by Gage Lee
“You’re no friend of mine,” I spat. Despite his ragged appearance, I couldn’t find any shreds of kindness for Tycho in my heart. He’d conspired to ruin my life and destroy the world. He could burn for all I cared. “How did you convince Elder Hirani to get your message to me?”
“He didn’t,” Hahen said as he appeared from the shadows. “I did. You need to hear this, Jace.”
The rat spirit and Tycho advanced toward me, stirring up dust, which billowed up around them like thunderclouds. Tycho’s core was dim, as if badly injured, and the weight of his attention was no greater than a feather against my aura. I doubted he was capable of an attack in his current condition.
“That’s close enough,” I called when they were a few yards away. I didn’t see any reason to take chances. “Say whatever you have to say and leave me alone.”
“If being alone is what you want, then I’m sad to say you will be very disappointed in your future,” Tycho said with a chuckle that quickly turned into a ragged cough. “You undid the work of a very many powerful people, Jace, and not all of them will forgive as quickly as I have.”
“Maybe powerful people should ask people for help instead of trying to force us onto the paths they want for us,” I said. “You’ve got five minutes, and then I’m heading back to the school. I’m sure there are a lot of people who’d like to talk to you here.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Tycho said. “Thanks to Sanrin—”
“Elder Sanrin,” I corrected.
“Yes, him,” Tycho continued, “I’m a fugitive. As you can see from my current condition, that status has not treated me kindly.”
“They should have killed you.” I shrugged. “You conspired to bring the Lost back to destroy the world.”
“Not destroy it,” Tycho sighed. “Save it. The Grand Design is flawed, Jace. It will create ripples in the ether, and those will grow to waves, and they will come crashing back on us. But we can still stop that. If you listen to me—”
“No,” I snapped. “Not another word out of you. You used me, and it almost ruined my life. You made yourself rich off my pain, and you nearly got me and everyone else killed with your plans. I’m done listening to you. Whatever you’ve got to say will be weighed by the adjudicators when they catch you.”
Tycho glared at me. For a moment, I wondered if he’d attack me. Then he looked away and sighed.
“Foolish boy,” he said. “I made you a king, and you threw away the crown. Very well, if you refuse to listen, I cannot afford to waste any more time on you. Come, Hahen—”
“No,” I snarled. “He’s not your slave anymore. He stays here.”
Tycho’s left hand flashed out, and a coil of jinsei looped around Hahen’s throat. The rat spirit squeaked in surprise and his feet left the floor as the sage hauled him into the air by his neck.
“Enough.” My serpents appeared and flashed through the air faster than I could see. The tendrils of beast-aspected jinsei seized Hahen’s noose and drained it away to nothing in the space of a heartbeat. I caught the rat spirit in the coils of my serpent and gently lowered him to the ground.
“How dare you.” Tycho advanced toward me, his hands raised.
“I’ll kill you,” I said. My serpents coiled in the air above me, their heads weaving, ready to strike.
“Such promise, squandered,” Tycho said. He raised his hands and stepped back. “I am too weak to deal with you at the moment, boy. But there will come a time when you will pay for this pathetic victory.”
“Get out,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could kill Tycho and didn’t want to risk my life in a fight against a sage. Even weakened as he was, Tycho had centuries of experience and tricks up his sleeve.
“As you wish.” Tycho bowed and stepped into the shadows.
“Thank you.” Hahen rubbed his throat. “You’ve made a powerful enemy this day, Jace. That you did it on my behalf puts me deeply into your debt.”
“No,” I said. “You owe me nothing, honored spirit. You are my friend, even if my choices disappointed you. And I don’t tally my friend’s debts.”
“That is a refreshing change.” The rat spirit chuckled. “Then allow me to continue your training. The world is in danger, and it needs you. Now more than ever.”
The Revival
WHEN THE LAST DAY OF the school year arrived, I still wasn’t sure what I would do over the summer. I didn’t have any home to go back to, and spending three months in this old building with no one but the staff and Hahen to keep me company wasn’t my idea of fun. I could meditate, sure, cycle my jinsei and try to push my core from disciple to artist. Very few people, not even graduates of the School of Swords and Serpents, made it to that level. The majority spent their lives as adepts, much more powerful than your average person, but a far, far cry from the strength of the sages.
But a whole summer of that? When I was about to turn sixteen?
No, that didn’t sound like any fun at all.
To distract myself from that bleak prospect, I rounded up my friends and dragged them out to the beach for one last afternoon of fun. We played volleyball, chased each other through the surf, and cooked hot dogs we’d stolen from the kitchen over a driftwood fire. When the sun was low on the horizon, I called them all over to me.
“What is it?” Clem asked as they gathered.
“I’ve been working on something,” I said. Hahen had opened my eyes to new ways of using my abilities. “A new technique. One that builds off what I’ve learned since Kyoto.”
“Look at Mr. Disciple over here,” Eric said. “Showing off.”
I pointed at a patch of strange crystallized sand and blackened grass.
“I did this when I came back to school at the beginning of the year,” I said. “Stripped the aspects and jinsei out of the earth. I nearly lost control.”
“You’re killing me with the suspense,” Clem said. “What is it you want to show us?”
“This,” I said.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and a rush of jinsei poured into my core. It brought with it the natural aspects of my surroundings: growth, life, plants, beast, and vitality. There were more, but those five were the most important aspects, and the most dominant. Taking them in this way wasn’t the same as when I stripped them with Borrowed Core. It was like the difference between ripping leaves off a tree and picking up those that had already fallen to the ground.
I let out a long, slow breath and pushed the aspects out of my aura toward the blighted patch at my feet.
It was slow at first. I was doing the exact opposite of what my Eclipse core had specialized in, and the effort of creation was far greater than the effort of destruction. Beads of sweat burst from my forehead as I pushed against the fabric of reality. The world didn’t like having its authority challenged.
And I didn’t care.
One aspect at a time, I put the jigsaw puzzle back together. The world slowed to a crawl as I forced the aspects to fit where they’d once belonged. And then...
“By the Flame,” Clem whispered.
The black was gone. The grass was lush and green and six inches taller than it had been. There was no sign of sand or dead earth anywhere around us.
“How?” Abi asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“The Eclipse core could drain jinsei from the environment or people,” I explained. “It’s so powerful it shreds the aspects from wherever it gets the jinsei. That’s why they were so powerful against the Locust Court. They not only drained the power out of the spirits’ cores, they destroyed the aspects that made up their bodies.”
“That explains how you killed the grass in the first place, not how you fixed it,” Clem said.
“It’s like cycling.” I took a deep breath of jinsei-laden air. “You pull the energy in, but the aspects get stuck in your aura until you can cleanse them. You exhale, and those aspects go back out into the world, leaving your core with clean, pure jinsei. The only difference is, I can move a lot of aspects out
of my aura at the same time. And I can tell them where to go.”
“That’s incredible,” Eric said, his voice low and shaky. “You just... I can’t believe this. That grass was dead. And now it’s alive. I’d say it was impossible if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”
“You have to tell someone about this, Jace,” Abi said. “What will you do with such a power?”
I considered the question for a moment. I’d started my life as a camper with a broken core, the lowest among the low. I’d fought so hard to make my way into the school, only to be treated like dirt. And, now, I’d saved everyone and become a hero.
There was really only one thing left for me to do.
“Change the world,” I said quietly.
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Looking for more awesome cultivation, and need it right this minute? Check out: Sages of the Underpass. Or keep reading to take a sneak peek.
In a world where everyone has power, Nikodemus Kowalczyk was always destined to be an underdog.
NIKO HAS LONG SINCE given up on his dreams of being a world class Battle Artist. Thanks to his damaged core and crazy family, he never stood a chance anyway. With money, fame, and untold power on the line, the corporations decide who wins. End of story.
But when a mysterious group, calling themselves the Sages of the Underpass, threaten to upend the entire system with their unorthodox training and cultivation methods, Nikko soon learns that what was once a handicap might be his greatest asset. The only thing standing in his way is a bitter, hard-hearted veteran, who would like nothing more than to see Niko stay in his place. Right at the bottom.
Rocky meets Dragon Ball Z in this underdog redemption story from Dragon Award Finalist Aaron Michael Ritchey. Sages of the Underpass is an epic blend of Urban Fantasy, Cultivation, and Magical MMA that captures the passion, the power, and the perseverance it takes to follow your dreams—no matter what kind of artist you are.
Chapter One: The Favor
IF IT HAD BEEN ANYONE else, at any other time, Nikodemus Kowalczyk would’ve said no. Niko didn’t fight anymore. Some dreams were better off dead.
His mother said it often—a dream is a wonderful, terrible, powerful thing. A dream didn’t care about you, a dream only wanted to live, and the result was often long hours, not a small amount of blood, and above all, disappointment. And that disappointment wasn’t simply from the dream not coming true, no, that would’ve been tolerable. The real heartbreak was when it all fell into place, and you got what you longed for, but it didn’t live up to the fantasy.
Niko’s mother knew that disappointment. So did his father. For them, the dream had become a trap that refused to let them go.
The hallway of the Mudflats Marriot had eye-biting carpet, a swirl of patterns that encouraged you to keep on walking to your next destination. In this case, it was either the bathrooms or convention Hall BB.
Niko had just come out of the men’s room. He thought, seriously, about retreating back into a stall and waiting Madison Dark out.
Maddy blocked his path. She wanted him in convention Hall BB for a very specific purpose. “Come on, Niko, I’m desperate. You don’t need to win. You just need to give the fans a semi-good fight.”
He wanted to say no. But for Maddy to ask him, it meant she had asked everyone else at MudCon, the local Battle Artist Convention she ran with the help of about a zillion volunteers working for free. Niko’s mother had another saying. You get what you pay for.
Maddy had strawberry blonde hair, a round face, and a definite strut—the same walk she’d had on their first day of high school, nine years ago. She wore shorts, sandals, and a MudCon 2020 T-shirt. She stood, arms open, because if she crossed them, Niko would dash around her and head for the front door.
“Let me guess,” Niko said. “Someone backed out at the last minute.”
“Allen did. He’s sick, or so he says. I’d like to believe him, but you know, I have my suspicions.” Maddy tried to sweeten the sour situation. “It’s only against Howling, and Stan is a relatively good guy. He won’t bring the heat. He gets that it’s an exhibition match. Please.”
Niko frowned at her. He hadn’t fought since the summer after they graduated from high school. That was five years ago. He’d lost, but that hadn’t been a big deal. The Pranad made it clear: A thousand losses are a teacher. A single victory is a pause.
No, he’d given up fighting for a dozen other better reasons.
He tried to get mad at her for asking.
She knew that fighting again would bring up a world of terrible memories. Yet she also knew that while he might have given up on the Battle Artist dream, others, like Stan Howling, never would. She put on the Battle Con for that very reason—to give amateurs and wannabes a place to fight.
MudCon was the very bottom of the bottom of the Artist community, not a qualifier for anything greater, not a way into a college. Hell, the military didn’t even come to events like MudCon. That was why Maddy could only get Hall BB and not the main event center, where there was an actual Battle Arena including stadium seating. MudCon was a celebration of the Battle Arts, pure and simple, and Maddy knew that a missed match would give the Con a bad name. It was only the third year.
An early Friday afternoon match meant there wouldn’t be a big crowd. That would save Niko some embarrassment. Stan Howling would do some fire tricks, Niko would get singed a bit, and then go down, easily, when Stan thought it was time.
It wasn’t like he was a main event like Andrew J. Coffey that night. And Niko had come to help Maddy out by buying a ticket and to hang out with Teddy. He'd taken a half-day off from the family business, figuring he’d put in his time at the Con, peruse the vendor room, see Andrew J. Coffey fight, and then go home.
Teddy came tromping down the steps that led to the main hotel. He had his big black backpack, of course. Teodoro Martinez was part man, part backpack, but mostly belly. He rolled on up, grinning at them. “Maddy, you found him! Did he say yes? I mean, he has to say yes, right? You don’t have anyone else. And Niko knows the score. Give the people what they want, right? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Teddy wore black shorts that were ill-named since they fell to his thick calves. He too wore a MudCon T-shirt, but from its inaugural year, 2017. It was a navy-blue color with a single glowing fist on the front and a blue flame on the back. He wore big white running shoes, which he kept unlaced.
“You’re wrong.” Niko didn’t see a way out. Teddy wasn’t in good enough shape to make it the pseudo-spectacle that Stan wanted. “I don’t have robes. I’m not sure I can even do Twin Damage. This is a horrible idea.”
“He’ll do it.” Teddy grabbed his arm and shook him. “Vanessa’s boyfriend has a cousin who’s here. He fought in the first match, but the robes will work for our boy. Nikodemus Kowalczyk, back on the tiles, this ought to be epic. Remember how good he was, Maddy? He could’ve been a contender!”
“Not true.” Niko had to focus on not standing there with his jaws so tight he could press coal into diamonds. “I
was a cusp. The agencies were never going to pick me up.”
Maddy’s eyes went from Niko to Teddy and back to Niko. “Sorry, Teddy, I need to hear it from Niko. Will you do it?”
He nodded. How come it felt like he was betraying himself?
Teddy’s smile almost knocked his head off. He looked like he might explode into dancing a musical number, he was so happy. “We’ll get his robes. Is there a green room where he can change? Don’t make our stallion change in the men’s room. He’ll also need to do a little cycling.”
Maddy's eyes wouldn’t leave Niko’s face.
She wanted to hear that he was glad to help, that it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t give that to her. He was going to fight. That was enough.
When he stayed silent, she still smiled at him. “Uh, we have a green room, but it’s not very green. There are meditation mats by the masseuse booth in the vender room.”
“We’ll take it!” Teddy escorted Niko away from Maddy and toward the exhibitors in Hall CC.
People milled about, buying stuff, selling stuff. On the other side of a collapsible wall, the yells of a crowd and the snap and crackle of a Battle Arena cut through the murmuring. Authors were selling novels, graphic artists hawked their comic books, and then you had any number of stalls with Battle Artist gear, robes, mats, weapons, even a full collection of tiles that might set you back a couple thousand dollars. Several apothecaries sold tinctures and vapes to help with the various aspects of cultivation and cycling. Along one wall, attendees could pay to get their picture taken with B-list celebrities from TV shows like Spirits Unleashed and The Dark of Knight. A whole booth was dedicated to Twelve Legends, the ultimate Battle Artist video game.
And of course, people were in Zodiac Overmen cosplay, both from the original comic of the 1930s and the current reboot.
One vendor made Niko smile. Quincy Fire was a Battle Artist who had been working the Con circuit for years. He stood in front of a rack of his books and CDs because not only was he a Battle Artist, he also wrote novels and had a band. Quincy was unmistakable – a big blond Mohawk, tank top, ripped jeans, and combat boots.