Street Cultivation 3: Chapters 7-8

This week we have a mix of action and worldbuilding. I've wanted to get to some of this stuff for a while, but felt like it just wouldn't make sense for Rick to care about it while he has his eyes on immediate concerns. Though this won't be a politics book, if you want a taste of geopolitical lucrim, you'll get it!

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Chapter 7: Peerless Godweights

He took a brisk ride back to central Branton, enjoying the wind rushing past him and refocusing. His preparations for the Unlimited Defensive Ring were ongoing, but he risked over-training if he pushed at the moment. Another tiny bit of strength wouldn't be as important as better preparation.

By the time he reached the Branton Public Library, Rick was feeling far better. The action of jumping off his bike and retracting it into his pocket came as second nature by now. He walked up to the fortified building at a brisk pace, then set about looking through the stacks for Heather.

Only after not finding her for several minutes did it really occur to him that he didn't need to contact his favorite librarian. She might be in charge of the rare texts, but one of his goals was just simple research. He went to one of the computers and keyed in the books that Adsila had recommended him, figuring out where they were and collecting them easily enough.

They might not be thrilling reading, but her recommendations seemed like good ones for giving him a better view of the Showdown. As good as the internet was for most kinds of research, an organized treatment by someone qualified still had significant value.

"Rick?" Abruptly Heather was in the same row, brushing a tattooed hand through bright purple hair. "Fuckin' A, it is you! Haven't seen you here in a hell of a long time."

"Uh, yeah. I got a new job out of town." Best not to mention that it was only a little bit out of town. Rick smiled and tucked his current book under his arm. "Good to see you again, Heather."

"Fuck yeah. You need me to help you find things?"

"I've got the normal books I was after, but I was wondering if you might help me with some research. I'm trying to get completely prepared for the Showdown. I've looked online, but I was wondering if you had any restricted information only available in the library system?"

Heather let out a long whistle. "The Showdown, eh? Damn. Pretty soon you'll be rubbing shoulders with the Peerless, I suppose."

"You too?" Rick realized that comment was incomprehensible and pushed forward. "You're the second person who's brought up the old world powers like they're important recently. Am I just entirely out of touch? I don't pay a ton of attention to politics, but the Peerless never come up. I wasn't even sure they were all still around, to be honest."

"Oh, they're still around. Some say they're obsolete, and it's true they don't define the world they way the major powers did centuries ago. But there are an equal number of people who think that they're still controlling the world from the shadows."

"Why bother ruling from the shadows? The CLO is openly in charge of the Global Lucrim Authority."

"I didn't say they were smart conspiracy theorists." Heather regarded him with a strange look, then shook her head. "I figured you'd be up on all that shit, Rick. Keeping track of the most powerful people in the entire world seems like the sort of thing you fighter types would be into."

Rick threw up his hands. "What's the point when they're just obscenely stronger than I'll ever be? That'd be like a pilot keeping tabs on Jupiter."

"You mean you don't want to be Lion of Qin when you grow up?"

"I don't even know what she does, other than keeping China a world power."

"I think you may have been a victim of our shitty public education system." Heather raised her eyebrows, still with that odd expression. "I'm not going to throw remedial reading at you, but I think you might be interested. The Peerless Nonaggression Pact might keep them out of the public eye, but they're still essential to world politics. Any nation that doesn't have one of the Peerless, or at least the next best thing, is a third world nation by default."

The truth was that Rick didn't pay a lot of attention to world politics, either, but he didn't want to look ignorant in front of Heather. Instead he tried to ask questions that would get him a bit more perspective without looking stupid. He wondered if Lisa had opinions on the subject, but he'd never asked her. In any case, Heather's opinions on the world were as profane as his family's, though much better informed.

Rick wasn't entirely sure why the five Peerless went along with the Pact, and Heather didn't get into those details. That was obvious stuff, he'd just thought it was only historical information. He actually hadn't known how many fighters there were below the Peerless, he'd just always assumed that any developed country probably had one to act as a deterrent in addition to the black ops squads that did the actual fighting.

Apparently there were eleven, or twelve depending on how certain nations were counted. Rick wondered about the potential for other fighters of equal strength who weren't affiliated with a nation, but Heather seemed to imply that if they existed, they weren't relevant to global politics. That seemed fairly true, though he found himself thinking of Teragen and wondering if the overpowering man rated on such a scale.

He was actually curious to learn more, but realized that he was wasting Heather's time. Rick asked her for access to the restricted section to look up a few texts on defensive strategies in the upcoming event. Heather guided him there quickly enough, but looked over her shoulder at him as she unlocked the door.

"If you do actually get into the Showdown, Rick, I hope you'll remember the libraries."

"What?" He shook himself past his dull reaction and focused on what she meant. "You said all that and didn't even hint that there's some connection between the Showdown and the public library system?"

"There's no connection, and that's the problem. I have nothing against the Showdown itself, or you participating in it." Heather took a deep breath, both hands toying with her ring of keys. "But the people behind the Showdown are generally the old sects, big corporations, immortals, and generally everyone who's opposed to knowledge being free. Wars were fought to make this much knowledge available to everyone."

"And you think I'll just get so wrapped up in the Showdown that I turn against libraries? How could I, after all you've done for me and my sister?"

"That wasn't an abstract statement, Rick. If you stay in the Showdown, we could use more patrons to keep us in business. If you decide to leave... well, some of the information given to the competitors includes secrets the public library system has never been able to acquire. We would compensate you for them."

Rick stared at her, trying to figure out if she could possibly have just said what he'd heard. He got a clear answer when Heather turned to smile at him.

"Yeah, I did just fucking say that. What's a little industrial espionage between friends, right?"

All he could do was shake his head. "If you're saying it basically in public like this, it can't be too serious."

"There's nothing illegal about it. The problem is that those who finally reach the heights of the Showdown tend to kick down the ladders behind them. So just... remember us, alright?" Heather gestured over her shoulder at the restricted section. "Well, it's up to you. Go nuts."

He thanked her quietly, trying to decide if this changed anything. The conflict around the libraries was another piece of life he'd always considered a historical fact, not a present reality. Technically what Heather was asking him was just to make a donation to the library system. Plenty of rich people or prestigious sects did that, getting things named after them.

But now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember very many giving them secret techniques. In fact, the only examples that came to mind were dying sects who wanted their skills to live on, or occasionally as a desperate promotional bid from a faction that was becoming irrelevant. The idea that he could have something they wanted... Rick shook the thoughts off and focused on his research.

It took him nearly an hour to gather several books he thought were relevant, leaving him with a filled backpack of reading material. That would be way more reading than he normally did, but hopefully it would leave him prepared for what he was getting into. The abruptly serious conversation with Heather left him less certain.

When he was finished, Rick found himself lingering, not wanting to move on just yet. He sat in one of the chairs, in the nook Melissa had always used for her research. Instead of starting the daunting pile of books, he just began fiddling with his phone, looking up more about what Heather had said.

As he had expected, once he got out of his usual ring of sites focused on practical lucrim, he found lots of people who seemed to view it as entertainment. Most of them struck him as armchair fighters with little idea of what they were actually talking about. He definitely saw errors and misunderstandings when they discussed advanced lucrim technique.

Still, even if they were basically just sports fans who liked a particular violent sport, they were fans of something he was about to enter. And whatever their errors when it came to details, they had a far better understanding of the global situation than he did.

Few of them used the term "Peerless" and he had to admit it was a bad name for a group of five peers. The dominant attitude seemed to be that the old titles and systems were too disorganized, so many used the popular American weight classes. There were arguments about it, particular those who preferred the Siberian or Chinese ranking system, but Rick focused on what he knew best.

In most combat sports, the highest class was heavyweight, or sometimes super heavyweight. But unquestionably beyond that class lay a tier known as the dragonweights, warriors so powerful they were national or corporate assets. There were only around a dozen in the world, though users speculated that there might be four or five more who weren't affiliated with any nation. The exact strength of specific public figures was much debated, but Rick didn't particularly care.

Beyond them all lay the five godweights.

Just thinking about the level of power they must wield left Rick numb. There was no question their lucrim generation rates would be in the millions, but how much higher? The numbers might as well be imaginary, for all they mattered to his life.

Rick tried to remind himself that they didn't matter to the lives of many other people. People online debated whether the new World Sculptor was really as strong as the others, but the godweights never fought one another. If a fight between the Chief Lucrim Officer and the Demonic Legionnaire would lead to mutually assured destruction, did the minor differences matter?

That became even more pronounced when it came to the dragonweights. It was generally agreed by the obsessive rankers that the dragonweight in India was weaker than the one in Japan. Yet Japan's economy was declining due to an aging population, while India's was exploding. Having a human nuke got them both a seat at the negotiation table, but beyond that exact strength didn't seem relevant to him.

Or maybe it was sour grapes to think about people that powerful. Rick shook his head violently and forced himself back to his feet. If he was going to refocus and get anything done, he needed a change of setting. The library was too tangled up with all this new research.

Instead he headed toward Eastpark. Since he spent all his time in nature at the Peakless Wildlife Refuge, the park was no longer much of a novelty. But it might be nice to visit again, especially since he'd done some critical preparation for other important events there.

Because none of the rest mattered at all if he failed out of the qualifying rounds.

Just biking to the park cleared his head a bit. Rick arrived and found it pleasantly filled with various people, but he wandered to his usual place. To his surprise, he spotted Lisa sitting on a picnic blanket, drinking from a thermos. He found himself smiling and headed toward her. Though he'd continued to do a few experiments to help her developing business, they hadn't spoken much lately.

"Hey, Lisa!" Rick spoke up as he approached and was glad to see Lisa immediately smile broadly when she saw him. Her expression faded slightly the next moment.

"Hello, Rick. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Sorry, but work at the Refuge has been keeping me busy. I don't get into town as much as I used to." He shook his head, regretting how they'd drifted apart. "We used to train together all the time. I'm sorry that we've-"

"Rick, I'm actually here with someone." She spoke quietly, almost apologetically, but the words cut straight into him. Rick couldn't find the right words to say before he saw Lisa's attention shift. When he turned to look, he saw a young well-dressed man about their age approaching with a basket. "Trenton, this is the Rick I told you about."

"He finally appears!" Trenton shifted the basket to his other arm to extend a hand and Rick shook it on pure autopilot. "So you're the one responsible for giving Lisa such a freakishly strong lucrima soul, huh? I could use some training myself, actually."

"I'm... still figuring out the next step for me." Rick hesitated, a sense of shame stealing up on him. The two of them both looked put together, like they knew what they were doing with their lives. Lisa started to open her mouth and he saw just a hint of concern in her eyes, and that was too much. "Sorry to interrupt, Lisa, just wanted to say hi. You two have a lovely day."

They sent farewells after him as he fled from the park. Rick's mind should have been flooded with angry thoughts, yet he found that all of them fell away. Maybe if he'd made different decisions things could have gone differently with Lisa, but he'd screwed it up.

All that mattered was winning in the Unlimited Defense Ring.

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Chapter 8: Unlimited Defensive Ring

When eight days had elapsed, Rick was... there. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but he was physically present. The stadium was nothing like the chaos of the early qualifying days, now filled only with those who had received invitations to specific events. There weren't many in the stands, but he thought the factions were slightly larger than they had been before.

He arrived too early, witnessing the end of the Aura Throwing event. Though not as overpowering as some of those he'd seen earlier, the contestants hurled lances of aura that looked plenty lethal to him. According to his Showdown research, Aura Throwing was a long-standing traditional event. Technically the contestants could throw aura in any form, but generations of athletes had proved that the thin lance was the best form for the concentrated power the event judged.

As the lancers finished throwing, another part of the field was cleared for the Unlimited Defensive Ring. He'd actually seen it before, the familiar pair of rings. A man called the beginning of the event and Rick had a nervous moment where he wondered if he was supposed to go up, as he hadn't seen any kind of order.

But apparently it was more haphazard than that. One of the other fighters loitering around, a short but immensely muscular man in a cheap combat suit, walked forward into the center of the ring. Several potential strikers moved closer to the outer ring and Rick joined them, though he didn't plan to try to eliminate anyone. The official made a note and announced the start of the event, but otherwise stepped back.

"Come at me!" As soon as he got into the center of the ring, the man thumped his chest and glared at the crowd. "If you think you can bring down the Abs of Ultimate Steel, you have another thing coming!"

As soon as the official had announced the beginning, a timer had begun running on the scoreboard. Rick had read that intimidation and delays could be an important part of the event, which proved clear as no one moved immediately. It would have struck him as unfair, except that the person who stayed in the ring for the longest period of time wasn't automatically the winner.

Soon enough a challenger stepped into the outer ring. As soon as he entered, he had six seconds to do whatever he could to dislodge the man at the center. The first challenger lunged forward in a split second and began with a simple punch to the chest. His muscular opponent merely took it head on, grunting as a series of blows rained down on him.

At their speed of combat, many blows fit into six seconds, but they did no good. Just when Rick was thinking the time had elapsed, he was startled by a ripple of aura speeding out from the center, pushing away the challenger. He had read there was some sort of method to enforce the timer, but he'd figured it would be a buzzer or something.

"Ha! You think that will bring me down?" The muscular man struck his chest again and sneered.

Without warning a foot hit him in the side of the head. The man staggered, nearly stepping out of the central circle, but barely recovered. His opponent had flashed in faster than Rick could see, presumably using a technique like the Bunyan's Step. This time the challenger pressed his opponent harder, forcing him to brace himself in defense.

Rick watched the combat with some interest, but he wasn't sure how it related to the actual event. Clearly the first round had been more impressive, since the contestant had merely stood and ignored the blows. But how much less valuable was the current round of blocking?

When the six seconds elapsed, the second attacker was swept away. The muscular man grimaced and nearly touched the side of his head before he shook himself and sneered again. "Is that all?"

"You call those the Abs of Ultimate Steel, huh?" A man stepped up to the edge of the circle and Rick blinked in surprise: though he wore ordinary pants, he draped what looked like an actual wolf fur around his neck. With his hair shaggy and unkempt, he looked like he'd walked out of the wilderness. "Let's see how they last against my Beast Claw."

The posturing was only racking up time on the clock, leading Rick to wonder if that was a viable tactic. Then again, it seemed like no one really cared about anything except the number of six second rounds endured. Whoever the wolf-furred man was, he was obviously hoping to attract attention as a challenger.

When he entered, his advance was startlingly quick. In the time it took Rick to blink, the wild man had swung a claw-like hand... and the muscular man staggered backward, lines of blood exploding from his chest. He barely managed to catch himself, but the next attack came just as viciously, tearing through his stomach and knocking him to the ground.

As soon as he collapsed, the clock stopped. Rick was relieved to see that medical professionals including a lucrim healer went to remove the fallen competitor. His gaze turned to the clock, which sat at 45.31 seconds. It had felt much longer.

Critically, nobody acknowledged the muscular man and he didn't seem to receive any seals. At least, Rick thought that the awarding would happen right after the event if it did. That set his first expectation: 45 seconds and two rounds endured wasn't good enough to matter.

Rick continued to watch as other challengers entered the Ultimate Defensive Ring. More than he expected were defeated by their first or second attacker, clearly unprepared for the event. The fifth contestant was a thin man who lasted over five minutes by dodging every attack thrown at him until eventually being dislodged by a shockwave of aura. There was some grumbling, but eventually a suited woman approached and as his sponsor gave him a Showdown card and an official seal.

So that was what succeeding looked like. It seemed that dodging wasn't considered a very respectable tactic, but the fact that he had endured five minutes and over two dozen challengers was apparently impressive enough. That was good to know.

As the event continued, Rick began to realize that there were subtle strategies he hadn't noticed at first. The first few attackers were always relatively weak brawlers, which led him to a realization: they were just sweepers. They tested each challenger, eliminating those who were too weak early on but also feeling them out.

The challengers had their own strategies as well, trying to score impressive knockouts against opponents suited to them. He noticed that the wolf-furred man was particularly aggressive, but mostly against opponents who tried to win with endurance alone. As he repeatedly boasted, his "Beast Claw" seemed to tear through defensive cores and even an aura shield.

Over time, many failed and only one other person received a card and a seal: a woman who fended off attackers with excellent hand-to-hand skills. Even when some of the stronger attackers managed to land blows, she endured until a ranged aura attack knocked her unconscious. A group of healers came to treat her and it was announced that she was receiving a sponsor and two seals.

Realizing that time was running out, Rick tried to mentally prepare himself to step forward. He knew exactly what he was getting into, yet he was strangely apprehensive. It was less worry for his health than his pride: defense was his best trait, so if he failed at it, he would feel like a total failure.

When there was a lull, Rick swallowed and walked forward to the central ring. He felt like everyone was staring at him and sneering, though of course that was just his nerves. It was absolutely true that they were all watching him, of course, and whether he succeeded or failed, he would do it in front of everyone.

The timer started at 0.00 seconds.

Rick didn't boast, just waited for the first few attackers to test him out. The first rushed to pummel him with punches and Rick tried to defend himself as generically as possible: static blocks and other means to limit his opponent's blows. None of them felt heavy, but Rick didn't care about them: he was trying to give those watching as little information about him as possible.

It seemed to work, because three different people attacked him with simple blows. One whose style emphasized kicking actually struck hard enough to hurt, but Rick expected her ambush and simply did his best to block the next strikes.

Once she was pushed back, he had a moment to breathe and looked to the clock. How could it only have been 22 seconds?

"You're a brawler, huh?" The wolf-pelted man stepped forward, sneering theatrically as usual. "We'll see how well street fighting stands up against the Beast Claw!"

Rick knew that his opponent was blindingly quick and braced himself to move, but it didn't matter. Without the Bunyan's Step, he couldn't compete at such speed. In a single blink his opponent was in front of him, nails tearing through his chest.

Except they skated off harmlessly.

For a full two seconds everyone stared in shock, Rick most of all. He realized that the aura that had struck him was highly unusual, not like human aura... but very similar to an aura bear. After taking countless clawings from Blue, the "Beast Claw" felt like a cheap imitation.

The attacker recovered and attacked in a blind fury, stabbing at his stomach as if to disembowel him. Rick braced himself to defend in case it was a different trick, but again his defensive aura shrugged it off. When the six seconds ended and a pulse of aura pushed away his opponent, Rick's clothing was slightly torn but his skin was untouched.

He'd had everyone's attention before, but now they were focused on him. Rick realized that his inability to react must have looked like raw confidence, simply enduring his opponent's blows without moving. Since he didn't want those watching to think he was just a dumb brute, Rick decided to speak up.

"It looks like your Beast Claw uses animal aura. Useful trick against people who have never felt it before."

Enraged, the man pulled off his wolf pelt and began to step forward, but some of the others held him back. Yet Rick found that his confidence wasn't bravado: the "Beast Claw" was essentially just a trick that relied upon everyone being used to the modern world's use of lucrim. This wasn't an opponent he really needed to fear.

The long delay got him to 43 seconds, but soon enough another opponent came to challenge him. This one was a woman who bombarded him with bursts of flame from a distance. Rick felt clumsy just weathering the attacks, but didn't see that he had any other choices, as his usual tactic against ranged fighters was to close the distance.

Still, he got through. This time there was almost no delay before a woman in green robes stepped in. She approached at a sprint, raising her hand in a knife-like formation and stabbing down. Yet at the last second she shifted her hand, instead tapping his chest with her palm.

Pain shot through Rick's body as he felt his internal organs twist... but he'd endured such attacks before. Granny Whitney had made him suffer far more than that with all her preparatory pills. Rick decided that it was better to show off and endured several more palm blows before the time elapsed and the woman was swept away, a surprised expression on her face.

Rick rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck to hide his wince. His insides hurt a bit and they'd probably need some time to heal, but he was far from disabled. Hopefully weathering two full rounds without retaliating would be enough to impress those deciding his fate.

Just as the clock passed a full minute, someone he knew stepped to the side of the ring: James Travis. The man had the same flawless suit and arrogant sneer as before, but what worried Rick was that he hadn't appeared to challenge any of the previous contestants. Was this personal?

"That confidence is just sickening." James raised his hands, making clear his extended fingers. "Let's end this miserable little attempt, shall we?"

Though it was meant to intimidate, Rick was ready. His opponent jerked through the air toward him, but Rick was expecting the strange movements. When the first hand stabbed out at him, he deflected it just to the side. Lucrim stabbed into him... but in the wrong spot, leading to only mild pain instead of agony.

James's eyes widened, but he didn't delay, immediately striking again. Rick didn't try to defend himself completely, just nudged each blow off course so that his opponent missed his targets. Soon enough James began to adapt, twisting around his defenses and landing a few painful hits. This time Rick's defensive core partially blocked them, reducing the agony to simple pain. Long enough for six seconds...

The aura pulsed out from the central circle... but James flipped into the air, his body jerking along with the aura in a way that somehow propelled him over it. Taken completely off guard, Rick felt fingers stab into his neck, both choking him and sending agony shooting through his body.

A more intense pulse of aura pushed James away and Rick had to struggle to stay on his feet. He shouldn't have rubbed his throat but couldn't help it. Around the circle, he saw that many of the other competitors looked disgruntled, and James was led away by an official for the rule violation.

Was that good or bad for him? The blow to his throat had hurt, but the confusion led to a long delay and gave him time to work past the pain. Though he ached deeply all over, he reminded himself that there were no true injuries beneath all the pain. He knew pain and he could fight through it.

He was up to 1:17 now. The next attacker was a brawler covered in demonic tattoos who used some sort of draining technique. It left him exhausted, but Rick was accustomed to fighting while drained, especially after surviving the demon realm.

There was another pause and Rick realized just how much attention he was getting. He immediately tried to shove away any positive thoughts, not letting himself get overconfident. All that mattered was focusing on his opponents and lasting as long as he could.

Another attacker stepped into the outer circle and began waving his hands. Rick blinked in confusion, not seeing the thin waves of aura until they hit him. Immediately he grimaced and staggered back, feeling the aura begin to burn into him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, the aura eating into him like acid. He instinctively drew on the Dark Blood Kettle, but though it began to adapt to the strange aura, it didn't work fast enough to give him any immunity.

When the six seconds ended, Rick nearly collapsed, the acid still digging deeper into his body. He'd endured the round, but he was finished. He bitterly glanced at the clock and saw that he'd reached 1:39. Maybe he could last a little longer, but the next challenger would finish him.

In the end, he was as much of a gimmick as the Beast Claw fighter. He'd endured all the other attacks because he had experience against them, but the first time he ran into something that was completely unfamiliar to him, he folded. It was a miracle that he was still on his feet.

Yet... entering the Showdown was his best chance. Rick realized that the invisible acid was only burning him spiritually, so he adopted a crazy strategy: he straightened up and smiled.

He felt like he was about to collapse and he had no real defense against the acid, but everyone watching didn't know that. Not unless they had some intensely powerful observation Lucores. To them, it looked like he had endured yet another exotic attack unscathed, and he saw plenty of surprised faces in the audience.

1:47 now. Rick considered stepping out of the ring and going out on a high note, but at that moment he noticed someone in the stands: the man who had rescued him from Alger. He was watching Rick coolly, the smoke from his cigarette wafting over his face.

That delay prevented Rick from forfeiting before another challenger stepped up beside the ring. It was an elderly woman he guessed was Chinese based on both her appearance and her traditional robe. She raised a hand beside her head and over a dozen bright purple spheres of aura flared into existence over her hair.

Those spheres... Rick had been too busy reacting to judge most of his other challengers, but the woman was delaying, giving him time to realize how powerful her attack was. Her generation rate was at least a quarter million and he guessed the Lucore generating the spheres might be six digits on its own. There was no way he could endure that attack.

"I won't need six seconds," she said quietly. "Want to step out now?"

Rick raised his arms to guard his head. "Nah, that looks fun."

She gave a slight smile, then stepped into the ring. Instantly the spheres crashed into him from all sides, utterly overwhelming his defenses. Rick didn't even try to hold his position, he just focused on keeping his defensive core from shattering and trying to absorb as much from the attack as he could.

When his vision was no longer seared by purple light, Rick realized that he was lying on his face outside the rings. He hurt all over, more from the spheres impacting him than landing on his face. Though he wanted to get back up to show his endurance, he physically couldn't: he barely struggled to sit up a little before his body simply trembled instead of obeying him.

The clock had stopped at 2:07.93. Apparently the woman had used more time on her demonstration than he thought, or perhaps the spheres had battered him longer than he remembered. Did it matter? Had he won or lost?

"We won't sponsor him, of course." It was the Chinese woman, still standing in the rings. "But if his sponsor steps forward, we'll give him a Jade Seal."

Relief flooded through him as Rick realized that it had been a gift. She had recognized that he couldn't endure any longer and defeated him with overwhelming force instead of letting some weaker attacker simply knock him over. And she was offering a Jade Seal, which if he recalled, was a reasonably respectable seal for Chinese delegates to give to a foreigner.

And yet as the silence stretched, Rick's satisfaction began to crumble. No one stepped forward, and he realized that it was all useless if he hadn't impressed a sponsor. He had endured over two minutes and eight full rounds... wasn't that enough? Would they just treat him and send him home a failure?

"I'll take him." The nameless man stepped forward, dropped his cigarette to the ground, and ground it out with one foot. He didn't look happy, but he gave Rick a grudging nod. "You have a bit of potential, kid. We'll talk later after I fill out the paperwork."

With that, he looked away, conferring with the officials as well as the Chinese woman. Rick struggled to one knee before dropping back to sit down, just taking a while to believe it was really happening. If he had a sponsor, that meant his seal was valid and he was officially part of the Showdown. He'd made it.

"That was amazing!" Raggest pushed out of the crowd, pumping a fist into the air. "You were so badass, I almost wanted to attack you myself! Hell, maybe I will - we're part of the same league now!"

"We are?" Rick blinked as he realized it was true. After so many preliminary events, somehow he'd expected to discover more hurdles in his way.

"Yeah, this means you're part of the Junior Showdown. Don't worry, they'll give you special training to help you compete. I can tell you have the spirit of a warrior, so I expect you'll be far stronger the next time we meet." Raggest punched him in the shoulder and grinned. "Only a few of the other juniors are cool, and there are a lot of assholes like that James guy. I look forward to fighting with you."

"Won't we be competitors?" Rick asked. Raggest just shrugged.

"A warrior needs rivals to sharpen their edge! And in the end, the purpose of the Showdown is to put on a good show, so we're also coworkers in a way. Once you get to the elites, it's like a big party. Too much like a party, if you ask me, which is why I'm glad to meet another real warrior!"

"Yeah... nice to meet you too, Raggest."

It looked like the young man was about to say more, but at that moment they were interrupted. Rick's rising good humor instantly froze.

"You shouldn't be watching the qualifying events, Raggest." Alger spoke softly, standing behind the young man with his hands laced over his cane. His expression was severe until he looked to Rick and gave him a very small smile. "It seems you're a warrior after all. I would have been a better sponsor for you... but perhaps we'll meet again, in time."

Alger swept Raggest away, leaving Rick sitting cold on the field. He tried to remind himself that he'd won a great victory: at minimum participating in the Showdown would earn him free training and an income for months. This was the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Yet as he thought about Alger's small smile, it didn't feel like a victory.