Mars Ventros leaned back in his comfortable chair, the upholstery cushioning his old bones as he tried to distract himself from the problem sitting on his desk. His office was small, not cramped, but only a few square meters short of that. Souvenirs and paintings from Ambition lined the walls and if not for the amount of potions and rare ingredients he had placed prominently at one wall, one could have assumed this was the office of any random clerk.
Mars was technically the Alchemist Guilds Elder on the first floor, as well as the Alchemist Guilds chief supply officer. Which meant his job was it to make sure health potions and other basic necessities were readily available and were being made, supplied and sold at any store in the Town of Beginnings. But really his job had little to do with the day to day business of the guild at all. No, he had the prestigious position because of who he really was. The boss of the Town of Beginnings only criminal organization. The red-light district. But Mars had not been born down here, he was born in Ambition and like many ambitious through and through. In both meanings of the words. It was his city, his home and his Ambition had always been grand, just like his city.
Mars parents had been Climbers who had settled down for a bit in the Metropolis, Earthers to be specific and they had both died when he had been young on a climb past the Gap. It was a common story in Climber’s Rest and Ambition as well and the orphans like Mars always lined the streets of the less fortunate districts like vermin.
In those streets you either survived stealing, robbing and killing or you did not survive at all. The few kids who had a knack for that kind of thing like Mars joined the Gangs. Getting a bit of protection for selling their lives. But most Gangs were small, local and powerless. Only some of the gangs were different. And those organizations had always been his goal, since he had met his first Family man, a made man of the Mob controlling Ambition’s underworld.
Organized crime was a big part of the undercurrents in Ambition because the trade with illegal substances, enhancements and stolen goods was all too lucrative. If someone can become rich and powerful in Ambition they do it and in doing so they either turn out to be ruthless and vicious enough to defend their claim to money and fame, or they fade away into obscurity. Violently usually. Mars had done everything right as a street kid, had stolen, had even killed to get into a good ‘Family’ and when he had finally been old enough to take the test to become a Climber he had lucked out. He had been one of the few who had talent to become a Vessel. He had become a Rogue, fast, deadly and usually used as a scout in most teams. Becoming a Vessel had been the thing that made the difference to him, that had changed his life.
From one day to the next he was not just some street rat anymore, but a valuable resource to any gang. Vessels with backgrounds in organized crime were not as common as one would think and Mars had thrown himself into climbing the ranks. A year after climbing back up to Ambition he had become a made man, part of the Serix Family. Serious people with deep roots in the illegal substance creation and trade. That was where he had learned Alchemy, not by getting a non combat class, but by supervising and learning about the trade the old fashioned way, through real life experience. But he had not just tried to learn the business, he had also climbed the tower as best as he could. Never taking risks, but leveling steadily. He had reached Level 30 shortly after his 30th birthday and he could still remember his joy, the party the family had thrown him.
Now though, more than 30 years later and in exile, he looked old when he looked into the mirror. His levels had slowed his aging to a crawl, but he still felt his bones creak every day when he got out of bed. He was an old man now, he knew that. He could see it in his slightly graying hair. But he was still fast and powerful down here. Even though his combat potential had shrunk over the years, he could still take anyone on this floor with two exceptions. Aurix, the fat bastard of a mayor who was just as much of an exile than he was and Thresius who was here on his own form of exile, like every high leveled Vessel or Mage down on the first floor.
“Stop it.” he mumbled. He was distracting himself with brooding over old problems that had no answers. He rubbed his temples before he looked down at the problem he was trying to avoid. Hoping for a long moment it did not exist. But that would not solve it. He needed to deal with it. Today.
Bookkeeping was not really something he had thought of highly before his exile, but now it made up most of his day. Numbers, supply charts, schedules of caravans to Ambition. They all were important because there was a little secret about all of the drugs in circulation in Ambition no matter what it was. From the highly euphoric and addicting Stardust to the Clear Mind Serum that was only illegal because the ruling elite of Ambition did not want more good mages that could rival their offspring. They all depended on resources coming from the lower floors. The second, third and fourth floor especially were treasure troves of ingredients that were low level, easily usable and created cheap to produce base chemicals and potions on which every single potion or drug was based on.
Even the higher level health potions that made up the bulk of the official trade relied on many basic ingredients to keep the cost down. Few people realized how much infrastructure and effort went into making potions not only available but also affordable in Ambition.
But all of this was in jeopardy now because of one man.
The Cultivator.
Few people realized how delicate the supply lines were and how dependent the whole lower tower was on low level vessels fulfilling quests like gathering herbs or selling monster parts they harvested and brought from their dives. But Mars knew. He could see it black on white. The Alchemist guilds stock of 3 of the key ingredients for health potions and more importantly of crystal dust, which was the main ingredient of Stardust and various other drugs, was almost gone. They were running low and were actually in danger of running out entirely.
Why? Because Aurix was a paranoid moron and had sent every independent group of Climbers on a wild goose chase after a single bloody Cultivator.
It would not have been an issue if they had succeeded, but fact was it had been months since the manhunt began and it was just not sustainable anymore. The few groups that still delivered goods to the guilds were entirely unable to meet the demand and already quite a few apprentice Alchemists were twiddling their thumbs instead of synthesizing more drugs.
So Mars had a problem. Because running out of health potions was the least of his problems, if he ran out of crystal dust. If that happened and he could not meet the demand of the next caravan, the next group coming down here would be arriving with his replacement and a squad of killers who would capture, torture and then slowly chop Mars into tiny pieces. He had seen it happen before, because he had been a replacement once, now 15 years ago.
Back then the Serix family, he was a part with had suddenly faced an upstart group that challenged their dominance. It had started out as a small regional conflict that slowly but surely turned into a full on gang war. People died every day. Assassinations were a daily occurrence and only after the Serix family had almost been destroyed the Half moon Gang revealed how they were able to do what they had done. They had hired a Cultivator. An invisible killer walking in shadows, killing anyone with a single strike. They had called her the Ghostblade and she had been a terror in Ambition. Nobody had been safe, none could escape her. Mars himself had met her just once, right at the end, where the Half moons attacked the Serix family headquarter. She told them to surrender or perish. Mars had been smart and had surrendered, unlike many of his friends, who had died to the unnatural woman’s blade in an instant. He still remembered her mask, a grim face with sharp teeth spluttered in blood. But she had kept him alive and soon Mars had found himself a captive.
His knowledge of Alchemy and his actual family had saved his life. With them as hostages the Half moon Gang had all they needed to control them. His wife Grace and his little daughter Dorothea were given a nice home in one of the Gangs core territories and he was sent down to the Town of Beginnings to ensure the drugs kept flowing. God, Dorothea must be close to taking the test to become a Vessel herself now. She was 16 now and had never seen him in her life it felt like. He got pictures of her from Ambition, to ensure his compliance and he had a few of her Letters in the top drawer of his desk. Grace wrote him regularly as did Dorothea, but that had stopped a year ago. A teenage phase Grace had told him and Mars heart had hurt. He was missing her letters so much. And now the lives of the people he cared most about in this world were in jeopardy because of a nameless newbie Cultivator.
Mars knew how terrible a Cultivator could be, he had seen it with his own eyes, but he also knew that they could die and if he did not solve this problem, then his own daughter and his Wife would feel the consequences of it.
The current political climate in Ambition’s underworld was tempestuous to say it lightly. An alliance of the old families, who still had deep ties to the Mage families and their powerful offspring had trapped and killed the Ghostblade a year ago. For a time Mars had believed everything would get better, but the opposite was the case. The Half Moon Gang were losing territories and influence and yet they were still the most powerful Gang by a mile. In a year or two that might change, but until then or until someone captured his wife and child, he would have to fulfill every damn request the bastards had of him. If he failed, they would remove him. They could not afford to let disobedience slide right now, even if it was just imaginary disobedience.
No, Mars had to solve the Cultivator Problem as soon as possible. The Cultivator was according to the information the guilds had a warrior type, not a stealth type. But he fought like a stealth type. Ambushes, night terror, shots out of the dark. Vanishing into thin air. But there also were superhuman regeneration abilities and a prodigious ability with knives. Mars himself knew well how to fight with knives and at the thought of finding and killing the Cultivator, that had given him so many headaches, he felt his fingers twitch to his old daggers he wore at all times.
Mars had survived the most tumultuous change of Power in Ambition’s underworld in a century and so he was paranoid sometimes, well all the time. But he had good reason to. He knew, realistically that the Cultivator could not be strong enough yet. That the Ghostblade had taken a decade to reach Ambition. But this particular one felt...off. Too strong, too cunning and for a while he thought the man had been hired by the underground Alliance up in Ambition just to disrupt his supply chain.
He knew it was bullshit. It was that moron’s Aurix overreaction. That Aurix had his own encounter with the Ghostblade before she was powerful and after. At least if his information was correct. Story was he had raped her when she was just a newbie and then 10 years later the woman had looked for him in Ambition and had tortured him for hours. She had left with a souvenir, Aurix balls, if he could believe the story. And so far the story seemed to check out. Aurix had wasted all of his families fortune on the only Mage healer in Ambition, who prided himself in being able to reconstruct any limb lost. A rarity down here in the Tower, much more common beyond the Gap. If it had not been the man’s gonads she for sure had taken something precious from him that potions could not heal.
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This was the whole reason why Aurix had panicked at just seeing a Cultivator, Mars was sure about it. But as it looked soon Mars would have to join the hunt and eradicate the problem himself if he wanted to be able to have enough crystal dust for Ambition. The red-light districts own Climbers were barely enough to keep the district going.
An old grandfather clock chimed in the corner and released Mars from his hesitation. His compulsive worrying and planning. He loved the mechanical contraption dearly. A bunch of Crafters close to Journeyman had made it for him for his 50th birthday. He was very fond of Earth things, especially things like this. Mechanical. So fascinating. No magic was needed, only someone making sure it was wound up every day. It gave the time with such accuracy it was only rivaled by magical means. Mars was proud of his heritage, although most Tower Born looked down on Earth for not having any magic.
The clock finished ringing the 8th bell of the morning and on the last chime of the bell his assistant Tex, or rather Textrahk, came in with the daily report, like he did every day. The man did not wince anymore when he called him Tex, some of the Tower Names were just so damn hard to pronounce and Mars was in a Position to dictate anyone’s name if he chose to do so. Tex was a balding man in his late thirties, but looked past 40. His prim suit and shoes were chosen in earth style, like what he had been told a Butler looked. His secretary had never complained about his outfit, but sometimes Mars wondered if he resented him for it.
“Morning Tex, anything new?” he asked as Tex set a stack, a whole bloody stack of papers on his desk.
“Good Morning, sir. I believe there are multiple things that require your attention immediately.”
Mars brows furrowed at the word immediately, that was not how Tex usually framed his schedule. He gestured his secretary to continue and Tex flipped the first page and indicated a small schedule for him.
“Considering the lack of supplies, the other Elders have called in an emergency session of the Alchemists conclave for 12 sharp, the Adventurers Guild Elder Lorast wants you to take over the prosecution of some civil servants in his guild who have apparently been bribed by teams to give them better contracts, their first hearing is at 3pm. Grisha has given notice that one of his men has apparently been attacked by the Cultivator and Crafter Guilds Elder Lorraine wants to have dinner at her villa to ask for your opinion about creating a journey man branch of their guild down here on the first floor.”
“Wait...wait one of Grisha’s men was attacked by the Cultivator?” Tex mustache quivered in distaste and the man straightened. “So the man says, but there are a few indicators that support his claim.”
“Like what, Tex?” Mars asked patiently. The man was infuriating but so damn good at his job. He could have not kept his own schedule without him and although the man despised Grisha he still understood the business and would not lie to him. Tex fished out one of the papers from the bottom and placed it on the top.
“Apparently the man in question, a mid level Enforcer could see him from close up, the man knocked him out and captured and then interrogated him.”
Mars thoughts turned into a whirlwind of activity. Was the man really not sent by one of the half moon Gangs competitors?
“He was sure it was the Cultivator because the man showed him his own wanted poster as comparison. Still this could easily have been an illusion or the after effects of a bad drug trip.” Tex hesitated and then sighed.
“Apparently the Cultivator also took the man’s powers. But I think that very unlikely, there is nothing that can take someone’s power in this Tower. Its impossible and to disturb you with nonsense like this is simply preposterous.” Tex raged, but Mars only listened to him with half an ear.
A cold shiver ran down his neck. He had taken the man’s powers from him? He needed to know the truth of it and he needed to know it right now. Mars had spent his life in exile wisely. He had cultivated Information instead of wealth, much of it coming from beyond the Gap. He knew much other people had no idea about. Knew the exact make up of the Gap at every year, who would come down and lead the Expedition. He knew the economic situation in the 50s, knew their political strive and need for Soldiers. But in all of his years of listening and gathering information he had never heard of anyone being capable of taking someones power. But if there was one being that could do such preposterous things like that, then it was the Cultivators. They came irregularly, selected by Emnu’s brutal trials and they warped the Tower around them like natural disasters. Their powers were strange and unheard of. So if anyone could have an ability like that, then it would be a Cultivator.
“Clear my schedule Tex, I need to speak with this man myself. He is still alive no?”
“Sir? Yes sir, he is very weak and in care by one of our doctors, but still, you can’t actually believe this...this hogwash?”
“I don’t know Tex, but I am going to find out.” In an instant Mars stood up, not feeling his hurting joints as he walked out of his office, Tex trailing behind him.
“What am I going to tell the elders?”
“A district crisis took me away, reschedule everything for tomorrow for now.” Tex held open a rich fur lined coat for Mars, he slipped into before settling his hands on the pearl handles of his daggers. Mars mind was working overtime as he left the Alchemist guild and jumped onto the next roof. His form blurred as the city around him seemed to slow down, his boots leaving no trace as he skipped from one rooftop to the other. There was only one place where they would bring an injured enforcer, a little clinic close to the red-light district. If other Climbers saw him or rather even noticed his passing they kept a respectful distance. His speed and agility made it clear he was not to be bothered with on pain of death. Mars blood was pumping and like so often he vowed to himself to do this more often. Come out and take a spin around the Town. But the Town of Beginnings was tiny. Barely worth a lap and so Mars quickly arrived at his destination.
His white coat lined with wolf fur fluttered in the wind as he landed on the street and normal people scattered like rats from the light. Thugs, the lowest ranks of his organization stood guard, their faces blanching at seeing him and they bowed deeply while they opened the door to the little clinic.
“Thanks boys, keep the clinic empty for now, you can send the rest of the norms to Symbol Street.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Mars walked past the clinic, past beds he ha paid for and potion supplies he provided free of charge. It was good business to keep a benevolent image for the masses. More than most people realized. His criminal activities were accepted here by anyone and they all benefited from his patronage. More guards barred his way and the high levels of the Vessels made it clear an underboss had taken a personal interest.
Grisha bowed his head to him as Mars entered a small private hospital room illuminated by mage light. The stout man was strong and loyal, but he also possessed the slyness Mars preferred in subordinates. If they were not dangerous enough to keep him on his toes then they would never do a good enough job. He shook Grisha’s hand and pointed to the man lying on the bed, breathing heavily.
“This the victim?”
“Yes, Boss. He claims to have a message for you.”
“For me?”
“That is what he said and it was one of the reasons I alerted you personally.”
“No worries, this is interesting enough to allow for my personal involvement.” Mars stepped next to the man and he recognized the man vaguely as one of the better enforcer and loan sharks he employed. He did not remember the man’s name, but he did remember the face. The man coughed and blinked up at Mars.
“Boss…”
“Settle down man, you are going to be fine. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Was out on collection.” the man said panting, his lungs seemingly struggling to lift the man’s own rib cage.
“Cornered the...rat.” the man coughed and then looked Mars in the eyes.
“Someone interrupted. Young, too strong. Knocked me out cold.” his breath had an uncomfortably rattling quality, but the man’s eyes were clear. He had a potion drip in his arm, supplying his struggling body with alchemical help.
“Interrogated me, showed me who he was. Wanted poster...Cultivator. Was him, I swear.” Mars nodded and the man continued.
“He said he wants to work for you, but needed to know if you can even help him. He said he will wait for a meeting on a clearing to the east. Marked with my armband. Then he did something to me...He took my powers.” Mars leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he hung on every word of the man.
“He touched me and then from one moment to the next I felt so cold...so cold. My menus vanished, I could barely move. I...he said he killed my Spirit. To...to show you what he is capable of Boss.”
Mars studied the sunken eyed, sick looking man and used one of his few utility skills. An identify skill he had earned by venturing deep into the gap. It showed him the power difference between him and his opponent as a colored haze as well as what kind of power they had. What strengths, what weaknesses. This man was so weak he had barely any glow, but decades of use told him that although he looked like a sick mortal, there were hues of his old power there, remnants. In many ways this man was no Vessel anymore, someone had killed the very essence of each Vessel, the spirit inhabiting them. What was left was an empty shell with the potential for a Spirit.
Many thoughts went through Mars mind, plans and experiments. He needed to see what happened when the man was given another Spirit at the well. Luckily for him the well was literally next door for them and it would be easy. But he knew, somehow Mars knew that the man would not regain his power. That he might work and fight and win it again, but that he had lost his progress forever. A cold shiver ran down Mars spine and for a moment he stood in the Serix Family headquarter again, facing a foe beyond him, utterly outclassed, waiting to die.
But then he realized the potential, the possibilities. A cultivator. A strong one with the cunning to seek him out? A man who clearly knew how to terrify his victims and even his allies alike. It was like a gift that had landed in his lap. The old Problems in his head suddenly looked different. Looked like they could be solved if he played his cards right. The faces of his wife and daughter, blurry from the years floated to the top of his mind that was boiling over with ideas. An ally with the power to take away a Vessels Spirit? To permanently kill it? The mere presence of him could enable him to conquer Ambition. Mars felt his own hands tighten on the grips of his daggers. If he had been 10 years younger maybe he would have boldly went for that meeting right now, but Mars was an old survivor.
He took a step back from the possibilities and then gently took the man’s hand.
“Whats your name Soldier?”
“Mahast, sir.”
“I know you are suffering and the injustice done to you will be paid for. I promise you that and once the doors open to the Spirit Well you will get a new Spirit. It might help you recover your powers. Until then, rest and worry for nothing.”
“Thank you...Boss.” There were tears of gratitude in Mahast’s eyes and Mars would keep his word. He knew how to keep the loyalty of his troops and the story of this would be spread, especially if he encouraged it.
Mars gave the man a kind smile and turned to Grisha, before he waved him to follow him out of the room. Grisha fell to his side as they walked past beds and out into an empty corridor.
“Can you corroborate the man’s story?”
“More or less, we are still looking for the Brewer that witnessed the fight. But besides that I can vouch for his words. Some of the thugs have seen a man that could have been the Cultivator on the Night Market. But we don’t bounty hunt so…”
“That is quite alright, get a statement from the Brewer. But considering that the Cultivator fought a group of Lvl20s from Ambition and walked away to tell the tale I am fairly sure this Cultivator is strong.”
Grisha nodded and then asked after some slight hesitation.
“What will you do, sir?”
“That depends on if the Cultivator can be reasoned with.”
Grisha nodded quietly and gave him a look that made Mars smirk. The man understood already, this is why it was good to have smart subordinates.
“I’ll dig a bit deeper into the man and then make contact.”
“Personally?”
“Oh please, this is my Town and he wants an alliance. He will come to me in the end.” Grisha nodded again and Mars started down towards the exit of the clinic.
“Make sure business stays good, this might take a few days.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Mars felt an unexpected spring in his step as he left the clinic. It was time to investigate this Cultivator and then...well then he would see what the man was made out of.