“What is that?” Pinky asked as she pointed at the delicious smelling monstrosity.

“This is a bacon cheeseburger,” Zane replied, “It's my new idea for the restaurant. They’re easy to prep and cook, so I was thinking we could serve them up in the evenings. ”

“Hmm…” the kitsune sniffed Zane’s creation then took a bite, “Oh, yeah! That's nice!”

After the food was gone Pinky got serious. “So, when are you going to go after General Badi?”

“I can't,” Zane said cryptically.

“Why not?” the kitsune asked.

Zane had been planning on eliminating the General in an ambush, but he couldn't do that now. Not after they had fed him. “My class won't let me harm a guest, not without provocation. I'd rather not face him head on if half of what Lily says is true. Plus, I'm not sure if I’m combat ready yet. My core still feels… weird.”

Pinky swore. “Ah fuck, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. I'll lay low for a while. Hopefully he will move on soon.” Zane took her hand and kissed it. He was getting better at remembering to do those kinds of things.

Pinky’s expression softened, then soured. “I completely forgot about the cooking competition. It starts next week!”

Zane had never been one to pass up a good excuse. “Oh, darn. I guess there's always next year.” He hoped his disappointment had looked convincing.

“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” Pinky said, “The General is looking for a dangerous rogue cultivator in red, not a chef. You can still go, you just can't use your super speed.”

“I see zero chance of that failing horribly,” Zane replied.

Pinky’s face fell. He was right. There was no way the rogue cultivator could keep his abilities hidden. He would eventually slip up, and the General would recognize him.

The kitsune decided that it was time for her to take a more active role in things. If Zane couldn't kill the cultivator, she would. All Pinky needed was a little help from her friends.

***

“WE WILL CRUSH HIS BONES TO POWDER FOR DARING TO TOUCH THE AWAKENER,” said Dumpling, “PARENTS WILL USE STORIES OF HIS FATE TO TERRIFY THEIR CHILDREN.”

The void stalker had more than doubled in size since they took her in. Now she looked like a small house cat. A very homicidal house cat.

Daisy stamped her hooves. “I will devour his core and drink his blood for this insult.” The horse looked at Lily expectantly.

“And I guess I'll kick his ass,” the former disciple said weakly, “Just so you know, Eric has to be at least level twenty. He won't go down easy.”

Pinky raised an eyebrow, “What do you think our chances are?”

“I’d give even odds, and someone will probably die. We would be much better off if Zane could join, but I understand why he can't.” Lily shook her head, “That code of his sure is inconvenient sometimes.”

The kitsune needed to make a decision. Either they would have to skip the cooking competition, kill the General, or find a way to get him to leave town. She felt that guile might be their best way forward.

“I'll think of something,” Pinky said, “You three try to come up with a plan, and we'll compare notes in the morning.”

When the kitsune and human were gone, Dumpling turned to her fellow spirit beast. They shared a look that went on for a while.

Finally, the void stalker spoke, “MY PLAN IS TO KILL HIM THIS VERY NIGHT.”

“How remarkable,” Daisy replied, “Mine too.”

***

Pinky had been saving her essence for an upgrade. With the General hunting Zane, she figured it was time to make a decision. As a kitsune, she could purchase shape changing, trickster magic, and lifestealing abilities. The last one was a bit of a double edged sword. It would allow her to drain enemies of their vitality and essence, but it would also increase how much she passively pulled from those around her. Then, there was the new option that had appeared as a result of her rapidly declining purity meter.

Black Widow’s Kiss: Draw on the power of your lower core to create deadly poisons and add poison damage to your attacks. Become immune to your own poisons and resistant to those of other creatures. Cost: 10 Essence Points

She knew that poison was a particularly effective way to slow down, or even kill, a cultivator. Slip something into their food or drink and by the time they noticed what was happening it would be too late. It would also stack with Pinky’s life stealing abilities, if she understood the description correctly.

The problem now was deciding if that was the path she wanted to take. The kitsune had made a valiant effort to avoid her more base instincts. At least, until Zane came along. Now she was contemplating taking an ability that would turn her into an assassin. Pinky found that she didn’t mind the thought of being able to kill like the rogue cultivator did. It made her feel powerful, like she was contributing instead of merely being carried along behind the others.

Pinky knew that by taking the Black Widow’s Kiss ability she was opening a door that would not be easy to close. The kitsune would have access to deadly poisons whenever she wanted. That would make it hard to resist her urges to kill and devour. Yet, she found herself caring less and less about the morality of it. Practically speaking, Pinky was a predator. She was also a kitsune, not a human. And those were human considerations.

She took the ability and felt a rush of knowledge flow through her. Pinky’s heart fluttered as she thought about all the toxic plants they had come across while foraging. They had come so close to disaster without even knowing it. The kitsune took a deep breath, and began to formulate a plan for dealing with the General.

If he was staying at an inn, chances were they served food and drink. It wouldn’t be too hard for her to slip in and spike a bottle or perhaps leave something nasty in his bed. Maybe she could even do it tonight.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

***

One of Zane’s favorite parts of the day was pressing and bottling the juice. It was a mindless way to grind experience and make money. First, the chef took their haul of berries from the market and washed them off. Then he ran them through a press, adding sugar or lime juice to adjust the taste, before dividing the juice into glass bottles. Zane pressed enough of his energy into the summoned bottles to keep them from disappearing before sunset, then went to work making ice.

Coolers were nothing new, or particularly high tech. Straw and grass surrounding a wooden tub gave it enough insulation to stop the ice he made from melting too soon. Zane cooled the water in the tub until it froze solid and loaded it full of bottles. Groucho ambled over and took his seat near the window. Zane’s original plan of making an enclosed vending machine had been hampered by the fact that constructs didn’t do well in the cold, so the icebox was the closest he could get.

The chef went around front, made sure the display hadn’t been vandalized, then slid the sign over to show they were open for business. It was a simple system that replaced one of the street facing windows. Customers put money into the box, Groucho dropped a bottle of juice down the chute. If they wanted change, that was too bad.

Occasionally someone would get the bright idea to try reaching up the chute. Zane wasn’t sure what they expected to find, but Groucho was more than happy to trim off any offending fingers that intruded into his workspace.

The construct seemed to enjoy killing and maiming, but didn’t go out of his way to find trouble. Zane contrasted this with Daisy and Dumpling’s nighttime activities which were much more violent, and frequent. So far the duo had managed to keep a low profile by sticking to cultivators and criminals, but he knew their good luck wouldn’t hold out forever.

Zane was conflicted about allowing them to continue. Inevitably Daisy would bite off more than even she could chew. But until that happened, she would continue to progress rapidly. Each time he told her to take him to the edge of the fog, she climbed higher and higher up the mountain. Soon, they would be ready to move onto the next big city.

The rogue cultivator still hadn’t entirely wrapped his head around the idea that he saw the world differently than his lower level companions. He could be walking through a sunny meadow without a care in the world, while Daisy stood at the edge of it, peering intensely into the thick fog. There was probably some philosophical wisdom to be gleaned from that, but Zane wouldn’t be the one to find it. He had things to do.

The General was a problem. Lily didn’t feel comfortable with him nearby. Zane knew that if he didn’t act soon, one of his companions would. The rogue cultivator’s body was still stabilizing after the idiots and crafts project he had undertaken turned his cores into modern art. Zane giggled at the thought that after his roadside patch job his cores vaguely resembled an upside down avocado. Truly he had become a peak millennial, or whatever generation he was classified as. Zane wasn’t good at keeping track of that stuff.

His wandering mind was rudely pulled back to the present by the sound of a man screaming. The rogue cultivator looked over to see Groucho holding a tattooed arm. The owner was cursing and shouting outside the restaurant, evidently not happy to have paid so dearly for his attempt to get free drinks.

“Should I give him a free bottle?” Groucho asked, inspecting the severed appendage, “I was just trying to scare him. I didn’t realize he would come apart so easily.”

Zane considered that for a second. “No, I don’t think free juice will cut it. I guess I should go out and introduce myself.”

“Be careful,” the construct warned, “They’re cultivators.”

“Really?” Zane asked as he took a peek out the window. Four men in blue robes were gathered around their wounded companion. His class told him that none had eaten his food. “Do any of them feel particularly powerful?”

“Nah, I heard one complaining about the fog. Besides, if they come apart this easily they probably aren’t very high level.” Groucho wiggled the man’s severed arm for emphasis.

Zane smiled wickedly. “Hey, you’re a bard. Do you think you can mimic my voice?”

The killbot nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I’m going to need an alibi,” Zane said as he pulled some black robes and a short straight sword from his storage bracelet, “I think it’s time to stir up a little trouble for the General.”

Groucho cackled evilly. “Oh, that’s delicious. Here, take this, compliments of a humble bard.”

Zane gratefully accepted the mask that the construct summoned for him. The repeating pattern of black waves and spiral shells marked him as a member of the Rock Mountain Mollusk sect. “Beautiful work, Groucho,” Zane said as he donned it.

“Thanks boss!” the killbot paused, “Can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask,” Zane replied cautiously. He still hadn’t gotten over his instinctual fear that the construct would eventually betray them. “What do you need?”

“I would like it very much if you would leave one of them reasonably intact with no big holes or wounds.” Groucho rubbed a bony knuckle over his ribs for emphasis. “I feel very underdressed, and would like to be able to go outside.”

Zane breathed out a sigh of relief. He could do that. In fact, it would probably make his plans go along much smoother if Groucho could impersonate one of the other sect members. “Yeah, I can probably manage. Would it be easier if I captured one of them alive and let you do the cutting?”

Groucho looked at his boss with surprise. “Wait, you’re going to help me? Just like that?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Zane said with a smile as he took one last glance out the window and walked towards the back door, “What are friends for?”

The cultivators seemed to have stabilized their wounded companion and were preparing to attack the restaurant. There were four of them, four and a half if he counted the one who had been disarmed. Zane didn’t know how well his abilities would work with his body in its current state. Even increasing his speed had started to become difficult to control. Sometimes it took a few seconds to kick in, worked so well he cooked himself, or didn’t work at all.

The young man knew he was in for a fight that might not go his way. He was outnumbered and had to content himself with the mundane sword in his hand. Zane’s speed would also potentially give up the ruse, so he would have to save it for emergencies. There might even be one of the men who was higher level than he was.

Zane gripped his stolen sword, feeling his heartbeat grow slow and steady as he pulled essence into him. Yes, he was outnumbered and his cores were held together by spiritual duct tape. If he died now, it might have long term consequences for his progress up the mountain. But that was what made it fun.

He stepped out from the alley, throwing on the attitude of a hot shit disciple from a powerful sect. “Hello, you sons of unclean whores!” Zane called out towards the cultivators in blue.

“Who dares insult members of the all powerful Crashing Wave Otter sect?” demanded a man with a gray beard poking out from under his blue and white mask, “Speak now, so we may know whose corpse we will piss upon!”

Zane couldn’t help himself. He made sure to speak up so his voice would carry. “My name is General Eric Badi. I represent a power much greater than your little puddle pissing group of weaklings. I am a proud member of the Rock Mountain Mollusk sect. And if watersports are what you’re into, you should swing by the brothels.”

The young man focussed himself as he prepared to say words that marked a point of no return. Once he spoke, it would be a fight to the death. He drew his sword and held it loosely by his side. “Speaking of brothels, that reminds me. If I ask nicely, do you think your mothers will give me a discount? Or is that a family only kind of thing?” Zane asked with a mocking laugh, “I’d hate to overpay for trash.”

The gray bearded sect member drew his sword and lunged, his face contorted into a snarl. Angry as he was, the cultivator moved with a confident grace that showed decades of dedication to the killing arts. He was both powerful and skilled, Zane realized. Only someone of a higher level could move that fast without a blessing.

The rogue cultivator felt a brief flicker of fear. They were much more evenly matched than he had anticipated. With his body still recovering his powers were unpredictable at best. If he pushed himself too hard, there was a chance that Zane’s own cores rupturing would kill him before the cultivator could. This would be a real fight after all.

God, I missed this feeling! Zane thought as he swung his sword to block the oncoming blade, I feel so fucking alive!