She raised an eyebrow at Lord Braxand. She’d originally come here to judge how she should handle him, but he’d managed to turn it around on her and now wanted to determine if she was worthy to ascend. Though his logic on the surface appeared reasonable, it reeked of deep-seated arrogance. His contributions to the war, his way of ruling, earning his approval… Even if the criticisms of Yivesh’s policies were valid, she found his rationale irritating.
“What makes you think you’re qualified to evaluate my worth? Or anyone's, for that matter. You admitted it yourself–you’re a broken cultivator now. You rejected the call to ascension, and even after learning everything, still didn’t ascend. If anything, you are the last person who should act as judge.”
“You’re right that I myself am not worthy to ascend. That was why I originally planned to stay in Yivesh, and now that I’m here, why I’m founding Gateway. However, this doesn’t exclude me from having an eye for evaluating others.” Lord Braxand gave her a cold, polite smile. “I am very good at appraisals, but I’m not too prideful to admit that I’ve misjudged you before. At first, I thought some teenaged Copper with less than even six months of cultivation experience couldn’t possibly survive ascension–I might as well let such a fool be reincarnated–but, your competence surprised me. With your unexpected success retrieving the elixir, and your brief but successful deception, I came around to the idea of keeping you by my side as an asset instead. You had even more surprises for me, then… and look at how things have turned out for us both.”
“I’m doing well enough, and, all things considered, you aren’t doing too badly either,” she pointed out.
“Exactly right, Miss Cray. Exactly right.” His smile widened until it showed teeth. “Both of us are doing better than I’d thought possible.”
His energy became muddled and difficult for her to interpret. There was resentment and anger present still, but other, less negative emotions as well. She even thought there might be something akin to respect or appreciation in the mix.
“In truth, I’d planned on indulging my desire for vengeance should our paths ever cross again, but for you to boldly seek me out like this and request to use the obelisk here…?” He leaned forward and stared at her curiously. “Are you a fool after all? Or, does your confidence stem from something I previously overlooked? If you really do have what it takes, far be it for someone unworthy like myself to stand in your way. But, that has yet to be seen. That’s why I’d like to give you one final test.”
Samantha couldn’t find any obvious inconsistencies or fault in his words, but she highly doubted he was being totally straightforward with her, either. Lord Braxand never seemed like the type to confront problems head on. There had to be something he was hiding.
“Let’s say I take your word for it, then. Why would I go through all that effort to prove myself to you? Your obelisk happens to be my first and most convenient option, but it’s not the only one. Traveling out into the middle of nowhere to meet an old, vengeful enemy–where he has all the advantages–sounds like a good way to get killed. I’ve already made preparations for ascension and have no need for your treasures, arts, or armaments. What aid are you offering that could possibly be worth that kind of risk?”
“Those would be fair points were they not marred by your assumptions,” he chastised. “I never said you had to come here to prove yourself to me. Even I am not so unreasonable to ask you to trust me to that degree. What I have in mind can be done anywhere you’d like apart from within Centra itself. As for the rewards for your success… I can give you something that you would find difficult to acquire even with vast riches: strong allies for your ascension. Several individuals in Gateway–some of my family members included–have expressed a desire to ascend. Given the lack of certainty about what the next floor will be like, it’s better to work with a larger group, wouldn’t you agree?”
“So that your people can slit my throat in my sleep if you fail to kill me here? No, thank you,” she promptly declined.
He frowned. “You may find me and my methods antagonistic, but I wouldn’t go back on a business agreement. You were the one who was dishonest in our last dealings, if you’ll recall. I intimidated you into compliance and even used force at times, yes, but I never lied to you about my expectations of you and what you’d get for meeting them. If I say I will let you ascend peacefully and give you useful aid should you prove yourself, I will keep my word. If it would make you feel better to have more concrete evidence I can gather everyone to submit to geasa or swear cultivators’ oaths. I’d offer to do so myself, but you are well aware of my limitations given my… condition.”
She thought back to all the times she’d interacted with Lord Braxand and was reluctant to admit it, but he had always been true to his word. Even when she’d first encountered his Ol’ Man Whisper persona in The Gutter and traded him for information, what he told her was accurate. When he ‘enlisted’ her to steal Harold’s elixir, he’d rewarded her with a new art and the potion she’d needed to learn it as promised. She couldn’t say for certain if he would’ve allowed her to ascend if he never discovered she’d taken the more potent of Harold’s cultivation elixirs; however, he’d been forthcoming about what to expect during her captivity after her ‘betrayal’. He’d even given her the means to ascend to Low Bronze so she could be a more useful tool in his arsenal.
“You’ve left out the rather important detail of what you want me to do to prove my worth. Your proposal isn’t worth consideration if the challenge you ask me to overcome is insurmountable.”
“I thought that was obvious,” he told her, looking a bit disappointed. “How else does a cultivator showcase their strength to another but through a one-on-one duel?”
“That’s it?” she asked skeptically. “What’s the catch? Is it to the death or something? You demand my servitude if I lose?”
He gave her a somewhat exasperated look. “If you possessed the true strength needed to ascend, such questions wouldn’t concern you.”
“And if you were being honest about the test, you’d have no issue answering me directly.”
He sighed. “If you find the duel isn’t to your liking after you arrive at the testing grounds you’re free to refuse it. I’ll even let you scurry back to Centra untouched by me or my people if you do! But, I’ll take that as an admittance that I was right about you.” His gaze on her sharpened with deadly intent. “In which case, it’s preferable to return you to the wheel of reincarnation myself rather than let someone else have the satisfaction.”
Something about the way he said it–the smugness, maybe–riled her up in a way nothing else in their conversation thus far had. She wasn’t usually a stickler for those of lower advancement rank showing her deference, but this time she’d make an exception. She wanted to put this uppity High Bronze in his place. He had no idea who he was trifling with… but he was going to find out.
Samantha felt a savage grin spread across her face as she unflinchingly met Lord Braxand’s eyes. She spoke quietly, lacing her words with amusement and condescension in equal measure. “Do you really think you can?”
He looked taken aback for a split second before he started laughing. “You’ve changed more than I thought! How interesting. Interesting indeed.” Lord Braxand held up both hands like he was surrendering as his mirth died down, and Samantha let the intensity in her demeanor fade. “In any case, there you have it! As you said, this isn’t the only obelisk on the floor, but if you wish to use it you now know my conditions. Rest assured, you are safe from me while in Centra. I am not so hot headed as to pick a fight with the guilds by causing trouble in their city.”
Samantha was genuinely a little astonished to hear that he was being so wary of the guilds already. It made her speculate about what the consequences might be that would cause Lord Braxand to postpone seeking revenge simply because she was inside the city. She couldn’t imagine he had much direct experience with the guilds yet, so he must’ve heard stories about them from the Raiders he’d integrated into his group.
Lord Braxand misinterpreted the change in her expression. “Oh–don’t look so surprised that I deduced that much. There was little chance of you finding this place other than buying information from one of the many shops I arranged for it to be sold to.”
That tidbit of information was not nearly as shocking.
“So, you admit you sold this obelisk’s location to lure me here?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “I sold it to lure any ascendants or potential ascendants here. Once the guilds realize just how many of them bought this information from my people, it will become one of the cheapest–and accessible–obelisk locations on the market. The newly ascended, the Unaffiliated, the blacklisted, and all manner of other desperate outcasts or ambitious outliers will flock to Gateway.”
“And you’ll just let them all ascend?”
He stood up from the couch with a huff and walked over to his desk. “Your questions are becoming more and more tedious, Miss Cray. Shall I tell you about where I plan to route sewage as well?”
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Well, you’re just giving the issue of my ascension such careful consideration! I was only wondering if all who visit Gateway are going to get the same treatment.”
He sat and pulled a partially-filled form from the top of a stack of papers on his desk. After reading it for a few seconds, he grabbed the quill from the inkwell beside the stack and signed at the bottom of the page. He responded as he started to pull the next form from the pile. “Most who visit Gateway won’t have annoyed or inconvenienced me even a fraction of the amount that you have. If someone is too stupid to recognize their own weakness and refuses to take advantage of the various programs I’ll be making publicly available before ascending, I don’t see why I should try and prevent their reincarnation. And, if someone possesses true strength, I have no reason to stop their progress.” He signed the form and pulled another from the stack. “It’s those that come to Gateway as a last resort to escape their other troubles that I will convince to stay. A city cannot run without people who will settle and work within it. And, if Gateway is the only place on the floor where its residents feel free and welcomed, they will remain loyal and dedicated to it their entire lives.”
“I see.” Samantha stood from her chair and straightened her robes. “I believe I’ve heard everything I need to.”
“Have you? Well, I still have some questions about this floor for you.”
“What would you like to know?”
He proceeded to ask her about her experience interacting with the guilds, what she thought of Centra, and other general inquiries about her perspective as an ascendant on this floor. When he was satisfied with all her answers, he looked up briefly from his latest form and nodded towards her. “Marvelous. Now… if you would be so kind as to leave me to my work? Great cities aren’t built in a day, and I’ve much left to do for the construction of Gateway. Come find me again if you choose to accept my proposal, and I will have the duel arranged.”
“There’s no need for that. I accept.”
He stopped his quill mid-signature on the page. “Well… aren’t you just full of surprises?” He finished signing his name and placed the quill back into the inkwell. “Did you have something in mind for time and place? Do keep in mind I’ll need lead time for handing off my administrative duties and travel depending on where you’d like the testing grounds to be.”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“I do. How about…?”
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The next two weeks passed quickly as Samantha prepared for her upcoming duel.
Once she confirmed that Lord Braxand was indeed handing off his duties and traveling towards Centra, she used the talisman she’d been given by the Informant’s Guild to document her mental record of the Obelisk’s location. After submitting her findings–and performing tests to prove that the ‘scrying art’ used to verify the location was accurate–she was given a discount on the next piece of intel purchased from the guild as specified in their contract with her. Since the Obelisk was genuine–and she had several back-up plans for how to access it if Lord Braxand went back on his word–she purchased something other than knowledge on where to find another one. She bought information on everyone who’d sold this obelisk’s location to the various guilds. In other words, she now knew who Lord Braxand’s active agents in Centra were and much of their recent activity.
Using this new knowledge, she tracked down his agents and followed them with the intention of catching unusual interactions or communications. If Lord Braxand sought to sabotage the testing grounds or other underhanded tricks before their duel began she wanted to be aware of it in advance. Though the agents were sent to the agreed-upon area multiple times, it appeared that it wasn’t with the goal of laying any traps. Rather, it was checking that Samantha hadn’t laid any traps for Lord Braxand. When multiple days of consistent spying revealed nothing of interest, she opted to devote some of her attention to other tasks. As much as following the agents’ every move might prove or disprove her suspicions, she was only one person. She couldn’t watch all of them all the time, nor did she really want to. So, while she still checked in for oddities regularly, she also took on the task that she’d been putting off for far too long: organizing her personal domain.
She made trips out of the city limits so the opening of the rift wouldn’t alarm any of Centra’s citizens. Then, with Silas’s company and encouragement, faced her fears of spending more than a few seconds at a time inside the isolated space. In the beginning her anxiety would manifest within moments of the rift’s exit closing her into her domain, and she had to fight back against the powerful urge to immediately reopen another one to escape. With repeated exposure to the situation over the days, she became comfortable with longer and longer time frames until she didn’t start to feel anxious while sealed inside until after an hour or two had passed. Though progress towards overcoming her traumatic association with the space wasn’t perfect by any means, the thought of entering the domain no longer filled her with crippling dread. And, to give herself credit, she did succeed in her goals of organization.
With everything having a proper place and not being haphazardly thrown onto the ground or shelves the domain felt much less chaotic than when she started. One of the first things she changed was making the interior of her domain resemble the clearing where she’d first met Silas instead of a warehouse. There was an open, circular area of verdant grasses and flowers which marked the limit of her domain. Then, along the edges of the meadow she made it look like there was a vast forest. Clear blue skies rested overhead, with picturesque, white clouds casting the occasional spot of shade below.
On the ‘north’ side of the meadow–which she decided would be directly across from where the entrance rift opened–was a small workshop that housed all of her different crafting stations and materials. Since she could make essentially anything she could imagine in her domain with a bit of qi, she’d put a lot of thought into packing the most functionality in a compact area. She kept the workshop ceilings relatively low at seven feet tall to conserve space, but created three separate 6 x 6 rooms to keep the stations separate from each other. These rooms were side by side along the eastmost wall, which made the workshop shaped like a skinny rectangle. The workshop’s entry door faced south–meaning it would be front and center upon entering the domain–and lead into a short hallway of sorts. On the westmost workshop wall (where there were no rooms or doors) were long shelves and other such storage to accommodate larger crafting materials.
Before she'd left the Rift to face the Ancient Cliff Drake she’d spent some of her remaining points on mundane tools for alchemy, carpentry, leatherworking, and metalworking. As she was not an expert in any of these crafts, she didn’t invest in everything a master might need to do their best work. Rather, she bought things an intermediate crafter could use to make basic items or repairs and focused more on actual crafting materials. Alchemy got its own workshop room due to the preciseness and cleanliness needed for potions, carpentry got its own room due to the prolific dust it could produce, and leatherworking and metalworking were grouped together in the third room. Each space had its own simple ventilation system, as well as cabinets and drawers to store supplies.
To the east of the workshop was the singular tree she’d gathered from the Great Gulfs earlier. She planned to expand the somewhat pitiful looking ‘field’ later with more plants and dirt, but for now the only other thing nearby was a metal barrel filled with water for the tree. To the west of the workshop was a 5 x 5 x 6 shed, which held her non-crafting items such as weapons, armor, completed potions, and cultivation manuals. The shed's interior consisted mainly of free standing bookshelves and wall-mounted weapon racks at the moment, but, much like the rest of her domain, she fully planned to modify it as needed. As things stood now, she’d increased the volume of the domain to be 15 x 15 x 15 so it felt less cramped, and still had about half of the space ‘budget’ open if needed.
By the time she was satisfied with the organization of her domain there were only a few days left until the duel. The only things left to do were to watch her enemies carefully and wait.
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“You’re sure he hasn’t done something to the grounds?” Harold questioned. Mercer nodded in agreement from atop Sandy’s back.
“Nothing scripted or enchanted, at least. My spiritual sight would’ve caught that,” she said for what felt like the 100th time.
“I’m just saying, if–”
“You don’t need to come with me, you know? I mostly told you about it so you wouldn’t worry about what I’ve been doing all this time.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “In fact, it might be better if you don’t! Less things that could go wrong if you stay away, no offense.”
“I’m more worried about my luxurious mode of transportation getting herself murdered,” Harold quipped back. Mercer not-so-subtly kicked Harold’s upper arm. After giving Mercer a deeply annoyed look, Harold turned back to Samantha. “...No offense.”
“Fine,” she relented. “But, if any sort of hostage situation happens–”
“I will bomb the immediate area with alchemicals that are widely considered inhumane,” Harold said in a bored, monotone voice. She narrowed her eyes at him, which earned her a return smirk.
“I’ll keep a close eye on the situation as well,” Tobias interjected. “With all of us working together, there shouldn’t be much issue.”
She gave Tobias a grateful smile.
Everyone continued chatting until the testing ground came into view. Samantha had chosen a random patch of desert about half a mile from the edge of the Great Gulfs. It was a bit of a hike from Centra to exit the Gulfs, but there was a well-established trail that the guilds all maintained so no one needed to rock climb. It wasn’t flashy, but the switchback path carved into the canyon wall was relatively convenient, quick, and safe. There wasn’t anything special about the area she’d picked, but she liked it because there wasn’t any cover close by. This eased many concerns she’d held about hidden traps or ambushes. Furthermore, due to its proximity to the canyons, in a worst case scenario she could fling herself over the edge and catch herself near the bottom with [Cloud Run] to escape. Harold would be in a bit more of a bind than her in that regard, but Sandy could still help him down the steep cliff.
Lord Braxand and his traveling party were already there and waiting for them. There were seven of them in total, not including the six saddled spirit beasts that looked to be from the first floor. Seeing each other from far off, she and Lord Braxand waited until they were within speaking distance to acknowledge one another. Samantha was careful to tightly control her aura so as not to tip anyone off that she was no longer a Low Bronze… but a Low Silver.
“I see you brought some of your own people with you,” he commented. As he looked over them all, he raised an eyebrow. “Is that… Harold Greene? The alchemist?”
“I am. Do I know you?”
A wicked smile crossed Lord Braxand’s face. “Not really… but I know you. And I must say, you are a more forgiving man than I.”
Harold gave him a confused look. “Forgiving?”
“But of course! Miss Cray was the one who ruined your life, after all. Yet, here you two are–thick as thieves! If she’d done the same thing to me… I know I wouldn’t be able to let it go so easily. I mean, that’s the main reason I’m here now!” he said with a chuckle.
A dark shadow seemed to cross over Harold’s expression as he looked at Samantha. “What is he talking about?”
Samantha inwardly groaned as something else she hadn’t thought about in years was rearing its ugly head. She’d never confessed her part in Harold’s ‘failed’ elixir--and the subsequent events that led to his ascension--to him before she’d gotten trapped in the rift. After she’d emerged and had so many other personal issues taking up her attention, revealing this information to him had completely slipped her mind.
Lord Braxand gave them a shocked look, “You mean she never told you?”
Harold’s expression darkened further.
“She didn’t, did she?” Lord Braxand was barely containing his delight. “Well, our duel can wait a few more minutes! Go on, Miss Cray. What do you have to say for yourself?”
No sense in letting this spiral out of control. I just have to own up to what I did.
She let out a deep sigh. “Harold, there’s no easy way to say this, but he’s right. I did play a part in ruining your life.” She braced herself for Harold’s reaction as she continued. “Back in Yivesh, I was the one who blew up the warehouse where you were making your elixir for the City Lord.”
“Who ordered you to do it?”
“I know I—wait, what?”
“You think I’m going to believe that some naïve brat–who threw a veritable fit about a mortal boy she just met being kidnapped in the slums–found the secret warehouse set up by the City Lord, slipped past several layers of his hand-picked security, and set off an explosion that killed and injured multiple people… by herself? Of her own volition? Without getting caught?” He gave her a disbelieving look.
She looked at Harold dumbly, stunned into silence by his response.
Harold scowled. “I’m actually more offended by the fact that you seem to think so little of me. That you believed I would so easily latch onto such obvious bait! Was he the one that put you up to it? The old fart sure seems smug enough to be the real culprit.”
Samantha could’ve sworn she saw Lord Braxand’s eye twitch at that comment.
“It… well… yes,” she stumbled awkwardly over the words, still reeling from this turn of events. “It’s a long story–”
“Which you will tell me later. In. Full.”
“Yes, I owe you that much,” she readily agreed. “But you’re right. Lord Braxand–or I guess you could say Ol’ Man Whisper–was the one who ordered me to do it.”
Harold turned the full force of his ire on the High Bronze immediately. Though not enough to cause anyone much discomfort–as everyone present was the same rank as Harold or higher–the anger in his Low Bronze killing intent was obvious. “If Samantha doesn’t kill you in this duel, I’ll personally ensure that you regret surviving it.”
Rather than enrage him, this comment seemed to lift Lord Braxand’s spirits again. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just here to judge the outcome of the duel. I never said I would be the one to fight her.” One of the six cultivators standing near Lord Braxand stepped forward and bowed to Samantha. She couldn’t see much of the stranger's appearance beneath their cloak and loose hood, but their entire body seemed to be wrapped in bulky strips of cloth–or leather. “This Mid Silver I’ve hired from the Assassin’s Guild is going to.”
A wave of killing intent rushed towards her group from the assassin, and Samantha reacted just in time to shield everyone under the umbrella of her Low Silver aura.
Tenet of Determination has come into effect! You have gained an advantage in this battle of wills against a higher-ranked cultivator.
Lord Braxand’s eyes widened with incredulity.
Samantha was relieved that the Mid Silver's spiritual pressure was much more bearable than she’d feared. With her absurd qi pool size and qi regeneration rate bolstering her alongside her Tenet of Determination, it felt similar to clashing killing intents with someone of equal power.
A few seconds later, the assassin withdrew their killing intent and turned calmly to Lord Braxand. “The target is a full tier higher than described in the contract. What is the meaning of this?” Their voice was androgynous, such that Samantha couldn’t tell if the speaker was a man or woman. Due to the thick wrappings around their body and average height, there were no other clues as to their gender either.
“I-Impossible! She was nothing but a Low Bronze a few months ago! She can’t really be Low Silver!”
“I’ll need to confer with my superiors on how to proceed,” the assassin said simply. They politely bowed their head towards Samantha. “I do beg your pardon for the inconvenience, Samantha Cray. Please excuse me for a few moments.”
Oddly civil, for someone who was presumably paid to kill me.
As they walked a short distance away and pulled out a communication talisman, Samantha watched an increasingly confused and angry Lord Braxand out of the corner of her vision. The other five cultivators in his group–none of which she knew by name–looked between her, him, and the assassin with concern. Feeling a bout of vindictiveness overtake her, Samantha did exactly the same thing to them as the assassin tried to do to her group. Drawing on past recollections of the outrage she felt while bullied into submission by Ol’ Man Whisper, she saturated her qi with malice.
When the wave of crushing killing intent washed over Lord Braxand and his people, the Mid Silver did not shield them with their aura like Samantha had done. All six of them crumpled to their knees.
Lord Braxand snarled up at her. “Enjoy… it… while it… lasts, Miss Cray.”
She let the dark part of her–the part that she liked to pretend didn’t exist–look back through her eyes at her old enemy. When he shivered under her stare, it whispered into her ear in satisfaction. ‘Justice’.
“I most certainly will.”