AA. 72 (Patreon)

Nil took the day after the match for himself. Katherine wanted to meet, Andrew wanted to hang out, and his family wished to spend time with him, too. He told them all that he needed some time to himself and took a train into Central London. 

Unlike his peers, who spent most of their earnings after paying Ludus fees on luxuries and buying designer clothes, bags, or shoes, Nil maintained a vice-like grip on his money. Some used their earnings to fill their pockets and rooms with the latest gadgets. A few, like him, tried to improve their family’s life and partied with the rest. Nil believed it was time for him to use Schema Credits on himself.

Nil's financial situation was stable. Beyond taxes, ludus fees, and sending his family money, he had few expenses. His bank Schema Credit balance was at a tidy eleven hundred—untaxed and untouched by the government—and he had over twelve thousand Great British Pounds in gold. He withdrew twenty-two hundred for his splurge.

Nil didn’t care about clothes or cool toys. While climbing the ladder across London’s fine dining scene, he often dreamed of visiting two or three Michelin-star restaurants when he had the funds. It wasn’t just for the pleasure of indulging in the food. He wished to know what the others were up to so he could continue to polish his skills and come up with better creations. He had an admiration for the art and his fellow chefs’ skills, too. 

However, to indulge in a meal at such a restaurant, Nil needed appropriate clothes. So, he forced himself into the task he hated most: clothes shopping. He hadn’t bought any clothes in person since before his mother got ill. Even those were rare. Aisha was the last person who successfully got him to shop. Except for his chef uniforms, the majority of his clothes were over seven years old or purchased for cheap online. 

After taking a few minutes to hype himself up, Nil walked into one of the many large boutique stores on Oxford Street. He’d passed them several times but was never brave enough to enter. The cost always intimidated him.

“Can I help you with anything, Mr Roy?” A pretty young woman asked, approaching him. She looked about five years his junior.

“You know who I am?” Nil failed to mask his surprise. He had not long walked in the door.

The woman nodded, cheeks flushing. “We’re supposed to know all the up-and-coming Apocalypse Arena stars.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder at the man hovering in the distance. “I recently started following Festus the Curator, too. I especially enjoy his videos involving you.”

“I’m flattered.” Nil smiled. “I’m going to dinner at Umu, but as you can tell, my wardrobe is lacking for a two-star restaurant. Could you help me pick a few things out?”

“Do you have anything particular in mind?”

Nil shrugged. “I don’t know the first thing about fashion,” he replied, eyes drifting to the jackets. “I do know that I want an aviator-style brown leather jacket.”

“Those are not in this season—”

“I don’t care about what’s in, to be honest. I’ve always wanted one.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” The woman waved him away from the building’s entrance, pulling out a tape measure. She checked the width of his uppers and shoulder, fingers lingering unnecessarily long. “Why don’t you follow me?” Her cheeks and ears seemed redder as she continued. “I’ll show you what we have in your size.”

Nil would’ve found the shop attendant attractive not long ago. Now, civilians no longer did it for him. It wasn’t that he thought less of them. Lacking the Schema’s ability to enhance their looks as they ascended also had little to do with it. After spending so much time with Summoned, Nil had developed a fondness for powerful, warrior-esque women. Instead of physical strength, the battle-hardened aura drew him in. Susan wasn’t a conventionally beautiful woman or ‘his type,’ but he saw her in a new light following the quest and could now see why Andrew pursued her, shedding his old promiscuous way.

It took them a while to find a jacket that fitted his dimensions. Rising to Iron Realm with Might as his ascendant attribute had made Nil an awkward size. He was an inch taller than his pre-summoning height, but his shoulders, arms, and chest had all broadened. He had only six choices but fell in love at first sight with a tan beauty that had a slight reddish-brown tinge.

“I don’t want to influence your decision, Mr Roy, but aviators don’t look good on you. You’re more of a bomber jacket man.”

“What’s the difference?” Nil asked. 

The shop attendant held up one of his other picks, which had a furry collar and lapel. “Aviator.” Then, she pointed at the one he was wearing. It had no lapel or collar but a simple rounded neck, knitted cuffs, and belt. “Bomber. It's also called a flight jacket which is why people sometimes confuse the two.”

“Bomber it is. What’s next?”

“I think matching shoes and belt, a simple white shirt, and cotton trousers or blue jeans is all you need,” the shop attendant said. “You have a lovely shape and definition. It would be criminal to hide it with too much.”

“I like simple.” Nil smiled, checking himself out in the mirror, feeling glad he had shaved and combed his hair before heading out. The man in the mirror barely resembled who he was before becoming a Summoned. He glanced at the jacket’s price tag. It alone was over five hundred pounds. Nil couldn’t justify spending money on anything more than simple.

The shirts were wide enough for his dimensions, but they were far too long, and those for his height were too tight for him to pull on. Fortunately, the stores around Mayfair had tailors in-store who altered them in a flash. Half the money in his wallet disappeared just like that.

“My manager and the tailor sorted out two more shirts for you,” the shop attendant said, handing him a trio of rectangular paper bags with the store’s name printed on the side. Two contained his old clothes, but he spotted two white and one salmon garment. “I added one more to the mix. I think it will suit you.” She showed him to the door and spoke again once her manager and colleagues were out of earshot. The woman pressed the store's card into his hand. It also featured a phone number and email address written in pretty cursive handwriting. “Let me know if you ever need anything. Garment-related or not.” 

Several reporters, sponsors, stylists, and publicists had called or emailed him over the past couple of weeks. Many had tempting deals. Unfortunately, Nil couldn’t give any of them concrete answers until resolving the matter with Symbiotech and hoped they wouldn’t lose interest. Fortunately, their interest grew with every victory, and the offers improved. Doctor Shina Patel and her superiors appeared to understand Nil’s market value and were nicer to him every day. He already had an invite to the headquarters for a new symbiote. They also wanted to run scans of his unformed soul weapon to prepare something better suited to him. He and Andrew were relying on the opportunity to plan their sabotage.

Life had changed drastically over the past few months. People around Wembley and Harrow often stopped him on the streets to take photos with him or to make idle chatter. Walking through Mayfair—one of London’s most affluent areas—was a breath of fresh air, in comparison. No one spared him a glance. Most people on the street were a big deal in their own right or worked for someone important.

Umu, a two-Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant, sat in the back streets of Mayfair. The hostess flashed him a welcoming smile when he walked in through the door.

“Nil Roy. Reservation for two.”

“Your guest has already arrived,” she said, leading him through the dining room. 

“I booked the sushi counter,” Nil said when they walked by it. Only two people sat at it. “Was it not available?”

The hostess flashed him an uncomfortable glance. “We had to make accommodations for your guest. We weren’t made aware of his requirements.”

A skinny man with a warm smile waved at him. He wore a dinner jacket and a casual shirt. It wasn’t until they got closer and Nil extended a hand that he realized that his guest sat in a wheelchair. He did his best not to appear as awkward as they shook, and he took a seat.

“It's nice to put a face to the name, Festus,” Nil said.

“I’d prefer it if you called me Bunty since we’re meeting in person. The name Festus had become far too popular. I might like attention online, but not in person.” He paused, glancing at a neighboring table. They shot Nil and Bunty glances as they conversed. “Although, I doubt avoiding attention will be possible while I’m with you.”

“I have you to thank for that. You make me look far more competent than I am.”

“Please,” Bunty laughed. You destroyed your opponents in the first two matches. The last was a close one, and I was almost sure you were going to lose, but you proved me wrong. How about we just say we excel at our individual wheelhouses and can do great things if we were to officially pair up?”

“I’d love to, but—”

“You need to see your current contract through before committing to anything. I know the spiel.”

“I’m still happy to do an interview or two, but can’t participate more than that right now.”

“Are you sure that’s not because you’re talking to other channels and producers?”

“I’d be lying if I said a bunch haven’t contacted me, but I can honestly state that I’ve not replied to any of them. A few have featured me on their channels, including the Highlight Reel, but I don’t like anyone’s work as much as I do yours. Just give me a little time, and I’ll work with you exclusively.”

“Just like that?” Bunty asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll agree to work with me just like that. You don’t want anything in return?”

“I didn’t say that,” Nil said. “I’ll expect the standard share of ad revenue.”

“Of course.”

“And—”

“Oh.”

“—and, I want information. I’ve been watching your videos, and you’re the only one who talks about Death Gauntlet.”

“I’ve received warnings for those videos,” Bunty said. “It’s a shame really the content made Highlight Reel a bunch of money.”

“But you know a fair bit about the events and know how to identify them, correct?” Nil asked.

Bunty nodded.

“I already have someone on this, but there is just far too much content, and you’re an experienced eye. Could you look into everyone who keeps running the Death Gauntlet despite three wins and almost always goes after the Cursed Ones?”

“That shouldn’t be too hard.” Bunty frowned. “What is this for?”

“I can’t tell you yet. It's for your safety and mine.”

“Fine. But you’ll need to sign an exclusivity deal with me. And give Garuda Systems a genuine conversation.”

“What? Why Garuda Systems?”

“They’re one of my channel’s top sponsors and agreed to pay for this meal if I ask you to hear them out.”

“Fine. I agree.”

The waitress returned with the Kaiseki Menu’s opening snacks and a welcoming drink. Nil had already pre-ordered it along with the wine pairing. He excitedly dug in as he and Bunty moved on to lighter topics. Nil had wanted to see Festus the Curator in person and scanned him with Energy Instinct before making a call and his first impression was a positive one.