Hector put away the donated resources with steely determination. Swallow a piece of fat the size of a knuckle. Wash it down with a sip of burning liquid. Grimace and blink the tears from his eyes while he visualized harsh smoke pouring out of his mouth and nostrils. How did Volithur drink so much of this crap? It was pure poison.

Effective, though. His energy levels rose and fell, a victim of the tug-of-war between the metabolism of volatile compounds providing a boost and beef fat draining it away. He finished off the resources and then lay down carefully to ensure his body wouldn't regurgitate any of the wealth he'd been fed.

Sirius locked the door to the room when he left. Hector was a prisoner. Not the greatest portent, but Hector reminded himself that he had the means to escape Tian. He just had to make sure no one learned of his ability to form a transit sphere. Which meant he needed to be more conscientious about playing dumb. He wasn't a dreamer who knew the secrets of the Xian home world. Of course not. He was a dumb outsider who cobbled together bits and pieces taught to him by others.

What would that look like? He obviously needed to conceal his knowledge of some things. That was just hiding evidence, though. He should actively mislead. In his drunken state, he felt inordinately pleased with the misdirection he'd used with Sirius, asking if a single true elixir would advance him to the next level. That was the kind of ignorance he needed to put on display.

People were mentally lazy, Hector knew. They used a first impression to permanently classify someone. He'd taken great pains to avoid that as a manager. If one of his problem employees shaped up, Hector always tried to notice. He didn't have a perfect record, of course. He wasn't immune to human foibles to any extent whatsoever. He just had a good mentor who hammered the lesson home that he should notice who his employees were over time and not just on a single day.

So he'd make sure he looked quite foolish in the eyes of the true Xian on the first couple of days. Then he'd fade into the background, benefit from the glut of resources, and vanish when he had everything he desired from them.

It was an open question… how many resources could he swindle from this experience? What should his expectations even be? There was no way to decide that before seeing how generous they were. He'd have to play it by ear.

In the morning Hector felt sick enough from the hangover that he refused a breakfast of fruit. It was local produce, anyway. He'd become a snob overnight and now considered any food item sourced outside of Tian as garbage.

Sitting there, he checked his statistics from the System.

Survey Results

Type: Xian

Level: 5

Body: 4.1

Mind: 4.1

Aura: 3

Domain: 2.9

Energy Reserves: 11%

There was no noticeable increase in his body despite consuming the elixir. Hector wondered at that. How accurate were these surveys that the System conducted? They couldn't be perfect. What was the methodology? Did it check overall luminosity of his body aperture? That wouldn't do a very good job of estimating if he had some body parts that were wholly enhanced while others were significantly less so.

Suspecting that the numbers he obsessed so much over were anything less than completely trustworthy dropped the floor out from under him almost as much as the time Jen moved out of the house following one of their arguments. He'd trusted in something wholly and been betrayed.

A few hours into the day, the anticipated visitors appeared. There were two men, one of whom sorely tested Hector's resolution to appear ignorant. He knew the agent sent on behalf of Lord Andrew. It was Master Dorian, son of Master Aramar, former tormentor of Volithur.

What the fuck?

Hector covered his shock by bowing to Dorian and his porter one at a time – a violation of etiquette to include the servant like that – using a stage bow with one arm held across his waist and the other flared out to the side. When he straightened, he saw the distaste plain upon Dorian's face. It wasn't a hostile expression of the type he'd always directed towards Volithur. It more resembled how someone would look if a baby crawled around the room spreading filth from an overfull diaper.

He was going to get a lot of mileage from bowing the wrong way, Hector decided.

Dorian covered up his emotions and studied Hector a few moments. "He'll do. Lord Andrew will send your reward once the tournament concludes, Sirius."

Master Sirius bowed a fraction deeper than necessary for a man only one level above him. That indicated the two of them were part of the same hierarchy. Interesting. Hector assumed Sirius to be his own man, but he must serve this Lord Andrew as well.

The real question: why was Dorian, a descendant of the Lord General, serving under some other lord? Hector couldn't see any way to search for an answer without drawing suspicion towards himself. Ultimately, why didn't matter. He had a specific goal for his time on Tian that had nothing to do with playing detective or plotting vengeance for Volithur. If his dreams taught him anything, it was that vengeance was a fool's errand. The old adage about someone setting out for revenge digging two graves came to mind.

The porter created a transit sphere. Hector played up fascination with it until Dorian pushed him inside. Then, perhaps getting too much into his role of an incompetent, Hector intentionally struggled to find his footing inside. There was a particular skill to balancing on a curved floor so that you didn't smash into the people around you. Hector couldn't be expected to have that skill.

Quite quickly, Dorian made Hector take the center of the transit sphere. Technically that would be seen as giving up the position of most prestige, but Dorian gave every indication that he valued not being touched more highly.

"Master Dorian, how long does it take to go to another world?"

The porter answered after a moment of silence suggested Dorian would not. "It is a rapid process. Please bear the ride in silence."

They appeared before a dirt road in the countryside. Hector felt the buzz of cosmic energy from every direction. Even breathing let him feel the tingle of energy inside his lungs. "This is wonderful! All the rumors about Tian are true. I can't wait to cultivate here!"

Dorian rubbed his forehead. "Hector, you are being quite tiresome. Here on Tian, you must realize that those of lower level defer to those above them. I am level seven. You are level five. When the two of us interact, I should be the one speaking. Your questions can be reserved for those times that I explicitly solicit them."

"Sorry, Master Dorian."

Hector was congratulating himself on job well done when he saw what was behind him. There was a massive palace and an arena ringed with stands. Behind the palace, though, was something that struck dread into his heart. A dreary tower stained black with pitch. He almost began to hyperventilate upon catching sight of that building.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

What was he doing here of all places? Why would a tournament be held by her of all people?

Hector fought for control over his body. He couldn't be seen to tremble in fear. He wasn't supposed to recognize this place. Certainly he shouldn't know what happened here. Nor how the Lord Platinum earned her vast wealth. Why was the tournament being held here?

Feeling like a sheep led to the slaughter, Hector followed Dorian to a wing of the palace at the rear, where the suppression field of the Lord Platinum hung heavy. They checked in with the guards at the entrance, who wrote down Hector's name and appearance. He was made to change out of his clothes and into a dark uniform.

They showed him to a barracks where the competitors would be held and the guards read him a series of rules. Basically, they were forbidden to injure their opponents outside of the actual fights. He also could not leave the barracks except when escorted by guards. Hector forced a smile and gave them his stage bow, causing the guards to chuckle at his ignorance.

When the guards left, the other fighters present began to come forward. Hector sighed, knowing he had to save his mental breakdown for later. And it would be coming. The moment he'd felt the familiar heaviness to the atmosphere, flashbacks to Volithur's torment in the black tower had begun. The suppression field of Lord Platinum was in effect, preventing any use of domain, aura, or externality. He could not escape at present.

A red-headed man with a pock-marked face sneered at Hector. "Fresh meat. Looks old. Must not have much talent. Is this your last chance, Oldie? I'm real sorry I won't let you have it."

Hector looked the man up and down and then raised a single brow to signify he wasn't impressed. The guy was level five like him, but looked soft. Everyone in the barracks was level five, actually. Hector thought that made sense. Anyone at six would have too much advantage in the tournament. Anyone at four would stand little chance.

"Are you stupid or something? I'm talking to you."

"You haven't said anything worth responding to yet," Hector shot back.

"Oldie, you ain't shit around here."

Another of the men, a heavyset black fellow, studied Hector seriously. "He's doing something with his bones. Some kind of lord enhancement technique, I bet."

"You remember being a lord, Oldie?" The red-head smirked as he asked the question.

"Not yet. Give me a century."

The red-head sneered. "Y'all hear that? Oldie is gonna be a lord in a century."

The black man frowned. "Shut it already, Evan."

The read-head rolled his shoulders. "Don't tell me what to do, Sam."

"Or what?"

"Or you'll be sorry."

Sam nodded to Hector. "We're already sorry we got to put up with Evan."

"My thoughts exactly," Hector said.

They did a quick round of introductions of everyone standing in that circle where Hector formally met Sam, Evan, a fierce woman named Jasmine, and a quiet fellow named Walt. Then came the assessing of opponents and weighing of alliances. Hector had watched a couple of seasons of Survivor with his wife, so he had a fairly clear understanding of the dynamic at play.

He no longer had the ability to escape this place at will, so involving himself in the gladiator intrigues might become a necessity. What he knew at the moment was that he couldn't create a transit sphere inside the barracks and he wasn't allowed to leave without an escort. Probably this wasn't done to prevent a porter from acting. The Lord Platinum obviously wouldn't want the fighters killing each other, so she took away all their weapons except their physical bodies. It definitely wasn't aimed specifically at rogue porters.

"So," Jasmine said, "what is your story? Legacy? Dreamer? Rogue?"

Hector found himself struggling to ignore the fact that this woman shared a name with the dog that used to slobber all over his face to wake him up in the mornings. He concentrated on the fact that he didn't understand the question. "Uh… what do those things mean?"

Laughter came at his expense and Sam explained. "Legacy is someone born of a Xian somewhere other than on Tian. They receive training from their parents as an inheritance but lack resources. Dreamer is someone who received the memories of a Xian. Rogue is someone who has no actual connection to Tian but received training."

"I guess I'm a rogue, then."

Evan sneered at him. "Pathetic. Do you even have an externality?"

Hector scowled his best. "What does that matter?"

"By Tian itself," Evan exclaimed, "this guy is hopeless. I'm a legacy. My grandfather served under the Lord Annihilator."

"Also a legacy," Sam said.

Jasmine drew herself up. "I dreamed the life of a level six warrior. Walt here doesn't talk much. We think he is trying to keep his background a secret as some kind of advantage."

Sam shrugged. "I doubt it works out that way. Some think otherwise."

Jasmine added onto that. "The eunuch keeps quiet, too."

"Neither of them got any balls," Evan exclaimed with fake laughter.

Walt crossed his arms in silent disapproval.

"I don't mean this the wrong way, Hector," Sam began, "but I think we are all curious about the signs of age on you. How did that happen?"

Hector shrugged. "I couldn't afford resources."

"None of us had resources, dummy," Evan said. "You just have to work harder."

"Well, I didn't have a mentor guiding my steps. I had to seek out the knowledge."

Jasmine gazed at him with suspicion. "How exactly does that work? Do you have an entire community of rogue Xian out there somewhere?"

"I'm from Union Central."

The other fighters had blank expressions at his announcement. Finally, Sam cleared his throat. "People don't know the names of random unempowered worlds, Hector."

"It's the world with the dungeons."

Evan's superior smirk froze on his face, becoming forced. "That's the Coalition headquarters?"

"You better believe it," Hector said. "They are heavy on the Coalition propaganda. 'Fight for humanity' and all that. Can't get away from it."

Sam turned to Jasmine. "You ever heard of this, Jazz?"

"How would I know? Wasn't no Coalition between Jinn and Arahant in my memories. That's a new thing."

"Not just them," Hector corrected. "The Lord General fights with the Coalition Army, too."

Jasmine's eyes widened slightly. She cleared her throat. "Well, whatever. I guess your age isn't such a big mystery after all. It just took you forever to get some decent body enhancement."

Evan and Jasmine left, and Walt trailed behind without ever having spoken a word. Only Sam remained and he shared a smile with Hector. "Yeah, it's a battle of personalities at all times in here. You'll get used to it. Just don't fight. The guards will rough you up pretty good and they are not weak.

"Anyway, two more days till we get started. They feed us food from Tian, of course, but the rule is no real resources until the training cycle begins. We get six weeks before our warm-up fights. It's round robin format, everyone fights everyone once. We're going to be suppressed so it's just brawling. Winners get elixirs. Losers get nothing.

"There's another six week training break after that, then we fight in the real tournament. Single elimination format and all abilities are allowed. Winners get the good elixirs. Losers are out of the tournament. Our food throughout will be better than a fake elixir on an unempowered world and we get a daily portion of uncut spirits, lime water, powder pills, and green juice.

"Basically, even if you lose, you win. But if you actually win… you get rewarded big time."

Hector nodded as he took in all the information. "How did you learn all of this?"

"The talent manager answers our questions. That's the level seven guy who stops by every evening to check on us. He seems a good sort. Anyway, nice meeting you Hector. I hope you win all your matches against people who aren't me."

"Ha. Same to you, Sam."

When he was alone, Hector claimed an empty bunk and stared at the ceiling. Time to figure out what the hell he could do to get himself out of this situation.

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