Eric’s mind took him to dark places as he tried to regain consciousness. Men with faces burned down to bare bone haunted his dreams. Sometimes it was the man in black. Sometimes it was the cultivators his sect had defeated during the consolidation.

They approached the General with grim determination, continuing to march towards him despite their injuries. And each time their dead hands touched him, Eric could feel something shatter inside his chest.

He woke up in an unfamiliar room with his heart pounding. “Revenants…” the General whispered as he finally understood the meaning behind his nightmares. The man in black had come to punish him for the crimes of his elders.

“Oh?” asked Mayor Jeffries from the chair where he had been reading, “What about them?”

Eric sat up and leaned against the headboard. His muscles burned, but the General didn’t let his weakness betray him. He was no stranger to post combat recovery and took the pain in stride. “I think the man I fought was a revenant. An old monster, come for revenge against my sect.”

“Ah, the great consolidation,” Jeffries said with a nod, “That would make sense. Even so, revenants are rare.”

The General looked around his surroundings. Normally he would have expected to wake up in an infirmary or a hotel, not what he took to be the Mayor’s private residence. Besides the soreness, Eric couldn’t access his lower core. He searched around for the suppression seal that was preventing him from using his abilities. As far as he couldn’t tell, there wasn’t one.

“Are you using some technique to keep me contained?” Eric asked as he continued to look for the paper seal or enchanted object preventing him accessing his core, “I can barely sit up.”

Jeffries’ face fell. He wasn’t sure how to break the bad news. “We aren’t suppressing you,” the Mayor said, “According to the apothecary, your core was damaged in the fight. You can’t hold or process essence anymore.”

Eric’s face went pale. “That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not,” Jeffries shook his head, “Before the consolidation it was used as a punishment for those who betrayed their sect. I suppose this isn’t something you want to hear, but it does lend credibility to your theory about the man you fought being a revenant. Very few can master such a dark technique.”

The General sat and digested this information. He couldn’t feel his core or activate any of his abilities. If what the Mayor said was true, that meant he would only be able to access the benefits awarded to him by his tier and level. Anything gained through spending or using essence would be forever lost to him.

Eric took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I take it that there isn’t some easy fix for my condition.”

“No,” Jeffries replied with a shake of his head, “Your core may heal over time, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Then I guess I’m fucked,” the General said, feeling the words become real as he spoke them, “How long was I out?”

“Six days,” answered Jeffries, “And there is another problem. The Crashing Wave Otter sect is asking for your head. They demanded I turn you over to them. That’s why I moved you here instead of that hotel.”

Eric frowned. “I don’t know how I’ve managed to insult them. But I’m thankful to you for at least waiting until I was awake to make your decision.”

The Mayor let out a sigh. “You know, I was perfectly happy leaving all this cultivation bullshit behind me. Now I’ve got the red rogue to deal with, whoever or whatever attacked you, and a pissed off sect that wants your head.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, “I imagine that your peace was something hard won, and trouble from the lowlands is the last thing you would want.”

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Jeffries patted him on the arm. “At first I was mad, then I saw what that thing did to your core and changed my tune. It could have just as easily attacked Captain Cerdo, or even myself. The way I choose to see it, we owe you.”

The General wasn’t sure what to make of that. On the one hand, he was happy they weren’t throwing him to the wolves. On the other hand, Jeffries made him sound like a sacrificial lamb. Eric felt like a lightning rod that had served its purpose and been burned out in the process. Now he was what, a trophy? Some curiosity to be set on the shelf and forgotten?

The Mayor noticed the sour expression on General Badi’s face. “I’m pragmatic enough to recognize when someone else’s misfortune benefits me, call it a side effect of working in local government. Would you rather I pretend to be some magnanimous, pompous, asshole?”

“No,” Eric replied, “I’m also someone who tries to see the world for how it is, rather than how I would like it to be. I appreciate your candor, even if it feels…” He paused, trying to find the word.

“It feels unfair, doesn’t it?” the Mayor asked, his voice softening, “Before today you probably couldn’t imagine being anything else besides a cultivator.”

The General shook his massive head, “No, actually. I always wanted to be a farmer, or a restaurant critic. Either one would have been fine.”

Jeffries looked at the almost muscle bound man in front of him with disbelief. “I could see you as a farmer, but a food critic?”

“I like food, all kinds of food,” Eric said defensively as he checked his connection to the Mesh to find out what time it was. Thankfully his spirit core was still intact and functional. Only the lower two were damaged. “And speaking of food, I’m pretty hungry. I’d like to go out and get some breakfast.”

“The Crashing Wave Otter sect is hunting for you,” Jeffries warned, “They won’t come into my residence, but if you step outside they will cut you to pieces.”

Eric got out of bed and stood up. The General had to lean against the bedpost for support, but he managed to avoid falling down. “Then I will critique their techniques and the quality of their blades,” Eric said with a shallow bow, the best he could give without tipping over, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Jeffries watched the big man depart. He wasn’t sure if Eric had a death wish, was hiding something, or was just stubborn. Either way, it would all end the same, with blood on his streets. “Fuck it,” the Mayor said as he grabbed his coat, “Wait up, I’m coming with you.”

The General paused, leaning against a doorframe for support. “That’s not necessary.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Jeffries replied as he took up a position next to the larger man, “You’re half-dead and weak as a kitten. I’ve got a responsibility to make sure you stay safe, and frankly, breakfast sounds really good right now. I was so busy last night that I skipped dinner.”

Eric looked at the Mayor, unsure what game the man was playing. “I’m not looking to get further into your debt.”

“Good,” Jeffries said as he squeezed past the General, “Because you’re buying.”

The two men locked eyes for a moment, then Eric sighed. He knew when he was defeated. “Fine, but I’m picking the place. There is this shop that serves really good waffles, and if I’m going to be cut to pieces by rival sect members, I would at least like to depart from this world with some shred of happiness.”

“Oh!” Jeffries said as he adjusted his coat, “Is it the Cat, Dragon, and Fox? I’ve been meaning to try that place. Rumor has it that the one who runs it is a hidden master. He might even have some insight into your condition.”

Eric froze, a pained expression crossing his face. “Don’t give me hope. My core is shattered, and more than likely if I make it down the mountain alive, my own sect will kill me for the experience. I just want to have some breakfast. I don’t need miracle cures, or hidden masters. I just want some waffles before I get put out of my misery.”

“Fine. I won’t talk to him if you don’t want me to,” the Mayor lied, having decided that saving Eric was as worthy a cause as any. Though, in truth, he was letting himself be motivated by sentiment. Seeing the man laying comatose had awakened memories from when Jeffries was a young cultivator.

The sects brainwashed their recruits into believing that serving was the greatest of honors, that it was the most important thing they would ever do in their lives. And it worked, until someone got hurt or was discarded. Then that pride turned on them, transforming into bitterness and hatred.

Jeffries had left of his own accord, but he understood how Eric must be feeling right now. He had seen how it ended for other cultivators separated from their sects, or who feared they might be. No, he wasn’t about to let that happen to Eric. It was sentimental, stupid, and probably doomed to failure. But he wasn’t going to let the man waste what was left of his life.

“Come on,” the Mayor said as he led the way, “I hear the crepes there are to die for.”