When he left the room he found the Information Guild packed with people. Cultivators and Earthborn were distributed in pockets, clumps and individually, and as before the same division was visible between them.

Immediately he found himself being stared at by a big crowd of Earthborn. For some reason they all looked very angry.

'There one of them is, right out the gold door!' cried out a slender, tattooed man, pointing at him. Under-skin augments were apparent from his too perfect musculature.

'You bastard! You got no shame?!' cried a furious looking woman with two Tier 2 bionic arms, information type.

Nicolai stared at them, confused. He turned and looked behind him, and saw the doorway he'd emerged from was large and ornate with a golden door.

It read: VIP.

He supposed that due to his number of Tokens, the Information Guild treated him differently. It was a little unfortunate. He'd have much preferred something less showy, like a private back exit. Perhaps he could've asked for that but he'd been too preoccupied to anticipate there would be such a crowd out here.

He headed towards the exit. He hadn't gone far when he was surrounded.

'You leaked the whole Earth archive, didn't you?' growled an eight-foot Cyborg, jabbing a heavy metal finger at him. 'Sold it to the squids for a payout!'

Nicolai slid around the finger. 'That's right,' he said as he passed, uncaring. However, he was glad he was wearing the skin suit helmet, and he used its audio modulator to alter his voice. No point carrying all these accusations with him when he could otherwise shuck them with a change of clothes.

'Take that helm off, let us see your skin,' snarled another, as though hearing his thoughts.

Nicolai snorted. He was forced to come to a halt because he was simply blocked from moving by all the people around him. 'Why are you all here?' he asked, though even as he spoke, he knew why. He'd just worked out why they were so angry.

They exchanged guilty glances.

'Soon as I heard of this place, I dropped in to seal the breach,' said the hulking Cyborg. 'Too late,' he growled. 'You and your kind already dumped it all.'

'Uh huh,' said Nicolai, smiling. He could imagine it well. They came here on the heels of him and the other first arrivals. Went into a private room. Spilled everything, just like he'd done. And… received nothing. Some pitiful number of Tokens.

Why? Because they were too late. Now they wanted to vent their rage on those who'd gotten here first and grabbed the opportunity they'd missed, but of course they couldn't tell the truth. Then they wouldn't have the moral high ground.

A chuckle made its way out of his helmet. It turned into a chortle that bent him over, and suddenly he was howling with mirth, slapping at his knees.

There was nothing quite so reassuring as learning that not only had he benefited greatly and gotten a leg up, but that a large number of people were very angry about that fact. That told him he had, indeed, seized something good.

'What's so funny, huh?' growled the giant. He formed a fist. 'I scanned you, seen the shape of you under that suit. Meatbag like you ought to watch your tone. Watch it real close.'

'That's right,' said the woman with the information mods ominously, demonstrating that one of those arms wasn't just for communication as it shifted with a whir, revealing a heavy cannon. 'You forget to download your survival instincts, or are you just that dumb?'

'Yeah,' began the guy with all the under-skin crap. 'You—'

'Whatever,' said Nicolai, flapping his hand at them and continuing to chuckle. 'If you're going to attack me, do it.' He kept walking through the crowd, turning his back to the three.

As predicted, none of them were stupid enough to commit suicide by attacking him in this place. The verbal abuse resumed.

'You sick fuck!'

'Ratware!'

'Squid fucker!'

'Race traitor!'

'Kill yourself!'

The insults only served to give rise to another giggling fit, one that took him so that his legs shook. Nicolai stumbled through the barrage, wriggling his way through the crowd. They weren't able to actually block his way. When he tried to squeeze past the protection of the area ensured that some space was made—it didn't allow people to actively block one another. After a few moments he was out the bulk of them and their abuse rained down on his uncaring back, rolling away like water off of a duck.

It was astonishing, really. He'd come to the Information Guild only because based on the name he'd assumed that it would give him what he'd been searching for all this time: Information. He'd moved quickly simply because he disliked wasted time, not because he'd predicted there would be some great opportunity here.

But an opportunity there had been, and now himself and some few others had gained significantly, seized something that would never again be available.

Had he chosen to delay for any reason, he would have missed it. Just like these people. But unlike them, if he had missed it he would not be standing around looking for someone to blame. He would be moving and hunting for more opportunities. He'd seized one simply by looking at a map and walking quickly. Now he would keep going, keep hunting, keep working. Who knew what else might be gained within the Phantom City. This, in his view, was how one prospered; by taking action and moving forward. Standing around complaining while gazing upon others with jealousy would only see you left further and further behind.

That was why he was entirely unconcerned by the threats from this crowd. They would never be able to make good on those threats, because they had effectively already given up. Here and now, they had put themselves out of the running. They were clearly capable and dangerous people, based on simply being in this city—but they'd never reach the heights that he chased.

He managed to get the laughter under control when Cyberwarfare and the others poked at him. Check the UI! Spoke the Modules. Nicolai understood. He felt the same curiosity.

He opened his UI and switched to the map, and he and the Modules gazed at what was revealed. After the work from the Information Guild's Fill-In service, his map was greatly changed.

He saw the world revealed, and also handily labelled. Nightmare appeared to be one gigantic, roughly circular continent. First a circle called Jungle, bordering the sea, tinged white at the north and south, shading through yellow to green. There was a blue dot in the larger green portion, which when he zoomed in was revealed to be "Your Portal Exit."

Frowning, he scanned around and eventually found his actual current position, a blue dot which wasn't even on the continent. It was off in some corner, over the great sea, where there was what appeared to be a kind of rectangular shape labelled Phantom City. There were a few islands around this.

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He looked back to the great continent, and saw his exit portal in the cave was surprisingly near to the sea—through he'd never seen it. He had quite a ways to go to get to the end of his jungle, which had numerous areas labelled Barrier where it circled around the Caverns, another big circle, and then the Endless Castles, Dead Cities, and Gaping Ruins which was most of the continent.

Before he could consider it further, someone stepped up beside him, matching his pace. Nicolai paused, closing his map and glancing the man up and down. It was a Cultivator. A skinny, thin faced man wearing a green robe. He had no Artifact, and based on his Soul Sense was Tier 1. Not a particularly big fish, compared to some of those around this place.

'Impressive,' said the man, treating Nicolai to a big smile. 'You really did well here, didn't you? I'm jealous, ha, I admit it! We all are, them included, right?'

Nicolai gazed back at him, silent, then looked away and kept moving. He had somewhere to be.

The man hurried after him. 'Me and my people, we know all about this place. We had a couple branches of this Guild on our home planet, you know? It's inevitable really, that eventually the Guild knows everything. So you didn't do anything wrong, don't worry about that!'

'Aren't you concerned by the bad feeling between my people and yours?' asked Nicolai, curiosity pushing the question out. As he walked he waved in the direction of a group of Cultivators that were glaring daggers at the one beside him. 'You might be considered a "race traitor" too, just for talking to me. Our people have decided they are enemies.'

'Psh, I don't care shit for that. It's all just posturing and grandstanding. No, no, the way I see it, why not help each other? Prosper together! Anyway, speaking of that, you and your people are obviously new to all this. How about some help? I've got lots of advice, on Cultivation, on the Guilds, anything! What do you want to know?'

'I've actually just received answers to all of those questions.' Nicolai's Mask was observing the man with interest, trying to guess what he wanted. Threat Analysis felt sure the guy was up to no good.

Nicolai informed them that he knew precisely why the Cultivator was talking to him. Nicolai had been seen coming out of the golden door. That meant he was rich in Information Guild Tokens. Such Tokens could be traded or even given away. The crowd of people from Earth had been angry about witnessing his sudden wealth. This man, on the other hand, saw an opportunity.

So did Nicolai.

He stopped, turning to face the man fully. 'But don't worry, I understand.'

The Cultivator blinked up at him. 'You do?'

'Sure. You want to partner up, right? And I'm sure there are some questions you need answering, and this Guild has the answers. You've no Tokens, but there's no need to worry.' Nicolai spread his arms wide. 'Your new partner does.'

The man grinned. 'Eh, really? Ha, well, perfect. I need 200,000 Tokens. But let me tell you—partner—that's a deal. Because any questions you have on anything, I can answer them. You'll get way more than 200,000 Tokens worth of information out of me!'

'That's very appealing. But there's a problem…' began Nicolai, slowly. 'How can I trust you? If I give you some Tokens, and you get what you need, what's to stop you just walking off? I'm open to a partnership, but building trust takes time. Right now, you're just some guy on the street.'

'Hey.' The man drew himself up, scowling. 'You clearly don't recognise this robe. That's fine, you're not one of us. But here's some information for free—you see someone wearing a robe like this, you don't call them a liar. I'm a member of the Pavillion Sect. That's a Righteous Sect, understand? We're known for our honesty and law abiding ways. If I were to scam someone, I'd be thrown out. So you see, there's nothing to worry about.'

Nicolai sighed. 'But that doesn't solve the problem on my end. Just like I've never met you before, I've also never heard of this Pavillion Sect.' He tilted his helmeted head to give the impression he was looking pointedly at the man's robe. 'I don't want to cause offence, but that could just be a random robe with some patterns you drew on it. However, I would like to work with you. Truthfully, ever since I met your people I thought it would be better if we work together, I just need some assurances.' His Mask had immediately taken a dislike to this man, and was entirely willing to aid him. As a result his words were especially convincing as it worked alongside him.

'How about this,' he continued, 'hand over… 50,000 points-tags to me. I think that's worth about the same as 200,000 Tokens, isn't it? That will be a way for you to show me that you're honest in your intentions. Then I'll give you the 200,000 Tokens. Once we've spent some time working together… I'll give you the tags back. It'll be a kind of deposit.'

The Cultivator frowned at him, and Nicolai could see the wheels turning in his eyes. Of course, the Cultivator was worried he'd be scammed by Nicolai. But Nicolai had judged his price carefully. 50,000 points-tags was not too great a sum, especially compared to 200,000 Tokens. This man certainly wouldn't want to lose that many tags, but he could probably afford it. And if Nicolai was being honest, he would gain greatly.

'Sure,' said the man, shrugging as if it were no big deal. He pulled out a pouch and spent a moment redistributing his tags, then he handed them over. 'Here, to our new partnership.'

The Cultivator stood there, smiling expectantly while Nicolai tucked the pouch away. He could feel the metal rectangles through the cloth. They had a reassuring weight and feel to them. Until this moment, he had been pretty much broke in terms of tags. He gave the man a nod.

'Actually, I have come to the conclusion that you were attempting to trick me. You also wasted some of my time by dragging me into this conversation. Fortunately, these tags are just about enough to pay for the time you have taken for me, so I will not hold it against you. Goodbye.' He turned and continued on. He wanted to visit the Slayers Guild next. He kept an eye on the Cultivator with his Soul Sense, just for cautions sake.

'You—!' The Cultivator's face turned red as he stared after Nicolai, then he started into a run, catching up. He veered in front of Nicolai and stopped, getting in the way. He laughed ruefully. 'I suppose I shouldn't have trusted one of you barbarians. That's on me, right? But you should think carefully about this. My Sect is very powerful, barbarian. If you don't hand those tags back, and some Tokens for the trouble, I'm going to spread word of what you've done here. Before you know it, you'll have enemies everywhere!'

Nicolai kept walking, going around him.

'You may think that helmet will keep your identity secret, but that's not so foolproof a protection in our world,' snarled the Cultivator from behind. He was starting to lose his composure. 'You have a Soul, unlike many of your pathetic people. Unlucky for you. I've taken an imprint of that Soul. It's just like making an image of your face! If I pass that imprint around, people will recognise you regardless of what you wear.'

Nicolai snorted. He recognised that this threat did actually hold some water, but he knew that Cultivator wasn't going to do it, and he wouldn't care even if the man did. He was tired of the man's incessant jabbering, however, and being followed by the loud individual was drawing attention to him. He stopped and faced the man. The Cultivator gazed at him, a little hope in his expression.

'You're not going to tell anyone. You're going to keep this very quiet,' Nicolai told him. 'The reason being that your people look down on mine. You call us barbarians. Likewise, my people look down on yours. If you go and tell your peers that you were scammed by me, a barbarian… they will say, "Are you such an idiot? To be scammed by a dumb, stupid barbarian? You've made us all look bad."' He chuckled. 'They'll laugh at you, and your reputation will suffer. Whereas if I tell my people about this, they'll congratulate me. They'll say, "You got one over on those sneaky savages, well done!" So in truth, I don't think I have to be worried about you telling anyone about this. I think you ought to be worried about me telling people about this. Speaking of which…' Nicolai rubbed his gloved fingers together. 'If you want to guarantee my silence, simply hand over some more tags.'

The Cultivator gaped at him, turning pale. He stumbled backwards. 'Uh, I, uh, I've got no more tags… I have to… I'll go get more…' He turned and fled.

Nicolai doubted he'd see the man again. He turned and continued onwards. He might've been able to extract some more tags by following and continuing to threaten, but he simply didn't think it worth his time. This place was full of opportunities and he wanted to make sure he didn't miss out on them, not get bogged down blackmailing some random Cultivator with what was, in truth, quite a weak threat.

As he walked, he experimented with his Soul Sense. What the Cultivator had said about making an "imprint" of another's spirit was one of the few things he'd mentioned that hadn't sounded like a lie. Nicolai wanted to keep his identity hidden as much as possible, simply because that was how he always operated. So as he walked he was working out what his spiritual imprint was, how it felt. He was also feeling casually at others.

Quickly he became able to recognise the specific spiritual imprint of those he passed. Indeed, it wasn't much dissimilar from one's face or perhaps fingerprints. Each spirit was recognisably different, and he didn't think it would be any harder to remember and recognise a familiar spirit than it would be to do the same from a picture of someone's face. This was something he'd been aware of previously, in a general kind of way, but it wasn't something he'd ever thought closely about. Now he recognised the dangers—and the possibilities.

In that regard, altering his spiritual imprint was similar to purposefully changing his facial appearance via contracting or relaxing facial muscles then holding them in the new position. It wasn't easy, requiring constant focus and attention as otherwise his Soul and Soul Sense would return to the default state, but he felt that it was a workable technique and one that could be of use. He determined to practise it in periods where he had nothing else to do.

His gaze rose, as his destination came into view.

The Slayers Guild.

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