Percival took another sip of the expensive whiskey. He still didn't like the stuff. Maybe that would change eventually. Probably not. Still, the alcohol was a boon to his energy reserves and he didn't have to pay for it. In spite of all the benefits to be had working in service to the Lord Platinum, receiving anything for free was rare in the extreme.

He'd reached level eight just two months past, using a gold plasma elixir to push himself over the edge of advancement. The fully stocked bar of this estate had been most useful in helping him restore his reserves. It wasn't as rapid as imbibing uncut spirits, but it also was far less poisonous. Percival considered that a good trade-off.

He glanced out the bay window at the overgrown lawn, a frown forming on his face. They probably should have kept some of the servants. That mistake was on him. He'd assumed their pursuit would be over quickly, allowing them to sell the small estate before it could go to seed. Instead, they'd lost the target and now he was waiting here in the hopes that she would return. As much as he wanted his guard duty to end, Percival was certain he didn't want to see such a thing happen while he was here alone.

Zara may be a porter, but she was also a Lord. Percival had no doubt she could end his life with disturbing quickness if she managed to get her domain on him. The advice he'd been given before the Lord Platinum left was to flee upon Zara's return. The goal was to bring back Platinum and her strongest soldiers in time to detain the rogue Lord.

Platinum wanted to know the location of Zara's layer of the Mother. A thorough search proved it definitely was not on her estate. Interrogations of the help proved they were ignorant of the entire affair. Who could predict where the world's most preeminent porter stored her most valuable belongings?

Percival frowned and corrected his own thoughts. Lord Zara was not, in fact, the most preeminent porter. That honor belonged to the frightful creature who was her father. The Lord General arrived at the estate a few weeks prior. Percival only briefly thought of escape before deciding to abase himself instead. The chances of him losing the Lord General with his own transit sphere were worse than a fish attempting to leap a mountain.

Thrakkar Shaocheth paced around asking questions, occasionally tapping on Percival's head when answers were too long coming. Who did he represent? Why did Platinum attack Zara? With more bravery than he'd realized he possessed, Percival kept the secret of the Mother by stubbornly claiming that there was a dispute of some sort between Platinum and Zara.

The Lord General finally relented and left with a single command. "Should your master succeed in bringing down Zara, have her core brought to me. If I ever suspect she has been made into an elixir, I will bring my army."

So matter-of-fact had that delivery been. It sent chills through his body just thinking about it. The Emperor of Zing had a larger army than the Lord General, but that was it. Not many others could even claim to be on the same level. And no one could field their forces so fast. The Lord Annihilator was said to be cautious of only two individuals in all of Amarat: one was the Lord Windblade and the other was the Lord General. Percival understood that caution after having been face to face with Thrakkar Shaocheth. After a single encounter, he understood quite well that the man was not quite sane. Those who gained insights were said to be an adventurous sort, but the fervent glee the man radiated when he envisaged enacting vengeance….

Somehow, he survived that encounter. Now he just had to wait out the conclusion to this chapter of his life. Either Zara would be caught or Platinum would grow weary of the hunt. Percival just hoped Zara would not be caught coming back to her estate. He wanted no part of a Lord's capture. His aspirations in life did not include ever fighting a Lord – nor even fleeing from one.

In his wildest dreams, Percival didn't dare wish for more than level nine. That was the true pinnacle of existence. Above that and you had to contend with your peers. The Lord Platinum played politics and ingratiated herself with key players to keep herself safe. It was an existence that Percival wouldn't have known to be precarious if he didn't witness so many of her maneuvers himself. She was always one misstep from disaster.

That was what she experienced as an established Lord of Amarat. The newcomers had it so much worse. They were tested by the other Lords, forced to prove their worth by surviving. It was a 'survival of the worthy' mentality that made Percival question why anyone would want to become a Lord. Their reward for surviving their Tribulation was to be challenged by those one step below gods.

Nope. No thank you. Percival would get to level nine, raise his body enhancement to the peak to entirely escape the curse of aging, and then focus on starting a family. He didn't need anything more than that. Excessive ambition was the crown of fools, as they said.

As Percival raised the tumbler of whiskey to his lips, he paused. There was a flash of light from the direction of the lawn. He immediately began to practice a veiling technique to hide his presence and moved to a corner of the window. Percival's externality rose slowly into reality behind him, just a tad slower than the transit sphere of the visitor in the yard.

That other sphere opened from another side than the one facing him. He saw only feet at first. The single pair of boots did not look particularly feminine. Percival delayed inverting his own sphere, not sure he needed to be escaping. From what he sensed, the visitor was no more than a level seven soul. Unless this individual had an advanced veiling technique to diminish his apparent level, he was no threat to Percival.

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The man's sphere vanished and Percival's lips twitched. He recognized this visitor. The Lord Platinum felt warmly towards Hector for providing her a layer of the Mother. Percival, however, still remembered the horrible day that they'd lost two contestants in the middle of the tournament. Two angry Lords demanded recompense, eyeing him as if his flesh and core would be an acceptable replacement for those they lost.

There were weeks of interrogations and accusations from the Lord Platinum before it blew over. Percival didn't feel safe until half a year passed. He still panicked at tournaments whenever he didn't have eyes on every contestant, convinced someone had escaped again.

All the blame could be laid squarely at the feet of one man: Hector Thoreaux.

And that man had just delivered himself to Percival. Maybe the Lord Platinum would give him a share of the elixir. Or maybe not. She seemed to believe Hector would grow into someone worth knowing. Though Percival would never contradict the words of a Lord, he didn't see it. After today, no one else would either.

Outside, Hector turned in a slow circle to study the poor condition of the estate. A single month of neglect left a noticeable mark. Weeds were everywhere, crowding out desirable plants and encroaching upon stonework. His unwitting opponent grew tense, making himself smaller in anticipation of trouble. It would do him no good. As impressive as it might be that Hector advanced to level seven so quickly, the man was still a full level below him. And Percival had been born a Xian. He wasn't some fake relying on stolen memories.

Percival stalked towards the main entryway as Hector did the same from outside. He could sense his opponent's obvious presence. His own halo of cosmic energy was hidden by the spiral veiling technique. He could not wait to drop it. Percival anticipated the look of shock on Hector's face when confronted by a more powerful adversary.

Would Hector try to put up a fight? Percival hoped he did. That would make his domination of the weaker man so much more exquisite. And who knew… maybe he wouldn't turn the body over to the Lord Platinum. Maybe he'd swallow the core and stew the meat. That worked for the ancients.

As his prey came close to the door, Percival dropped his veil and burst through the entrance.

His victorious smile was still on his face when a fast-moving cable clipped his temple and sent him tumbling to the ground. A second cable yanked free the arm propping him up, sending him onto his back. A third cable seized an ankle and lifted it high enough that he wasn't able to get back to his feet. A fourth whipped forward hard enough that a portion of Percival's scalp peeled free.

Blood was flowing fast, pouring from temple and scalp and wrist.

Percival caught sight of Hector's features. There was the wariness of a combat veteran. "Master Percival. I see you've advanced as well. In other circumstances, I would offer congratulations." The man's brow drew down. "Where is Lord Zara?"

"She fled." As he spoke, Percival prepared a cable for his counter. The loop around Percival's ankle slithered tighter, shifting the alignment of bones. Percival screamed and his own cable fell apart. Reality was rapidly catching up to his ego. Somehow, Hector became a true warrior since the last time he watched the man fight. This was no weak dreamer he faced.

"Is your master trying to take the Mother from Zara? Is this because you saw me in her party at the auction?" Hector's features twisted into a grotesque scowl.

Percival's heart began to thunder in his chest. He'd already abandoned the idea of beating Hector to death and started to plan his escape. Now, however, he worried escape might be a challenge. Which was ridiculous. No matter how strong Hector was, Percival had a whole level on him. He was flush with energy from all the cultivation he'd done in the past month.

He just needed to flare his aura….

The cable holding his ankle above his head level didn't slip an iota when his aura flared to full intensity. Percival fought the urge to wail in despair. How was this happening? He'd not been the most conscientious with his training, it was true, but he wasn't one to neglect it altogether. By his own estimation, Percival was average among cultivators of his level. He wasn't some weakling.

This… this shouldn't be happening.

Ever pragmatic, Percival shifted his expectations. It was happening. He needed to bargain. "I'm in the service of a Lord, Hector. You can't kill me."

"I think I can," Hector shot back. The cold inflection sent a stab of panic deep into Percival.

"No! Think, Hector! I can pay you a ransom for my life! I work for the Lord Platinum. Think of the elixirs I have access to! Think about it!"

The man's brow drew down. "I'm thinking about how many people that tournament killed."

"Hector! No! Please!"

"Tell me the truth. Does Zara still live?"

"Yes! She fled, I swear it. I'm watching the estate in case she comes back."

Hector nodded. "Good. Then I'll make this quick."

Percival opened his mouth to beg again and a cable rammed inside. It slithered back his throat and up partway into his sinus cavity. As he quivered in terror, Percival pushed energy through his body aperture, strengthening his flesh. He'd reached the peak of seven in his body before advancing. He would not be easy to kill, not even with Hector's insanely strong domain.

Yet as his senses wandered over the smooth cable penetrating his sinus, Percival witnessed something utterly disheartening. The cable was incredibly well constructed, following a pattern that seemed too elaborate to be practical – though obviously that didn't hold this beast of a man back. It was incredibly smooth, leading the cosmic energy composing it in smooth loops that barely leaked. The tip, so close to his brain matter, began to bend itself, forming a kink with a jagged edge.

Had his opponent proved any less capable, Percival would assume the edge was a mistake. As the cable distorted ever further, he understood the intention behind the move was far more clever – and brutal. Hector was going to create a sharp angle in an overcharged cable and explode Percival's head. Faced with the end, having no further refuge for his ego, Percival had to admit the truth even if just to himself. The technique that would kill him was really quite impressive.

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