The Market was a big open square, fairly busy but not excessively so. He didn't see many People or undead, but there were a lot of humans, Cultivators and Earthborn in equal measure. As at the start of this, they had formed into two distinctly separate crowds. To one side there were Earthborn, to the other Cultivators. They stayed separate and traded with one another, eyeing the other side with hostility.

Not ideal for his purposes, and he couldn't stay long. He anticipated trading wouldn't be easy, whether he was able to sell anything in the time he had would be largely down to his luck. He strode over, heading to the Cultivators side. Some turned and frowned at him as he approached, but he reached into two of his Symbiote pouches and pulled two free.

It was the pair of Tier 2 Symbiotes he'd gained from the Spirit Bear, a Resonant Cry Cicada and Ironskin Beetle. He simply held the Symbiotes, one in either hand. The restriction didn't block him from suppressing them.

'What do you have there, barbarian?' spoke a tall, haughty Tier 2 Cultivator as he moved lazily over. 'Some trash you wish to offload?' He smiled condescendingly.

But Nicolai had noted how the man's gaze had found the IronSkin Beetle and fastened onto it. Sensed the faint eager stirring of his Soul. Simultaneously, another was coming over. A surprisingly bulky looking woman with a shaven head. An unusual look for Cultivator, but like the other she was Tier 2, and he also noted an eager gleam in her eyes as she gazed at the same Symbiote.

'Might be trash, but it's trash I'd be willing to take off your hands,' she said brusquely.

The two immediately aimed glares at one another. Nicolai, seeing this, was internally dancing with glee. Perfect. His luck was very good.

'My friend,' said the tall man to Nicolai, and now all condescension was gone from his tone, and his face was fixed in a pleasant smile. 'Actually, it isn't trash at all. I'm willing to pay a good price for it. How about we go somewhere private to discuss?'

'Don't listen to him,' said the woman. 'He just wants to trick you. Go somewhere private with me and let's work out a good deal.'

Of course, Nicolai refused to go anywhere with either of them. The current situation was ideal. So long as there were two interested buyers, they were much more interested in competing with one another than pushing his price down. According to the Memory Disc on this subject, the value of the Tier 2 Ironskin Beetle was around 130,000-150,000 points-tags.

The first offer came from the woman. 80,000 points plus a whole minute of wheedling. Then the man called her cheap and offered 90,000…

And it went on like that, with Nicolai watching them carefully and refusing to sell, waiting for the price to get as high as possible.

'153,000, my friend, that's what I'm offering! Far more than it's worth! Come on, hand it over!' cried the tall man, shoving a handful of tags at Nicolai angrily.

'154,000, I can do 154,000,' growled the woman, her own tags held out.

The price reached 160,000 before the tall man, sneering, stepped back. 'Fine,' he spat. 'It's not worth so much.' He snorted with disgust.

'Ha! Give it here!' cried the woman, waving the 160,000 worth of points-tags to Nicolai.

Beside her, the man was shaking his head and clucking. 'What a fool, what a pitiful fool,' he muttered waspishly. 'Look at you, overbidding so much, giving so many points to this barbarian. Pathetic.'

'Shut up trash,' she snapped back at him. 'If you're too poor to pay the proper value then get lost, don't bother your betters.'

'Here,' spoke Nicolai, holding out the Symbiote. He didn't opt to try and wheedle the price any higher, as his time was limited and he didn't want to push his luck.

She seized it from him at the same time as he took the points-tags. He left the pair to continue insulting one another. During the course of the negotiation he'd said little man than two dozen words, and left in an entirely different state of mind to the two he'd been bargaining with. He was calm and relaxed after some of the easiest trading he'd had in his life. They'd done all the work for him.

That brought him to 210,000 points-tags. Unfortunately, no one had been interested in the Resonant Cry Cicada, which had a rough value of only 70,000-80,000 points-tags despite being Tier 2—apparently Sound Path wasn't very popular—and he hadn't the time to try and offload it. He only had twenty minutes before the Tournament began. But, he had plenty of tags to be getting on with. With a little more luck, he'd be able to get the spirit-dampening cloth in his remaining time.

###

Back at the Refiners Guild, Nicolai approached the same counter. This time, there were two Cultivators in the place. They had arrived at the counter already and were being greeted by the Person behind it.

'How might I serve you, masters?'

'Ten midnight eel eggs, one spool of skylark silk,' said one of them shortly.

As the Person moved off, Nicolai moved in.

'If you buy something for me, I'll trade you its value plus an additional 5,000 points-tags,' he said.

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The pair looked him up and down, sneering. 'This place isn't for your kind. You'll just hurt yourself playing with things you don't understand,' said one.

'Hey, hey, don't be so hasty,' said the other, smiling. 'You are having some problems down there, aren't you barbarian? If you want I can buy you some Flaming Stalks, if you shove them up inside you, it'll solve the problem quickly.'

They both started laughing, one clapping the other on the back.

Nicolai didn't react. These two clearly weren't interested in helping him, but if the price was high enough they would be. 'How about 10,000 points-tags?'

'That'll do. Hey, attendant! Get me some Flaming Stalks!' Both the Cultivators chortled. As the attendant moved off to do so, one of them gestured to him. '10,000 points then, hand them over.'

'I don't want Flaming Stalks.'

'Eh? You're quite dumb, aren't you, barbarian? What is it you want?'

'Spirit dampening cloth. It costs 60,000. Buy it for me, and I'll pay you 70,000 for it.'

'What would you need with something like that? No, no, you need the Flaming Stalks. Come now, hand over the points-tags.'

'Buy the cloth first, and then I'll pay.'

'That's not how this works! Give me the tags!'

'No.'

The pair moved away, conferring, turning and shooting looks at him now and then. It was obviously they were plotting how to scam him, but unfortunately there was no way for them to do so. He would not be paying unless they had already purchased the cloth and he was trading directly for it.

But this was a problem because he felt it likely they might never make the trade, and instead simply try and screw with him until eventually giving up. He didn't have much time, and unlike before these two were collaborators, not competitors. But he did have an idea.

'If you buy the cloth first, then I will be willing to pay 100,000 points-tags, an addition of 40,000. I need the cloth now,' he told them.

The pair perked up, starting to look properly interested.

'Double it! Give us 200,000, and we'll get you this cloth.'

Nicolai frowned. 'I can't afford that. The most I can do is 120,000.'

Shrugging at one another, they acquiesced. 'Okay. 120,000.'

'For five square metres of Spirit dampening cloth.'

'Yes, yes. Give us the points, we'll buy it after.'

Nicolai shook his head. 'I will only hand over the points for the cloth, not for a promise of the cloth.'

'Then you'll get nothing! Points first!'

This turned into a sticking point. No matter what he said, Nicolai was unable to convince the pair to buy the cloth first, and his time was ticking down. He only had ten minutes left. Annoying as they were, they weren't fools. Nicolai considered, and then…

'Ah!' he cried out, clutching at his gloved hand. From the portion of his Soul within his hand, there emitted a strange and worrisome pulsing, rippling through the Aura. It spoke of pain and disease. He sunk to his knees.

The Cultivators shied away. 'What is it? You have a spiritual disease?'

'I don't know what it is,' he moaned. 'There's something wrong with my spirit, in my hand. The Information Guild told me if I can wrap my hand in Spirit Dampening cloth, it will allow me to cure my ailment.' He groaned. 'Please buy me the cloth!'

The pair burst out into laughter. 'You've put your hand where you shouldn't, eh barbarian? What, did you try and fistfuck a Toothbearer?'

'Just buy me the cloth!' he snarled. Now he was on his knees, his afflicted hand trembling.

'All your points, right now, and I'll get it for you,' said one, holding out his hand.

Nicolai reached into the Big Mouth on his chest and slowly pulled out a great weight of 205,000 points-tags, all that he had. The Cultivators eyes lit up with greed.

'Give them!'

But Nicolai shook his head. 'No,' he muttered. 'I don't trust you. We have no Contract. Once you have the points, you'll just walk away. I know you will, you primitive piece of shit.'

The Cultivator snorted. 'So you'd rather lay there and wait for your disease to spread? Maybe your hand will fall off.' He nudged his friend, grinning and raising his eyebrows. 'I'm excited to see how it turns out.'

Nicolai slumped to the ground. 'Give cloth and I give points,' he mumbled. 'Cloth… points…' He closed his eyes and gasped for breath. His Soul Sense was a broken mess around him, and from places within his Soul came strange and unnatural stirrings, while over his face his Soul writhed. The Cultivators let out an oath of surprise and worry as a screaming spiritual face briefly emerged, visibly bulging over his helmet. He closed himself to the world, paying no attention to what was occurring.

After a few minutes, something poked him. He opened weak eyes and looked up to see one of the Cultivators. They held a roll of cloth.

'Here, barbarian. Your cloth.' The man smiled. 'Give me the points, and you can have the cloth, and your ailment will be solved.'

Nicolai reached for the cloth but had time to do no more than touch it before the the man held it up and away. 'No, no. Points! Hold them out. We will make the trade at the same moment.'

But Nicolai didn't hold out his points-tags. He was looking at the Examine text floating over his Mark, having Examined it in the moment he touched it. He smiled at the confirmation that this cloth was what he needed—he'd worried the Cultivator might have brought some random cloth instead of the real deal. He sat up straight. Then he rose to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face. The oddities in his Soul and Soul Sense smoothed out as Threat Analysis, Cyberwarfare and the Mask stopped their stirrings. They'd performed their roles perfectly.

The Cultivators stared at him, stunned.

'W-what?' uttered the one holding the cloth.

Nicolai sorted 60,000 worth of points-tags from the bundle he held, putting the rest in storage. He held them out. 'The value of the cloth,' he pronounced.

'No! I want all the rest! What the fuck?! That's the same I bought it for!'

Nicolai shrugged and turned away. 'Okay. I don't need it that much.'

With Soul Sense, he observed them as he walked away.

'I'll burn this shit! You think I care about 60,000 points? Fuck you, barbarian!' howled the one who'd bought it. He raised his hand which was limned in flame and held it under the cloth, but the other grabbed at him before it could burn.

The pair fell into a heated discussion. Nicolai could see that the wiser head was talking sense into the other. Based on what he was seeing, the man did care about the 60,000 and would regret it if he burned the cloth. From there, the inevitable occurred.

He hadn't gotten far when they caught up. The wiser head settled for simply glaring at him, while the one he'd tricked cursed him foully but ultimately handed over the cloth for 60,000 points. That brought him down to 150,000, total. Nicolai had been tempted to offer only 50,000, or 40,000, but he had a feeling that might just push the Cultivator over the edge—the man had already nearly burned the cloth once, and he didn't think it'd been an act.

After a very quick trip through his portal, where he recruited the aid of the Assembler in knitting the white cloth into a well-fitting wrap for the Blade, he returned to the Phantom City—now with the Blade on his back. He felt better for having it there.

He'd only just returned when his Mark pinged him.

Registrar: Round 1/5 of Tournament One is beginning.

You must join within 10 seconds or face disqualification from the Tournament.

The first round is: Free For All. All will fight in the same arena. When 32 combatants are left, Combat will end.

Join? (10…)

He accepted, and a moment later a red glow swallowed him.

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