Street Cultivation, page 32
In any case, Rick was interested in causing injuries, not healing them.
Combining what he'd learned from Granny Whitney and from these sources gave him the final pieces he needed. It would take him a while to work out the details, but he thought it was possible: a blow to the chest that would ram aura straight into the heart of the opponent's lucrima.
Just surviving the match against Mike wouldn't be enough, since another challenge could easily follow. No, he needed to end it decisively. Since it was impossible for him to gain so much strength to dominate the match, what he needed to do was focus on one strike at the end. This one would leave Mike with an injury that would make him hesitate to ever attack Rick's family again.
And that would be the end of it. Hopefully.
Chapter 44: Sibling Technique
Without fights in the Underground to occupy his schedule, Rick should have felt more free overall. Instead he found himself entirely consumed with preparations, not just for the coming multi-tier tournament, but for the confrontation with Mike after it. Nearly every waking moment he wasn't at work, he was training for the inevitable or at least thinking about it.
He had never trained this hard in his life. Lisa warned him that he was dangerously close to over-training, which would actually begin to reverse his progress if he kept forcing it. The body wasn't made to work constantly, needing time to repair itself, and the soul wasn't made to meditate constantly. Without substance to meditate on, it could quickly become useless or worse.
But for now, he pushed on. Most likely he would need to spend a while resting and reflecting after this, but he would be grateful just for the opportunity. If he didn't make it through, there would be no rest at all.
To put off over-training as long as possible, he alternated between three exercises: expanding his lucrim via philosopher's elixir, doing exercises to prepare for the Deathbane, and developing his new finishing technique. The first was limited by his paychecks, since he wasn't willing to put Melissa at risk, and he'd done enough of the second for the day, so at the moment he was focused on the third.
There wasn't time to develop it to the point where he could use it as a primary combat technique, but he thought he was close to making it functional. If anything, the problem would not be finishing the technique, but finishing it and finding the result underwhelming. He'd likely only have one chance to strike...
An idea slid into his mind and Rick found himself considering something new. He glanced over his shoulder, where Melissa sat at the little table, doing her best to glue the figurines back together. They would never be anything like they were meant to be, of course, but she seemed to find it calming to place the pieces back into their proper formation. She'd already repaired one of the figures, a robed woman who was heavily cracked, but still recognizable.
"Are all the pieces there?" He leaned down over her shoulder, watching her work. Melissa gave him a brief smile before gesturing with the pieces she was holding.
"I've got all the big pieces, but I'm missing some chips. Those chips are actually the biggest problem, since it's easy to misjudge and glue them wrong. That can be a real pain." As she continued working, she glanced back at him again. "Anyway, what's up? You're way too focused to just amble over to chat."
"You mean I can't want to take a break with my dearest sister?"
"Nope. It's in one of the clauses of the Super Serious Training Guy contract or something."
Rick sighed. "Am I really getting that bad?"
"You're fine, I'm just teasing you." Melissa stopped working and set down the glass figurine to look at him. "I mean, if you were like this all the time from now on, I wouldn't like it. But I understand why you need to work so hard. If there was ever a time to go overboard, this is it."
Yes, she would understand more than anyone else, having been drawn in herself. Remembering that made Rick get over his discomfort with asking what he'd been thinking. "You remember that exercise you did where you drained my foundation to make it more efficient?"
"Sure, but I thought that wasn't helping much anymore."
"What I need is for you to combine that with the offensive technique you were working on earlier."
"Eh?" Though Melissa gave him an odd look, as he began to demonstrate what he intended, she quickly caught on. Much sooner than he expected, she managed to manifest what he'd hoped. She cupped her hands in front of her, an invisible flame burning within.
While she worked on that, Rick formed spare lucrim into a shell similar to her own. It wouldn't serve to contain the flame in the same way, and he didn't think anything would keep the flame in its place in the center. That was a problem that he hoped he could solve, however, and the important thing was to test the concept.
"Okay, so..." Melissa extended her cupped hands toward him. "Now I try to... hand it off, I guess? How can I put it into the sphere thing without burning through the side?"
"This is lucrim, not physical matter. You should be able to pass through."
Due to her inexperience, the flame did deal some damage, but Rick managed to accept it from her. He rebuilt the sphere around the flame and tried to pin it in place with aura pressure. All his instincts screamed to push the whole thing away from himself, that it was dangerous, yet he suppressed those and kept trying. If he could sustain it inside himself in a balanced way...
Without warning the flames licked the side of the sphere and his lucrim began to burn away. Rick let out a cry and dropped to one knee, grabbing the side of the table. Before much could burn, Melissa reached out a hand and the void flame snuffed out immediately.
"Gosh, I'm sorry... should I have made a smaller one?"
"No, you did fine." Rick took a deep breath and got back to his feet. "I was the one who screwed it up. Next time I'll do better... though I don't know if I want to try again just now."
"We're not going to try again at all unless you explain what you're trying here." Melissa put her hands on his shoulders, making him look at her. "I'm just coming to grips with my condition, Rick. If I end up hurting you with it, that's going to... well, it'd really mess me up."
He considered in silence for a moment, then decided that there was no harm in explaining one of his core plans. In fact, given that his plan now included her, it would be downright foolish not to. "If we do this right, the one you'll hurt will be Mike."
"Ooh, do tell." Melissa moved away from the little table, vaulted over the couch, and patted the seat beside her. "Tell me everything."
"Basically, I think we should assume that the match won't be fair. If Mike is winning, he'll do as much damage to me as he can. But if I gain the advantage, he'll call it off. Maybe not right away, since he has an ego, but he can just give up before I can get back at him, then try again later." Rick sat down and smiled at his sister. "So before he does, I need to hit him with something he'll remember."
Melissa gave him a vicious smile. "I like the sound of that. I'd love to do it myself, but it's obvious that I can't actually harm someone with developed lucrim defenses. Not right now. You think you can use my skill somehow?"
"I can't use it, but I can carry these... void flames you create. At least, I think I can. What matters is that I've been working on a technique to do aura damage to someone's lucrima. I was planning to use my own aura... but using yours would be much more effective."
"Wow, so you'd... punch the flame into him? That sounds like it'd hurt a lot." His sister sat back, smile softening. "I really like that idea, Rick. I mean, I'd prefer for us to take out Glenn, but since Mike is the one ultimately responsible, I'll settle for that."
"Maybe you can hit Glenn yourself someday." Encouraging his sister to get into a feud with a powerful Birthrighter was probably not a good big brother move, but he liked seeing her so optimistic.
The two of them worked together on the basics of the technique. Though Rick realized he'd need a lot more time to safely carry one of his sister's void flames, it was easier with her helping directly. Even if successful, the result would basically be a bomb inside him that she could explode whenever she wanted, but he had no concerns about making himself vulnerable to her.
Eventually it grew late and Melissa said she needed to get working on homework she'd been putting off. It was just as well, because it was getting close to his appointment with Emily. Rick headed out to the Recluse's Retreat.
Though they couldn't meet often because she was busy with work, he and Emily had set up a training schedule. Emily's defensive core had much more lucrim than his, but it was actually rated lower, so she could learn from him. It was a fairly equitable agreement, so he was glad that she wasn't just pitying him.
In return, she helped polish his offense. Her aura blades were incredibly sharp and he was still in awe of how much force she could put into a blow. Even if he couldn't attain that level, he could make his offensive skills less lackluster. Their relative weaknesses made the training mutually beneficial, so he was always glad when she had time.
Usually when he arrived at the Recluse's Retreat, the guard waved him through. But this time, the man stepped into his path. "I'm sorry, sir, but only clients and their guests are allowed inside."
"Come on," Rick said, "don't you recognize me by now? I work with Emily."
"And she didn't say anything about a guest today. I'm afraid you'll have to wait, sir."
That was frustrating, and it implied worse possibilities, but he wasn't going to get in a fight with the retreat staff. Rick stepped back and shuffled his feet while he waited, wondering what the problem could be. As conscientious as Emily was, he didn't believe that she could have simply forgotten. She also wasn't the type to simply snub him, so he was left with grim possibilities.
At last he saw Emily approach, her usually stern expression more serious than normal. Instead of waving him in, she left the retreat. Without saying a word she jerked her head down the street, so he followed her. They walked out of earshot before she glanced to him.
"Did you get a message from Whitney?"
"What? No."
Emily sighed. "I was afraid of that. I'm not sure if she expects you to run, but she doesn't give you the same respect she gives the rest of us."
"So she told you something? What?"
"There are signs that one of her rivals is trying to target her chosen fighters. Outside of the Underground, just whenever he gets the chance. As such, she's going to take all of us early. In about a week we'll all be taken three days early, kept under lock and key until it's time for the event."
"Huh." Rick considered that revelation. He didn't like the idea of Granny Whitney kidnapping him, since that was likely what would happen, but he also didn't like the idea of hitmen coming after him. Much less coming to his apartment and targeting Melissa. "So that changes things?"
"It's very inconvenient for me, but I can't afford to fight her on this. I need to work this whole week to prepare, so I'm afraid our training is canceled for now." Emily stopped walking and turned to him. "But then we're going to be stuck together for three days while we wait for the event. I'll prepare some final exercises for you and I expect you to do the same."
If all the fighters would be forced together before the event, then his schedule had just gotten rearranged. Hopefully it would still work, but... "I'll prepare some defensive exercises so you don't waste your time, but I don't know how much time I'll have for yours. I'm likely to be injured for much of that time."
Emily raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't ask questions. "Fair enough. I'll see you there, Rick. Don't take any unnecessary risks."
With that, she turned and walked away. From her, that was practically a warm farewell. Rick stared after her for a moment before realizing he had no time to space out.
He had almost no time at all. Soon he would be facing three major threats in succession and he could only hope that his preparations had been enough.
Chapter 45: Granny Whitney's Team
When the day arrived for him to be kidnapped, Rick was ready. Melissa had argued that she should come along, that it might be safer for her to be with him, but he had refused. It might have been nice to have her with him, and he respected her desire to see the fights... but he didn't want her to be in the same room with Granny Whitney, ever.
Even if it was just instinct, or unjustified paranoia, he wanted to be careful. So Melissa had gone to stay with a friend for a while. Once he was gone, he'd text her, presuming that he'd be allowed to do that. In any case, he waited alone as he felt lucrim concentrate outside his apartment.
There was a knock on the door. Rick picked up his backpack with all his things in it and walked out. Unsurprisingly, Granny Whitney stood at the door. She looked mildly irritated to see him prepared, but covered it with a warm smile.
"I see someone warned you, dearie."
"I agreed to fight in this match for you," Rick said, "and I'm not going back on my commitment. Besides, if your rival is really targeting your fighters, I'm safer wherever you're taking me."
"You're a very reasonable young man." Her next smile looked authentic, though that didn't make it comforting. "And for the record, I have no plans to imprison you or anything of the sort. We're merely all taking a little retreat together, to make sure there aren't any... last second surprises. From anyone."
As she stepped away from the door, Rick looked beyond her, wondering how she had arrived. Soon he got his answer as Granny Whitney pulled a pair of car keys from her handbag and lifted them before her, lucrim pulsing through them.
Aura slid between the different elements of the keychain, powering the external Lucores there. The power quickly multiplied, arcs of light showering through the air by the balcony. The arcs grew concrete, forming a shape that floated there, like a bird opening its wings to fly. Rick had seen lucrim vehicles before, but never one this intense, so he watched curiously as it manifested...
As a car. A little blue economy car, just floating in the air beside his apartment.
"Get in, dearie." Granny Whitney hopped over the railing easily, sailing toward the car. The door and upper part split open to allow her to enter and she landed on the seat with her purse in her lap.
Rick followed more slowly, a bit disoriented by the whole thing. He wasn't exactly concerned about the gap, since the fall wouldn't really hurt him, but he wasn't used to just throwing himself over the railing. But since keeping her waiting might go poorly for him, he forced himself to jump into the car, which opened to swallow him as well.
Then he found himself floating in the air... in what felt like a very ordinary vehicle. It was more spacious than a normal car and the seats were much nicer quality, but otherwise it was bizarrely ordinary. There was no steering wheel, of course, and the dash had a few pictures of children, a stuffed sheep, and a pair of knitting needles.
Humming to herself, Granny Whitney set her keys into the ignition, imparted a command, and then sat back. The vehicle smoothly flew away from the apartment parking lot, then began to climb rapidly. He barely felt the movement, as if the lucrim shell around them was compensating for it somehow.
"Now, I wasn't going to trouble you with details, dearie, but it seems that you've already learned some of them, so we might as well." She smiled over at him. "Yes, I fear one of my rivals is indeed targeting my fighters. Not that I wouldn't do the same in his position - it's rather difficult to replace fighters at this stage. I just wanted to be sure everything went smoothly."
"Just who is this guy sending hitmen? And is a random match in the Underground really this important?"
"It's more important than you know. Branton may not be the largest city, but the Underground is a rather notable fighting arena. As for your first question... his name is Gerald. He's a nice enough sort, he just likes using hitmen a bit too much. Oh, but I suppose you'd know him as the American Basilisk."
Rick stared at her. "You're telling me that a notorious mob boss is competing in this event so seriously that he's sending hitmen to disable the competition?"
"That's about it, dearie. And there are hitwomen, too. Don't be closed-minded."
"That... you still didn't really answer my question. I don't see why this is worth so much trouble from everyone. The rewards can't be that amazing."
Granny Whitney chuckled like he was a child making an amusing spelling mistake. "Oh, the rewards are rather good, but you'll recall those are mine. But no, they aren't the reason. This is about honor, about respect. When it comes to the world of lucrim, that is ultimately the currency of power. Yes, this little fight is just a game, but it is a game about control."
Her voice went hard at the end and Rick swallowed his remaining questions. If Granny Whitney was someone who casually spoke of competing against a person as dangerous as the American Basilisk, then she was even more of a threat than he thought. He realized that Henry had probably dodged a bullet getting taken out of the competition - working for a mobster had to end poorly.
Then again, perhaps Rick was in exactly the same position. He glanced at the old woman from the corner of his eyes, wondering if she was running part of the criminal underworld. Based on what he'd seen... he doubted it. Not that he thought she couldn't, but he felt like her interests lay elsewhere. Hopefully not with him, once she got what she wanted.
If two such important people were competing in this event, then who was Alger to host it? Rick had always assumed he was just a local fight enthusiast, but perhaps there was more going on. He vowed that once he got out of this, he was staying far away from this kind of shady business.
Rick had a feeling he wouldn't be able to keep that vow.
In surprisingly little time they began to descend again, breaking through the clouds. He looked out the window and saw that they were already outside Branton, flying over empty fields. The vehicle might look ordinary, but they had made very good time.
