Nicolai appeared alongside the other Cultivators. They all shied away from him and him from them, gaining a safer amount of space.

But his worry quickly faded. His Mark was quick to inform him there was no combat permitted in this area, and he felt how his Symbiotes had all become bound; still there, still capable of moving and being interacted with, but their Arts could not be used. He also felt how his Soul Sense was bound up, unable to extend or be used properly.

They stood on a raised area. Stairs led down into an expansive room, with a strangely shaped and very large stone table in the middle. The table, as he looked at it, seemed more than a table. It looked somewhat like a planter. There was earth inside of it, and small plants, and there were things moving around. A thick mist clustered over its top, hiding everything but the edges. Spread equally around the table-slash-planter were six little podiums, angled outwards, with what seemed to be strange spiritual consoles built into them. They, alongside the rest of the table, glowed to Nicolai's Cultivators eyes.

There was also a book on a podium beside the big planter-table, and some stone benches scattered around.

His Mark shimmered.

This Inheritance tests the participants refinement skills through the playing of a game.

All participants should choose a starting point, then the Game will begin.

It will last for three days.

The Cultivators were already moving. The leader had stepped out first, sweeping imperiously past Nicolai, and the rest—babbling excitedly with one another—were quick to follow.

They seemed familiar with this kind of thing, and still hadn't bothered to limit their communications despite the fact they knew he could hear. They knew he couldn't harm them and that they couldn't harm him, and had apparently decided to simply ignore him. Nicolai followed after them, head tilted to one side as he listened.

'A repeatable Refinement Inheritance… my lord, the clan will reward you greatly for bringing news of this back! It could become a useful outpost, or even the site of the new village!' The one speaking this was a little younger than the others, a woman who's face was a little flushed as she peered around.

The Tier 2 snorted. 'Perhaps. We will see. To begin with we shall simply investigate. Maybe we will stay here some time. Certainly, my father should be told of this as soon as possible. We will tell the rest of the clan… when it is most worthwhile.'

'Yes, young master,' murmured another, a bald man. 'Why should those who had nothing to do with the finding of this place be worthy to receive any of its treasures? Perhaps we shall let them visit it… once we have fully explored it.' He sent a smug look to the young woman, who was chewing her lip, realising she'd made a blunder.

'Precisely,' said the Tier 2, bestowing a smile upon the bald man. Then his eyes flicked to Nicolai, standing innocently nearby, and they narrowed. 'Now, no more of this talk. There is no need to share anymore where it can be heard by… unclean ears.'

They nodded amongst themselves, and began to shoot wary and cautious looks at Nicolai. He'd been happy to stand there and listen to their conversation, but if that was coming to end… then now was his cue.

He took his Skin Suit's helmet off, hanging it from his belt, and asked, 'What's a clan, young master?'

The staring faces immediately gained a kind of fascination, like people looking at an animal in a zoo.

The helmet gave him quite a dangerous, inhuman look, one which—as they'd said earlier—made him look a little like an insectoid. Nicolai didn't want them thinking of him like that. He wanted them thinking of him as human, fallible, and weak. He gave them a guileless grin, eyes wide and innocent.

He heard mutters: 'Strange looking people,' 'Stupid looking people, you mean,' and so on, then one of them addressed him directly.

'Shut your mouth, barbarian,' snapped the bald man, with a sneer so intense he looked like he had some kind of facial deformation, stepping up and waggling a finger inches from Nicolai's nose. 'Know your place! You are a dog! You are trash! You are not fit even to look upon the young master!' He waved at a corner of the room, gesturing like one might with a child or an animal. 'Go and sit over there,' he spoke these words very slowly and firmly.

Nicolai poked the man gently in the stomach. There was no reaction from Heaven or the Inheritance, but the man let out a furious, shocked bark. One that did in fact sound a little like a dog. Nicolai smiled at him, put a hand on his shoulder, and pressed him to the side while stepping past.

'Don't mind me, sorry, sorry, coming through, haha. Oops!' He bumped and jostled his way through them, and his Mark flashed at him repeatedly as he went with his fingers poke-poking away at their bellies, and they all jerked and scoffed and snarled, but inevitably were pressed from his way. They seemed quite upset about the idea of touching him, and especially him touching them.

As he'd gone, he'd been testing the limits of this place. His fingers had gently pulled at items in their pockets. His pokes and prods into their bellies had risen gradually in power and speed. His Soul and Soul Sense had attempted to come out. He'd quickly found the limits, reinforced by the continual chidings of his Mark. Gently touching, poking, pushing was fine. Anything more was off the table, though it worked in an odd way.

When he poked someone too hard, instead of some kind of punishment or it being blocked, he was the one who was poked. His own finger found an invisible barrier before him, preventing him touching them, and some invisible phantom finger prodded him in the belly, just where he was trying to prod them.

As to stealing, his muscles simply went limp when he attempted to take things, fingers unable to grip around the item. The inverse also occurred. Any attempts to leave something of his in their pockets was impossible, fingers refusing to release and even a barrier forming and pressing him back, foiling his attempts to leave tiny recording bugs on them. Finally, Soul Sense was restricted into its passive form around his Soul and he found himself unable to extend it. However, if people were close to him he could still guess at their emotions. These Cultivators were a lot better at concealing theirs than Nicolai was used to. He felt absolutely nothing from the Tier 2. It was the first time he'd encountered someone with such a well-guarded Soul.

Nicolai arrived beside the affronted Tier 2, who scowled up at him. All of these people were a little on the short side, compared to those from Earth. The Tier 2 didn't look happy to be staring up at Nicolai, in fact he was clearly disgusted that Nicolai dared to stand within mere feet of him.

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Nicolai grinned at the Cultivator. He extended a finger and poked the man in the belly.

'Boop,' said Nicolai. 'Haha.' He'd intended just the one poke but the look on the Tier 2's face was so fantastic he had to go for a second. However, as his finger lunged, striking out like a baby cobra, the Tier 2 flicked that finger aside with his own. A fluid anti-poke parry! observed Cyberwarfare in a hushed tone. Nicolai took careful note of how quick the man moved—fast, but not that fast.

'Don't mind me,' said Nicolai cheerfully. 'Just wanted a look at that thingy behind you. Wow, this place is amazing, isn't it? I've never seen anything like it!'

The Tier 2 sneered at Nicolai, half contemptuous, half confused. But as Nicolai stepped forward the Cultivator shied out of the way as if worried of contacting an infectious disease—or perhaps another poke—giving him access to the book.

'Look at this!' crowed Nicolai, picking it up. It let out a clank as the chain attached to its spine drew tight. 'A small rectangular thing! On a chain! Amazing!' He wrenched on it and there came a loud clank as he tried to rip it away. 'Hmmm. Very well attached.' He Examined it, and stood there nodding along as he listened to his Mark, apparently ignoring the notification that came out.

'Huh, my Mark says this is a book! It tells us stuff! Like what to do, and what we can get as rewards! I'll have a look inside.' He flipped it open and brushed roughly through the pages, going quickly from end-to-end—it wasn't long—snapping pictures of each page with his bionic eye's high-resolution camera as he went.

'Wow, isn't this weird? It's all full of soft thin things, and I do believe those are words written on them! It's a shame I don't know how to read. Maybe if I eat them, I'll be able to digest their secrets!' He grabbed at the pages and tried to rip them out. His Mark flared and he felt an invisible force—one that had a bit of a warning edge to it, now, a sense it was growing tired of his antics—squeeze at his hand.

'What the fuck are you doing! Give it to me, barbarian!' the Tier 2 screamed, subjecting Nicolai to a look of utter horrified disgust as he grabbed for the book.

Blinking with amiable confusion, Nicolai handed the book the Cultivator. The man peered with significant annoyance at the rumpled pages.

'Of course, my friend,' said Nicolai. He leaned closer, and pitched his voice into a whisper that echoed off the walls. 'Are you able to work out its secrets?' His eyes were wide and thoughtless. 'You know, I sure am glad you guys are here. Where I came from, people normally just told me what to do. It was a lot easier. But now I have to do things myself! Very exciting, but a bit scary. Maybe you could help me out?'

'What a big, stupid ape,' muttered one of them behind him, in a tone mixing contempt and disgust.

'How dare you!' screamed Nicolai, spinning in place and raising his fist. 'I'll knock your stupid head off, shit eater! No one insults me, no one!'

The Cultivator shied away with shock at the sudden mad aggression, raising his arms, mouth mumbling with confusion as Nicolai bore down on him. Nicolai roared and threw a big sloppy haymaker. The Cultivator jerked sideways but Nicolai's hand tracked him and caught him in the cheek.

At that exact moment Nicolai felt a fist slam into his own cheek. He spun sideways, feeling the force of it split his lip and knock him sideways, letting out a yelp of pain and surprise.

Nicolai ended up on the ground, and he stared up at the Cultivators with a shocked, confused, and hurt expression.

'Whath the hell?' he mumbled, putting a finger to his lip.

The Cultivators, meanwhile, erupted into delighted laughter. Howling with it, bending over and slapping at their knees, shaking their heads, grins of disbelief stretching their faces.

'What an idiot!'

'Clueless barbarian!'

'Imbecile!'

Even the leader was smiling, a brow raised as he stared down at Nicolai, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Nicolai gaped back up at him, and did his best to look like the big dumb ape they were so eager to peg him as, poking at his lip then staring at the blood like he'd never seen such a thing before. 'I hurth myshelf,' he said in a tone of confused dismay, to another eruption of laughter.

Phase one of his general plan was going well. Making them see him as an idiot. They knew he knew how to fight because he'd killed four of them, but he hoped to encourage them into believing that he was some kind of being specialised for combat, not for thinking, and thus make them lower their guards.

These did in fact exist; many of the corporations used cloned soldiers, which were all based on a specific genome that allowed for high levels of combat skill and aggression, while being in all other respects roughly as intelligent as a six year old.

Nicolai believed that wherever possible, one ought to lead the enemy to underestimate you. These Cultivators were eager to think of him as a dumb "barbarian" even without him saying or doing anything. So, he'd lean into that and see if they might be convinced to continue down that road. The only sticking point was the Tier 2, who was clearly smarter than the rest of them. Smart enough to recognise the trick?

They all turned silent when the Tier 2 flicked his fingers at them, a new expression on his face as he stepped over to stand before Nicolai.

'What a pitiful creature,' he murmured, in a tone that sounded much more thoughtful than sympathetic. 'Tell me, why did you kill four of my friends?'

'That was before,' said Nicolai simply.

'And the Artifact, you still don't want to hand it over?'

Nicolai sighed, and frowned, and stared at the ground. 'I'm not meant to say,' he muttered.

'Not meant to say? Say what?'

'I'm not meant to say.'

'Really? Even to a friend, like me?'

Nicolai chewed at his lip. 'A friend?'

'Of course. My name is Zhang Hao. How are you called, friend?'

The name sounded Chinese, but Nicolai was pretty sure that was just Heaven translating it into the closest equivalent. It seemed these peoples' language had some similarities with Chinese. 'I'm Mork,' he said.

'There you go, then. We've exchanged names and now we are true friends.'

'I guess… if you're a friend, it's okay?'

'Yes, that sounds right to me. Maybe you could hand it over to me, since I'm a friend?'

'It's just that my other friend gave it to me, and told me to look after it. He told me I'm not to give it to anyone, or let it out of my sight until he comes back.'

'Other friend, huh?' Hao Zhang had a finger on his chin, tapping thoughtfully at it, he glanced at the others who had clustered closer, all exchanging considering looks. 'Does this other friend look like us?'

'He does! He's got a robe just like all of you!' Nicolai nodded fervently, smiling. 'He taught me everything I know about this world.'

'You know… actually, we are friends of his.'

Nicolai gaped at them. 'Really?'

Hao smiled down at him. 'Yes. He told us to come here, he wanted us to take the Artifact and bring it to him.'

Nicolai frowned. 'What about me? Should I go to him, too?'

'Yes, yes, sure. You are to come with us.'

'Oh!' Nicolai smiled, nodding, relieved. 'Of course!'

'So… hand it over.' The Cultivator extended a hand.

'He told me I should give it to no one,' said Nicolai, still smiling. 'Not until I bring it to him. That's why he wants me to go with you!'

Hao sighed, and his eyes narrowed. 'Uh huh. You know, I'm not sure I'm convinced by all this.'

'All this?'

'All this.' He leaned closer, glaring into Nicolai's eyes. 'I think you might be fucking with me.'

Nicolai blinked innocently. 'You want me to fuck you?'

'No!' Hao scowled at him, then the Cultivator turned suddenly to stare behind—where both he and Nicolai had heard a muffled snort of laughter, quickly cut off. Hao's glare slid over the people behind him, but they were all frowning thoughtfully at the ground… and the ceiling… and anywhere, in fact, but Hao.

Nicolai creased his brow in a quizzical frown at Hao turned back to him. 'Are you saying we aren't friends?'

Hao glared down at him. Nicolai could see the indecision in those eyes. Hao thought Nicolai was most likely screwing with him, but he couldn't be sure. And if Nicolai—Mork—really was a moron, it would be best not to upset him. Best to keep up the act. He saw the moment when Hao decided to let things continue as they were.

Nicolai was sure that Hao would be watching carefully. That was fine. Whether Nicolai kept up the act within the next hours or days, who was to say? It would depend on the situation. For now, it made their lips a little looser, and made them all a little unsure how to act, whether to be wary of him or not. That was enough.

'Of course we're friends,' said Hao at last, with a strained, irritable smile.

'What do we do now?' asked Nicolai, rising to his feet, smiling at his new "friend" hopefully.

He was rather enjoying this act, and the opportunity to interact with these people. He was learning quite a bit about the aliens. He wondered how far he might be able to push Hao. The sight of the man attempting to control his rising annoyance was surprisingly satisfying.

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