Street Cultivation 3: Chapters 37-38 (Patreon)

I've started posting chapters of The Weirkey Chronicles on RoyalRoad, so that ball is rolling. More chapters here on Tuesday, as usual. But I wanted to ask: would any of you guys recommend I post on any other serialized fiction sites? I didn't pick RoyalRoad for Street Cultivation as a thoroughly considered decision, it was just the one I knew best. Are there others that you think would be worth the time investment?

Anyway, this pair of SC3 chapters completes the Vietnam arc, which was a heavy one. We're starting to ramp up toward the finale soon, but that means you can expect a bit of a breather first, with some more worldbuilding and an appearance from an old character.

-

Chapter 37: Separations

Though Rick had seriously considered brushing off the entire event, in the end he still found himself waiting at the side of the arena in his combat gear. Melissa had insisted that he go, and he understood that she would feel even more guilt if she kept him from competing. Besides, he knew that he wasn't really doing much good, just lingering near her.

That day he was only scheduled to compete in another Unlimited Defensive Ring. According to H, Vietnam wasn't known for any particularly novel forms of attack, but the average level of competition was reasonably high. That meant that with all his combined defenses, he had a decent shot at success.

Assuming he could somehow forget the most important thing in his life.

"You're up after this round." H had been watching the ring sourly, though none of the contestants had lasted more than a minute up to that point. "You've done everything you can to prepare your Lucores, but we do have some more information about what you'll be up against."

"How could you know what's coming?"

"Rumors among trainers. Information from Josiah Craw." H shrugged the question aside. "What we know is that the protege of the Siberian immortals intends to take you down. He saw you fight extensively in his home arena, so he's ready for you. Expect him to come out later in the match, fifth or more."

"Why then?" The warning might have been meant to prepare him, but Rick was beginning to feel more tense.

"Because there's a chance that he may attempt to cripple you. Not overtly, but with some sort of attack that will inhibit your Lucores. Now, I think you're most likely prepared. But if it comes to that, focus on defense. It doesn't matter if he knocks you out of the ring, so long as your defenses hold firm."

"And so long as I get experience against this special attack of his?"

H gave him an approving nod. "That's right. Now get out there and take the hits."

As soon as the previous round ended, Rick headed out to the central ring. This stadium was reasonably large, but not terribly full: apparently the defensive events weren't as popular in Vietnam. He blocked out those who remained and just focused on the fights to come. Though he looked for his Siberian rival, he didn't spot anyone before...

0.00 seconds. It began.

This time, the first attacker was quite a bruiser, with a generation rate over 200,000 lucrim who came in with fists flying. But Rick's instincts were good and he'd been working on retraining himself, so he managed to deflect or blunt the blows until time ran out. As soon as his first attacker was pushed away by aura, his sensory Lucore told him that another form of aura was surging behind him.

Demonic aura.

Though he only hesitated for just a moment, it was enough. Rick didn't properly set his feet and the assault of aura bursts drove him back a step, nearly out of the ring. He barely managed to hold himself in place, forcing his brain to focus again. His attacker was just a young woman who looked like a private sect member, no one related to the mercenary. She wasn't even particularly powerful, for the Showdown, and the demonic aura was nothing like what he'd felt before.

Still, it took him long enough to regroup that he ended up severely battered. His defensive cores had held, but he was still dangerously close to the edge. As soon as her round ended, Rick started to step forward, only to see a leg flying for his face out of nowhere.

He leaned back just enough to dodge, not leaving the central ring. But in midair his opponent reversed direction, spinning violently to slam that same kick into his back. This time it smashed him downward, driving his face against the stadium floor and sending him skidding.

Rick winced, but his defensive cores had held. Yet when he pushed back up, he realized the truth: he was outside the ring. The time on the scoreboard said only 13 seconds.

As he lay there against the turf, Rick found that he didn't care. Whether one number or a higher one appeared on the board, it just didn't matter to him. Even the raucous disapproval of the crowds barely penetrated. Yet when he got back to his feet and saw the look on his mentor's face, he knew that it wouldn't be so simple to ignore the results.

H waited for him to enter, then slammed the door and whirled on him. "13 seconds? That's all? You didn't even face your rival!"

"I got caught off guard." Rick rubbed his cheek, trying to remove some of the turf that had been ground into his skin. "It was an accident."

"No, it wasn't. It was carelessness because your head wasn't in the game." H pulled out a cigarette, but when he tried to light it, burned the entire thing to ashes. He tossed them down irritably. "You realize this will look like cowardice. That you didn't want to face Siberia. Josiah Craw is going to be on me for this, you know that?"

Rick just sat down against the wall and said nothing. But if he thought that he could escape his mentor's wrath with passivity, he was wrong.

"You've gotten arrogant because you've done well so far, but do you understand what you're up against? There are hundreds of other fighters in the world who work day and night to be part of the Showdown. All of them have your talent or more and most of them have better backing. They would give anything to achieve those goals. You stepping onto that field with divided loyalties is disrespecting everything they strive for."

Not having expected that approach, Rick hesitated. He wanted to say "fuck the Showdown" but couldn't bring himself to. Instead... "You expect me to put the Showdown over my family?"

"I expect you to find a way to balance your life so that competing isn't playing second fiddle." H lit a second cigarette without incinerating it and took a long drag before he continued, fury in his voice giving way to a grim tone. "There are those who gave up family to be here. There are those who think of nothing else. You won't be able to compete with them, if you aren't focused on what matters."

"I'll keep that in mind." Yet when he thought about what mattered, he didn't think of the Showdown. Rick kept that silent, but he thought that H knew.

"If it were up to me, I'd throw you out after your next failure. But thanks to Josiah's idiotic bet, I'm stuck with you... until the big fight. By the time you fight the other immortals' champions, I expect you to have figured out what matters to you. I don't care if you win or lose, but if I believe you aren't 100% invested in that fight, I will ensure that you never fight again. Understand?"

"I understand."

There had been one more event scheduled for the end of their time in Vietnam, but H canceled it and instead focused on brutal training. Aside from pushing him harder to improve the Triune Golden Spheres, he advanced him to a more difficult set of supplements and higher concentrations of Formula T. They left Rick feeling a bit queasy, but he felt that he owed his best in the time he gave the Showdown.

As before, training couldn't consume the entire day, so Rick made sure that he still spent time with Melissa. Sometimes she wanted him to talk, even if he didn't have anything to say, and other times she just wanted to sit in silence. To his surprise, she often trained her Manifest Destruction along with him in the evenings.

In those times, she seemed less broken, but not in a way he liked. There was a sharp edge to the void that he hadn't seen before, and though it never harmed him, he could feel the lethal potential. He wished that he had some wisdom to give her, but all he could do was offer support. When she asked lucrim questions, he answered all of them, even those he suspected most people wouldn't tell a young person.

Some days they met with Uncle Frank again, though it felt like a cheap imitation of their carefree conversations before. Melissa seemed to enjoy herself and rarely looked unhappy, but the few times she joked, they were only silly statements, not her usual mischievous barbs. For his part, Uncle Frank played the jovial uncle, but Rick could tell that the experience had scarred him. They never once discussed it, but they didn't leave the towns to explore any further.

One evening after Melissa went to sleep, Rick noticed that he had a call on his laptop. Lisa had been oddly silent lately, occasionally replying to something business-related but rarely on a personal level. He'd assumed that he'd stepped over some line he hadn't noticed, yet now she was calling him.

"Lisa!" He answered the video call gladly, ready for something to alleviate his tension. When he saw her flat expression, he knew it wouldn't be that kind of call.

"Rick, I'm afraid I have some bad news. I waited a long time on this... maybe too long, but I wanted to be absolutely sure."

"What is it?"

"It's about the Formula T..." She leaned closer to her camera, hesitated, then shifted away, her hair partially obscuring her. Only then did he notice that she wasn't wearing her customary ponytail and seemed much less composed than usual. "I think you should stop taking it."

"Why?" He'd intended to ask more gently, but he was exhausted and so he just threw the question at her. "You realize that advancing in the Showdown is based on that, right? That's the only way I'm supporting myself and it might be my career. Are you telling me that it's actually bad for me?"

Lisa winced, but soldiered on. "Not like that. It's obviously an extremely potent training aid. But it's also highly addictive."

"How could it not be, with so much lucrim packed into it?"

"I don't mean like a power addict, Rick. I mean that they designed it to be addictive."

He wanted to argue, but Melissa was sleeping not far away, so he managed to keep his voice down. "Are you completely sure about that? Because that's a pretty big charge to be leveling."

"I'm sure. I double checked." Lisa refused to meet his eyes, but she spoke confidently. "I isolated the different components, taking out everything that contained lucrim or increased strength. But there were still ingredients left, ones that had nothing to do with any of that. It's like... you could think of it as an ether narcotic. The only possible reason for them to include it is to motivate you to keep taking it."

"Then how bad is it, actually? I haven't gotten a high off it, and it's not like I go into withdrawal."

"How would you know, if you take it every eight hours? If I'm right, they'll have to keep increasing the dose."

"But they would do that anyway as my training progresses." Even as he said it, Rick didn't quite believe his own argument. There was no way to get around the fact that it looked bad. If H had thought he needed the motivation to keep taking it, then he should have been worried about Rick overdosing.

"I don't know what else I can say to convince you..." Lisa trailed off, looking at him in concern. Her expression simultaneously frustrated him and cut through his other thoughts. In the end, it was simple, as it always was. He'd just gotten a harsh reminder that H didn't actually care about him, so this was only repeating the same lesson.

"No, I believe you. Say that Formula T is addictive. Is it harmful in any other way?"

"Being addictive is harmful in and of itself! I don't see... but no, there shouldn't be many side effects. It's perfectly designed to increase your strength without causing other harms, but it also makes you dependent on them. Eventually you'll stop taking it, either because they take it away or because your body has built up too much resistance, and when that happens, it won't be pretty."

"Because they don't really care about me. I know." Rick looked straight into the camera to try to make it clear how serious he was. "The Showdown is cutthroat. It wouldn't surprise me if they made it addictive just in case someone else tries to make me cross over to their team. It's cruel, but it's what I signed on for."

Lisa stared at him sadly. "But is that what you want?"

"No, but since when has that mattered? This is what I have to do."

"You're always..." Lisa abruptly struck the table with her fist, a brief flash of anger that almost immediately submerged into the same sad look. "It's your choice, Rick. I gave you what warning I could, and I still think you shouldn't take it."

It was obvious that they wouldn't talk further after that. Rick stayed at his laptop, staring at the blank screen long after the call. In a sense, it didn't change anything, because he'd always known that the Showdown was risking his health for the sake of developing himself and gathering money. This just reinforced what he already knew.

That night the call wouldn't leave his mind. He'd probably pushed Lisa away, yet again. It wasn't just a trivial argument - her abortive statement had made it clear that she had problems with how he made decisions. And she was probably right, too, since he'd barreled straight into a lot of problems in his life. None of that changed the facts.

Rick didn't really get much sleep that night, yet he was able to keep going the next day. Every time he took his Formula T he thought about what she'd said. It was true that he started to feel worn down before the next dose, though he didn't feel like an addict. He wondered what it would feel like to skip a dose, yet that experiment would only damage his growth.

In the end, he changed nothing. Going through withdrawal would just make him miserable when he needed to be there to support Melissa, plus he needed to keep H happy for the near future. At minimum, he resolved to keep everything together until she was somewhere safe.

On their last night in Vietnam, Melissa joined him for a final meal with Uncle Frank. They revisited their favorite of all the restaurants they'd tried. Melissa was surprisingly cheerful that night, mocking him mercilessly, poking at Uncle Frank's gut, and generally acting like her old self.

Emphasis on the acting. Rick kept that thought in mind until they had bid Uncle Frank farewell, then was mostly quiet as they headed to the airport. It might have been unnecessary, but he wanted to escort Melissa until she was safely on board. She didn't object.

As they waited outside the gate, he decided that he had to speak up. "Sis... you don't need to act that way with me if you don't want to."

"I won't." She regarded him with eyes that were more tired than sad. "I didn't want Uncle Frank to blame himself. He's always been so good to us, and this wasn't his fault."

"It wasn't yours, either."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, but that doesn't really matter." Melissa took a deep breath and then gave him a feeble smile. "I promise you this, Rick: I won't mess around with you unless I really, truly feel like it. Right now, I don't. But I think that I will eventually, I just need time."

"Okay." He shifted closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders, and he was relieved when she leaned against him. "I'm always here if you need something. What are you going to do when you go back to the YLAA?"

"Follow the programs, mostly. I... think I might change my focus. There's no point doing something to impress them, I need something that will stay with me for the rest of my life."

"That seems like a good plan."

"Yeah."

For one of the first times in their lives, their conversation petered out uncomfortably. They stayed there in silence, his sister putting an arm around his waist and squeezing him tightly. Eventually her flight came and they departed with final farewells, but they all reached Rick as if through a haze.

He just sat down in the airport and didn't think for a while. In another day, he would leave to the Showdown's next location. Eventually he would look up where he was going, but for now he didn't care.

-

Chapter 38: Angelic Bond

Though he didn't like to admit it to himself, life became easier once Melissa left. There was simply nothing else for him to do but train, so he dedicated himself entirely to it. At the end of every day, when he looked at his portfolio, he should have been satisfied with his advancement:

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 11th

Ether Score: 525

Lucrim Generation: 92,450

Enhanced Generation: 226,400

Current Lucrim: 9,200]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 3800 (Lv VI)

Dark Blood Kettle: 18,500 (Lv IV)

Triune Golden Spheres: 133,950

- Defensive Sphere: 49,750

- Absorption Sphere: 39,900

- Sensory Sphere: 44,300

Offensive Lucore: 14,500 (Lv VIII)

Defensive Lucore: 39,300 (Lv IX)

Bunyan's Step: 16,350 (Lv IX)

Demonic Fusion (Katenka): 33,000 (Stage I)

Graham's Stake: 39,250 (Lv IV)

Economic Bond (Bftgage & Ythsil): 2100 (Stage II)

Total Lucrim: 168,900

Enhanced Total: 302,850]

But afterward, he always found himself sitting listlessly, wishing that he could train again without doing more harm than good. H said that he'd done sufficiently well when it came to technique, so all he required now was raw power. And outside of implanted Lucores, there was nothing he could do but continue pouring lucrim into himself.

"Yo, Rick!" Without warning, Raggest barged into his room and struck him on the shoulder. "Let's sneak out and do something fun!"

"I'm in the middle of something." Rick covered his desk as if it was a training secret, though it was quite the opposite. "Sorry, but I need to focus right now."

"Come on, you've been in your room ever since we arrived in Germany! You have all kinds of crazy experiences behind you, like bears and stuff. Don't lose that fire! Let's get out there and find some amazing new training!"

"Not today, Raggest." Rick just smiled and shook his head until the young man finally gave up. For the hundredth time, Rick considered whether or not he should lock his door more often. There was a good chance that Raggest would just bang on the outside and be even more annoying.

Unlike the other nations Rick had experienced so far, Germany had built a "Showdown Village" - a compound specifically to house all of the contestants, or perhaps to keep them out of the rest of the city. It had plenty of housing and training rooms, places to eat, and a number of parks. If Rick had been in a slightly different frame of mind, he might have found it limiting, like they were just in the theme park version of the country.

As things were, he didn't mind the chance to focus. The only problem was that other contestants seemed to take it as an opportunity to spend more time with one another than training. Rick had rebuffed a few requests and soon been left alone... except by Raggest, who continued to reach out to try to get him to come along with extracurricular training.

Though Rick really was dedicated to his work, at the moment what he was doing had nothing to do with training. Instead, he had been doing his best to draw a hamster. Despite looking at references and the past hamster drawings Melissa had sent him, his work still looked like a potato with a face.

For a while he'd been tormented about how much to message his sister. He'd been worried that checking in with her constantly would seem condescending, and she would see right through attempts to be too lighthearted. At the same time, he thought that abandoning her to her current mindset was unacceptable. Even if they were half a world apart, he couldn't leave her alone.

So in the idle time when he couldn't train, he had decided that he would put so much effort into one message that his intent would come through. His idea had been that he'd draw a cartoon hamster like the ones she left him sometimes, but drawing turned out to be way harder than he'd expected.

Eventually Rick decided that his potato hamster wasn't going to get any better. He gave it a speech bubble saying "I am the greatest of hamsters!", took a picture, and sent it to Melissa with no explanation. No response, but of course there wouldn't be. Instead he paced around the room, trying to decide if doing another round of training would be harmful or not.

"You need a break." Katenka appeared by the doorway, pale eyes watching compassionately. "The drawing was a good idea, but you need to get your mind away from all your problems."

"I have nothing but problems." Rick realized how bitter he sounded and sighed. "Okay, fine. We can take a walk, but I don't know if it will help."

She smiled and faded through the door, prompting him to follow. Rick headed to the end of the hall and out the fire exit, but simply jumped over the side to land on the street below. Around here, that didn't even attract any attention. He stuck his hands into his pockets and began ambling down the street.

The Showdown Village was unnaturally clean except when it occasionally wasn't: he saw a messy pile of wrappers and beer bottles that had yet to be cleaned up by the staff. No doubt because there were still several Showdown candidates lying among them, sleeping off hangovers.

Some of the fighters in the Showdown seemed to consider this to be their end goal, their reward for all the work they had put in. Many had never fought anyone on par with themselves before, so they faltered when they encountered so many with similar strength. Rick had overheard conversations by some who didn't take Germany seriously as a location, not because it wasn't a world power, but simply because it was a time for them to drink and sleep with each other.

On the other hand, there were many who were like him, or even more focused. They tended to stay on their own and he only caught glimpses of them. Some even had special secure chambers aside from the main lodging area, though H said those cost more and that Rick didn't deserve them yet. In any case, for all that he trained, Rick couldn't feel in any way superior to his fellow candidates.

Thoughts of the village helped him for only a short time before his mood began to deteriorate. Just when all the old thoughts started to take over, Katenka spoke up.

"I've been thinking about your idea for demonic bonds."

"I had an idea for demonic bonds?" Rick asked. She smiled as if it was a joke, but that conversation in Siberia felt a lifetime ago.

"The concept of smaller demons giving out minor loans was interesting, though as I said there were several serious difficulties. Well, the idea stuck in my mind, so I've been giving it thought since then. I don't know if it would work, but I do think I have one clever thought."

"Go ahead, since you so obviously want to."

Katenka smiled and waved a hand, demonic snow floating in front of them to show a chart. "I started with your idea of maximizing sustainability instead of maximizing profit. There are lots of ways to structure a small bond that can't be abused easily. The problem is, they rely on people to plan ahead instead of drawing on the bond in an emergency."

Rick frowned, wondering where she was going, but decided not to interrupt as her snow diagram shifted to include a Lucore design he didn't fully understand.

"So I had a thought: what if we ask them to invest future lucrim? You've said that humans say they'll make better decisions, but actually don't when the time comes. It's the same with demons. But in this model, both sides will absolutely commit to a future investment that will create a small permanent bond. Not a legal commitment, but one forged in actual lucrim."

"And just how is that going to work?"

"By the same technology they use for Advanced Lucrim stations, of course. People use them because they think of 'future lucrim' as not really existing, so they don't think they're giving up future growth. How hard would it be to get them to instead commit that lucrim toward a demonic bond? Normally demons couldn't make a profit off it, but small types? They'd line up to get a chance at a small bond."

"That's nice in theory, but how would... wait." Rick trailed off as he saw her predatory gaze turn on him. "Let me guess: you need someone with direct experiences with Advanced Lucrim stations?"

"If it was that easy, more people would already have copied the technology. But I have direct physical access to someone who had a prototype Lucore implanted in them for a long time... combined with what Siberia has already stolen, I think I could do it."

"That's crazy. I haven't thought about that 'Golden Lucore' in so long... would it actually work?"

"It would require a lot of testing, but I think we could do it together." Katenka's smile faded slightly and she waved a hand through all her diagrams to dissipate them. "A model alone isn't sufficient, however. A bond like this would be considered too experimental and we might get rejected out of hand without approval from someone higher up. Think you can do anything about that with your human contacts?"

"What, like the Global Lucrim Authority?" Rick rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll just call them right up."

"Are you sure that's so ridiculous? It seems to me that you do have a contact... but that's only one problem. The other I really don't know about: we need someone who has heavily abused both systems. Your lucrima soul is much too stable for me to get certain kinds of data. I need someone who's an utter mess to properly calibrate things."

Though Rick had scorned the idea only moments ago, he now found himself reconsidering. Though he didn't keep in touch with Damian, he knew the man had been accepted into the GLA. Furthermore, he did have a private line to contact him in the event of something interesting, and this was the first time Rick had run into anything interesting.

As for someone who was an utter mess... Rick hadn't thought about his coworker Henry in quite a while, but still had his number. Smiling, Rick messaged them both, then found the nearest park bench to sit down and plan.

"Okay, Katenka, I might have contacts for you. Henry will... probably do anything if we pay him. But Damian will need a really convincing case to stick his neck out even a tiny bit for us. Do you really think we can put together something like this?"

"I think there's no reason not to try." Katenka smiled again and floated down onto the bench beside him, beginning to show him their work.

It might have looked strange anywhere else, but in the Showdown Village, candidates had mental links, spirit companions, and who knew what else. Him sitting on a bench and apparently talking to himself didn't even merit a second glance. Instead he just let himself delve deeper into the problem.

The core issues involved lucrim engineering he couldn't even begin to understand and detailed demonic contract theory, which Katenka had to oversimplify for him. But Rick did know a little about Lucore construction, and he was surprised how relevant his experience long ago proved. That Golden Lucore might not have transformed his life, but perhaps it would change someone else's.

Eventually things started to come together and he began to believe it might actually work. They were months from completing anything, of course, but Katenka was confident the theory was sound. Working with her proved surprisingly enjoyable and he felt a vague retroactive guilt for all his negative thoughts toward demons.

Of course, it might still all come to nothing. Damian hadn't responded and there would be other hurdles. But somehow, his crazy idea seemed closer to reality than he'd ever expected.

Once they were far enough along to do actual lucrim work, Katenka reminded him that they shouldn't do it in public. The sun had dropped to the horizon and Rick realized that it was almost time for his last training of the day. He headed back to his quarters, dodging several revelers slumping down the street.

Until one shifted toward him, Raggest waving a sack with little regard for anything around him. "Rick, check this out! Sacred pills forged by the Demonic Legionnaire herself! Alger says I'm not strong enough to handle anything like this, but I'll show him!"

"Just how did you get those?" Rick asked. They didn't feel like anything special to him, but they might not, necessarily. He'd suspect that they were a tourist trap... if it wasn't Raggest.

"I ran into this chick who challenged me to a fight! She was a heavyweight and she kicked my ass, but I impressed her enough that she gave me these!" Raggest swung his sack around to hit Rick in the shoulder. "You missed out, Rick! You've gotta come with me next time!"

"Yeah, maybe I will."

Though Rick smiled and nodded until he got past, in actuality he barely gave Raggest a thought. His mind was absorbed by this idea of this new type of bond and what it could potentially do. He tried not to get ahead of himself, but if it actually worked, it could make a real difference.

When he got back to his room, his thoughts were finally interrupted, but in a good way: Melissa had responded. She sent him a picture of his attempt at drawing inside a mirror, with a cartoon potato looking into the mirror proudly. Rick laughed out loud as he realized that her mind had gone to exactly the same place and he heard Katenka laughing over his shoulder.

His door banged open and he was about to get angry at Raggest... but it was H, his expression as serious as always. Rick's mentor closed the door behind him and spoke in a low voice.

"The immortals have finally made their decision: the fight will take place in two and a half months."

"Two and a half..." Rick considered briefly and nodded. "So that's three locations from now?"

"Correct. The Showdown will move from Germany to Brazil, then the Nokan Empire, then the battle will take place separately. Most likely in the United States, as Josiah is insisting he's traveled too much this year." H folded his arms and fixated on Rick. "There's no time to waste: we'll skip events here and in Brazil. You need to compete with the Nokans, but we'll consider that a test run before the final event. Can you focus on this?"

"Yeah, I will." The answer came automatically, despite everything swirling through Rick's head. H wasn't satisfied, but he accepted it sourly and stormed out.

Two and a half months. Given everything he was trying to balance, they would be over before he knew it. Rick locked his door, then sat down and got to work.