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

“Makes sense the Bailiff’s got one, then.”

Over the next week, I kept putting my name in at Scheduling and getting new fights. Weirdly enough, I kept winning, too. After she landed on Shinotochi-Ryu, Kest checked in every day to hear how I’d done. It was a safe subject to talk about, because it didn’t have anything to do with her spying on the Technols around her. And since Warcry had started recording all my fights—which he then used to give me in-depth breakdowns of every little thing I’d done wrong—I was able to send Kest a pretty accurate blow-by-blow whenever she asked.

I posted four more wins and made it down to a room with its own bathroom on Level 8 before Biggerstaff showed up again.

The recruiter caught me outside the Smoking Dragon, on the way to pick up a post-fight healing elixir and see if they had anything that could keep my messed-up side numb. I kept putting off going to the healer because I didn’t want to deal with any questions they might ask about how I got the injury in the first place, but the bruise was only getting darker and wider, not fading like bruises were supposed to.

“You’ve been putting on an impressive run, Mr. Hake,” Biggerstaff said. “I knew you could cloak your Spirit with the right motivation. Needless to say, your debt for the life-saving elixir I bought you is erased.”

“Oh, right.” I’d almost forgotten about that seven hundred credits he’d been holding over my head. So I was getting away free and clear, no consequences at all for killing that Ylef, and nobody even cared that he was dead. Great. That made me feel about as awesome as a burning pile of trash with explosive diarrhea.

Biggerstaff looked like he was waiting for me to say something else, so I added, “Thanks.”

His whiskers twitched. “Doing so well that you’re probably wondering why you’re not cleared for Prison League Fighting like your friend Mr. Thompson. I just wanted to drop in and give you an explanation of my reasoning.”

“You don’t want anybody knowing what I can do,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a brain-buster.

The catfish pointed at me like Bingo. “A knife’s more effective if nobody else in the fight knows you have it. The rate at which you learn and adapt is spectacular. You’re going to be a bigger asset than anyone would have guessed back during the Wilderness Territorial, which means you’ll get more or less anything you ask for. Unlike your previous small-time gang, the Eight-Legged Dragons know how to treat an asset.”

“Like Kest.” Thinking about her made me want to check my HUD in some kind of Pavlovian response, but I kept my eyes on the recruiter.

“And her twin,” Biggerstaff said. “You haven’t seen our Selken guest lately, have you? I’d love a word with him.”

“I thought you guys had this place bugged tight. Rali’s in seclusion. He hasn’t come out of his room in like a week now.”

Biggerstaff’s gills worked, and he smiled.

“According to my bugs, he’s gone aboveground the last three evenings running. Since you’ve been spending your nights outside fighting bog ferals, I assumed you had seen him.”

I tried not to look surprised. People didn’t chat you up about what they were doing and where they were going when they dropped you.

“Maybe you were just too focused on feral killing,” Biggerstaff said. “It’s a damned good thing they take care of each other’s corpses or the rotting meat would be piled to the roof out there.”

I shrugged, not really sure what to say to that. Seemed like I could never sleep anymore, so it just made sense to go train. Even if I hadn’t been looting the ferals, the extra practice had been good for my cloaking. I was getting to where I could get into the right headspace for Last Light, Last Breath in no time. All I had to do was think for a second about everything in my life piling up around me like those bodies Biggerstaff had mentioned.

“Well, if you see Mr. Iye Skal, let me know,” Biggerstaff said, turning to go. “I’d like to lay out my offer for joining the Dragons, if he’ll hear it.”

That made me laugh. “Rali’ll hear it, but he won’t take it.”

“You don’t think so?” Biggerstaff’s catfish whiskers twitched. “Why not?”

Down the hall, I caught sight of Warcry leaving the Interplanetary Mail. He nodded when he saw me and headed over.

“Rali won’t be interested in anything you can offer him,” I said. “He’s too good for money, and he doesn’t give a crap about possessions or fame. He doesn’t want anything.”

Biggerstaff’s eyes narrowed. “Everybody wants something.”

“Nah, not the big man,” Warcry said, stopping beside me and crossing his arms. “He ain’t interested in the Dragons. He’s looking for the Beggar Clan.”

I frowned over at Warcry. I wanted to ask him how he knew that, but not in front of Biggerstaff.

The catfish croaked out a chuckle. “A dreamer. I like it.”

Anger prickled along the back of my neck. Just because Rali was avoiding me didn’t mean I couldn’t still get mad at somebody making fun of him.

“Yeah, well, that dreamer’s not the kind of guy who compromises,” I said, “so you might as well forget about recruiting him. Waste your energy on something else.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Good luck in your bouts today, gentlemen. I’ll be looking for you both to move to Level 9 within the week.”

Once Biggerstaff left, I glanced over at Warcry.

“Did you know Rali was out of seclusion?”

“Sketchy cove’s probably lying,” Warcry said.

The clunk of wood on tile sounded behind us. “No, he’s right. Seclusion’s boring. I kind of hated it.”

We spun around to find Rali leaning sheepishly on his walking stick.

“How’d you sneak up without the recruiter seeing you?” Warcry gave Rali a flurry of punches in the shoulder. “Get some illusions in that Ketsu breakthrough, did you, ya bleeder?”

Rali laughed. “I haven’t made any breakthroughs. I just took