Street Cultivation 3

by Sarah Lin

  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 th
e 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.