Street Cultivation 3

by Sarah Lin

  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 variabl
es 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