Street Cultivation, page 28
Rick wavered on his feet, suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of nausea. He pushed past it, looked toward their opponents, but the room was spinning more. Was the effect of the suppressant Granny Whitney had given him wearing off?
Somehow he missed the tendrils creeping across the ground until they gripped his leg. He tore free from them easily, yet instead of dodging away, he ended up staggering and nearly falling. His stomach was churning and it felt as though he might vomit at any minute, but that was nothing compared to the disruptions flowing through his lucrim. What was wrong with him?
Intellectually he knew that the aura user would be targeting him soon, but he felt as though he was moving in slow motion. A sphere slammed into his chest and he couldn't stop himself from falling. Even his defensive core seemed to be spluttering, refusing to work properly.
Another sphere flitted toward him, but at that moment Tom smashed down into the ground, releasing a wave of lightning that annihilated the sphere and drove their opponents away. But when he turned back, his expression was deeply concerned.
"Rick? Are you still in this?"
"I... I'm not sure..." Struggling to make the arena stop spinning around him, Rick gripped the floor and tried to push himself up. "Something's wrong. I'll be done soon, then it's up to you."
"What?"
There was no time to explain, though. Rick stumbled out toward their opponents, barely able to see. Whatever was happening, it was getting worse. If he wanted to have any more impact on the battle, it needed to be right that moment.
Of course, his clumsy stumble made him an easy target. As both opponents focused on him, Rick forced his way through all the chaos in his head with raw willpower to use a single core: Bunyan's step.
As he activated it, he threw himself sideways. His body collided with both opponents, sending them all tumbling like bowling pins. It hurt like hell, especially since his defensive core was still faltering. Though his vision was growing dark, Rick saw bolts rain down on their opponent, dealing serious damage since they were off guard. They wouldn't recover from that.
Another victory that left him half-dead. As he passed out, Rick hoped it wasn't becoming a habit.
Chapter 38: Consequences
When Rick woke up, he could feel that he'd received some healing, but he still felt like shit. Now that he had some perspective and wasn't in the middle of combat, he felt as though the side effects had been a greatly amplified version of the usual handicapping pill. They didn't just disorient and exhaust him, they'd disrupted his lucrima down to the foundation.
He'd been moved to the dingy hospital building, but no one else was currently in the room. Rick forced himself to sit up and discovered that his things were beside him, including his phone. Though it hurt to stretch far enough to reach it, he got his phone and checked the results of the match.
[Special Match Performance:
Participation +10
Opponent KO +10
Assist +2
Knocked Out -3
Total Reward: 19
Cumulative Points: 252]
Then he'd just barely made it: he could participate in the multi-tier tournament without needing to enter any more matches. Presuming that Granny Whitney had been honest about her intentions there. He looked forward to it - as much as the fights honed his edge, he liked training that didn't leave him hurting this badly.
As he looked at his match performance, he found himself wishing that it gave more information. How many points had Tom and Henry received? Most likely Tom had gotten a lot of credit again, but Rick didn't really care about that. Arbitrary points didn't matter, only what he'd learned from the match.
Henry concerned him more. If what he had said was true, then he'd severely overdrawn his demonic bonds. That would have nasty long term consequences, unless his patron somehow bailed him out. But after the match had gone poorly, Rick had to wonder if Henry's patron would want him at all. If it was really the same person who had sent the hitman, then he was ruthless.
"Not bad at all, dearie!" Granny Whitney tottered into the room, beaming. "You have enough points to qualify now!"
"Barely." Rick rubbed his forehead to try to massage the pain away. "When the second pill you gave me wore off, it was almost worse than the effects of the first one. I wish you'd told me it had such a tight time limit."
"Oh, no, it's not like that at all. The second pill didn't activate until most of the way through the match, after you'd used most of your lucrim." She beamed even brighter, not even bothering to lie. "You managed to struggle through, though! I honestly didn't expect that."
At this stage, he barely even sighed. "That would have reduced my score even further... so you didn't expect me to qualify after this match?"
"No, I expected it to take another one or two fights. But since you've done well, I guess that gives you extra time to prepare yourself."
"Can I have medicine to repair lucrima damage now?"
"Hmm..." Granny Whitney grabbed his chin, turning his head left and right as she analyzed him. "No, not yet. This is going to be much closer than I'd hoped, but I suppose that's the risk we're taking. For now, just keep doing what you've been doing, dearie."
"Really? More of the same?"
"I think you'll find some nice benefits after having endured that last match! I'm not trying to poison you, after all... just use you."
Rick sighed and accepted it. "Alright, fine. Just tell me what you need me to do. Then once we get past this tournament, we're done."
"That sounds about right. For now, just take these." Granny Whitney dropped several items beside him, then turned and bustled out. "Lots to do, lots to do! I've told Emily to work with you, and there are enough pills there to last until the event. Don't bother me unless there's an emergency, dearie!"
With that, she was gone. Rick took a moment to collect himself as he put away the new items she'd given him, then finally headed out himself. He felt a bit better now, and she was right that the disruption could lead to some new improvements, but he wished there was a better way to train.
Though he intended to head home and sleep for a while, on his way out he checked into all the rooms with lights. He was looking for Henry, but he ended up stumbling across his opponents first: the old man lay unconscious, while the woman with the spiked bat - currently leaning beside her bed - grinned at him.
"That was one hell of a hit!"
"Thanks. You have a lot of lucrim in that club of yours, it was rough to block."
"Haha, you're way too casual about that. I'm used to smashing straight through people."
They went silent for a moment, so Rick decided to just move on before it got awkward. "Listen, it's nice talking to you, but I want to check on my friend."
"I assume you mean the one with the demonic bonds?" She bit her lip and peered into the hallway. "Just left of here - no, right from your perspective - and down the hall. I saw them take him somewhere around there, anyway."
"Thanks." Now that he had a direction, Rick headed to find his coworker.
Inside, he found Henry lying on his back, apparently unconscious. It looked as though a machine had been attached to him, but it had recently been removed. His life wasn't in danger, but the condition of his lucrima was shocking. Henry was deep in the grip of his demonic bonds, paying for all the power he'd been loaned for so long.
To Rick's surprise, Henry opened his eyes and looked at him, so Rick walked in. "You were right in the thick of things back there, man," Rick said. "You doing okay?"
"Of course I'm not fucking okay." Henry practically spat out the words. "I can't draw my usual power anymore, and on top of that they penalized me for it. There's probably no chance in hell I can get into the big event. And if I don't, how am I going to pay off the bonds?"
"That's rough. When I had the aura leeches implanted, I felt-"
"Don't pretend they're the same." Henry glared at him and turned away, staring toward the wall.
For a time Rick just stood there, wondering if it was worth trying to reach out again. Maybe what Henry needed was time, though it seemed more like he was embracing the bitterness. Rick had wanted to learn more about the exact penalties, but realized that since he still had permission to view Henry's profile, he had an easier method than asking him.
[Name: Hendog69 (pseudonym)
Ether Tier: 17th
Ether Score: 94
Lucrim Generation: 18,500
- Demonic Bond: 12,000 (overextended - 20% repayment penalty)
- Demonic Bond: 4000 (overextended - 23% repayment penalty)
- Demonic Bond: 7000 (overextended - 35% repayment penalty)
Lucrim Generation with Penalty: 12,730
Current Lucrim: (private data)]
Rick refreshed the profile, just to be sure he was seeing the correct numbers. It looked like the power granted him by the demonic bonds had been entirely removed, actually reversed to drain his strength until the debt was repaid. While the impact might not be quite as immediate as the aura leeches, this would be a huge obstacle to any training Henry wanted to do.
It seemed like it had knocked him down a couple tiers as well, and his score was below 100, which was truly abysmal. All because he hadn't kept the bonds under control... now Rick understood just why his uncle was so adamant about not using them.
If Henry didn't want help, Rick didn't intend to force it. Instead he headed out, trying to decide how to spend his last month before the event. He texted Emily a few times to find out her plans. Apparently she was trying to lie low in her last matches and sneak over the 250 point mark, so she would be busier than usual. But she said they might be able to find time, and he learned from her that Granny Whitney might require their presence for more than the single day of the event itself. He'd have to rearrange his schedule around that.
Could he get off work? Technically he'd be making more money with all of his matches, even with Granny Whitney taking most of the winnings, but he couldn't just ignore his boss's demands. Marching into the gym and loudly quitting might be a fun fantasy, but he had a sister to support and needed to fund his progress somehow. He couldn't do something that reckless.
On his way out, he found Tom waiting for him. Though he had a bandage around his waist, he otherwise looked in good shape after the match. The taller man gave him a grim nod when he approached and fell in alongside him, as if he'd been waiting.
"Good job during the match." Tom glanced down at him thoughtfully. "I'm almost a bit disappointed we won't be able to fight each other during the event."
It didn't sound like Tom intended to jibe him about being in different power classes, so Rick just nodded. "But we're technically going to be on different teams, huh? You went all-in with Alger."
"He's done well for me since I joined the Underground, yes. But it's not a real loyalty." Tom shrugged. "Granny Whitney strikes me as a shady character, but she hasn't done anything to me. The one who bothers me is the third player, assuming he was the one who sent the hitman. I want to take his fighters down. Hard."
"Are you suggesting some kind of alliance?"
"No, just talking aloud. Honestly, I'll be rooting for you more than Alger's featherweight, if it comes to that." Tom turned abruptly and stuck out his hand. "Good luck out there."
"Sure, you too." Rick shook his hand, squeezing back to avoid Tom crushing his grip. They let go and turned in opposite directions, almost as if they'd planned it that way.
So far he knew someone in four out of the five tiers, knowing absolutely nothing about the cruiserweights. Part of Rick wondered if he should do more research into the welterweights, meet the person Granny Whitney had found for the tier above his. In theory he might be able to give them suggestions about fighting Tom.
But that only made sense if his goal was to win, and it wasn't. Granny Whitney wanted to win, but he just wanted to fulfill his obligation and be done with it. Yes, he'd watch Emily's match, and he was curious to see what the fight in the heavyweight division would look like. Beyond that, investing too much in the event was only a distraction. This was just part of his life, he didn't live for the event.
Once he finished, would he really leave the Underground behind? He'd gotten used to having the fights as part of his schedule and could almost imagine missing them. Without medicine painfully handicapping him, and with the ability to choose his own matches, maybe it could even be fun. Then again, someone had hired a hitman to disable Tom, so maybe even considering it was reckless...
Deep in his own thoughts, Rick didn't notice that anything was wrong until his instincts warned him of power flaring ahead. He took a cautious step back and found himself looking at Mike and Magnus. Both Birthrighters were at full power and flaring their auras.
"You've been running around for a while, and Father says I should end this." Mike stepped forward with a smug look on his face. "So we're going to do this the old-fashioned way: a challenge."
"That's a lot of lucrim just to issue a challenge." Rick kept his hands in his pockets and tried to look casual. They were in between the Underground and the illegal clinic, so in theory he had multiple allies nearby if things went bad.
"I, Mike Maguire, formally challenge you to a duel of honor." Mike took another step forward and extended a legal document to him. "A battle to surrender or utter defeat, to end the conflict between us once and for all. You can see the time and place on the paper, and if you do not arrive, you will forfeit."
Rick stared at it for a moment, then looked up. "Nah."
"What?" Mike's face went red and his aura spiked dangerously. "You... you can't just ignore a challenge! Are you a sniveling coward?"
"I'm not required by law to accept it. Maybe that would be a big deal if we lived in a village where everybody cared, but this won't even make the news."
"So you are a coward!"
"I'm not the one challenging people with a tiny fraction of my power just so I can feel better about myself."
Mike let out an angry roar and swung wildly, but Rick had predicted it. He slid just to the side of the first punch and took a step back from the second, letting him seem completely calm compared to Mike's rage. The truth was that despite all his progress, getting hit by a blow like that would be a serious problem, but he didn't think today would turn into a fight, so he could stay in control.
"Calm down, man." Magnus grabbed one of Mike's arms and tugged him back. "If you brawl with him now, it'll just get worse. Do what we planned."
"Right. The plan." Mike let out a breath angrily and drew himself up. For a moment he just tapped a message on his phone, then he looked back to Rick and his expression became much less pleasant. "I figured you might try to take the coward's way out. But believe me, you'll accept the challenge."
Rick thought about snapping back, but the change in Mike's attitude made him too nervous. He didn't like the fact that Glenn was missing, either. If they ambushed him here, the situation could turn bad, but he thought he could Bunyan's Step away before they dealt serious damage.
Consumed by thoughts of battle, Rick was taken entirely off guard when his phone rang. It seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation, but Mike didn't look irritated, he just smiled smugly.
Suddenly chilled, Rick checked the number. It was Melissa.
Mike's smile widened.
Chapter 39: Ultimatum
"Rick?" Melissa's voice was quiet and frightened. "Somebody just b-broke down the door... blew it off the hinges. I'm hiding, but I can see him in the entrance..."
For a time, Rick couldn't say anything. The phone almost slipped out of his hand as he stared at Mike, who kept watching him with that same smug look on his face. But he heard the desperation in his sister's voice and couldn't let himself stay silent. "Melissa, I'm sorry. This is my fault. Just stay there and things will be okay."
"What's going on? Are you okay?"
"Please. I'll talk to you soon."
When his sister went silent, Rick lowered the phone, though he kept the call going just in case. Then he looked up at Mike, staring directly into the smug bastard's eyes. The Birthrighter looked pleased with himself, not cruel, so he could hope that this was only a threat.
As his fear for Melissa faded, Rick found it replaced with rage. It burned coldly within him, not changing his expression in the slightest. He was at a disadvantage now, so he needed to wait for a better opportunity. But simply letting this go was no longer an option.
"I wouldn't have had to do this," Mike said, "if you didn't act like a little bitch. You should be grateful that this is all I'm doing. There was a time when I could have killed you for what you did to me, but I'll settle for humiliating you and making sure you never fight again."
"Just give me that." Rick took the legal document and began looking over it. Most of it was unsurprising, the challenge terms that everyone knew well. But the limits... instead of going until a fall or first blood, the match would continue until surrender or unconsciousness. Someone could deal permanent injuries under terms like that. Of course, the match would likely not be fair, so a brutal beating would only happen if Rick lost.
"I tried to remove the surrendering part, to keep you from being a little coward again, but the lawyers said it was legally required." Mike wiggled his phone and smirked. "But you know what will happen if you don't fight to the end."
"I accept the terms - if you call off your goon."
"Fine, fine." Smug in his victory, Mike tapped another message. After a while, he heard Melissa let out a sigh of relief. Though the threat still hung over them, Rick was fairly certain that Mike had only intended an empty threat and wouldn't push it further.
But that left Rick with little choice. The most he could do was buy a little time, which he needed to do given the date on the paper. "This will interfere with the tournament, which I can't cancel."
"Fine, move it after." Mike shrugged scornfully. "It doesn't matter how long you delay, it's going to end up the same."
According to the terms, he couldn't delay the date more than a month, so Rick put the challenge off as much as he could. He bit his thumb hard enough to draw blood, then pressed it down onto the document. Immediately Mike snatched the paper from him, grinning. "Signed and sealed! You're not getting out of this one, you bastard!"
