Published at 7th of June 2026 7:25 am

Chapter 360: A Little Slip

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Nicolai and Serrin wound their way through the crowd lining the street outside the Duel Arena. He could feel Serrins eagerness and excitement as the youth gazed up at the great curving arches of the coliseum, stared around at the excited, chattering crowd full of Cultivators and Cyborgs, many geared up for battle.

Is it true that no matter how hard you fight, no one can die? the Hornet was babbling. Hed been regurgitating all that hed learned of this place from Lee, punctuating his endless chatter with the occasional question.

Mm.

Wondrous! Isnt that wondrous? You can fight all out, yet no one gets hurt!

Mm. This was a slightly less agreeable Mm. On the one hand, he wouldnt deny that he enjoyed being able to fight skilled opponents multiple times. On the other, without any risk of death the fights felt fake to him. The razor edge of life and death which gave real combat an unmatchable, wonderful, blood-soaked thrill ground into something soft and harmless. Like when one went to explore an ancient castle where men had fought and died, now transformed into a tourist spot where all the high places, sharp edges, and treacherous stairways had been colonised by idiot-proof safety railings and no entry signs.

for the Free For All part?

He realised Serrin had been asking a question, replayed the last few moments. He met Serrins earnest gaze. The youths overwhelming excitement for what was to come was rendered rather sad by the near-certainty he possessed that it wouldnt be happening. Hed thought Serrin would have understood that by now, was pretty sure hed given some strong hints here and there.

Of course we will team up, he answered. A tingle of guilt ran through him, courtesy of the Mask, who felt he should try and, in some soft and kind manner, let Serrin know that he wouldnt be able to take part. Nicolai had no idea how to go about doing that. Go ahead, he said, giving it control over his vocal cords. After a silent moment it handed control back to him. Never mind, the coward said, before refocusing on the current main point of contention between them.

The Rippers message had been rather simple: he wanted Serrin. He wanted to extract his White Gift, and use it to create something. Some kind of device or Symbiote. And, it transpired the Ripper was more aware of wider events than Nicolai had anticipated. He was aware of the poison construct within Nicolai, and promised that should Nicolai deliver Serrin to him, he would remove it.

There was a location included in the message, specifying a place some distance from the Hornet Hive. Once hed taken Serrin there, he was to bundle the Hornet in some kind of special box which would contain him, ready for the Ripper.

Naturally, this had caused quite a bit of internal debate. The Mask was utterly against it, as were many of the Modules. As to Nicolai, he would rather not.

There was something to be said for the camaraderie that arose in those who fought and worked together. Increasingly hed come to simply like Serrin, enjoy his presence, and there was a part of him that simply felt it would be a tremendous waste for someone with such talent for combat to die before it could be realised, that the world would become a less interesting place without the Hornet, which, oddly enough, was something he cared about. Perhaps hed become more a Better Man than hed realised, or perhaps all it was, was just another kind of selfishness, something rooted in the belief that Serrin was useful to him.

Either way, he didnt want to sacrifice the Hornet.

As he watched Serrin stride confidently toward the Registration Barrier, which one had to cross in order to sign up for the Tournament, he remained deep in thought. Regardless of his desires, there might not be any choice. If he could find no other way to remove the poison, the Rippers offer might be the only route available to him. In such a case it would pain him greatly, and he knew the Mask might never forgive him, but even so

His life came first.

For now, however, options remained. And, there may well be a way to make use of this without sacrificing Serrin. The fact that the Ripper claimed to be able to remove the poison construct was added to the shifting web of factors, another piece of the puzzle that, were he and the Modules to successfully solve it, might just see him gaining everything he wanted.

You need a Mark spoke Serrin in a voice of abject misery only moments later. He was gazing up at the registration barrier, shoulders slumped. Upon trying to enter hed been barred by a flash of red.

Only Players May Pass, it had read, drawing some curious gazes.

Well! he declared, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips. Well. Im fine. Its fine. Its not like I really, really, really wanted to fight. Its not like this stupid barrier has crushed my dreams, he added, glaring at the innocently pulsing wall of light. No, he muttered waspishly. Not a problem.

Nicolai felt an urge to say that if Serrin really wanted to fight, all he needed to do was attain a Mark. And the Queen had a method for him to do so. However, the Mask told him in no uncertain terms that now was not the time.

Instead he put a sympathetic hand on Serrins shoulder. Perhaps next time. For now, you should at least be free to enter the stands, and watch.

And watch, repeated Serrin, sighing. So be it. I am interested to see how you perform, at least. Yes, he declared. I shall be taking notes.

Notes, he echoed, amused.

Serrin nodded seriously. If I am ever able to compete, I wish to do well. And it will be good to gain a wider understanding of how your people, and the others, this with a nod at some passing Shenrans, tend to fight. These words seemed to cheer him up, some of the unhappiness draining from his posture.

They bid their farewells and Serrin moved off, searching out one of the spiritual consoles that allowed transport to the stands. Nicolai turned and pressed through the Registration Barrier, signing up without issue. Just in time. There was less than a minute to go until the Tournament started. He spent that minute standing still and silent in a quiet corner, mind lost in his half-merge with the other Modules as they scanned and analysed the crowd.

No sign of Xuejing, today. Threat Analysis was repeating its trick of data-mining all the gossip, and discovered that indeed, she wasnt taking part. Itd found a pair of talkative Cultivators, one of whom evidently knew quite a bit about the Nara, and had filtered some interesting information from their winding conversation.

Apparently shed passed some time of internal clan test, perhaps relating to last weeks Tournament, and was receiving her armour. Based on the gossip, it seemed that the Nara Clan were known for wearing sets of armour, some cross between Imbued and Artifact, into battle. He briefly wondered how Serrin would fare against Xuejing, with this in mind. Until now, he would have put his bet on the Hornet. But the talkative Cultivator was of the opinion this armour was very strong, and until he saw it in battle he couldnt make any accurate judgement.

###

His Mark pulsed. Nicolai, along with dozens of others, vanished in flashes of blue.

In the frozen instant of teleportation, his mind shifted. The Thrill had begun a slow burn since before hed ever entered the Duel Arena, and now it flared bright and hungry. The Dark had been slowly waking and unfolding through him, gone almost unnoticed as it steadily rose.

Hed been aware, but he didnt try to stop it. As always, the best way to deal with it was to vent it, and this was an opportunity to do so. He just needed to ensure he maintained Control, that was all. He had a plan, he was ready. However, just in case his grip did slip a little, hed opted to leave the Quiet Knife, s using it in so public a place would always be a mistakeif there happened to be any Highspawn somehow hidden in the crowd, using that Knife might see his life ended.

He arrived and found himself stood on a stretch of open, grassy plains. The air tasted clear and pure and fresh. A turn of his head brought figures into view, some close, some far. There was a ridge a few hundred metres to the left, a forest to the right.

And a robed man right in front of him.

You! the man yelped, already backpedalling. Get back, get! The Cultivator stretched out his hand, limned in a cold blue glow. Water crystallised into razor sharp shards of ice that were spat out at him.

Nicolai moved through the rain of projectiles in a series of perfect, flowing steps. His skin tingled, the air was sharp in his lungs, and he felt a sense of utter connection to the world around him. The Interior was close at hand, seeming as though he could touch on the barrier between him and it as easy as reaching out. The Dark Spirit was a hot, heavy weight pressing on the other side of that barrier, begging to be released.

He overwhelmed the Cultivators Soul Sense and Shield both with a flex of the Spectral Claw, and then he was beside the man, still mewling out his panicked cries. Pathetic. It wasnt as though you could even die here.

Quiet now, he hissed, slashing out with his new vibroknife. Irritation spiked through him when his opponent vanished in a pitiful burst of blue rather than a glorious spray of warm blood, and the Dark whispered he shouldve taken his time with the man.

The world spun on its axis and Nicolai was darting through empty air, lunging and twisting, a fish in the water, and the M99 was tight against him, aiming and firing almost by itself. Each perfect shot sent a wave of satisfaction through him as figure after figure disappeared in flashes of blue, dead, dead, dead.

There were more attacks winging their way over to him, but they were too slow and too few. Guns spat and Soul Senses struck and the plains where so many had spawned erupted into beautiful carnage. Some struggled to form into prearranged teams, some panicked and sought to flee, and some, like him, immediately attacked all around them, but none of them could match the line of destruction that was cut wherever Nicolai turned his gaze.

And the Dark was rising in an unstoppable tide, and the Modules were emanating a strange eagerness, a desire to seek out the perfect oneness of the Zero-Twelve state. His mind slapped together in the same instant he slotted a fresh magazine into the M99.

Nicolais senses spread. The Dark Spirit fed him information from the other side, pressed its eagerness upon him.

Three of them came at him, all with guns, but one of them was out of ammo. His Shield took a few hits but it was built to take hits and by the time it was under any strain hed found his way into the perfect position. For a moment his enemy formed a line, like a planetary alignment, and the one whose gun was empty was between him and the other two, blocking their shots.

He slipped beneath a flash of light from the side, ignored the cracking thump of a safely distant grenade and its rain of shrapnel, and he arrived. He overcame a weak Shield, sliced the mans arms off to spin away, slapped him hard on the chest so he grunted, then spun into a twisting kick, all the significant strength and weight of his body behind it. His target was flung through the air, screaming and flailing his stumps around, to crash into the other two and they all went to ground in a messy tangle of arms and legs. Nicolai used that kick to launch himself flipping backwards, avoiding another lance of light from the side. The man hed kicked sat up and stared at his chest, horrified, where the sticky grenades Nicolai had given him were letting loose their final beeps.

Nicolai was already halfway to the next target, that Cultivator whod thought herself free to stand on the side throwing bolts of light, when the explosion took three more out of the fight. He spun through the air, reading the womans aim from the movement of her body and the taste of her badly-hidden Killing Intent, felt her sudden panic when she realised she couldnt hit him, was ready for the wave of force she threw in an attempt to knock him back. The Claw cut a hole through the wave and he slipped through and then, he was beside her.

The chaos of the fight formed a beautiful diagram in his mind, and Nicolai simply followed the steps it foretold. His Spectral Claw darted behind him, intercepting another attacker, a Soul Sense user, while he flowed into a flurry of Soul-enhanced punches on the stumbling woman. Her Shield burst into puffs of Oma on the fourth hit and before itd even had time to fade his hand-talon tore into her neck. Blue light flared, the world turned, and he threw himself at the Soul Sense user whod made the unwise decision of trying to attack him from behind.

Dimly, as he slashed the mans Soul Sense into ragged tatters, shattered his Shield and tore into his body, he realised this was far, far better than hed anticipated, that he hadnt quite been entirely prepared for how sudden and how beautiful the battle was. Not slow and sneaky, like last time. This Free For All was hard and fast like a punch to the jaw, filling his mouth up with the salty taste of blood. And he realised his Control was slipping but, as the grass breathed in pulsing waves, and the blood traced secret messages through the air, and as body after body crumpled beneath his attacks, he couldnt quite remember why he cared.

He shrugged aside the pressure of the thing on his face, the thing trying to hold him back, and the world cracked open like an egg. The yolk oozed out, filling him up with an endless thirst for more blood, more death, battle never ending, and all Zero-Twelve knew was that he was where he was meant to be, doing what theyd been made to do.

###

Nicolai woke as though from a dream, with a cold and startling shock as a wave of sweaty unease rolled through him, rising into a dreadful, guilty certainty that hed been bad.

And yet he heard cheering, a great chorus of howling voices, and wasnt that a good thing?

Youre finally back, said the thing on his face.

Who was that?

Where was he?

His mind fell apart, the Modules peeling away one by one. The Thrill faded into a dull ember, the Dark drifted down into slumber.

And there was only him, confused and wary, nauseated, dizzy. Through blurred vision he saw sand at his feet. His aching body told him that he was battered and he was bruised, he saw that his skinsuit was torn, equipment was missing.

He hunted backwards through time, tried to stir some memories out of the darkness that came before. He remembered Joy. Pure, endless, vicious, perfect.

A flicker of blue light caught his attention, pulled his eyes up. There was someone a few metres away. They looked strong, and yet they were crying out in horror. There was something digging into them, something alive. But the blue light around them grew into an orb which rippled then plucked the dark thing free like one would pull a tick.

FINAL ROUND OVER

VICTOR: NICOLAI

The thing was flowing through air, a ragged shadow coming straight at him. By the time hed begun to react it was already there, close and pressing, digging through his skinsuit like it didnt exist, a spiritual presence, no, a part of him that swelled his Soul until it bulged from his body. He hissed with pain as the Aura burned at him, reflexively squeezed and pushed the thing away, sensing where it needed to go.

The Dark Spirit pressed on into the Interior where it belonged, where it was meant to be. The sweaty dread within him intensified with the realisation of what it was. He was not supposed to reveal the Dark Spirit carelessly. One could infer the existence of his Black Gift from it.

How many times and how obvously had he used it?! His memory was vague and fuzzy, but he had the Modules and he reached for them.

And was astonished to find, as they floated in a state of strange bliss, that they werent too sure whatd happened either. We were merged with you very closely, said a shrugging Threat Analysis, unconcerned in a way that struck him as deeply out of character. It was glorious.

Oh no

Oh yes.

The Dark had gotten into them too.

As a blue bubble wrapped him, towing him upwards to be displayed to the manic crowd, all Nicolai could do was laugh. It was that or cry.

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