkably reasonable goal." Lisa smiled more broadly than he'd expected. "Maybe we can work together. My clients probably wouldn't have a use for your bonds, but gyms always sell serum and supplements."

"Yeah, that would be a good idea. We should talk about it sometime." Rick hesitated, but from beside him, Melissa elbowed him in the ribs. It hurt, but it also reminded him that he needed to take a step forward instead of waiting for things to come to him. "And... would you like to get coffee sometime? I don't mean to talk business or as training or anything. I mean a date."

"Well, I honestly thought you'd never ask." Lisa gave him a smile that was partially happiness and partially relief. "I think we need to talk about where we're going and what we want out of life... but I'm looking forward to the conversation."

Rick sighed in relief, since that could easily have made their victory awkward. Melissa pressed a thumbs up into his side. For a while they just sat there as he struggled to explain everything that had happened.

Before he could finish, the bus driver finished his smoke break, flicked his cigarette to the ground, and called for them to get back on or get left behind. Lisa went to snuff out the cigarette while Melissa helped him get up. He still ached all over, but less than before. Once he got some serum or elixir into his system, he'd feel much better. Fortunately, he knew a good person for that.

As they started to walk forward, one of the lanterns floated overhead. It had been repaired rather quickly, and now Qing Shan leaned down from the side, regarding him somberly. "You've seen the enemy now, Rick. Actually removing some of his pieces was more than we ever expected of you. There's no need to ride in this filthy vehicle... bring your allies and join us. You're free to join our sect and we'll do everything in our power to strike back against him."

For a long moment Rick looked upward at the floating lantern with its powerful immortals, then he looked toward the bus with Melissa and Lisa. He said "No thanks" and then went to take the bus home one last time.

Epilogue: Street Cultivation

Luke walked down the street, but he wasn't going anywhere. As he reached one pothole, he turned around and went back the other way, doing his best not to look to the side of the street. The Advanced Lucrim station glimmered there, promising easy wealth in moments.

It would work, he knew that, but he'd seen what it did to others. His parents, first of all. Every bit of money they earned went directly to paying off their past debts, which had spawned from even older debts. Once people started rolling down that hill, as far as he could tell, there was no way to get back up.

At 15 years old, what was he supposed to do? He was winning some money in school competitions, but his parents usually took all of it. And since they put food on the table for his younger brothers, could he really complain? But he knew that his carefully constructed offensive Lucore wouldn't be enough as he got older. He'd just fall further and further behind, in both school and the tournaments, and then he'd end up just like his parents.

Taking a deep breath, Luke turned and stared directly at the Advanced Lucrim station. The large poster advertised that payments were no longer limited to people who were 18 or older. In fact, as he was still developing, his future lucrim would be even more valuable. Left unsaid was the fact that it would most likely stunt his growth permanently.

But what other choice did he have? The school counselors tried to talk to him, but they couldn't understand his life. What use was financial planning when you had nothing to plan with? Everything was a little tighter every month and he knew that it would reach a breaking point soon.

His parents tried to hide the fact, but he'd heard them arguing, and they were likely to get evicted from their apartment. All the work he'd put into earning his way into a great school would mean nothing if they had to move, and his parents couldn't afford to send him anywhere without a scholarship. These days he was paying for school lunches out of his own pocket, and even if he skipped some days, they just kept getting more expensive...

His stomach rumbled and Luke realized that he had to look at the math and make a final decision. He pulled out his phone and saw the familiar numbers:

[Name: Luke Larkin

Ether Tier: 19th

Ether Score: 143 (preliminary score)

Lucrim Generation: 11,250

Current Lucrim: 117]

[Luke Larkin's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 5000 (Lv I)

Offensive Lucore: 4750 (Lv III)

Speed Lucore: 1500 (Lv II)

Total Lucrim: 11,250]

Only 117 lucrim? He'd thought that he had more, and for a moment desperately scrabbled in his pockets for something he'd forgotten. All he found were a few crumpled dollar bills, which he was saving for a vending machine when he got truly hungry.

There really wasn't a choice. Without the Advanced Lucrim loan, his family would be evicted and he'd lose his place in a good school. He knew that his chances of repaying the loan promptly weren't great, but without that money, he had no chance at all. It certainly wasn't like anyone was going to help him.

"Hey, it's Luke!" A sneering voice broke into his thoughts and stole away the last of his hope. Luke flinched as he turned to see Duncan Randolf and three of his cronies approaching him.

Duncan and all his friends were Birthrighters, the Lucores their parents gave them worth ten times as much as Luke's net worth. Almost everyone at school had one, aside from a few students who got in on merit. Unfortunately, Duncan and many others didn't seem to think that Luke belonged there.

"What are you doing around here, Luke?" Duncan swaggered closer, swinging a lead pipe with each step. The group must be slumming, looking for trouble with people the government didn't care about. "Going to sell your body for a bit of cash? That's not something an academy student should be doing."

"Just leave me alone." Luke wanted to shout back, but he knew that any one of the group could injure him effortlessly, and he couldn't afford an injury.

"What are you going to use the money for, booze? Drinking is what your family is known for, isn't it? Well, we can't have you becoming a public nuisance." The others chuckled at the contorted logic. "I guess you need some preemptive punishment."

Luke tried to run, but Duncan appeared in front of him without warning, just the wind from the technique knocking Luke to the street. The Birthrighter sneered and lifted his pipe. All Luke could do was try to shield his face.

"That's not really a fair fight."

The clear voice immediately drew everyone's attention. Luke looked up to see an older man walking along the street. The guy had to be 30 or more, but he was surprisingly muscular. His clothes were cheap, more like Luke's than the Birthrighters, yet there was something about him... where his eyes should have had pupils, there were only depthless wells of darkness. It was impossible to estimate his lucrim generation rate, it was just raw power.

"This has nothing to do with you," Duncan said angrily, not really looking. He waved to one of his flunkies. "Show the old man on his way, will you?"

The other Birthrighter leapt forward and gave the stranger a kick to the chest to knock him away. Yet the stranger simply walked forward, ignoring the blow as it bounced off him. Enraged, the Birthrighter struck out with his full power, a Birthright Core of over 100,000 lucrim... and it had just as little effect.

"You're right about keeping the streets free of public nuisances," the stranger said as he walked forward. "Why don't you all move along?"

Of course the Birthrighters didn't retreat, and as they shifted into position, Luke feared that the stranger would suffer for trying to help him. Massive bursts of aura and brilliant flames raged toward him... until they simply disappeared, vanishing into the darkness of those eyes. All of Duncan's flunkies attacked the stranger, but when he showed no sign of even noticing their blows, they began to retreat, looking to their leader.

Duncan himself had taken a step back, alarmed. The stranger ignored him and instead bent down on one knee, looking at Luke. His gaze was nearly suffocating, but his voice was gentle. "Sorry about the trouble. What's your name?"

"Luke," he managed to choke out. Just what did this lucrim master want with him? He'd have thought it was some cruel trick, except for the fact that the Birthrighters all looked alarmed. Did the man plan to exploit him in some other way?

"Well, Luke, I'm-" His sentence was interrupted as Duncan let out a cry of rage and swung the lead pipe at the man's head.

Yet the man simply turned to look at it, pointedly watching the weapon and letting it strike him right between the eyes. Once again, he didn't flinch, but this time, he reached up and grasped the pipe. Duncan panicked and tried to pull it away, but the stranger's arm might as well have been made of iron too.

"Careful, son. You might hurt yourself."

The stranger's voice was no louder than before, but the Birthrighters finally broke. They desperately tumbled over one another as they tried to escape. Luke felt a moment of glee to see them humbled, but then he realized that he was alone on the street with the terrifying stranger. He still didn't have the strength to get up, especially now that those dark eyes were turning back to him.

"Anyway, my name's Rick. Would you like some help?"

"Help?" Luke spat out the word more angrily than he intended. "What can you do to help me? You're... some sort of lucrim monster, and I have nothing. My school... my parents... you don't know a thing about what help I even need!"

"You might be surprised." Rick lowered a hand to help him up. "Let's talk."

X X X

Thank you for reading my book! This is the conclusion to the Street Cultivation trilogy that I originally promised. Though I haven't ruled out future stories in the same world or with the same characters, I can't make any promises at this time. If you have enjoyed this story arc, please consider leaving a review. ^-^

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to all my alpha and beta readers for their feedback.

Thanks to Cultivation Novels, Western Cultivation, and GameLit Society for the community.

Appendix: Rick's Final Portfolio

Note: This is Rick's portfolio after he recovers from the battle in Chapter 51, not during the epilogue.

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 11th

Ether Score: 543

Lucrim Generation: 109,575

Current Lucrim: 109,575]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Dark Blood Kettle Foundation: 29,800 (Lv VII)

Triune Golden Spheres: NaN

### Unsigned Lucore Data ###

Offensive Lucore: 16,700 (Lv X)

Defensive Lucore: 44,350 (Lv XIII)

Bunyan's Step: 18,725 (Lv X)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 37,000 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 49,850 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2400 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 198,825]

Rick Hunter's Showdown Card (retired)

Lesser Jade Seal

Josiah Craw's Illustrious Seal

Jade Mountain Sect's Blessing

Great Seal of Siberia

Seal of Alger

First Nokan Seal

Appendix: Lucrim Mechanics

This is my direct description of the magic system in the world of Street Cultivation, since it bends or breaks some rules of the genre. Most of the information will be duplicated in the novel, but here I present it all in straightforward form for those who requested that.

Forms of Power

Lucrim is raw power, and in the modern world, that power is often used as money. When simply held in a person's body, it provides a slight enhancement to durability and it can be used to pay for goods or services anywhere in the world. Beyond that, lucrim alone is only a resource: it's the applications of lucrim that provide greater abilities.

Lucrim is a spiritual substance, neither energy nor mass, but it can be refined in all three forms:

1) Refined spiritual lucrim becomes Lucores, which can have more powerful effects than simply holding lucrim. It also allows for more power to be "stored" beyond what the user can normally contain. They have a constant beneficial effect, but their true potential is only seen when "liquid" lucrim is flowed through them. Almost all fighters possess a "Foundation" that inefficiently grants some permanent power, but more importantly allows for the development of stronger lucores.

2) Lucrim used to generate energy becomes aura. Aura is an energy field that can flow within the body or even in a visible halo beyond it. Depending on training, this process can be very efficient, but it does burn through current lucrim reserves to enhance strength and speed. Only Lucores can provide a benefit "for free".

3) Lucrim used to generate mass becomes ether. Unlike aura, the process to convert ether back into lucrim is very inefficient, so it is primarily used to create permanent objects. A common example is an ether-reinforced door, which would be strong enough to withstand even blows from lucrim users.

All living beings have at least some lucrim within them. Most people (but not all) know how to convert lucrim to aura - this isn't simply for fighters, but students or businesspeople generate aura to increase their mental focus, or it can be used to commute by running/flying. The ability to convert lucrim to ether is less commonly developed, generally by professionals who build their career around it.

Lucrim is normally too ephemeral to be stolen, though certain rare techniques can drain currently held lucrim. Sufficiently large Lucores can be extracted via a complex surgical process, though the total strength is reduced. This is generally only done by parents who want to give or leave something to their children, but is occasionally seen in martial arts sects.

Generation Rate

Lucrim falls from the sky evenly all over the world. In ancient times, people would naturally gather this lucrim into themselves - this is also the reason martial artists would tend to train on mountaintops, because they can gather more lucrim when higher than the rest of the population that might draw it.

But in the modern world, nearly all of the falling lucrim is harvested by international organizations. It is then distributed by reserves as currency. The vast majority of ordinary people rarely ever gather/generate any lucrim of their own, they simply get their supply of lucrim from their job as income.

For this reason, "generation rate" is an outdated term. It does still mean the amount of lucrim that a person can carry at once, and as such is it used as a shorthand measure of power. The value is essential for developing Lucores and for those who fight. For average people, generation rate is just their budget of overall lucrim to spend on things.

Note that there are exceptions to the above. It's possible to create Lucores that generate new lucrim, and this is an essential method of building power for some. However, it requires a significant initial investment of lucrim that can't be spent or used to increase power, so many people don't take advantage of it. Institutions like banks and sects have staff dedicated to lucrim generation to increase their wealth by these methods.

The most common exception is Birthright Cores. Technically these are any cores passed down through a family, but many people leave no cores, or only cores small enough that they are just liquidated. The derogatory term "Birthrighter" refers to people who received a sizable core from their parents, one that immediately grants them either an ability or (more commonly) a steady flow from free lucrim.

Though it's beyond the reach of most people, it's entirely possible to have enough Lucores generating lucrim that you could quit your job and just live off them. This is easier said than done.

Development

Lucrim doesn't come from nothing anymore, so development is limited without income. Fighters who want to improve can train or meditate to develop Lucores or increase efficiency overall, but this won't increase their generation rate or overall capacity. However, currently held lucrim can be invested into power, the process of which will slowly but surely increase generation rate.

Faster ways to gain strength include receiving lucores from other people and purchasing raw lucrim in some form (such as philosopher's elixir) then investing the surge of new strength. There are also more complex methods, such as techniques that improve the efficiency of one's current lucrima soul.

While a lucrim is a unit of measurement, the lucrima soul refers to the collective of all a person's power. Permanent investments like the foundation or Lucores form the core of the lucrima soul, while lucrim are held around it.

Though generation rate is a good measure of the total power available to someone, it's not an exact measure of combat strength. A highly trained fighter with well-invested Lucores could defeat someone with a higher generation rate who just attempts to throw that power around haphazardly. Between two fighters of equal skill, generation rate is a good measure of power, but there are many more or less efficient ways to invest that amount.

Lucrima Portfolios

Reading someone's lucrima portfolio is effectively seeing a list of which attributes and skills they have invested time and lucrim into. Items are ranked both by raw lucrim (a measure of power) and Level or Stage (a measure of skill and efficiency). Here are common items contained within a portfolio...

Foundation: The bare minimum for a competent lucrim user, allowing the development of all other abilities.

Secondary Foundations: Highly advanced fighters may use different types of foundations or have more than one investment granting specific abilities.

Attribute Lucores: These cores grant a permanent improvement to a physical attribute, such as strength or durability.

Skill Lucores: More advanced cores that allow the use of a supernatural ability that would not be possible by any level of physical strength.

Investment Lucores: Non-combat cores that serve to keep or generate lucrim. These could either be for a bit of extra income, to save for retirement, or to leave a core to one's children.

Utility Lucores: Non-combat cores that serve a specific function. A common (but expensive) core is a Transportation Core that allows for flight at a level that isn't useful in combat, but makes it convenient to travel.

Aura Leeches: These unnatural creatures embody large lucrim debts, draining the user's strength in order to gather lucrim. They remain attached until the debt is completely paid, hindering stamina and also reducing available generation rate by the core value of the debt.

Demonic Bonds: Both debt and power, these bonds grant strength but require steady repayment. There are an exceedingly high number of variations with different requirements and restrictions.

Appendix: Lucrim World History

Street Cultivation isn't an alternate history, as there's no point of departure and the existence of lucrim would leave the world fundamentally unrecognizable. Instead, my goal was our world "phase shifted" into a familiar mirror. Nevertheless, this world does have established modern history for the sake of various political situations and subplots. If you're interested in some of my notes on the subject, read on.

There are several different calendars in use, and the Global Lucrim Authority officially considers it 5778 for political reasons. However, for the sake of showing the phase shift, this history will use the Gregorian calendar. Rick and other Americans use the equivalent of this.

~1400 CE: The greatest world powers are China and the Nokan Empire. Siberia is a hotspot of violence, but has yet to annex Russia and become a world power. Europe is another hotspot, but lacks a godweight. North and South America are largely unknown to the rest of the world, but the nations across them are aware of one another and engage in several brutal wars.

~1450 CE: Lucrim users from several nations venture far outside their borders and encounter one another, but the world powers are culturally conservative and forbid travel. This stalls global exploration for decades, though some disobey these orders.

1599-1607 CE: World War I

With Europe in an extended stalemate, several nations attempt to increase their power by conquering foreign lands and learning new techniques. Some campaigns are successful, but their forays into China and the Nokan Empire prove devastating. Top fighters from those nations as well as Siberia engage in brutal fighting, resulting in the deaths of tens of millions on all sides.

European powers fall back, humbled, but the old world powers are troubled by their losses. This remains the bloodiest single conflict in world history and led to an international agreement that established international codes of conduct, such as godweights not slaughtering noncombatants.

Two events occur that are not considered important at the time: Siberia is unbalanced by the war, then European and Native lucrim users begin fighting in North America.

1611 CE: A final neutrality pact is established between China and the Nokan Empire. China withdraws from global affairs, declaring itself self-sufficient and uninterested in the trade or techniques of lesser nations.

1619 CE: Old world powers make several attempts to extract resources and techniques from South America, but they are repulsed with heavy losses. These conflicts solidify the position of the Incan Empire on the continent.

1634 CE: Decades of conflict in North America result in a treaty between settlers and Native populations. The first alliance between them fails, but it leads to increased trade and intermixing. Several united governments are attempted, but eventually fail.

1687 CE: Tsar Chernobog leads Siberia to claim most of northern Asia, but stops short of Chinese territorial claims. The new nation of Siberia begins research into lucrim harvesting and extra-planetary combat, but is mostly ignored.

1698 CE: After dividing from Canada and Mexico, a new nation on North America finally proves stable. It challenges its European ties and starts a revolutionary war, and their new techniques formed from multiple sources prove surprisingly formidable. The war ends with trade agreements in under a year and the United States of America are officially founded.

1699 CE: Troubled by the rapid revolution, several immortals begin deepening research into global lucrim harvesting. The world powers consider both events insignificant.

1714 CE: Slavery has long been part of most nations, but a more systematic global slave trade begins to move slaves from weaker nations to those more powerful. Most are from Africa or South America. The Nokan Empire participates, gaining considerable profits by selling inhabitants of weaker nations. The Incan Empire takes a similar role in South America, but increasingly pushes to reduce the slave trade.

1749-1751 CE: World War II

Border conflicts in Asia lead to serious conflict between Siberia and China. Angered, the Chinese empire sends its godweight onto the field, but the world is shocked when the Lion of Qin is defeated by Tsar Chernobog. Siberia has completely changed the nature of war with extreme long range attacks, such as lucrim bolts launched at nearly light speed from space.

The war is brief but devastating. It is ended by negotiations led by the Nokan Empire, concerned about potential collateral damage. Germany and the USA send supposed godweights to request a seat at the table, but are refused. China is forcibly reopened to trade, leading to increasing resentment.

1751-1900 CE: Cold war threatens between the Nokan Empire, China, and Siberia. Conflicts are increasingly not about honor, but about resources such as Middle Eastern oil. The conflict never goes hot, but there are several brief encounters between the godweights that lead to political fallout. Numerous negotiations fail or briefly succeed, leading to growing sentiment that some form of agreement is necessary.

1788 CE: Concerned both by past casualties and present tensions, a number of sects join forces with the East India company to establish global lucrim harvesting standards. This is scorned at the time by world powers, but will later be considered the start of the Global Lucrim Authority.

1831-1835 CE: The USA is torn apart by a civil war between northern, southern, and Native forces over the issue of slavery. Dragonweights are used in war in violation of international treaties, leading to pressure from world powers to end the conflict. The treaties signed are unsatisfactory to both sides, leading to increasing tension.

1843 CE: Alarmed by the violence of the American Civil War, the world powers spend several years attempting to negotiate an effective agreement. This becomes the Peerless Nonaggression Pact, forbidding uncontrolled battles between dragonweights and godweights, enforced by the others. Several European nations are instrumental in this, and some say that the Demonic Legionnaire is a full godweight. The USA sends two different candidates to sign the treaty.

1867 CE: Temporary truces finally break apart, leading to the Second American Civil War. This one is decisively won by the northern anti-slavery faction. Their backers include the Incan Empire, which pushes forward to outlaw slavery both in the USA and globally. This is accepted by the Peerless and becomes international law, though debt slavery and other forms continue to exist in some nations.

1878-1936 CE: Known as the long peace, this is a period of time in which there were no substantial wars. Many philosophers suggest that the age of combat had entirely passed and there was no more need for martial lucrim arts, though they retain a strong cultural presence.

1899 CE: Two hundred years after their research began, various corporations, nations, and immortals transform the Global Lucrim Authority into a world power. Encouraged by the harvesting results and the long peace, the Peerless give their approval and the world enters a new era. Lucrim harvesting leads to an immediate increase in the quality of life for many, though negative consequences slowly form.

1937-1941 CE: World War III

After centuries of living, the World Sculptor (the Nokan Empire's godweight) decides to pass on. They use an extremely sophisticated technique to pass their lucrim on to the new World Sculptor, but their successor is understood to be less experienced.

This is viewed as weakness, and an attack comes from the north. With the Demonic Legionnaire standing apart from politics, Germany has increasingly fallen under the sway of nationalist parties. Without making use of any European godweights or dragonweights, they push into northern Africa and the Middle East to try to take territory from the off-balance Nokan Empire. This sets off a chain of alliances and power grabs that leads most of the world into war and shatters dreams of peace.

The Peerless Nonaggression Pact holds, however, with only minimal threatening among the most powerful lucrim users. The Demonic Legionnaire is universally considered to be among the Peerless, while an American godweight establishes himself and is dubbed the Chief Lucrim Officer. Instead, the war is fought with improved technology, including the first modern lucrim-using bombers.

1959 CE: In the new status quo, smaller conflicts over lucrim harvesting and other resource extraction occur around the globe. The Global Lucrim Authority gains increasing control, though it negotiates deals with individual nations. In 1959, a local civil war in Southeast Asia nearly spills over into a more violent conflict, but is constrained until 15 years later.

1974-1976 CE: World War IV

The first true test of the status quo, a war that spans multiple nations over serious issues of resource extraction. Both the causes and results are complex, a result of many different forces boiling over as opposed to a single aggressor. Yet the godweights and dragonweights remain off the field, elevating their nations to greater positions of power without lifting a finger.

Several of the conflicts are resolved by formal duels, leading to international law establishing norms for resolving conflict by nonlethal combat. Nations are broken or reformed, including Korea and several other regions, but the world powers remain mostly untouched. Instead, they look to something else: in one of the final duels, a dragonweight of a nation is defeated by a dragonweight representing not another nation, but a corporation.

1977 CE and Beyond: This is the modern world that Rick and his peers know, one that has increasingly passed beyond concerns of the past. The Peerless Nonaggression Pact is considered inviolable and the world is increasingly interconnected. Some say that the world has passed beyond war, but the immortals remember a previous era that made the same claims...

The Modern World

The Peerless Nations, AKA Godweights

Nokan Empire (the World Sculptor)

China (the Lion of Qin)

Siberia (Tsar Chernobog)

United States of America (the Chief Lucrim Officer)

European Union (the Demonic Legionnaire)

Dragonweight Nations

Brazil

Canada

Central American Cartel

Incan Empire

India

Japan

Korea

New Zealand

South Africa

Sovereign Britain

Switzerland

United Arab Emirates