Street Cultivation 3: Chapters 19-20 (Patreon)

It's time to introduce immortals! I've always thought it striking that this trope tends to exist in static worlds where there's limited social/political/technological change. Since Street Cultivation is all about doing things a little different by having one foot in reality, I tried to take a new approach.

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Chapter 19: Last Ditch Effort

"I won't say I told you so," H said tersely, "but I will say that you're an utter fool who should have listened to me. You managed to overcome your sloppy decisions through sheer hard-headedness, but in the end you were simply overwhelmed. The additional strength from a demonic bond could have entirely changed the course of this event."

Rick sat numbly, his head low. Not from shame, he told himself, but from simple exhaustion. Less than a minute in a real Showdown event and he was battered as if he'd been through a battle. The fact that he'd gained significantly from the experience wasn't much comfort when he considered that he might well have failed. Both himself and the demon brothers.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" H bent lower, scowling. "You do realize this is your career at stake?"

"I wish I'd done better." Rick took a ragged breath and managed to straighten. "But my life is more important than my career."

"Then maybe you don't actually belong here." Though H stared at him contemptuously, he wasn't throwing Rick out just yet. Instead, he bent down to a small case beneath his seat and pulled out a thermos. Though it was opaque, it still glowed with golden light. "Fortunately for you, I anticipated that you might blunder like this and enrolled you in a second event. You might be able to qualify for the competition, presuming you can recover in time."

"And that will help?" Rick accepted the thermos cautiously, feeling the power thrumming in his hands.

"This is a different variant of Formula T. It is not something that can healthily be taken with regularity, or even more than once a month. It's also an expense I didn't want to waste on you, but we don't have a choice. Otherwise you're not going to be able to compete."

Too tired to argue, Rick screwed open the thermos and drained it in one breath. Or he tried. After only a few gulps, he was gasping for air, feeling the power flooding through him. It was vaguely like the Formula T he knew, but far more intense. Yet H kept urging him to keep drinking, so he forced himself to continue a little at a time.

By the end his vision was swimming and his muscles twitched like they intended to rip out of his skin. Rick sat down and forced himself to focus, going through his usual exercises. This time the energy failed to join his lucrim, instead merely healing his defensive core and refreshing the Triune Golden Spheres. It passed through his spirit in a surprisingly short time, leaving him utterly drained.

Rick collapsed onto his side, all his attention absorbed in simply breathing properly. The world flickered black a few times, and it looked gray even when he could see properly. Yet he was definitely healthier... well, he could fight. The way he currently felt was far from healthy.

"You've watched the Contested Ground events, right?" H didn't look down at him, still watching the events, but his voice carried. "I suppose you'd think of it as king of the hill. It's one of the central events for today, and there will only be one."

"Uhh..." Talking seemed too difficult, so Rick merely nodded. Or slumped his head back and forth against the ground.

"This one will use a series of steps instead of a rounded center. Bluntly speaking, you don't have a chance of actually winning. But the fact that you're an underdog is what makes this a second chance: if you can claim the top position and hold it for even a short period of time, that will be more than anyone expected of you. That will be your goal."

Grunting in acceptance, Rick focused on recovery. His condition was strange: when he focused on his body, he felt like shit, but when he focused on his lucrima soul, everything seemed to be perfect. The real test would be his mental ability to push through the fatigue and pain. He was accustomed to doing that, but he wasn't sure if he could compete at this level.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Rick wasn't aware of most of the events until it was time. H woke him with a foot to the ribs, forcing him to get up. Another event was finishing, something with the black spheres again. The demon audiences seemed disinterested, yet they were trembling with anticipation. Looking forward to what came next.

There was a lull as the arena was cleared, then new platforms began to levitate in. Each was a thick square of dark marble, about a foot high. The first slammed down to the ground, then a second followed, a yard or so smaller on each side. More and more platforms dropped in until they formed a stair-step pyramid of marble with a small block at the top, just large enough for one person to stand on.

So it was time. Rick pulled himself up and limped into the arena, letting himself look weak. It might be a cheap trick, but he needed every advantage he could get.

All around the pyramid he saw powerful fighters, roughly a dozen in total. He saw a few who he recognized from previous events, including the man who had rained endless bolts down on him, but others who looked completely fresh. As he peered around the side of the pyramid, he noticed that Raggest and James were both participating as well. This would be rough.

A gong was struck and the demonic crowds went wild. Most of the competitors leapt forward and Rick just stayed in place.

Three different fighters chose to rush straight for the top, clashing with one another in an explosion of blows that Rick couldn't have kept up with even at his best. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed that several other fighters didn't aim for the top, just tried to hold positions mid-way up the pyramid, presumably to charge the top later.

After one of the first three kicked away the others, he briefly had control and his time began counting up on one of the screens. Yet he hadn't been there long before another attacker came at him... and the man simply leapt away. Was he going for total time and trying to avoid fights? Rick knew that he didn't have that option, since this was his last chance to impress anyone.

The burly fighter who claimed the top held it for several seconds before he was tripped and sent tumbling down the side, smashing into the sharp ridges on the edge of each step. His body knocked over one competitor and sent several others dodging away, briefly clearing part of the pyramid.

Rick decided that might be his best chance and started forward. The very next second he hurled himself back as a sword flashed in front of his face.

Though Rick made a second attempt to climb the side, he was forced back by more competitors with the same idea. He decided to hold back and find a better time. The top was nearly claimed by a man who had a series of swords flying around him, swinging at anyone who came close.

A moment later another fighter arrived in a flood of aura, blasting aside all the swords. She rammed straight through another opponent and hit the man wielding all the swords with a beam of aura that sent him sailing off the pyramid. Once she reached the top, she slammed a fist down into the marble, aura welling up around her.

The result was a shockwave that knocked back all the other nearby fighters... and then it contracted into a sphere surrounding the top block. Several fighters attempted to break through, but surges of aura kept them back. Seconds ticked by, the longest anyone had held the top position so far. Of course, that resulted in her drawing everyone's attention, more and more attacks striking the aura until it began to splutter.

At that moment Raggest lunged up the side and thrust a hand forward. His glimmering beam pierced through the defensive aura, catching the woman in the stomach. In an instant the aura sphere shattered and she was sent flying off the side of the arena, breaking through even the reinforced roof tiles surrounding them.

It looked as though she'd exhausted herself and wouldn't be fighting again, but that had probably been the point. Putting absolutely everything she had into one attempt was definitely a better strategy than wasting strength struggling over position. Rick wished that he could do the same, but didn't think he really had a technique suited to it.

Something flickered in the corner of his eye: James was moving around the side of the pyramid, coming toward him.

Though Rick shifted around the edge of the arena, James kept coming, smiling smugly. This was about eliminating him, then, not winning. Did James just hate him that much? Rick had seen a lot of irrational hatred, but that didn't feel right for someone so polished. Perhaps someone had hired him to fix the outcome of the event? It didn't matter, because he now had an opponent coming straight at him.

Retreating constantly would be a good strategy, but it would make him look like a coward when he needed to make an impression. Rick waited for James to get close, eyes unblinking as he waited for the final movement.

Abruptly James's body twitched as his technique jerked him forward. Rick couldn't entirely follow the movement, but he could react to the twitch. He lunged in, punching for his opponent's face. James twisted his head aside, but that closed the distance and Rick's elbow hit him in the neck.

Though James flew backward, smashing into the lower part of the pyramid and ricocheting into several other fighters, it wasn't enough. Rick knew his blow had connected, but it hadn't dealt crippling damage. Apparently his opponent had a decent defensive core as well.

Worse, he'd been drawn in close. Rick backed away from several bolts of aura, then suddenly had to leap away as James came for him again. This had to be a vendetta or a special objective. There was no time to even watch the top of the pyramid, not and evade his opponent's flashing movements.

Rick had no choice but to retreat, which actually took him closer to the pyramid. James grinned, clearly intending to push him into the main fight, where he'd be taken apart. Though Rick tried to resist and hold position, he now had to worry about threats from all sides.

Without warning, Raggest appeared beside James, punching him in the face. Though the suited man recovered, he wasn't able to dodge the beam of gold that sent him sailing away. Rick wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and tried to straighten.

"Thanks, Raggest."

"It wasn't for you. Just wanted to hit that asshole." Raggest grinned at him, aura gathering around his hands. "Get up and I'll hit you too."

An idea leapt into Rick's mind, not fully formed but enough. He met Raggest's eyes and straightened up, then jumped into the air as if to hit him.

A beam of light met him in midair, of course, blasting him backward. But all of Rick's strength had been focused on his defenses, not attacking. The beam sent him shooting up the side of the pyramid, smashing through one of the other contestants and then colliding with the man who held the top. Rick barely managed to catch one of the corners, which felt like it would tear off his arm, but then he pulled himself up.

The surprise move had, insanely, gotten him to the top of the pyramid. His chest hurt like hell, with a large hole burned through his shirt and a massive burn across his chest. He didn't want to look down to see how bad it was, but even the brief moment of Raggest's technique had done serious damage to his defensive core.

But he'd reached the top. He'd held it for a full second... which meant that now all eyes were on him.

Rick knew that he couldn't possibly see and react to attackers. Simply assuming that they were coming for him, he used a Bunyan's Step to shoot him directly into the air. Several bursts of aura collided where he had been standing, followed shortly by physical attackers. For a surreal moment Rick was suspended high over the pyramid, with a clear view of everyone struggling for the top.

Then he used another Bunyan's Step to shoot himself directly down.

He slammed into the top with all the force he could muster. The impact hurt, but the nearest attackers were knocked back. Did that count as controlling the top? There was no time to check, he already had more people coming at him.

When Rick saw a woman spinning at him with a sword in each hand, he simply hurled himself at her in another Bunyan's Step. He felt the blades bite into his body twice, but he collided with her and sent her sprawling down the side. Landing just beside the top, he backstepped just in time for a large man to tackle him from the side.

Rick staggered, but managed not to fall from the peak. He hit back, not even seeing his attacker, just operating on pure instinct. Everything dissolved into chaotic reactions and then somehow he was still standing at the top, panting for breath.

Then he was sailing through the air.

Whatever had struck him, it hadn't hurt, but he hadn't even seen it. Rick collided with the reinforced roofs and that hurt like hell. His defensive core could protect him a bit, but smashing into ether-reinforced tiles was still painful. He felt surprisingly drained, having poured as much as he could into those few moments atop the pyramid.

Had it been enough? Rick wanted to look to H, but he was disoriented and couldn't find his seat. According to the screen, he had credit for 4.62 seconds at the top of the pyramid. That wasn't the top, but it was better than many of the contestants. Was that enough to rate?

Robes fluttered as someone landed beside him, and Rick looked up in time to see the elderly Chinese woman who had given him a seal in Branton. She was watching him coolly until he looked up, which prompted her to smile.

"You're an interesting one, to fight with such odd handicaps. We would... like to extend you an invitation."

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Chapter 20: Meeting an Immortal

With the day's events finished, Rick finally received proper medical care. As before, the healers were extremely professional, but he could barely focus on them. Not only had all the blows left his defensive core overloaded, he was still trying to work through the meaning of what had actually happened.

His performance in the first event had clearly been disappointing, while the second had been at least better than anyone expected. Then he'd received an invitation from a sect he still didn't understand. And why had James gone after him so aggressively? With absolutely no way to resolve any of those mysteries, Rick tried to focus on recovery.

The biggest problem was his overall exhaustion and everything his defensive core needed to absorb, but he was surprised how much his chest hurt. Not just the visible burn that had been healed, but there was a sharp pain through his entire chest, as if the beam had actually ripped straight through him. Whatever Raggest's technique was, it was certainly powerful. If Rick had been a little weaker, or it had been a fully serious blast, he might be dead.

"You got lucky." H appeared beside him, announcing the good news as if it was a disaster. "It sounds as though the immortals have conversed and you're in. On top of that, all of you will be attending a special private event."

"Is that the fight?" Rick tried to sit up and immediately groaned as his body refused. "The bet between them is still on, right?"

"I don't know the details. What I do know is that you'll have a chance to meet your sponsor and more importantly the contestants you'll eventually be fighting."

"Then... I'm still in. Part of the Showdown."

"For now." H folded his arms and glowered, but there was a hint of something else. "You could have done worse out there. Stupid to let a hit propel you to the top, but it worked. At minimum, my boss won't harass me for a while."

"So, what now?"

"We're not going to bother with other Showdown events. So first you focus on recovering completely. This little party they're throwing is in two days, which should be just enough. I'll keep you from ruining yourself and get you something better to wear. Come on, back to the hotel."

Rick forced himself to move through the pain, forcibly reminding his body that it wasn't really injured. It was still rough getting to the taxi and eventually back to his room. When H finally left him, Rick barely had the presence of mind to check that the door was locked before he fell into bed and slept.

In the morning, he was woken up by the sound of the entire hotel collapsing on itself, though it turned out to be just H knocking on his door. Rubbing his aching head, Rick shuffled to answer. The older man looked as though he'd had no need for sleep and just stared at him.

"You have the next two days to get back into shape. There shouldn't be fighting at this party, but... you never can tell."

"Sure." Rick rubbed at his face, which seemed to be covered in sand. "Uh, do I get any Formula T to help me recover?"

"Not like before." H pulled a small case from his coat and handed it to him. Rick fumbled it open and discovered a series of golden vials... surprisingly small vials. "It's best for your development to continue taking it every eight hours, but after your recovery yesterday, you risk forming an addiction."

"So... one of these each time?"

"That's right. It won't be comfortable, but it will teach you to make do with less. There is one, and only one, extra vial in the set. I suggest you try not to use it, but having you in good condition is more important. If you start running into problems, cheating once shouldn't hurt you. Assuming your defensive core can handle it."

"Got it." Rick might have said goodbye or might have forgotten, he honestly wasn't sure. It was hard enough to remember to lock his door. He did realize just how much he wanted the Formula T, however, and quickly downed the vial.

The next two days were a blur. He spent a long time sleeping, waking up without any sense of time and always surprised at the clock by the bed. Every time eight hours had passed, he took another vial, though they felt painfully far between.

When he was awake, he did his best to train again. Hairline fractures had formed in his defensive core and the Triune Golden Spheres, requiring repair that took a lot out of him. Usually by the time he did the maximum amount of training that would be beneficial, he was so exhausted he just wanted to sleep again. Only the Dark Blood Kettle purred along, adapting to everything he had experienced. Perhaps not as dramatically powerful as the best techniques, but he appreciated how it endlessly worked in the background.

Occasionally when he had no training to do and he didn't feel hungry or thirsty, he just lay and thought about the previous fights. There were certainly strategic mistakes he'd made, but the biggest problem was simply lack of power. He could even understand why H was angry that he hadn't taken a demonic bond, if all his competitors had one.

But if he was able to hang on long enough, it could work. His defensive core was a little stronger with each round he endured, plus once he had more time he could complete the Triune Golden Spheres. If he was lucky, Bftgage and Ythsil might even be able to help him out more than in the past. All of that required him to stay alive through this upcoming party.

By the time the morning arrived, Rick felt mostly human again. He showered and shaved, then actually ate the hotel breakfast for once instead of nutrient bars. By the time he returned, he found H waiting for him impatiently, holding a set of pressed combat robes.

"It's formal dress," H said, tossing the hanger at him. "I see you've cleaned up. Be on good behavior."

Rick smiled. "Does that mean you'll be in formal dress too?"

"Don't be absurd. Get changed and let's go."

It didn't take long. The robes were clearly expensive, but just as clearly uncomfortable. Rick thought he could fight in it, but he didn't like how it restricted his movement compared to combat suits. Dress robes weren't generally used for combat, of course, but H had implied that a fight might break out. If so, he was going to struggle not to trip over his own clothes.

Still, when he looked in the mirror, he thought he looked decent. Obviously an American in Chinese robes, but they were expecting that. Rick had a bad feeling that tonight would be one of those times when networking might mean more than actual ability, so he needed everything to come together. When he came back out, H gestured sharply for him to follow.

On their way down, however, he spoke in a low voice. "There are a... few things we need to talk over. For one, there's a reason I haven't introduced you to your sponsor yet. He generally likes not to get involved, and honestly, I much prefer it that way."

"Is this going to be a problem?" Rick asked. He'd never seen an immortal before, except on TV. Even then, those who weren't leaders of some kind tended to stay out of the limelight.

"You just need to keep a few things in mind. Your sponsor's name is Josiah Craw, and he's been immortal for over a century. He isn't strong in terms of skill, but he's richer than sin and he doesn't really interact with other immortals except for these bets. That means that for a hundred years, no one has really said 'no' to him."

Though Rick hadn't thought about it in those terms, he thought it made sense that immortals might be a bit eccentric. The way H talked about it left him a bit nervous, but... "Is that all? You're not going to give me tips?"

"Just be polite. A lot politer than you would be normally. Don't use any slang, curses, or insults. Act like you're talking to your grandfather, but if your grandfather could kill you."

"He, uh, he wouldn't really, right?"

"Probably not, but he could. More importantly, he could fire you. He wants both of us to participate in this bet against the other immortals, but he might stop caring if he gets annoyed enough. Just stay polite and follow my lead."

They left the hotel by a different route than before, a back entrance leading to a taxi which took them to a forest outside Odiyu. Once they arrived at an apparently empty field, H gestured for them to wait. They appeared to be only a few minutes early, because soon enough something arrived. Rick thought it was a floating lantern at first, but as it drifted down toward them, he realized that it was quite large.

As he drew closer, he realized that the blue sphere was larger than most cars. At the center, instead of a candle, there burned a sapphire flame supported by nothing. He wasn't sure how it flew, other than that it appeared to be entirely based on aura. There was a ring-like platform underneath the main lantern that he guessed was a seating area, though he couldn't tell who was inside until it reached the ground.

Though he'd known it would be their hosts, he'd expected the immortal to be along with them. Instead it was merely a young Chinese woman, who bowed to both of them and spoke in crystal clear English. "Has your sponsor not yet arrived?"

"I gave him this location," H said. "Hopefully he will arrive soon."

"Then we will wait." The woman sat back down in the passenger area, which appeared more comfortable than he expected. Though she gestured for them to sit as well, H only shook his head and Rick was too restless. He wandered around the side of the lantern, admiring it as an object of beauty, even if he couldn't quite figure out how it flew. Something to do with manipulating gravity, maybe.

Usually Rick thought of himself as reasonably patient, but he was the first one to start to crack. The woman sat as if utterly content to wait, while H just began to smoke as sourly as usual. Just when Rick was about to break the silence with a question, he heard a strange growling sound.

No, it was an engine. It grew louder so quickly that he quickly located it: a strange contraption was screeching over the trees. Without warning it turned sharply and smashed down into the ground, snapping a nearby tree.

Rick stared at it, because he actually knew what it was: an old Model T car. The fact that it could fly meant that it was clearly powered by lucrim, but as far as he knew, they didn't have effective lucrim-based cars back then. This one had to have been retrofitted, though he couldn't have said why.

The man who stepped out of the car also looked as though he'd stepped from the past. He wore shoes with large buckles, white tights, several bright blue coats with pearl buttons, and a white wig like Rick hadn't seen except in old pictures. Except unlike the clean-shaved men from that era, he also wore long sideburns that flowed into a bristling mustache.

It would have been absurd if he didn't carry with him an aura of immense power. There was some sort of powerful Lucore, the types CEOs used to defend themselves, but beneath it lay a well of lucrim Rick couldn't begin to estimate.

Josiah Craw smoothed down his coats, looked about him, and sniffed. "I do so detest visiting the Orient. I swear that they fog the skies on purpose just to aggravate me. Horatio! Horatio, is everything ready?"

Rick's mouth nearly dropped open as he saw his mentor irritably grind out his cigarette and step forward. H - Horatio - gave him a respectful bow with one hand to his chest. "Thank you for coming, Master Craw. Our hosts have prepared transportation especially to take you to the venue."

"I should jolly well hope they have." Josiah stepped toward the giant lantern and harrumphed. "It will suffice. Is this young Oriental girl to be our guide?"

"Welcome back, Immortal Craw." The young woman gave him a polite curtsy. Josiah stepped forward and took her hand, ignoring how startled she was, and planted a kiss on it.

"Charmed, fair maiden. But would you be a dear and take us to our location post-haste? This environment does not suit me."

"At once, Immortal Craw." She withdrew her hand as soon as she could and looked to them, just a bit of urgency in her eyes. Not wanting to prolong her discomfort, Rick hurried to step into the passenger area. H took his time... Rick was still having a hard time thinking of him by his real name.

Once all four of them were inside, the woman threw a strip of some fabric into the flame overhead. Rick thought it was an unusual container for lucrim, but it was burned away the next moment. The flame burned brighter, yet strangely he felt no heat. For that matter, it was a massive ball of blue fire and staring into it didn't hurt his eyes even slightly. The light it cast over their seating area was actually quite pleasant.

"So, you are the young lad I'm sponsoring, are you?" Josiah looked down his nose at Rick and frowned. "Very unusual business, very unusual indeed. Seems almost a waste of time, but a bet is a bet..."

H leaned in and spoke quietly. "He's exceeded our expectations at every turn. Think of the money you can make from him, and more importantly, the respect you'll earn." He spoke more deferentially than to anyone else, but Rick was surprised how casually he continued.

"Can the boy not speak for himself? Hmm?" Josiah abruptly rose to his feet, making the platform carrying them lurch worryingly. Rick caught a glimpse of their guide hastily correcting their movements, but there was no more time for that because Josiah was thrusting a hand in his direction. "Cat got your tongue, boy?"

"My name is Richard Hunter, sir." Rick carefully stood up and accepted the handshake. The immortal's grip was crushing, actually requiring him to use his full defensive core to prevent his bones from cracking. Josiah didn't let up, either, still gripping.

"I hear you think yourself something of a pugilist, eh?

"Thank you for your investment in me, sir."

"The lad has some respect!" Josiah nodded in approval and finally let go of his hand, sitting back down. He smoothed down his mustaches and regarded Rick calmly. "Much better than most lads these days. Well, boy, I understand you have 100,000 lucrim or so. A solid start for a young man. Do you have a trade, lad?"

"Master Craw..." H again spoke quietly, leaning forward. "At our current speed, it will not be long until we arrive. Perhaps you would like to see his portfolio?"

"Yes! Quite! Let me see your lucrima soul, lad!" Rick obediently brought up his portfolio on his phone and handed it to the immortal. Josiah squinted at the screen and frowned. "Eh? Need I press one of these buttons?" He hit several keys at random, actually moving away from the portfolio and to the general lucrim app, prompting a sigh from H.

"Master Craw, if you would let m-"

"I cannot abide these newfangled contraptions!" With that, Josiah promptly threw Rick's phone over the edge.

Rick jumped to his feet automatically, but he was much too slow to catch the phone. To his surprise, their guide smoothly leapt over the side, snagging the phone below them, and then twirled her way back up with a graceful circular aura. Though Rick wanted to thank her, Josiah and H both demanded his attention, so he remained focused.

"Here is the boy's lucrima soul," H said. He twisted his hand in a strange pattern and several spheres of aura lit up between the seats.

At first Rick was puzzled, then he dimly remembered an archaic method of representing portfolios that looked like that. It was something he'd only seen in the old books in the library, or so he thought. Once he used that framework, he understood: at the core of it was a bright foundation, surrounded by a dark sphere that must be the Dark Blood Kettle. Around it orbited all his other Lucores, though he was uncertain which one was which.

"Hmm, yes." Josiah didn't seem to have the same problem, examining the display closely. "A scrapper's cores, but perhaps a diamond in the rough. The Triune Golden Spheres, very good, very good. But what is this strange stain in the center?"

Rick started to answer, but H beat him to it. "That is a specialized foundation acquired from one of the local tribes of his home."

"Indian lucrim!" The immortal snorted and shook his head. "I suppose there's something to recommend in the savagery of their skills. But I'm quite glad you balanced it out with the civilizing influence of the Spheres."

What was anyone supposed to say to that? Rick thought that his expression was probably blank just because he was stunned. H had a flat expression as if he was exhausted from dealing with this, while their guide sat with an utterly practiced smile. Given how smoothly she reacted, this must not be her first time escorting immortals.

"Well, I suppose it will do. I hope you can win me my little bet, lad." Josiah looked away from the spinning portfolio and examined Rick directly. "Have you family, lad? A sect, a clan?"

"My family is poor, sir." Rick wasn't sure what to say, other than that he didn't want to mention Melissa. "When I started trying to make something of myself, I cut ties with them."

"Very good! Such wastrels will only drag down men of quality. Up from the streets, acquire some flying bootstraps... very good, Horatio. You always did have a knack for finding such promising lads. The question is keeping them on the straight and narrow." Josiah's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "I see no ring, so you must not be married. Engaged? Have you a girl?"

"Uh, no. Not any more."

Josiah nodded seriously. "A wise decision. Carnal relationships drain a man of his masculine vigor. Hinders the development of the lucrima soul, don't you know? The fairer sex may be beautiful and dangerous, but you are better off forging your own path while filled with youthful vigor."

"...thank you for the advice, sir." Rick fixed a neutral smile on his face and desperately hoped for the ride to be over.

Fortunately, it wasn't long. They came into sight of their location, which distracted Josiah thoroughly. He made the platform lurch again as he moved to one corner, so Rick just held the side and observed. Their path had taken them over wooded forests, but now he could see a large building seated atop one of the taller mountains. It was practically a palace, and more importantly, he didn't see any sign of demonic iconography.

Other lanterns sat in a yard near the entrance, their flames quenched. There was another coming in as well, but it began to take a slow circle while they went down. As soon as they landed, Josiah smoothed down his coats and his mustaches and strode out. H gave Rick a shrug and tilted his head to follow.

Less than eager, Rick instead went to their guide. She handed him his phone, which appeared undamaged, and that could have been enough, but he was uncertain.

"Are they..." His first words immediately drew her polite gaze, so he had no choice but to keep talking. Maybe a less direct question. "Do you regularly guide immortals?"

"They aren't all like that." She gave him an amused smile that he thought was authentic. "It is true that most immortals consider the values of the era they grew up in to be correct, and there is no one to tell them differently. They don't care about the well-being of those beneath them, much less their belongings. But Immortal Craw appears to be more eccentric than average."

"That's... that's good. Thanks."

"It is no trouble. Please, relax. This is meant to be a party, not a trial, and I am sure the other immortals will greet you warmly." With that, she gestured toward the path that led to the house. She obviously meant to be reassuring, so Rick smiled at her and began to walk, but he found his stomach churning.

Walking up the hill toward the looming palace was one thing, but knowing that it was filled with immortals from a past era was quite another.