Solace noted Tarnish’s wording. ‘Will be an opportunity,’ not ‘was’ or ‘is.’

“An opportunity?” Solace asked. “Explain.” Though it seemed like Tarnish wasn’t here to fight, Solace kept his hand on his weapon’s hilt.

Tarnish nodded. “Two and a half months from now, there will be a competition, an Exhibition. Those who participate have a chance to be chosen for the Merchants’ equivalent of the Sects’ Young Masters.”

The words Tarnish spoke did not make complete sense to Solace. He was simply missing a few key bits of contextual information. Still, he pretended to understand while taking mental notes to look into later.

“Why are you sharing knowledge of this opportunity with me?” Solace asked. “Surely it would be better for you if there were less competitors.”

Tarnish barked out a laugh, revealing incredibly sharp canines. “The competition is open to all citizens between Tiers 3 and 5 on the continent, one more will not matter. And…” He scratched his cheek ruefully. “I have been told that you are able to speak the Merchant’s language fluently. Having a competent ally who can do that will be extremely valuable.”

Solace didn’t believe for a second that Tarnish had “been told” that Solace could speak another language. It was more likely that he had been shadowed these past few days. Still, if it was for a reason like this, Solace wasn’t opposed.

“So,” he said, “you want a partnership for this Exhibition. What do you have to offer?”

“This one brought this information, to begin with,” Tarnish said.

Solace shrugged. Though valuable, Tarnish had already revealed the information as an opportunity cost rather than something he could offer.

“Secondly,” Tarnish continued, “the Exhibition will occur over the course of a week in a foreign city. Surely having someone to rely on will benefit us both.”

It was a fair point, one that needed no more proof than the unconscious bodies lying prone in the elevator behind Tarnish. Still, Solace wasn’t sure he could trust the man in front of him. Everything about him seemed suspicious.

And yet…

Throwing away a seemingly good opportunity over vague suspicions wasn’t a good enough justification.

“Give me a day to answer,” Solace said.

“Why?”

Because he needed to look into everything to make an informed decision.

“Because I have immediate business to deal with,” Solace lied. He gestured at the three would-be thugs. “The outcome may determine what happens in the immediate future.”

Tarnish looked between the three at his feet and Solace several times. “Very well. Then allow this one to help.”

Before Solace could react, the man flicked a foot out and stomped on curly hair’s knee. Hard. Over the sickening crunch, curly hair opened his eyes while giving out a loud shriek of pain.

“Why?” Solace asked.

“He was pretending,” Tarnish said.

“You’ll regret this,” curly hair gasped in the Sect’s language. “I’ll make sure you—you…”

The words died in the thug’s throat as Tarnish raised his foot back up threateningly. “Yes?”

Curly hair whimpered.

“Here is what you will do,” Tarnish said. “You will bring your friends out of this box yourself, unless you wish to lose the other knee.”

“What?”

“Three… two…”

Solace watched as curly hair scrambled to do as he was told. It was a painful sight.

“Th-there!” Curly hair said once the other two were moved.

“Good,” Tarnish said. His foot shot out to smash into the other knee, causing another round of screaming.

“That’s enough,” Solace said before the man could do anything else.

Tarnish turned. “This one is merely making it so that they cannot escape.”

“I don’t need your help. In fact, you’re making my job harder,” Solace replied as he stepped forward. “Leave. I can handle the rest from here.”

Tarnish stared at Solace for a moment. “Very well,” he said, giving another bow. “Then this one will visit your residency at this time tomorrow for an answer.”

With that, the man sauntered back towards the elevator and pressed a button. As the doors closed, Solace heard one last remark.

“See you soon, Senior Brother.”

And then he was gone, leaving Solace in silence save for the occasional whimpering from curly hair.

He sighed, letting go of his grip on the wooden sword while straightening up. This had been an unexpected turn of events, but not unmanageable. He moved to check curly hair’s wounds and made sure that the man wouldn’t somehow bleed out.

“You’ll pay for what your brother did,” curly hair said between gritted teeth.

Solace shook his head. “Don’t bother with empty threats, we both know that Corporation law will fall on my side. Imagine what will happen when you’re brought in for attacking someone below your Tier in order to steal something like the scabbard. I’m pretty sure it’s expensive enough relative to your Tier to be a federal offense.”

That seemed to make the man curl inwards, quieting down.

“Besides,” Solace continued, more talking to himself than the man, “your AI mistranslated our conversation. I’m not actually his brother. Senior Brother is…”

He had no idea what it meant in this context. The knowledge of the language implanted within his mind said that it was a title from an old dialect of the Sect’s language, but that there were various contexts. Solace had no idea what their supposed relationship was.

And he wouldn’t be able to find out until he dealt with the mess in front of him.

With a sigh, he pulled back out his phone to call Edison.

“Hello.”

“Edison? It’s me, Solace. Change of plans, I’ve got the three guys incapacitated here.”

“Really? Then I can be over in a half hour or so. Will you be able to handle three Tier 3s for that long?”

“Yes, they won’t be going anywhere.”

Not after what just happened and especially not when Solace was prepared with a weapon.

“Okay, then see you in a bit.”

“Yes.” Solace hung up.

He looked back at the three on the floor. It was a good time to pump them for information, but he was no longer invested. Edison would handle it better than he could anyways.

His mind was far away from the immediate situation, focusing on everything he didn’t yet know but would need to. He compiled a list of information to look at when he had the chance.

The first thing would be Gu.

—

Near the border shared by the Sects and the Corporations, nestled in between two gas giants, lies a poisoned planet forever cursed to remain Tier 0. Its real name has long since fallen out of common use, now only referred to by the brutal practice that the planet’s inhabitants perform.

The origins of the practice trace back to an outdated poison making method. Venomous creatures would be locked into a vessel, left to devour each other until only one remained. It was believed that the sole survivor would have a far deadlier, concentrated venom.

It is easy then, knowing this, to realize what the individuals on a planet with nearly no access to essence would do in order to Awaken.

Only one in a thousand survive the ordeal.

Solace, who had been using the computer at Edison’s workshop, looked away from the page on Gu to process what he read.

Though not explicit, the images that the words painted were not a pretty sight. Ritualistic slaughters or free-for-all bloodbaths. Probably both depending on the region of the planet. Perhaps both in the same regions. Getting enough essence to Awaken from Tier 0 kills would be incredibly difficult and most likely take as long as a decade and a half in terms of years.

With this information and his inferences from it, he came to one solid conclusion.

I messed up. Massively.

He had carelessly gone along with the first convenient explanation to his origins, and it was now becoming a potential issue.

No wonder people from the Sects reacted strangely to me. They think I’m from such a violent place.

Briefly, he entertained the hope that he could pretend to be from a less insane part of the planet, some outlier than the norm, but reading a bit further on the page dashed that hope.

More than half of the people who underwent a variant of Gu’s practice started in their early teens, and were marked with a symbol before they began. With a sigh, Solace looked down at his hand with the burn in the shape of a feather.

Tarnish had most likely seen the burn during their first altercation, and then assumed that Solace was his Senior Brother, someone older and thus further along in the practice. The assumption might have brought some “opportunity” to Solace’s attention, but it also put him in an awkward situation.

He really didn’t want to work or associate with someone as volatile as Tarnish, but refusing would no doubt mark him as an adversary in the future. He weighed the options in his head, going over potential solutions, and then quickly realized that he still didn’t know what the Exhibition really was, or if it was even worth it for him to participate.

Solace began to search the internet for information on the event. To his surprise, there wasn’t much. Just the city where it would take place, which was several days away from here by train, the date, how to register, and advertisements for the event.

“The Best Demonstrators Become Chosen,” was all the digital flier said, along with an image of a gryphon holding a sword in its beak. The Exhibition was also apparently held every two years since there were fliers from previous years. Looking at those fliers revealed much the same, though with different images and variable wording.

But each always included the word “Chosen,” Solace noted. It stood out to him, the constant repetition and the way it was being… highlighted in his instinctual understanding of the language.

Chosen for what?

Hesitantly, he opened a new tab on the browser and typed “chosen.” The moment he hit the enter key, the screen froze. With a frown, he tried tapping on the monitor, but it wouldn’t accept any inputs. It seemed odd that a relatively advanced computer could be frozen after a simple search query—

The computer became functional again, revealing a torrent of search hits, 559 billion in all according to an indicator below the search bar.

…This is going to take a while…

Solace moved to the refrigerator in the room and pulled out his lunch, several pork bao courtesy of that competition he won a few days ago. Taking a bite of one, he sat back down and started to look through everything.

Though the more he learned, the more confused he became. There were forums, videos, corporate websites, and various forms of social media that all revolved around individuals who were “Chosen.” It was very clear that he had stumbled onto some sort of cultural phenomenon, but between the videos of eating contests and extreme sports, spiraling paragraphs arguing about “who would win in a fair fight,” and what looked to be a reality show, he had no idea what it was.

That was when he spotted a familiar face on the thumbnail of a video.

Isn’t that the healer from way back when?

He swallowed the last of his lunch and clicked the link. The video was a short clip that began in a forest. Three people were chasing after the healer as he sprinted deeper into the woods. Though everyone wore armor, including helmets which obscured their faces, their builds made it easy to determine who the healer was.

What was his name again?

“The round might be over already,” the commentator said. “Arroya’s moments from the stadium’s bounds, the others even closer on his heels.”

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Solace watched as the forest thinned into a clearing. The camera view switched from overhead to the perspective of one of the people chasing Arroya. A towering wall loomed half a mile away, a piddling distance when all four were eating up the ground with each stride due to their cultivation.

When the healer was nearing the wall, he jumped. And then jumped mid-air again with a [Skill] to get even higher such that, when he actually reached the boundary, he was able to push up and off of it. Arroya soared above the people chasing him in an elegant backflip.

The three below took advantage of that action, of course, two of them firing bolts of fire or electricity with [Skills] at the healer who would have a hard time dodging while mid-air.

“It looks like Arroya’s plan has backfired. A good try by the—wait.”

From his cloak, Arroya pulled out a weapon that unfurled to deflect all of the projectiles in a flash of steel.

“What is that?”

Solace recognized it. An urumi. It was a fusion between a whip and a sword, and very, very difficult to handle.

And apparently heavily enchanted, as it was able to smack away mana based attacks.

Arroya used his [Skill] to push off of the air again. But instead of gaining altitude, he smashed downwards into the person furthest away from the wall—the one whose eyes the audience were looking through.

There were cries of pain, a few cracks of bone, and then darkness as the masked person went down. It was only for a brief moment, however, as the camera changed back to the overhead view.

Now, Arroya was facing the remaining two while their backs were to a wall. And he began his retaliation in full.

Solace had to both mute the video and play the rest of the fight at 25 percent speed. The commentators were too noisy and the cultivation difference too great for him to follow otherwise even with all of his essence in mind and senses. He wished he could just enhance his eyes and not everything else, but that just wasn’t possible.

Or was it? It was something he’d test later, after he finished watching the fight.

The whole thing was so one sided. Even if there was a numbers advantage, Arroya’s attacks were so fast they kept both of his opponents on the defensive. And though their armor kept them safe for the most part, the healer knew how to manipulate the urumi such that all of the force would be transferred to the tip of the blade, knocking his enemies off balance while denting their armor.

In a display of precision and sheer ferocity that Solace didn’t know if he could match, Arroya won while only using one of his hands.

It was impressive, Solace had to admit, but not exactly helpful in his attempts at finding what or who exactly the Chosen were.

“Oookay, that’s finally done with,” Edison’s voice came from behind. “The actual buyer got their scabbard and we can get back to—hey, what are you up to?”

He paused the video. “Nothing much.”

“Uh-huh. Let me be the judge of that… Oh, this was a good fight. No one expected the rookie to have a weapon like that, or use it that well. I swear, the bar for being a Chosen grows every year.”

Solace paused, briefly kicking himself mentally. He could ask Edison his questions.

“Actually, the reason I was watching this video was to learn more about the Chosen. I don’t actually know who they are.”

“They’re the equivalents of the Young Masters.” Her eyes scanned his blank face. “You don’t know about those either, do you?”

“Not particularly well, no,” Solace confirmed.

Edison sighed. “Right. Basically, every Power has some sort of challenge that it offers to its up and coming generation, a test if you would. The specifics vary between Power, but the hard rule is that those who undergo the challenge must reach Tier 25 within 200 years of starting while limited to resources within a range relative to their Tier.”

“And… that’s really difficult,” Solace said.

“Yeah, which is why most Powers tend to use the challenge as a tool of propaganda, to show that their next generations are capable.”

“But why bother attempting this challenge? Achieving Tier 25 in 200 years would require delving up a Tier constantly, maybe even up two Tiers.”

“Sometimes three,” Edison replied. “And the answer’s simple: fame and fortune. Here in the Corporations, the Chosen—that’s what we call our challengers—have been transformed into personalities and faces for businesses. Entertainment is the third most lucrative source of income for our Power behind mercenary work and high Tier crafting. A lot of that money trickles down to the Chosen, who get to compete in televised competitions against each other for a myriad of rewards like custom items and perfectly synergizing [Skills].”

“I see,” Solace said. Suddenly, participating in the Exhibition was a lot more appealing.

“What’s with the sudden interest in this anyways?” Edison asked.

“There’s something called an Exhibition happening in about two and a half months.”

“But only citizens can participate in that, and you’re still Tier 2.”

“I can reach Tier 3 in less than two months,” Solace said. He had a few ideas.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Safely?”

“Entirely.”

Edison gave him a hard look, searching his face. Eventually, she gave another sigh before turning away and exiting the room. “Sure, go for it. But later, we have some work to do. A commission came in for a compact respirator. Tier 7.”

After working with her for a while, Solace was able to tell when she disliked something. “You don’t think it’s a good idea.”

She stopped mid-step, wheeling around. “No, I don’t. Being a Chosen is dangerous, and trying to be one through something like this is even more so. Most Chosen are scouted and sponsored from their early teens, so the ones who compete in the Exhibition will either be the desperate or the ones bitter from being passed up the first time. The crime rate in the city that hosts it always reaches numbers more than quadruple the norm for a week before and after.”

“I can handle it.”

“Maybe you can. But you don’t have to, you know? You’re a very competent person and, from what I can tell, an even more capable fighter. You don’t need something like this to be successful.” Before he could reply, she waved her hand to signal an end to the conversation and walked away. “Sorry, I shouldn't say stuff like that. It’s not my place. I’m going to need some corrosion resistant copper for the respirator, okay? Bring it to the room as soon as possible.”

“Alright,” he said.

He watched her leave, thinking about everything she said. Sure, he didn’t necessarily need anything, but he never knew what he would have to do to get the Token, so it was better to be over prepared than under. And if he had some reward for reaching the higher Tiers as quickly as possible like he wanted to, all the better.

Edison meant well, but she didn’t know his situation, wouldn’t be able to fathom it. No one ever could.

Solace moved towards the storage area, his mind contemplating what the future held, and what he would need to do to get what he wanted. Reaching Tier 3 and improving on his Talent seemed like the next steps to take.

—

“What is this?” Xu Wei asked, receiving a thin blue bracelet from Solace.

“An essence accumulator,” he replied. “With it, you no longer need to kill anything to receive the essence so long as someone else has theirs set to share with you.”

Raising a hand, Solace showed the bracelet already wrapped around his own wrist. He had bought them from one of the many stores that offered them. They were expensive devices, eating the rest of his earnings from the rift challenge, but they would be worth it.

Normally, only the person who slew a monster would receive essence—and could only grab a metaphorical “handful” of the total essence that the kill actually offered. Essence accumulators allowed others to grab their own “handful” on top of his.

Of course, the amount of essence one could take from a monster was limited by both its Tier and what it was specifically. For Tier 2 creatures, there would be a minor reduction of essence he could get on a kill if he shared, but it would still be an amount greater than what he could get through his earlier method of carrying people through rifts.

Plus, the accumulator increases the “size” of my handful, to keep with the metaphor, by a few percentage points.

And on top of that, he no longer had to make the people he carried get anywhere close to a monster that he also had to immobilize to make safer. It would save so much time.

Solace wasn’t sure about the exact number, which was why he was now doing his first delve in roughly a week.

“Make sure to return the accumulator to me before we leave the rift,” Solace said.

“Okay.”

With that, he turned back towards the familiar spider tunnels. Though he had his spiritual senses to rely on to see the spiders, the dim lighting was still an annoyance.

But not for long.

Solace looked inside himself and at his spirit. After inspecting and working with items at Edison’s, he knew that all spirits were three dimensional and perhaps something more.

Peering into his physical core, he saw the totality of his essence, a dense cloud of stuff with layers according to his Tier. At this level of scrutiny, whenever he shifted allocations, nothing “visually” changed. It was only when he relaxed his concentration could he somehow “see” the seven categories of his cultivation.

Which meant that the divisions were more a mental construct than a physical one, something that helped him visualize allocations and assist him in changing the essence with his Talent. And if they were visualizations, he could alter his perspective.

He narrowed in on the “area” for senses, opening his eyes wide before scrunching them tight. After a few seconds, he opened them wide again, repeating the process over and over. Solace felt the way they constantly adjusted to the presence or lack of light and fixated on that feeling.

As he did so externally, internally he mentally shoved at the essence within the area, willing it to affect his eyes more without drawing on any essence outside of the immediate pool.

And then he felt something give, a tugging on the essence that pulled his perspective deeper into the section of cultivation until he was staring not at a homogenous pool, but a new place with five areas.

Solace watched, satisfied, as all of the essence flowed into one spot, the rift visually brightening around him as more entered the area. He had figured out how to specify allocations into a specific sense.

After some brief testing to determine the other four areas, he redistributed everything equally into four categories at the expense of the fifth, taste.

Taste and smell are supposed to be interlinked, but that’s not the way it currently appears to me.

It suggested that Solace could probably go even further if he practiced, perhaps even enhancing specific receptors or biological mechanisms in other areas of cultivation.

But that would have to wait, when he was in a safer setting and after he looked deeper into human physiology. There were minute differences across realities, afterall, and he couldn’t risk fatally messing with something he didn’t fully understand.

Solace withdrew his attention from within, and focused on everything outside. He hefted his new gear, a Tier 4 shield and Tier 3 glaive. It was time to delve.

After doing this particular rift so many times and now actually Tier 2, the place held no true dangers for him. It didn’t stop him from behaving methodically, of course, but he still found himself cruising through the tunnels, his extra-enhanced vision already proving a boon as his glaive cleaved straight through exoskeletons.

It only took an hour and a half to reach the boss’ doors. And though he still felt fresh enough to push through, there was no point in taking risks when he could set himself up for absolute success.

“Break,” Solace called out. He sat down to cultivate all the essence he gathered like usual. Unlike usual, it was Solace who asked some questions during the downtime.

“Xu Wei, why did you approach me all those weeks ago? Back on that ship,” he asked.

The boy, who was in the middle of eating a sandwich, pulled it away from his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You suspected that I was from Gu, and yet you still approached. Why?”

“Well, you probably don’t remember, but I was one of the people you helped out of that cave.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why you spent the effort to find me after that. None of the others did,” Solace said. “It’s one thing to accept the help of a stranger in an emergency, another to seek them out after learning that they’re dangerous.”

“That’s true,” Xu Wei agreed. “I guess… it was because I saw how the others reacted to you and I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Solace was surprised. “That’s it?”

“Well, okay, it’s hard for me to find the words to say it correctly, so I’ll just say it however I can.”

The boy cleared his throat before continuing.

“I had a phase—when I was much, much younger, of course!—where I spent a lot of time learning about strange places like Gu. And one of the things I learned about Gu was that not everyone who participated in the pits was willing. And when you are put in a dark place to live a hard life, you have to do hard things regardless of how you feel about them. I mean, I don’t have to tell you that but—yeah… So, I decided to approach you on the ship, with a bunch of people around to watch, just in case. The benefit of the doubt, but in a secure setting. Everything after, well…”

“I understand,” Solace said.

“Is that a good enough answer? There’s more but…”

“Yes, thank you.”

After his talk with Edison, Solace had looked into the crime rate and found that the numbers had been no exaggeration, an underestimation even. It made him seriously reevaluate an alliance with Tarnish, but he hadn’t been confident at judging the man’s character, or even that willing.

I wish I could ask Xu Wei, but he’s too inexperienced as a fighter. There won’t be enough time to train him either.

So, he had decided to pick Xu Wei’s brain about how to deal with Tarnish instead. The boy’s answer had been more helpful than he expected.

Based on his research, the Gu practice did indeed have many unwilling victims. It made terrible sense that many of the groups on the planet used it as a way to get rid of their societies’ unwanteds.

And, when framed like that, it made Solace less judgemental of Tarnish’s actions; callous practicality instead of cruelty. His own early years were a hazy memory of an existence without any past to root his decisions; the only way forward then, in the Spire, had been violence.

Just like Gu, uncomfortably so.

Solace supposed he could give Tarnish the “benefit of the doubt.” Though, he’d also take a page from Xu Wei’s book and make sure he minimized risks, which wouldn’t even be that hard.

But first, he’d have to clear this rift.

He stood up, retrieving all of his gear once more. When done, he signaled Xu Wei away and opened the door. He recognized the interior as the goliath spider's room, the big tarantula that had injured him before.

But it wouldn’t this time.

Solace stepped through, his armor clanking against the stone floor. The boss charged at him when he reached the center, but the Tier 2 was so slow compared to what he had fought before.

He rushed forwards to meet its attack, vaulting again with the glaive and then creating pressurized air to fling the spear back into his hands as he soared. Though the creature tried to swat at him, he used his [Skill] in bursts to propel himself around the legs. And then he was on top of the monster, where it couldn’t reach him.

It didn’t stand a chance.

—

The next morning, Solace was waiting patiently outside the complex. It didn’t take long for a certain person to show up.

“Well?” Tarnish asked.

“A partnership sounds agreeable, but I have a few terms,” Solace said. He extended out a hand clutching a folded piece of paper. “Here.”

Tarnish took it, unfolded the sheet, and looked it over with his eyes before giving a shake of his head. “This one cannot read.”

Solace paused. “Are you serious? How did you learn about the Exhibition then?Actually, nevermind that.”

There were tons of ways to still function without being literate, Solace knew that well. So, he just barrelled forward.

“We will be leaving for the Exhibition two weeks before it actually starts, in order to secure a good place to stay.”

“Agreed,” Tarnish said.

“Over the two months before then, I will occasionally ask you to spar in order to hone my skills. You may do the same.”

“That is fine, but how will we communicate?”

“On that paper you are holding is the address to my electronic mail. It is possible to attach voice-recordings, so you won’t have to read anything. The steps to send recordings are simple, and I can sketch it out on the page if need be.”

“Very well… is that it?” Tarnish asked.

“Yes,” Solace said.

Tarnish extended a hand and Solace shook it. Perhaps everything would be fine after all.

“Then let’s get ready for the Exhibition, Senior Brother.” He flashed another fanged smile. “It’s going to be so much fun.”