He wore a dark blue robe, one that was of Earth make, of course, but it had a Cultivator-ish look to it. Underneath that robe was a tight fitting body-suit, one which covered his entire body except for his head. He wore it simply to ensure he didn't shed any skin or hair, now that he wasn't wearing his skinsuit.

Over his head and neck, he wore a piece similar to a balaclava which when deactivated, would be white. It rolled over the neck of his bodysuit and thus ensured he was entirely covered. It was a H-gram, a wearable device designed to project wavering hologrammatic lights around his head. The end result was a strange yet striking appearance, as the waves of smoke-like light around his head shifted and weaved. He felt it was a good distraction to stop people trying to puzzle out who he was, and would work well to catch people's eye and interest—useful for his current role, that of a merchant.

Earth had a lot of small techwear like this. People liked to wear all kinds of strange clothing on the streets of major cities, and hologram projectors distributed on every street would add virtual accessories and characters around them, if one could pay for the service.

Even without that, so long as those nearby had the settings turned on, the augmented reality functionality of the lenses on their eyes could add in all kinds of bright and colourful additions. Some people had their own 3d hologram emitters as personal augmentation or wore H-grams like he'd bought, though it didn't seem common amongst the Earthborn in Phantom City.

He supposed that back on Earth, they had more reason to invent fantastical and interesting things. Here, those things already existed.

Naturally, he didn't wear the Angelic Blade as just its wrapped shape was far too recognisable. He would be fine away from it for a short time, and had left it in the cave. He didn't wear his rapier either, even though it was the kind of thing he felt a Cultivator might wear. He'd been seen with it on his hip, so it, and any other weapons he typically carried, had to be stowed. He'd considered wearing the Tier 2 sword Artifact he'd taken from Hao, but quickly dismissed the possibility. It was one of the few links between him and the young master he'd slain, and thus it was best he never be seen with it.

He also purposefully altered his voice, and then worked on the more difficult task of trying to alter the very "feeling" his Soul and Soul Sense gave off. He'd practised this a little earlier, after learning of Soul-recognition from the Cultivator outside the Information Guild, but hoped to further improve.

It required him to focus on his Soul, and work to squeeze it into a different… not shape, exactly, but sort of. A changing of hue, or configuration. It was difficult to describe. Nicolai improved quickly over just a few minutes of standing still and focusing, and was joined by the Modules.

With Simulations—who turned out to be quite good at this kind of thing—aiding him, it didn't require too much concentration. He managed to hold his Soul in a slightly new shape, and keep it there. It was like forcing one's face into a strange expression and holding it like that continually.

Nicolai headed into the Cultivators side of the crowd, found a spot, and set up. He was hopeful that he'd be able to sell and buy all that he needed. He had quite a few Symbiotes to sell so anticipated he should have at least some customers. At the same time, he'd emanate his need for specific food and the final items he needed to prep for whatever the Memory Disc on the Black Gift would want him to do.

To sell, he had one more full set of basic Symbiotes, used for Tier 2. He wouldn't take less than 90,000 for those. Then he had the other Symbiote loot from the Inheritance he wanted rid of. Some of it, like the Black Ink Snake, two Wolf Bugs, Skin Shield, and Brawler, he'd keep, not to mention the Yin-Yang Rotation Symbiote. But all the rest could go.

That included a fairly random assortment of Symbiotes. Assorted crabs. His singular Worm Spitter (none of the Cultivators had gotten one of those). An extra Wolf Bug he didn't need. A couple of wasp things and a slug. For all of those he anticipated making perhaps another 100,000, total, as none of them were very good.

He also wanted to sell the Burst Shield he'd gained from the Inheritance, which simply wasn't as good as the one he'd gotten from Kleos's quest. Burst Shields were fairly valuable, however, and he expected at least 60,000 for it. Finally, the Resonant Cry Cicada should go for about 70,000. Even though it was Tier 2, it just wasn't very popular. Nicolai found that odd because to him it sounded quite good.

From there, the various things he needed to buy would cut into his profits a bit, but he still anticipated coming away with another, say, 260,000.

The first Cultivators began to emerge around him, following his emanations.

A man and a woman, both with odd looking spiritual shadows floating above them—like some suggestion of dark, hovering in the air—stopped in front of Nicolai. The pair frowned. Looked him up and down. Then the woman's eyes widened, and she let out a sudden laugh of disbelief.

'You're a barbarian?' she asked, part amused, part disbelieving.

'So? My wares remain the same.'

She made a face then shrugged, and the pair exchanged a glance.

'We do need it,' put in the man blithely. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. 'If the price is right.'

'I suppose. Well. I want the—'

But before she could say more, another turned up. This was a young man with long dark hair wearing purple robes, who, gazing at Nicolai through narrowed eyes, interrupted.

'I thought so,' he said, his Soul Sense feeling at Nicolai's own. 'I recognised your signature, in the emanations.'

'Signature?' asked Nicolai.

'Your Soul, barbarian!' he snapped.

'Eh? What do you know of this one?' asked the woman.

'He's the barbarian who cheated in the Tournament, against that Jian,' said the purple robed Cultivator.

Nicolai's eyes widened beneath the covering of the H-gram. He and Simulations were currently doing their very best to twist his Soul and Soul Sense into a different shape, to give off a different flavour, as he'd learned one could do to disguise their Soul.

'I was in the crowd and recognise him,' added the Cultivator. He snorted. 'He's trying to disguise his Soul.' He made a face. 'Not a bad effort, considering. I'm almost impressed, barbarian.' He smiled sharply.

'Thank you,' muttered Nicolai, not bothering to disguise his irritation while Simulations sulked, upset that it hadn't managed well enough. The pair who'd first approached were now looking at him with narrowed and wary eyes.

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'A scammer and trickster,' murmured the woman.

'So they say,' put in her companion, with a sigh.

'Best not to try and buy from this one,' said the purple robed Cultivator helpfully, smiling at them.

'You've done us a favour, friend,' said the woman, putting her hands together and giving a short bow to the irritatingly helpful young man.

They were now ignoring Nicolai entirely, and the purple robed Cultivator was speaking of his intentions to warn any others who wanted to buy from Nicolai.

With a disgusted roll of his eyes, Nicolai turned and slipped back into the Earthborn side of things. He'd though his Soul disguising was pretty decent, but apparently his skills weren't quite up to snuff. From his own feelings of the purple robed Cultivator's Soul Sense, he'd sensed zero hints of the other mans thoughts or feeling, and his Soul had felt very… ordered and efficient, he supposed would be the word. Some kind of Soul specialist, perhaps? Someone capable enough to see through his ruse with ease, at any rate, even with Simulations aiding him.

There wasn't long before the city closed and his odds of selling the remaining Symbiotes were looking to be abysmal. If he didn't sell them now, then for some of them he'd have to find food. A further expense he'd rather not pay.

He wandered somewhat aimlessly through the crowd of Earthborn, reflecting that his reputation was harder to shuck than anticipated. He needed to get a proper robe, the right kind of gear, a mask that wasn't obviously from Earth. The H-gram had been a mistake. More important of all, he needed to learn to speak their language fluently, and he and Simulations had to spend some serious time improving at their Soul disguising skills. Simulations was currently analysing the memory of the moment the Cultivator had brushed him with Soul Sense, trying to work out what had given them away.

He found himself thinking of that first Cultivator he'd traded with. At least some of them were willing to trade. Those who hadn't seen the Tournament and managed to avoid hearing any gossip about it, he supposed. It was possible. Just difficult to find someone like that, and more difficult now since he'd have to avoid giving off Soul emanations—if he did, that purple robed Cultivator would just track him down. If only…

Isn't that her? spoke Threat Analysis suddenly, drawing his attention to a drone's point of view, to someone just a few metres away from him within the crowd. The same Cultivator. She was arguing with a nearby Earthborn, a sneering woman who had her bionic arms crossed before her.

'I'm not paying that! I know that's more than twice the value!' snarled the Cultivator.

The Cyborg snorted. 'Know how? Your people don't know shit about guns. Mine do. Maybe you learned the price of a gun like this, but this ain't that gun. This one is worth 100k, and that's a good deal. They're expensive, ask anyone.'

Nicolai eased his way closer until he was within their space. They both looked over, the Cyborg frowning in irritation, the Cultivator with uncertainty.

'Hello again, my friend,' he said to the Cultivator.

'Uh, greetings,' she replied, confused.

'The fuck you want?' snapped the Cyborg. 'I'm conducting business here.'

'I've merely come to mediate,' he told the Cyborg. 'You should know, my friend has quite a bit of experience with Earth tech and prices. There's no way she'll buy that assault rifle for your greatly inflated price.' He glanced at the female Cultivator. 'If you'd like, I can go and find someone else and buy you a rifle from them. They won't try to overcharge.'

She just shrugged, smiling faintly. 'That would be very helpful… friend.'

'Hey, hey! No need for any of that!' said the Cyborg, eyes widening. 'Alright, I'll give it to you for 40,000 tags. That's entirely fair.'

The Cultivator glanced at him.

He shrugged. 'They're only 20,000 at the Trade Link.'

'Ugh. 22,000 then. At least give me something,' spat the Earthborn irritably.

'I accept,' said the Cultivator, smiling, reaching into a pocket for her points-tags.

'I appreciate your help,' the woman said at length, after the Cyborg had left. She slung the rifle over her shoulder. 'But I fail to understand why you gave it.'

'I have been experiencing a most frustrating issue,' he told her, 'one very similar to your own.' He turned his head in a look at those around them, deciding not to tell the entire truth. 'When I attempt to sell some Symbiotes I've gathered, all the Cultivators I encounter refuse to pay a reasonably price.' He looked back to her. 'Perhaps you would be able to help me with that. Especially since you'll be needing ammo for that,' he added, gesturing to her new rifle, 'if you want to use it. I can help you with that, too.'

She frowned, confused. 'Ammo?'

'Try Examining it, I'm sure it will explain.'

The Cultivator did so, and he waited as she read. Once she'd finished, she frowned at him. 'You could have said so earlier, couldn't you? I have to find someone else now.'

'No, you don't. I have some ammo on me. If you're willing to help me out with my problem, I'd be happy to give you some—for free.'

She stared back at him, and from her expressionless face, her silent Soul, he nonetheless sensed consideration. Consideration, and wariness.

'You wish to work together,' she stated.

He nodded, knowing more was coming.

'Normally, I'd be willing,' she began, slowly. 'But how can I safely work with one such as you? A trickster? One who lies to everyone he speaks to?'

'You watched the Tournament,' he murmured, surprised. She'd shown no sign of recognising him.

'I saw your work. You tricked Jian, and immediately after you gave his father face. You said and did whatever would bring you the greatest benefit.'

For a moment he thought she was angry, but her words were merely frank.

'You're worried this is a trick, too?'

'It would be foolish not to consider the possibility.'

He shrugged. 'I did so because he made himself my enemy, and managed it because he was a fool, overconfident. Are you a fool?' He waited, but she didn't reply. Just staring at him. 'We already traded, remember? I didn't scam you then.'

'That was different, simple,' she said dismissively. 'I trusted the trading system, not you. For what you ask, we would have to trust one another.'

Nicolai sighed. It was starting to look like he'd be better off getting back to attempting to bargain with the Cultivators, and just accept he was unlikely to get a good deal. While he was grasping for an argument, the Mask snuck its way into his mouth.

'The simple truth is, I've managed to accumulate quite a few Symbiotes, and now I wish to sell them. I assumed, wrongly, that it would be easier to shuck the reputation I've gained, but it has become clear I have a ways to go if I want to learn to make my Soul and emanations properly unrecognisable. Not only that, but even if my reputation were clean, selling to your people isn't easy. They all seem to feel it would be shameful to fail to get whatever I'm selling for a pittance, as I'm a barbarian. Ultimately, unless I can make this agreement with you, it is unlikely I will be able to sell anything today. Thus I have no interest in scamming or tricking you, because I'm tired and I want to go home. It's much more beneficial for me to work with you honestly, and perhaps even continue this agreement into the future, than to trick you.'

Nicolai considered the words that'd been spoken. They were his own thoughts, but he hadn't been sure if he ought to speak them. Sometimes, you can just tell the truth, the Mask said. That's all. Nicolai wanted to roll his eyes. We'll see, he replied, less sure.

But as he took in the woman across from him, the Mask started to emanate smugness. Her closed face, locked up by what he now realised had been intense wariness, softened. 'I actually think you're telling the truth,' she muttered, and let out a surprised snort, shaking her head.

'Occasionally I see reason to do so,' he replied, feeling that he'd passed some kind of test. You mean I passed a test, spoke the Mask, happy. Nicolai smiled, unable to deny it.

'Alright.' Her voice was more relaxed now, but still businesslike. 'I have the same trouble as you, and I want to buy more than just this rifle. I'm interested in all the things you people can do. Your magic, your weapons. I want to know how it works. If you share the information with me, I'll pay.'

'Why not simply go to the Information Guild? By now they have plenty.'

'Plenty, but they're still gathering. And I'd rather hear it from a native, rather than asking for summaries of what they've learned.'

Nicolai gave an easy shrug. 'Works for me.'

'Are you interested in what I have to share?' she asked next. 'We could do information for information.'

'I have some questions.' He'd learned a fair amount at the Information Guild, but had much more he'd like to know—and as she said, he would learn in a more complete fashion by speaking to a local.

It was nice to talk with someone so businesslike and focused, someone who—outwardly, at least—cared as little for the rivalry between their people as he did.

The Mask and the Modules liked her. Nicolai didn't trust her. But of course, he didn't trust anyone.

They found a quiet nook on the side of the square, a stone bench sitting in a cubby in a wall. There they set to business: the business of mutual gain.

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