by Sarah Lin
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.