Death Cultivator 2 by eden Hudson (books to read in your 20s .TXT) 📗

A little kid spinning around to face a ravenous starburst-jawed dog and a half-naked guy grinning at a charging horde of barbarians flashed through my mind.

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping a drop of blood off the toe of my work boot. “I guess that was just what seemed right at that second.”

“That’s what you been missing, grav,” Warcry said. “The warrior spirit—living or dying in the moment and not worrying what else might happen.”

I grunted, hoping he would take that as whatever sort of response he was looking for, and squeezed Hungry Ghost in my fist.

As soon as the grinning skull stone could talk again, I needed answers.

Resonant Cultivation

AFTER WARCRY’S FIGHT—WHICH he won in basically no time—I was falling asleep standing, so I headed upstairs and tried to go into my room on the third level. Turned out all my stuff had been moved down to Level 4 because I’d won.

The new room was a little nicer. It still wasn’t much more than a closet, but this time I had a mattress and a couple of cubby holes built into the wall.

“Grady!” Sushi swam out of one and did an excited spin around my head. Maybe she’d been hiding in there since whoever had moved my stuff left. “Grady! Grady!”

I laughed and gave her some scratches. “Nobody but Gramps calls me that, weirdo.”

“Weirdo,” the little fish echoed.

“Need to do laundry,” I mumbled, throwing my sweaty, bloody clothes on the floor. I flopped onto the mattress with a thud. Laundry could wait.

A few seconds later, Sushi started tugging at the covers underneath me with her mouth.

“Ugh, fine.” It felt like it took a monumental effort to roll over and hold the corner of the blanket up.

The little fish swam in and wiggled around until she was comfortable, then sighed, “Fine.”

I let my arm plop back down, ready to pass out.

Behind my eyelids, purple lights shimmered. I could smell freezer burritos and hear the microwave running, and for half a second, I relaxed. I was back home and everything was fine. Then I felt glass crumble in my fist, the Ylef’s life point going out.

I groaned and stuffed my pillow over my head. Ten seconds later, I jolted awake again because I’d felt the Ylef fall on top of me and that triangle blade snap my rib.

With a frustrated grunt, I flopped onto my back, slapping the pillow off, and stared up at the darkness. What Kest had said about broken parts ran through my head. Maybe there was something messed up in me that needed fixing. My brain and my body were exhausted, but I couldn’t get them to shut off.

I checked my HUD. A little over a hundred and thirty credits in my USL account. I could buy a bottle of that Deep Night or Blackout Curtain or whatever it was that Warcry’d bought the other day.

Except I didn’t feel like dragging myself downstairs to the distillery.

What if I used Last Light, Last Breath to shut everything down? Would I be able to fall asleep or would these freak-outs somehow break through the oblivion?

I turned over, propping myself up on my elbow, and grabbed my jeans off the floor. The movement woke Sushi up.

“Grady,” she said like she was fed up with me. She blew a raspberry, then swam over to my sweaty, bloody shirt and fell asleep on it.

I pulled my jeans over and dug Hungry Ghost out of the pocket.

Can you talk yet? I asked the grinning skull stone.

Hungry Ghost has regained enough Miasma for short speech. He sounded a little stronger than before, but not much.

What happened? Where’d all your Miasma go?

Hungry Ghost cloaked Death cultivator’s Spirit. Without a body, this costs Hungry Ghost much.

Why can’t I remember the fight?

There was a flash of hesitation, like he didn’t want to answer me.

Two consciousnesses cannot fully inhabit the same being simultaneously, he finally said.

Alarm bells started ringing in my brain. You took over my body?

Anger flared up from the grinning skull stone. Death cultivator asked Hungry Ghost for help!

I didn’t ask you to steal my body!

Death cultivator could not perform the Spirit cloak. Rather than allow Death cultivator to be crushed, Hungry Ghost answered Death cultivator’s summons with the most expedient interpretation available.

I sighed. Well, in the future, no taking over my body and kicking me out.

Hungry Ghost would never do so without Death cultivator’s permission.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe that. You did today.

Hungry Ghost returned Death cultivator’s body, it said. Hungry Ghost did not have to do so.

My blood froze to slush. I squeezed the turquoise stone harder.

What the crap does that mean?

Hungry Ghost sent me a flash of a phone’s low-battery icon, then nothing.

“Yeah, that’s not going to cut it, man,” I said, climbing out of bed and throwing my clothes back on.

“Man!” Sushi yelled at me when I pulled my shirt out from under her.

“I’m not going shirtless to kill a bunch of ferals and recharge that dick skull stone,” I told her, pulling it on over my head. “You can have the bed. Or you can come up and eat mosquitos outside.”

The fish glared at the bed, then at me. Finally, she huffed and swam over to the door.

“Outside,” she muttered.

Aboveground, the clouds were a flat, dingy gray. It was right around when I always thought of as noon and everybody else called day sun high.

It felt like I hadn’t slept in forever, but after the first couple rounds of feral life points, I had enough Spirit to keep me moving. The rain came and went, Sushi swam around chasing down bugs, and I killed ferals and practiced cloaking my Spirit. No way was I relying on Hungry Ghost for that again. I didn’t cultivate from the bog ferals’ corpses as I went because I didn’t want the grinning skull stone to have any excuses not to answer me. I just looted them and made sure Hungry Ghost was sucking down the fresh Miasma.

The