In the private room he appeared in, Nicolai found one part of the wall was lit up and shimmering. There was now an opening in it. Inside, rested a small bag.

Congratulations on winning your Private Stake Duel, the wall read. As this was your first Stake Duel, the Duel Arena's Staking Tax has been waived. Happy Staking!

Staking Tax, he thought dully. It was only 1%, according to the book, but even so it was something he was not in the least looking forward to. When the Stake was like this recent one—in which they'd both bet a Symbiote—he supposed the system would come up with a value then demand that 1% payment in points-tags or Oma crystals, and the Duel Arena would hold the item until he was able to pay their tax. Irritating, and somewhat confusing for what he'd assumed to be a purely Heaven-run enterprise. Did Heaven really need to nickel-and-dime them like this?

He retrieved the bag which, of course, contained all the Symbiotes that made up the Spectral Claw, of which there were eight in total. The full five Fingers set of Symbiotes, the Spectral Mantis, the Phantom Clawer, and the Long Stick Insect. They all needed to be broken in, but wouldn't cause him trouble in the meantime, thanks to the bag they came in.

Examination of the bag showed it was similar as the ones the Symbiotes from the Inheritance had been given in, except stronger—it seemed to be able to hold any type of Symbiote without issue, completely restricting them. However, it was also limited and said that once removed, Symbiotes could not be returned to the bag, and added that it would fall apart after a few days.

He held the bag in his palm, smiling, all annoyance at the idea of taxation gone. It seemed to emanate the warmth of its value, bulging with Symbiotes, tingling against his flesh. This was what he'd been missing. When he'd first faced Jian in the final he'd known that if the Lasrgun failed, he would be in a very difficult spot, that without using the Blade his odds of winning were very low. The problem had been that—with his weapons of Earth countered—the Blade became his only truly powerful offensive option.

That was far from ideal. Not only was its use expensive and limited, but revealing it put a very large target on his back.

But now he had a powerful spiritual weapon. With this, his options would be greatly expanded and one of his only significant weaknesses removed. If the M99 and the lasrgun weren't up to the task, he would be able to use the Spectral Claw.

Smiling still, he tucked it into a pocket and opened the door. The sound of all those people filling the hall slapped into him like the sudden shock of falling into a pool of cold water, erasing his smile. He stepped out into it.

Nicolai walked at a slow, steady pace through the chaos his actions had wrought. Every Earthborn he saw cried out to him, grinning wide and laughing wildly. They congratulated him, telling him he'd done good, telling him he'd made them proud, telling him he'd struck a blow for Earth. They called him the Champion.

Meanwhile, Cultivators snarled and screamed at him, eyes bulging and teeth grit tight with anger. They threatened him, telling him he was trash, telling him he was a cheater, telling him they would have vengeance upon him. They called him the Liar.

Interestingly, he didn't see any of the Cultivators talking more shit about Jian. It seemed that due to losing due to Nicolai's cheating, they didn't even blame him for this one. He supposed that was fair enough, though surprisingly clear headed. Perhaps their hatred for Nicolai was simply so strong that it outweighed everything else.

Also of interest was the fact that not a single Earthborn mentioned the cheating. They all just said he made a great play or some such. The Modules were a little confused by this, but Nicolai quickly explained the reasoning—or at least, his opinion of what was happening, one developed over years of observation.

Most people simply frame things in a way that allows them to keep on going as they are, while reassuring themselves they hold the moral high ground. Those from Earth will invent reasons to dismiss my cheating; they'll say there's no cheating in love and war, (a common saying, put in Aiming thoughtfully), or that it wasn't cheating—it was just a clever manipulation of the stake system, and that in fact the duel started when we were making the stake, or whatever other reasons they think up. But, if the reverse had happened, if Jian was the one who'd cheated… then they would all be screaming about it, while the Cultivators would be claiming it wasn't cheating.

The Modules were mystified by this all this, but the Mask understood. Regrettably, humans are not perfect, it said with some misery. But a Better Man would seek to help them become so.

Nicolai carefully avoided acknowledging the extraordinarily lofty goal these words implied, continuing to move through the endless barrage of insults and praise.

To him, the madness around him was all just words. He was, however, somewhat surprised people were so very, very excited, but he supposed it was less due to his actions, in particular, and more the result of all the bottled-up enmity. With combat disallowed, the instant rivalry between these two races of humans had no way of venting… until now, via the Duel Arena.

The Tournament he'd taken part in was the first true clash of their races, and it had been a resounding victory for Earth, a total loss for the Cultivators. Thus, the sky-high and chasm-low spirits. He hoped that after the next two Tournaments, which would ideally have even more ridiculous and emotional events, he would fade from memory. Threat Analysis felt that was extremely unlikely and that his newfound fame wouldn't be fading anytime soon. Alas, the Module was most likely right.

The crowd surged around him, angry and wild like a sea in storm, but he carved a smooth, slow, unstoppable path through it. He was glad for the shell of his skinsuit, which aided him in dissociating from the madness to better think and watch for threats. He didn't turn his head, simply using his Soul Sense, skinsuits cameras, and his drones above. He was looking for those old men, to resume his bargaining with them.

So many people grabbed at him, blocked him, and otherwise attempted to invade his personal space, that some sort of strange red glow began to cover him. The protection field was reacting to all the attempts, and it began to spark angrily whenever someone came to close to him. He was glad for it, as he found that suddenly a space of a few metres built around him.

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As the people fell away like the tide going out, someone remained, standing there like a rock. Someone who stood, staring at him, face twitching as he refused to be driven back by whatever the protection field was doing.

Nicolai stared at Vikrum, surprised to see him, and the field seemed to sense his familiarity as it stopped pushing on Vikrum and the man's companion. The Cyborg's expression did not relax.

He was staring at Nicolai, and now his features were still as flash-frozen water. Beside him stood a woman who made a mocking face at Nicolai, a kind of lazy, not-particularly-committed form of generalised loathing coming across from her.

'Still being a sneaky piece of shit, I see,' said Vikrum at length, and his tone was surprisingly calm. He glared around at the wild crowd, scowled as a laughing Earthborn spun by, shouting, 'The Champion! The Champion!' Vikrum shook his head. 'I prefer what these others are calling you. The Liar. Fitting.'

'Is there something you want?' asked Nicolai. Threat Analysis had just spotted the Hao Primarch some distance away, and he was eager to finish his business and be gone from this noisy place.

Vikrum's false calm abruptly deserted him as he lunged a few steps forward, hatred spasming across his face, Soul Sense twisting up into a furious knot. 'What did you do to Cornwall! He's gone! What did you do?!'

Nicolai gazed at him, realising the man must be talking about his nanny AI. What did you do, exactly? he asked Cyberwarfare, curious.

Self-replicating re-write virus, replied the Module promptly. Also known as, heh, Cyber-Cancer. Very effective. Anything that is a part of the enemy AI is overwritten numerous times by useless code until it's just meaningless ones and zeros. Surgical, too—doesn't hit anything else, which means its especially difficult for the targeted AI to detect it until it's too late. Harder to scan your own operating files.

From the Module's tone and lengthy explanation, Nicolai knew it was quite proud of its work. He also knew that Vikrum's AI was gone, gone… gone. In Vikrum's face and the thrashing of his Soul he saw… what was it?

Grief, said the Mask. He's distraught. Like he lost a close friend.

Nicolai was surprised to hear that, though he supposed he shouldn't be. It was far from uncommon for people to bond very closely with their personal AI's.

He opened his mouth to tell Vikrum this, crafting a sentence full of barbed words that would further destabilise Vikrum's mental state, but the Mask clutched at him.

Why?! He's no threat to us now! Can't you see he's suffering?

He remains an enemy, and now the enemy wants vengeance. They often do, spoke Cyberwarfare in Nicolai's place. In battle, things are lost, but he refuses to recognise that this is only natural. The Module emphasised its words with a sense of rolling eyes, vastly unsympathetic.

Jo and Beth and all the others are still at the castle, and he is likely a powerful figure there. Isn't it better that he is not crazy and full of rage? said the Mask, attempting a new argument.

The other Modules, and Nicolai, were given pause. Mask Module has a point, put in Threat Analysis. The Modules had grown to like the others, or at least some of them. Threat Analysis had been especially fond of Jo and Perro, approving of their cautious natures.

Also, now that we no longer have a reason to conflict, perhaps he could be convinced to move on, added the Module.

Cyberwarfare emanated doubt, but it didn't argue. It had liked Beth and Azure.

'Just going to stand there, you piece of shit? Answer me!' snarled Vikrum, reaching for Nicolai.

Nicolai darted back, and the grasping bionic hands caught at air. They snatched closed with a snapping sound, like the jaws of a vicious animal. Vikrum pulled them back and clutched next at the sides of his head, eyes wild.

The woman with Vikrum grabbed at the Cyborg's arm. 'Careful!' she hissed. 'Remember, you can't attack people here. It just fucks you up instead!'

Vikrum stared at her, uncomprehending.

I just missed an opportunity, realised Nicolai. In the man's current state of mind, it looked like Vikrum might've thoughtlessly grabbed at him with all his strength. If that was enough to damage, then any damage would just have been reflected. Maybe the Cyborg would've broken his own arms.

However, he found that he wasn't particular upset to have missed the opportunity. As the Mask said… Did it really matter anymore? It might actually be better to try and ensure Vikrum was left healthy.

'I'm afraid your AI is gone. There is no way to bring it back.' His instincts were to craft some off-the-cuff lie, lead Vikrum on, seek an advantage. But lazy lies have a deadline and are found out eventually. He'd try the other route, because… Why not? It was the human thing to do. The Better Man thing to do. It'd been a while since he thought of being a Better Man, hadn't it? During his last days in the castle, such thoughts had been difficult to summon, and since leaving he'd had no reason to be a Better Man.

The pair of them stared at him. The woman with her eyes narrowed suspiciously, Vikrum with his face some random confused mishmash that Nicolai couldn't make sense of.

He wasn't sure what to say, but the Mask guided him. It pitied Vikrum, and its words came easily. 'You need to move on. Your AI is gone but you still have your body. You are very capable.' Here Nicolai reasserted control, smiling faintly as he remembered some of their fights. 'You were… a worthy enemy.'

'What is this?' spat Vikrum. 'Another act? You hate me, and I hate you! I destroyed your arm, I crushed it in front of you! You stole the Symbiote of Change from me! You killed Cornwall!'

Nicolai shrugged, and raised his new arm. The forearm and hand wasn't covered by his skinsuit, as there was no need for it to be. He raised the artificial hand, metal and rubber, and considered it, wriggling the fingers thoughtfully. 'Arms are replaceable. It is no bother. In your position, I'd have done the same.' But I'd have won. He lowered the hand, gazing at Vikrum. 'We fought, because at the time we both had reason to fight. In battle, there are always losses. That is how it is.'

The Mask emanated happiness, pleased with his words. It bid him to reach out, and he did so, and he put a hand on Vikrum's shoulder. The man stared at him, so shocked and confused he didn't even try to shake the hand off. 'Look after yourself,' said Nicolai and the Mask seriously, while thinking look after those I left behind. 'There's a big world out there, and many opportunities remain for those who possess the will to push forward.' After a moment's thought he added, 'And those who are able to recognise the value in what is around them. I hope you won't disappoint me by giving up so early.'

Both Vikrum and the woman were gaping at him, utterly flummoxed. He gave the pair a polite nod then turned and left. Look at you, said the Mask, turning enemies into friends. Nicolai grinned. Don't be unrealistic, he told it happily. It was giving off waves of warm emotions, and he and the Modules enjoyed the feeling of them, pressed closer to feel them better.

For some reason the encounter had been greatly pleasing to him, and not just because of the Mask. He supposed it was because he liked to be unpredictable, to make his thoughts and designs inscrutable. Always leave them guessing, put in Threat Analysis approvingly. It was a good way to stay safe. With the Mask, he was less predictable than ever. The fact that Vikrum had expected cold words and threats, but Nicolai had given him a pep-talk, made him oddly happy.

He saw his targets and adjusted his course, and his mental state. For what was coming a cool head and calculation was required. They spotted him and strode over. They all wore scowls of varying intensity. No sign of Jian, he noted. Before any of them could speak, a tiny figure broke from behind the Hao clan Primarch and boiled towards Nicolai.

'You… you truly are scum!' cried the tiny girl.

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