“Do you know what your issue is?” Tristan crouched next to me, his eyes hidden behind that black void of his sunglasses. Like staring into an abyss, looking at it too long might drive you crazy. I didn’t respond, in pain. “You lack respect.”

It all ached. Bruises splotched my body like paint on a canvas. What hurt more was the fact he’d never personally thrown a punch—he’d gathered our whole squad. All of my brothers and sisters in the Brass Kings, people I’d spent the last year working with. Each took a turn at beating me. Worse? Not a single one hesitated at the order. Some seemed downright eager. I coughed up a bit of blood onto alleyway gravel.

The gambling den was thrown up in a disused office space that had a convenient side entrance to the alley. It proved an ideal spot to drag out troublemakers for ‘private’ conversations. Normally, this treatment was reserved for those outside of the Brass Kings, but in this case, Tristan repurposed it for this impromptu lesson.

“When will you learn? Street rats need to know their place. I’m above you. Better than you’ll ever be.” Tristan looked at his watch and clicked his tongue. “All this time wasted to show you where you belong. Cower in your hole and quit getting on my nerves. Luca Cavicchi, it’s stunning they even let you join the Fourth Division. Cultivators simply don’t matter if they’re worthless, much-less if they’re insubordinate trash.”

I coughed again. Fuck, too hard to breathe. Someone in my squad was fond of their steel-toed boots and went nuts when they kicked me. I’d sworn I’d heard a violent snap.

And those bastards didn’t even look my way after. Didn’t meet the eyes of the guy they ruthlessly ruined on this psycho’s orders. Some even cracked jokes. Others were busy watching for passersby. They didn’t care. This gang wasn’t my family. No one here had my back. To them, the Brass Kings were a way to make chips, stir up shit, and keep outsiders hesitating to get payback. Tristan was worse, he only cared about what you could do for him.

Fuck him, and fuck them. I’d steal whatever I needed to, since the world didn’t care about me anyway. I rolled to my side, nice and slow. Tristan shook his head and leaned forward, digging into my inner jacket pocket.

I tried to jerk away, even while fighting the pain. One of my hands grabbed his wrist, but I was far too slow and weak. In a brief couple of seconds, Tristan retreated with a cloth pouch, giving it a quick toss. My chips. “If you’d just obeyed and followed orders, this wouldn’t have needed to happen. Do you think I enjoy watching you get beat?” Tristan set a hand on his heart, face screwed into a mockery of pain.

But that curl at the corner of his lips, that smile hid in a fake grimace. Like a dagger tucked in a pocket.

I spat a glob of blood at his face, which he dodged with a tilt of the head. Asshole.

Tristan stood up, sneered, then reared his foot back. “You are nothing! Do you hear me!?”

Again and again, the foot slammed into my side. Black flooded the edge of my vision as the pain edged into unbearable, all the background chatter from my squadmates vanished. They watched but didn’t do a damn thing. We weren’t friends. I didn’t have any.

“You will do what I say! When I say!”

Before I lost it all, I pulled upon Fickle Fate. My shaking finger brushed my side. A spark of red lightning burst at the contact. The next hit cracked a rib. I’d been wrong before, the crack and difficult breathing proved me dead wrong. All I’d needed was for my own Soul Ability to screw me over. Lady Luck, what an absolute bitch. My eyes squeezed shut.

“Halt.”

“Who are you!? You aren’t a captain! Seventh Division trash!”

The blows stopped. When I managed to pry my eyes open again, I saw that pipsqueak from the Seventh Division next to a lanky guy with glasses. They lingered in the doorway to the gambling den. The one who spoke had a hooked nose, with black straight hair some razer, and a no-nonsense posture. Real hero. I groaned, knowing that this clown could only make my current situation worse.

Sure, he had a lieutenant patch, just like Tristan, but did it matter? He was from the Seventh Division. “Disgusting. Is this how the Fourth Division treats its warriors?”

Tristan snorted and stomped toward them. That provoked a bit of relief, even if the exhale triggered a fresh round of pain. I just hoped the wanna-be-hero didn’t cause my psycho lieutenant to double down after this confrontation. Tristan glanced between the two Seventh Division members in the doorway, before checking his watch. That madness in his eyes slipped away. “You know what? I don’t have time for this anymore. I’ve made the point.” Tristan jerked his head, giving a quick gesture at the rest of our squad. “We’ve got an actual job to get to. Unlike the Seventh Division, the Brass Kings rely on us. Come.”

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They gathered behind Tristan as he led them to the doorway. The Seventh Division Lieutenant refused to move for them. “Your name?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“My name? Does it matter to trash like you? Get out of the way.” Tristan said. He shooed them aside, smirking like he’d just addressed a petulant child.

“I’ll move when I know your name. I make it a point to note every other lieutenant I run across. I’d advise you to do the same.”

“And just what makes you think I don’t? Tristan Marsh. I’m well aware of who you are, Kayson Morse.” Tristan frowned, no doubt considering dishing out a lesson to the other lieutenant. The only thing stopping him was the blow-back that’d fall his way. Inner gang conflict was expressly forbidden, without prior approval. The Viceroy typically abstained from granting that kinda thing. Any ‘extracurricular’ activities resulted in an investigation. Tristan didn’t want to bring trouble to the captain’s door. Not over the Seventh Division.

“Pleasure then, Tristan Marsh.”

“Happy? Now get out of my way.” Tristan made the shooing motion again, this time Kayson set a hand on Suzaki’s shoulder, and guided them both aside.

The rest of my squad fell in line behind Tristan, leaving me broken in an alley, alone. Well, almost alone. Kayson looked me up and down, tilting his nose up and turning to Suzaki. He gave the kid a small nod, then the pipsqueak scurried over to me.

That mixture of pity and horror on his face burned me. Him? Pitying me? I wanted to stand up and slug him, but even breathing took a ton of effort. I settled for giving him my best ‘who the fuck do you think you are,’ expression, which seemed to have the intended effect based on his widened eyes and hesitation.

Except, that look turned odd. Dim green light flooded outward from his pupils, fluorescent emerald tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. They rolled upward, reaching his brow before breaking free and floating. Coalescing into a halo that revolved above his head. One of his hands delicately caught the edge, pulling it free. He moved it towards me. I tried to squirm away but failed. What sort of creepy Soul Seed did this kid have?

No way in hell was I trusting a stranger, meek kid or not. I had no clue what these two twisted fucks plotted. But there was no escaping it. That emerald halo settled over my head, The skittish boy wrung his hands as it settled above me.

Those two bastards! I just wanted to burst up and wreck the whole alley, storm into that gambling den and shove a fistful of dice down Tristan’s throat. For the first time in my whole life, I snarled.

Suzaki jumped back, alarmed. But what did I care? Kid was probably born lucky. Hell, me and Alex barely saw Ma since she slaved away at that shitty job of hers, yet the last thing I wanted was their immortals-damned pity. The kid looked away from me. And I growled. Was he too scared to look their torture victim in the eye? Using his Soul Ability on someone and refusing to look at the results. With surprising ease, I climbed up from the ground into a crouch, my breathing no longer a constant ache.

“Please don’t,” Kayson said, taking his glasses off to clean them. “Your emotions are running loose, this isn’t what you actually feel.”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I’m feeling? Did I ask you two clowns for pity? I don’t need help from assholes who’ve been handed everything!” I yelled, smoothly flowing to my feet. Suzaki went still as a statue, eyes locked to the ground. Whatever. Bigger fish to fry. That bastard with glasses was priority number one. No matter what this weird halo did, I bet I’d be able to get in a punch or two before the effect hit.

“Suzaki here was blessed with a valuable Soul Seed. His ability regenerates those he uses it on. However, it has a couple of downsides. For one, it provokes and uses envy as fuel. Based on your drastic personality shift, and the rapid rate it’s healing, you clearly have enough of that emotion to spare. Please, rein yourself in, any move on me or my subordinate will result in a regrettable situation. I don’t believe any of us desires an investigation.”

I stared. Despite the overwhelming desire to smash his glasses into his face, I had to admit I felt good, especially for a guy who was supposed to have a broken rib. Shit, maybe he had a point. It didn’t change the desire to wreck his face, though. Suzaki finally got to his feet—standing on his tiptoes to tap the glowing halo above my head.

It shattered in a shower of emerald, and the fire burning inside of me extinguished. What the hell was I thinking? What were those words I’d vomited out of my mouth? These guys stopped Tristan from wrecking me more, and then I almost punched him as thanks? I rubbed my eyes. Aside from self-hate, I just felt tired. Like my body ran on fumes. All of those chips, gone. Right into Tristan’s pocket. Just wanted to help Ma out a bit, it hurt to be thrown right back to square one.

“You’ll also find that it has other downsides. I bet you feel exhausted. Well, that’s because it draws on your body’s natural energy for repair. Often the feeling lasts a couple of days. Normally I wouldn’t share this much about my team’s abilities, but Suzaki would rather you knew than didn’t. Prepare accordingly.”

“Great.” I sighed, it’d be a long walk home since I barely could stand on my feet. Tristan would beat me to a pulp if he saw I’d been fixed up. Guess I’d avoid the gang for a couple of days.

I glanced at the pipsqueak and gave a slow nod of appreciation. He hid a smile from his face, rather poorly. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’re aware your lieutenant is likely to pull a stunt like this again, right?” Kayson asked.

“That’s just how it is.” To me, specifically. This behavior wasn’t new at all.

“Doesn’t have to be. Why not make more connections in the Fourth Division? People like your lieutenant often think twice before picking victims with allies.”

“Don’t need anyone else. Just need more strength, that’s all.”

“Well, if that’s what you believe then so be it. Come, Suzaki. Our captain will be upset if our absence is noted. She’s worried enough about our division’s reputation.” Kayson went into the gambling den, Suzaki paused, working his jaw as if he wanted to say something.

In the end, he didn’t. Left through the same door as the rest of them. I was alone again.