Eric refused to waste another second. Speed Racer and his own Cultivation and arcane affinities allowed him to ignore both inertia and air resistance as he darted past Nikita so fast that he appeared to vanish before her eyes.
Thanks to Battletime, he had more than enough time to shift his posture and stance, now gazing at the world through emerald green eyes with fiery locks of hair framing Ernest’s face, thanks to the phoenix ring he had invested so much of himself into. A quick look in the mirror showed a younger version of what could have been his cousin, though his features were so eerily symmetrical and airbrushed flawless that it was almost chilling. Especially when the too handsome youth’s wince was his own. Clearly he wasn’t escaping his Appearance stat just by trying to look different.
But if anyone had somehow made a connection between the brooding brown hair, eyes, and the semi-goth attire worn when he had entered, he looked entirely different now. If nothing else, at least the polymer mesh skinsuit he had donned that was the favored badge of status worn by mercenaries when off duty fit just as comfortably as he could hope, and looked like he belonged in it. Even if it did earn more than a few appraising glances when he finally strutted free of the secluded hallways where Eric assumed more than a few discrete transactions with VIP clientele took place.
Even when a whistle cut through the air, Eric refused to flush, well recalling just how randy things had been in Freetown not that long ago, regardless of race or gender, so long as one had the Appearance stat to back it up. And like it or not, now he most certainly did. He kept his walk casual, wearing a bemused half-smile of someone who never minded flattery and was more than comfortable in his own skin. He also made sure that both his magitech vibroblade and the force-shield he really should have practiced using were in easy, instinctive reach while doing everything he could to radiate confidence, poise, and a deadly grace that only earned more glances of casual curiosity or outright hunger from both men and women.
Very much like what life had been like just a few years ago for him, though more often than not, his mother and sister would steal the spotlight, leaving him in relative peace.
Haunted by bittersweet memories he tried not to show, he coolly strode into the plaza proper, greeting both surprised looks and hungry gazes with a cool superior smirk of his own.
He refused to feel embarrassed about anything. Eric gloried in his appearance, his grace, his mastery over any bedroom, boardroom, or battlefield. Or such was the look he strove to convey. A powerful Contender who had just gotten the best of another negotiation, and was now about to celebrate his triumph.
It was a demeanor he wove about himself so thickly that when a monumentally ugly evolved goblin who looked like a cross between a pig and an impossibly greasy used-car salesman glowered his way, his eyes passed right over Eric. Eagerly looking for the prince who was preventing the Bloodtear Syndicate from stealing a city they were no doubt eager to claim. Certainly they had neither time nor interest in a haughty-looking battle-mech pilot. But Eric knew better than to stare at the creature he both loathed, was desperate to avoid, and more eager than he wanted to admit to wash the room in that abomination’s blood. So Eric allowed his eyes to wander, flickering over what was now an impressive crowd of over half a dozen Bronze-tier mercenaries enjoying a free show as a pair of powerfully built men radiating power and outrage glared at none other than Nikita’s assistant.
“Fifty million credits for a standard minigun? Are you out of your fucking mind? They sell for 3.5 Mil, tops, in any galactic hub!” Roared one of the mercenaries.
The second man glowered, cracking his knuckles. “They’re making a mockery of us. If Blue Corp thinks they can get away with clear extortion without alienating every single merc corp in this sector, they got another thing coming!”
“Please, please, gentle sirs. Of course we appreciate your business, and of course Blue Corp direct sales always follow our markup policy, even for the most destitute and isolated worlds now forbidden from accessing any standard market for the duration of Earth’s ascension.”
Despite his meek expression, Nikita’s assistant’s voice rang with an authority that put both glowering men on the back foot. As if forcing them to recall that this world was ascending with all the magnificent promise and potential such had, and that they now got to enjoy front row seats normally forbidden to their kind, or anyone else, really, save for easily conned and hustled natives and the elite spawn who were supposed to be the true beneficiaries of worlds like this, as any merc worth their salt instinctively knew. Yet somehow, they were here, even if their origins before hitting Bronze had been those of common grunts, and they should be damned grateful. Certainly the powers-that-be weren’t going to make things any easier for them by allowing easy access to toys that were normally forbidden on newly ascending worlds entirely.
“These items were placed for sale by an anonymous third party,” Nikita’s assistant continued to explain. “We have absolutely no control on the price they choose to set. All we can do is strive for fairness and integrity with all transactions and assure that the Blue Emporium has done a most thorough check on each and every one of these top-of-the-line miniguns. And every other item put up for sale, including half a dozen suits of Power Armor suitable for Bronze Ascenders all the way up to Advanced Rank 40 without any further investment needed by you. Of course they additionally have plenty of further room to grow for those willing to invest their ascension potential in some of the best suits of armor you’ll find on the planet, I’m sure!”
The man flashed a cheerful salesman’s smile that took in the whole room. “And it goes without saying that ALL our commissioned goods are in pristine condition, ALL have fully charged electromana pacts dimensionally stabilized to assure no untoward discharges, and we can absolutely assure you after a very, VERY thorough data-dive that the beauties that have currently caught your eye are the only Tier-III Hyperion miniguns to be found anywhere at all in this particular corner of the world. And of course, we additionally have many, many more items for sale. Including both Tier II and Tier I blasters, the latter going for a mere 450,000 credits each!”
Eric’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering as he gazed upon the crowd of mercenaries. Not simply because over half the men present were actually gazing at the miniguns with newfound interest, up to and including giving their counterparts wearing different patterned polymer skinsuits side-eyes, leaving the glorious possibility of hyper-competitive purchases that would net him an absolute FORTUNE!
No. That wasn’t what pulled his gaze like a lure dangling such a tempting prize in plain sight, here of all places.
It was one particular mercenary gazing at the weapons with a thoughtful frown, who just happened to have a sheathed mithril dachi on his back every bit as long as a Swiss two-handed saber that could only have come from the Windridge clan.
It was a weapon that called out to him. Unaltered by higher order transformations… still infused with its Wind element, it would allow Eric to channel his Bloodfire Strike, deadly and potent, a skill he now had absolutely no way of unleashing… and it wouldn’t trigger a single goblin seer’s sight or otherwise cause him a shred of political fallout.
It was a prize he was desperate to claim.
And it was all he could do to wipe that desperation from his features when the man he approached abruptly spun around, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there, before instinctively reaching for the back hilt of his mithril blade. A momentary fumble that would have happened to fast for any mortal even to register.
Quickness and Finesse both around 300. He’s a badass. Eric mentally noted, even as he gave a respectful nod.
Perception check: Successful!
“Hey there, are you a fencer? That’s a nice blade.”
The man blinked, his scowl turning to a rueful chuckle. “Didn’t even see you there for a second. And I’m no slouch. I’ll tell you that much for free. Name’s Lone.”
“Ernest.”
“Pleasure, Ernest. What can I do you for?”
Eric smiled, doing his best to embrace a professional mien as he took a step back, crossed his arms, tilted his head, gazing at the man before him appraisingly. Pretending he didn’t notice the way his heart was now hammering. Or the fact that his ring’s transformative powers was still constrained by his Appearance stat, unless he was artistic or foolish enough to try to mold his face himself. And since Obliviation and SkyDragon character generators made it pretty damned clear what happened when you fucked with a face with no artistic background… he’d accept the templates he was given.
He frowned thoughtfully. “I can’t help but note the way your hand jutted for your hip, first thing. I’m guessing to reach for a gladius that isn’t there. Maybe a vibro-blade variant? Like the ones I see your companion’s wearing?” he said with a Perception check and a smile as a pair of similarly uniformed men casually browsing nearby idly turned their attention to face Eric and their companion, tuning out the argument still going on about overpriced Mark-IIIs and the sale that Eric just KNEW was incoming.
Both of those mercenaries had blades and force shields at their hips very much like Eric’s own.
Lone scowled, before he gave a wry chuckle, shrugging his powerful shoulders. “Yeah, that’s just how things go. You win some, you lose some.”
“Yeah, cause you’re an idiot, losing the captain’s prized gear on a bet,” snorted the sandy-haired man to Lone’s left, earning a scowl and a glare.
“Shut the fuck up Myl.”
“Hey, you’re the idiot who lost it, on a bet of all things. With goblins? Are you out of your fucking… never mind,” Myl snorted. “You’re just lucky you found that Mithril blade and that we’re all in this ascended bullshit together, or you’d be out on your ass, and you know it.”
Lone flushed while his other companion wordlessly clapped his shoulder in obvious sympathy, making it clear there was a bond, snark aside.
“Fuck-ups happen,” the latter said. “What matters is we overcome all obstacles and rise to the top.”
“And now we can,” Myl said, a look of wonder flickering across his features. “Here and now, I can feel it. WE call can feel it. If we had stalled before… sure as hell, we’re not stalled now.”
All three men nodded solemnly at that. Instinctively, Eric did as well, sensing by the solemn gravitas those words had over what seemed half the plaza just how vital the opportunity to be able to ascend and level up once more was for these mercenaries, finding themselves on a world embracing its earliest growing pains, all that potency just begging to be claimed.
At that moment Eric did his best to mirror their expressions, the flashes of unguarded hope mixed with bemused cynicism, finding it effortless to fit in.
He didn’t flinch even once when the nearby Goblin barrister snorted. “Fucking losers… come on, fools. He’s not here!”
Eric made sure not to crack a smile when his foes left. Both the barristers and the pair of shadowy assassins he hadn’t sensed at all until that very moment, sending fresh chills down his spine.
“So, you like pretty blades then?” Said Lone, apparently eager to continue their conversation.
Eric flashed an enthusiastic smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Would you like to see mine?”
Myl laughed. The other merc flashed Eric an apologetic smile. Fortunately, Eric was a someone who knew how the game was played, having survived, like his sister, advances from both predatory and well-meaning producers and fellow actors in both California and New York. So he wasn’t afraid to fill the air with a good-natured chuckle of his own, making it clear that no feelings were hurt, that he was in on the joke, and that was all it was.
“I would love to,” he assured, eyes twinkling with good-natured mirth. “As long as it’s the mithril one on your back.”
Lone blinked, then smiled. “By all means.” He solemnly unsheathed his blade and handed it to Eric, hilt first.
“May I?”
“Of course.”
Eric slowly, almost tentatively clasped the hilt in his hand.
Instantly feeling the connection.
Like magic.
Like coming home.
It was all he could do to hide the excitement on his features. How dearly he wanted that blade.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
And one look at Lone’s knowing eyes made it clear he understood that as well.
“How much?”
Lone opened his mouth, about to give the obvious answer, before giving a sheepish grin when Myl elbowed him with a glare.
“You have no idea.. absolutely no idea how much I want to work something out with you. But you know how it is.”
Eric nodded solemnly, thoughts racing. “Trust is everything. So is uniformity in gear. If everyone’s suited up the same, your squad leader and captains’ bonuses multiply.”
Eric said it so matter-of-factly, even if it was just an educated guess, his only real experience with those truths being with his own raised revenants. Yet the casual nods as if it was common knowledge were still a relief to see.
“You got that right. And since I played the fool once already… I don’t dare fuck up a second time.”
Eric smiled. “Believe me, I know how that feels. But what if instead of fucking up, you got a second chance to make things 100% right with your CO?”
Lone furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
Eric winked, patting the hilt of his force shield and vibroblade at his hip. “What the fuck do you think I mean?”
Lone blinked. “But then you’d be in just as much hot water as me. We all use standard gear for a reason. We’re interchangeable when the truly big shit will start manifesting in a few years. Decades if we’re lucky, or just seasons if things truly go to shit. And all our commanders will then be working together for some fucking monster-sized contracts.”
Eric chuckled once more. “No worries there, buddy. I hunt down exotic treasures, not living targets. Which means I’m a free agent.” His teasing smile grew. “So, Lone, what do you say?” He patted his hip. “Even trade. A handsome mithril treasure for a treasure hunter like me, and an absolutely deadly force shield and vibro-blade for you.”
Lone froze, seeming to have to collect himself, pupils dilated, nostrils flared, swallowing rapidly.
“Take the fucking deal, dickhead,” Myl hissed. “You can flirt with him later. Hell you’re halfway there already! Now take the deal and make the captain smile and thank your lucky stars he fell into our lap!” Their unnamed third nodded in solemn agreement.
And within seconds it was done.
Lone was giving Eric a look that was equal parts, joy, relief, and apology, as if knowing he had gotten the better end of the deal and hoping that Eric was okay with it.
For his part, it was all Eric could do not to roar his exhilaration, hands trembling as he held the hilt of the blade, sensing its wondrous nature and absolutely profound potential. Even if, to all outside appearances, it was an inert mithril blade.
And so it was.
Yet it was all but made for him, its weight and balance, the way it kissed and cleaved through the air with the most graceful of gestures before he slipped it in the sheath an oddly staring Lone gave him. It was nothing to clip free the original Windridge sheath of exotic hides it had come with free of the mechanized back sheath that would keep it from encumbering a mecha merc like Lone. Eric handed the back sheath contraption back with a wink before fastening the original sheath straps to his belt so it hung free at just the angle needed for an Iado Fast-Draw which he hadn’t practiced with the weapon it was made for… he was made for... in far too long.
Lone and Myl exchanged measuring looks.
“Our new friend here looks like he knows what he’s doing,” Myl said.
“Now I hardly feel like I took advantage of him at all,” Lone smirked.
“Got that right,” said the third.
Lone tilted his head, thoughtfully gazing Eric’s way. “You ever thought of signing up with a company, mister ‘free agent?’”
Eric blinked, thoughts racing, a sudden fierce smile blooming across his features. “That depends. What’s the pay like?”
Lone chuckled. “Now you’re speaking my language! We’re Bronze. Elite. No matter the backgrounds that got us here. And in a newly ascending virgin world like this… we command a premium. We make a flat 10,000 credits a week just for showing up, and doing whatever guard or escort assignments we’re given. If we actually see action, we can rack up some serious bonuses. And assuming any local around here finally gets the stones to go the conquest route and clear out a wild territory, where the real money’s at… then we’re getting 100,000 per week, safely ratting the wildlife at a distance, and that shit can take weeks or longer, just to clear a single red territory!”
Myl nodded. “And if you’re really lucky, we’ll get a well-connected scion who actually has a clue as to what really gets you ahead to clear a fresh dungeon.”
All three men’s eyes lit up at the thought. “And you know just as well as we do how fucking valuable that is, even if there isn’t a single crystal or arcane fruit worth mentioning and nothing more than tough hide and even tougher meat!”
Eric grinned at their chuckles, knowing exactly what they meant, and finding it interesting that even here and now, they didn’t say a word about the sweet, sweet twelve… no, fifteen potency point gain, in addition to any and all experience points earned, with a first-time Red Delve clear.
Just as good as any advanced title.
“And the concentrated experience in delves lets us push our own boundaries that much further, doesn’t it?” Eric said with a comradely grin. “Becoming legends, tied to the mythos of this ascending world, helping us to ascend the Ranks in turn.”
All three men solemnly nodded as one.
“You got it,” Myl said. “But just… you know.”
“Watch them cute lips of yours, wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the natives,” Lone said with a chuckle.
Eric grinned, knowing that Lone meant no harm with his flattery. “No worries. Remember, Treasure Hunter here. All sorts of perks and benefits to the class. So. If I actually signed up with your corp, I’d get 100k per dungeon run?”
“You got it,” Assured their third. “Names Naje, by the way.”
“Pleasure, Naje. Name’s Ernest. Ernest Slaughter. So, what’s the sign on bonus like, and how much would I earn for a simple three day escort mission into, say, the neighboring Red territory?”
Naje furrowed his brow at that, but Myl grinned.
“Boy’s speaking our language already!” Myl said. “Well, let me put it this way. If the way you hold that sword is any indication, you might just get a pretty nice sign on bonus indeed.”
Eric gave a pleased nod. “Wonderful. And I know of at least one gentleman looking for a Red territory escort. How much would we get if I could bring him on board, working with us?”
“Nothing to complain about, that’s for sure. In addition to a headhunter’s fee, you’ll get thirty thousand credits for three day’s escort in a hot zone, easy,” Myl assured. “Even if we’re exploring a newly ascending world’s Red tiers, where the mana’s sharp and spicy as fuck, the critters shouldn’t possess any problem for us, so long as we have a good Mecha Specialist to keep our gear in tip top shape so we don’t start shorting the fuck out.” He chuckled. “Even better if you have an Adept tier class, rare as that shit is, where you’re truly one with your gear.”
“But that’s so long as we’re avoiding trouble,” Lone qualified. “And if the mana’s quiescent. If it’s a hot storm, like that territory to the south… shit gets expensive. We might have to go in old school gear, if we’re not Adepts or better. And who the fuck is at Bronze? Plus side is then we’re talking about triple that baseline, so 90K credits for each of us for a three day stint out there. Maybe captain rounds it up to an even 100K for 3 days out there. And if we’re dealing with hunters who want to clear, not just transport, then the bonuses get all the sweeter. But you’d damn well better have a polearm proficiency or old school spell or wand access, ha ha! Especially if it’s surging like crazy.”
“It’s dangerous work,” Myl said, giving Lone a look as if to curb his enthusiasm. “But damned profitable. And that’s why a good merc’s almost as good with blade and halberd as he is with his blaster.”
“Damn right,” Lone said.
Then all three men’s heightened perception had them turning around as Nikita walked at a fast clip towards Eric. “May I speak with you for a moment, sir?”
Eric blinked, before giving a slow nod. A bit chilled that she had zeroed in on him that quickly. did they have what amounted to cameras all over? Of course they did. Which meant that they saw his subtle transformation even in that empty hallway. And if the goblins got access to that… even if otherwise they were completely clueless...
Lone exchanged a look with his companions.
“Stay there. I’d like to continue our conversation,” Eric said to the three mercs before following Nikita.
The moment they entered the discrete corridor leading away from the open plaza, Nikita turned back around, giving him a too knowing smile.
“A thrill, isn’t it? Having a trio of boys in the palm of you hand. And I see you’ve secured yourself exactly the prize you were looking for. I hope you didn’t promise more than you’re truly comfortable giving?”
Eric smirked. “A role my sister taught me, and quite well. Not that many years ago. And like you said, some things are far more important than personal comfort. Especially if all it takes is a bit of courage and playful spirit to flow right into that role.”
Nikita’s playful smile turned brittle. “I’d say you’re playing a perilous game even being…” she cut off her words, shaking her head. “But it’s perfect. You’re… perfect. Impossibly beautiful. Radiating such predatory sensuality that will inflame both sexes, causing so many to look your way twice.” She chuckled softly. “Let the hunters chase the fleeing fox. Not the one sleeping peacefully in the den right under their feet.”
“Pretty much, yeah. Til I’m out of the city and I’m me again, sure. I don’t mind pretending I’m at a photo op. God knows I had to do enough of them, not that long ago, and people will always be people. Some with more self-control than others. That shit never changes, and my sister had it a hell of a lot worse than me. But don’t sweat it, I’m not so thin-skinned that I can’t laugh off a drunken idiot’s fumble, or a dreamer’s impossible dream. No hard feelings on my end.”
Nikita took a deep breath, centering herself. “We have an offer for your miniguns, already.”
Eric blinked, a pleased lighting up his features. “That’s wonderful!”
“There’s a catch,” Nikita said.
“Of course there is.”
“Twenty million credits up front… and one million per month until the balance is paid off.” She waved her hand as if to forestall any protest. “And that’s a lien that the merc company itself is bound to, not any individual mercenary who might perish, sadly or, ahem, leave unexpectedly. And these are Blue Corp bonded companies, so they will definitely think twice before reneging on our deal. Tarnishing their name like that truly isn’t worth it in the long run, and everyone knows it.” Nikita gazed intently at Eric’s hungry smile. “So, what do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect timing. Though it would be even better if they could pay for even the tiniest portion of it in gold.”
Nikita froze. “You do know that if we actually get any gold whatsoever, where it has to go. Immediately. Even if we end up with no profit at all.”
Eric’s smile hardened. “Why do you think I’m doing all this in the first place? Of course you give it to you-know-who. And don’t be afraid to offer discounts. Deep Discounts. To any merc or player willing to put down a good chunk of gold.”
Nikita blinked, anxious lips curving into a relieved smile. “So all of this… you’re doing it to help us.”
Eric chuckled. “And to make a fucking killing… but what good is any of it if the city I love is…” he sighed sadly, refusing to say a word, just in case certain Bronze tier spies were listening in, even now.
Nikita dipped his head before leaning close, warm lips sending shivers down Eric’s spine. “Don’t worry. Everything was scrubbed. And if we all get through this… I hope you’ll let me say thank you.”
She winked, squeezing a now definitely blushing Eric’s hand. “You’re card?”
Nikita’s fingers lingered on his own when she took the card.
A pulse of mana and something that tasted the tiniest bit like soul magic, and the card was handed back.
“Now updated with a twenty million balance you can use anywhere. Including recruiting those boys hanging off your every word.”
Eric bowed his head, truly impressed. “I think I could learn a lot from you,” he admitted, earning a warm chuckle.
“And there’s a hell of a lot I’d like to teach you, you beautiful boy. But those lessons will have to wait.” Her sigh turned to a playful smile. “Assuming you were interested in learning from me?”
A flushing Eric took a ragged breath, stepping back. Bowing his head before he could fully register the flash of hurt in Nikita’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“No. I’m sorry. I’m a fool. And you’re just a child.” Nikita gave an apologetic shake of his head. “Unforgivable of me.”
“I’m hardly a child, and you’re hot as fuck,” Eric admitted with a soft chuckle. “But there are things I have to do. And I’m not really sure if I… you know.”
“Of course. Please forgive me. I never should have even thought of distracting you when all our hopes are in your… you understand.”
Eric bowed his head in genuine appreciation of the card and Nikita’s aid. Knowing all too well what it was like to pine for someone and end up playing the absolute fool, in a world where instead of sympathy, your heart on your sleeve would be met with condemnation and shame if you weren’t charming as hell with perfect timing who happened to catch a prospective partner right when they wanted to be flirted with.
“Nothing to apologize for. Really. It’s not you. It’s me. You’re a catch. And I have to go. Thank you, Nikita. For everything.”
Eric quickly made his way back to the central display room, and he couldn’t hide the smile blooming upon his features when he noted the three mercenaries standing right where he hoped they’d be. For just a moment, he let himself revel in the glories of an absurdly high Appearance attribute, making him feel like he was the starring in his own movie right before reigning it back. Because the hopeful look in Lone’s eyes was something he wouldn’t be able to follow through on. Yet there was one promise implied by his smile that he could absolutely keep.
The enticement and promise of good hard credits. Everyone’s friend.
“You take care of everything you needed to?” Lone asked with an oddly shy smile.
“You need help with anything…” Myl began, earning a hard look from Lone.
Eric was positively beaming. “Not at all, gentlemen. As a matter of fact, Everything’s going to plan, and I’m feeling fucking fantastic. So, let’s talk to your captain. I’d like to hire you boys for a three day expedition out into the very territory you were good enough to mention, Myl. And if possible, I’d like to leave by first light.”