Captain Alran rose from his seat, his eyes still locked on Sam. Behind him, his son tried, and failed to hide the look of bitter hate on his face. At this, Sam couldn't help but say something.

"You lost a finger. I've lost half of my entire body." He narrowed his eyes. "You're an E Ranker. Deal with it already."

The captain's son flinched a bit, and Sam shook his head in disgust. Alran himself choked back a reply, and instead headed out the door. Sam followed, tailed by Amari. Androk remained, for obvious reasons.

On his way here, Sam had mapped out the guard barracks with his E Rank mind. He had a few escape routes plotted, but luckily, none of them were needed. Both because of his own strength, and because of the lack of violent hostility.

The corridors were spartan, as were many buildings in the city. On the outside, they were grand enough, but because of the sheer size of the Worldsea, and the relatively low level of advancement among those that made it home, there wasn't enough high rank material to go around. Decorations were an unnecessary luxury in a world where cultivators could go without sleep, food or drink. Past F Rank, a cultivator needed nothing to survive beyond the continuity of their own existence.

It took a scant thirty seconds to leave the barracks, which was sized more for the F Rankers that made up the bulk of the officers there. To Sam and his companions, it was far too small to be anything more than an elaborate hedge maze of sorts.

Passing by the same rows of weapons, sandy arenas and jail cells, Sam grew bored as his E Rank perception stretched the moments out to infinity. Most of the time, he was more than able to restrict the influence that the passage of time had on him, but here, boredom ruled supreme. Thirty seconds to an E Ranker was like thirty minutes to a mortal, if not more. He could have razed the city to the ground, towers crumbling before his hammer like castles in the sand. He could have sped across the heavens like a demigod. Time was the key to cultivation, and the further a cultivator reached towards the skies, the more they had.

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Those skies came into view mere moments later as Sam walked out into the daylight. The city stretched up and down before him, glinting in the sun. Sam smiled at Alnar. "Keep up if you can, will you?"

Then he leaped upwards, three thresholds of Strength turning him into a living missile. Alnar cursed, and followed as best he could. Wings of darkness exploded out of the back of his uniform, and with a series of fluttering snaps of the ephemeral pinions, he ascended behind Sam. The best way for a cultivator, at least one who enjoyed battle, to work off some steam was with a competition with another. In this case, one of speed.

Amari was left far behind, looking up at them with a peeved expression. She gave up a moment later, heading back into the barracks. It wasn't like she would be needed for what was to come next.

Meanwhile, Sam and Alnar raced through the airspace above the capital. Sam kicked off the dense E Rank air itself, supplementing his strength with a dose of Dao energy here and there. Platforms were forged from nothingness beneath his feet, tinkling as they snapped apart beneath his thunderous stride. Alnar, to Sam's surprise, was beginning to catch up. Though, he was using something of a movement skill, while Sam was simply flexing his stats.

In this manner, miles flashed by in the blink of a mortal's eye, and the city started to grow narrower. The buildings became more lavish, with elaborately designed windows and personal weapon banks, tailored with what Sam assumed were family crests. The nearest one showed a roaring drake, standing over a corpse, its maw bared to the world. Flames spilled from between its jaws, and a cruel glint shone from its eye. More were close by, but Sam didn't really care too much. Instead, he kept his eyes on the palace at the top of the multilayered city, where Elvras kept his court.

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