Street Cultivation 3

by Sarah Lin

  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 t
han 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?"