Their journey through the bustling market district led Tunde and Sera into one of the more opulent restaurants in Shimmersteel, a place known for its exquisite cuisine and refined atmosphere. The restaurant was adorned with ornate lanterns and intricate woodwork, and the air was filled with the enticing aromas of exotic spices and grilled meats.

  Tunde and Sera quietly sequestered themselves at a corner table, ensuring they had a good view of the room. Tunde rang the tiny bell on the table, signaling their presence to the staff. Sera glanced around inquisitively, her eyes taking in the details of the establishment.

  As they waited, Tunde felt a slight nudge from inside his robes. For the first time, he realized that his Ethralite creature, which had been tucked away and asleep, was now stirring. The creature poked its head out of Tunde’s robe, its inky black eyes glowing with a green dot from within the darkness.

  “That thing could draw unnecessary attention to us,” Sera said softly, her gaze shifting to the creature. Tunde gently tucked the creature’s head back into the folds of his robe, despite its soft squeak of protest.

  A young servant boy approached their table, balancing a wooden tray. He bowed respectfully and asked what they would like to order. Tunde ordered the restaurant's usual specialties, knowing from experience that the establishment was renowned for its culinary delights. The servant’s eyes lit up as Tunde discreetly handed him a hundred lumens, along with ten extra as a tip.

  Sera watched the servant depart; her expression thoughtful. Tunde, meanwhile, poured hot minty tea from the pot the servant had left on their table. The tea had a refreshing lemon taste with just a hint of honey. As he sipped, he remained acutely aware of his surroundings.

  “Lords,” Sera whispered softly, her gaze fixed on the small teacup in her hands. She ran a finger around its rim, a subtle gesture indicating the presence of several powerful cultivators in the restaurant.

  Tunde nodded, acknowledging the gathering of lords within the establishment. The atmosphere was one of conviviality, with laughter and animated conversations filling the air. However, Tunde noticed the occasional glance directed their way, the subtle stares of those assessing their presence.

  “They’re subtly staring at us,” he replied, his voice low. While they refrained from using their auras, Tunde could feel the weight of the other lords' presences, a quiet but unmistakable attempt at intimidation.

  Tunde said nothing more, instead, nodding in appreciation as the servant returned, carrying a huge platter filled with a variety of dishes. The platter held smoked meats, vegetables wrapped in steamed dough, and large jugs of wine, along with other unfamiliar meals. Sera hesitantly picked up one of the wrapped meat doughs, known as dumplings, and bit into it.

  Her eyes lit up immediately, and she began to eat more enthusiastically. Tunde followed suit, taking a bite of a dumpling. The rich flavors and the texture of the food were incredible. He controlled himself, subtly signaling to Sera to do the same, as he realized they were drawing too much attention with their enthusiasm.

  “The joy of tasting exquisite meals,” Ifa, Tunde’s spirit guide, sighed in his mind. Tunde nodded in agreement, sharing the sentiment.

  Even the Ethralite creature raised its head, drawn by the enticing scents. It poked its head out again, grabbing a dumpling that Tunde offered. The creature scarfed it down before disappearing back into the folds of Tunde’s robes.

  As Tunde observed the creature, he noted that it was growing steadily. Sooner or later, it would become too large for him to carry around, presenting a potential problem. For now, though, Tunde decided to enjoy the pleasures of Shimmersteel without dwelling on future complications.

  Once they finished their meal and the servant returned, Tunde held him back for a moment. “Apologies, but do you know of any ways we can make quick money?” he asked.

  The servant paused, considering the question. “You could always attempt the numerous cultivated rifts belonging to the city. They are located in the farthest district, known as the Rift District, just east of here,” the servant replied.

  “I’m guessing that would require us to register in that district to use them?” Tunde asked, and the servant nodded in confirmation.

  “I thought as much. No, aren’t there other… means?” Tunde inquired subtly.

  Realizing what Tunde was hinting at, the servant hesitated before speaking. Tunde discreetly cocooned their table with his aura, ensuring their conversation remained private. The servant’s eyes widened as Tunde produced another ten lumens.

  “The fight pit,” the servant blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Tunde smiled. “Dangerous, bloody, and one could lose their life. The city wouldn’t interfere,” the servant continued, his voice tinged with fear. “And where is this fight pit?” Sera asked, her eyes glowing with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

  “You can’t miss it. It’s legalized by the city, and the worst of the worst criminals are sent there to die,” the servant explained, shivering slightly.

  Tunde nodded, handing him yet another ten lumens. The servant quickly pocketed the lumens, bowing in thanks before leaving with a slight hop in his step.

  Dispelling the aura field, Tunde watched the servant depart. Sera spoke up, “Fighting in a pit isn’t the best way to stay unnoticed, but I admit, I’m intrigued about what it looks like.”

  Tunde chuckled at her response. “It’s certainly an unconventional way to make money, but we’ll have to be careful,” he said, standing up.

  The two of them left the restaurant as quietly as they had arrived, their next destination set. The fight pit awaited, and with it, new opportunities and challenges for Tunde and Sera in the vibrant city of Shimmersteel.

  *****************************

  True to the servant’s words, Tunde and Sera found themselves at the gates of a large building with no name, only a carved image of two warriors with fists bared at each other, etched on a large metal plate hung above the entrance. A long line of people chattered quietly but excitedly, as if waiting for their chance to be admitted into the building.

  “It seems everyone wants to fight in this pit,” Sera observed from his side, hands at her waist. Tunde glanced at the assembled numbers again as he moved towards one of the lord realm guards, an imposing figure with an axe strapped to his side.

  “Greetings, but we would like to participate in the fighting pits,” he said to the rough-looking giant of a man with yellow-stained eyes and cracked lips. The guard eyed them both before jerking his thumb to the other side of the gate with a grunt. “Wagers stay here. You want to fight? The other gate,” he said before completely ignoring them.

  It was a stark wake-up call that Tunde was no longer in Black Rock, where he was respected. Here, he would have to earn every bit of respect back, and that was something he couldn’t do, not in this city anyway. Tunde and Sera made their way to the next gate where a scanty number of people stood, all looking like brutes with muscles and intimidating figures, at least to those who considered it so. Aside from actively staying away from them, Tunde walked up to the man seated behind a wooden desk, flanked by two guards who eyed him warily.

  “Fighters?” he asked Tunde, who glanced at Sera. She shook her head, and he shrugged. “Just me,” he replied.

  “Then she joins the other line. Fighters only here,” the man said with a bored tone, hand waving them away as if shooing her off.

  “She’s my teacher,” Tunde said, making his best impression of a harmless smile. The man sighed. “Five hundred lumens for fighters, and if you’re asking me to carry her along, then it’ll be another five hundred as well,” the man said, reclining back in his chair with a satisfied smirk of greed on his face.

  “Greedy bastard,” Ifa said, chuckling to himself, even as Tunde produced his golden aurum card. The man’s eyes bulged wide. Cards were usually used by those with unusually deep pockets or powerful clans and sects, and seeing this, the man’s entire mood and those of the guards behind him changed into a more pleasant one, Sera snorting audibly.

  “Honored lord, do excuse our behavior, please, this way,” the man said as he scrambled to his feet, ushering Sera and Tunde through the entrance behind him. It led to a narrow path filled with burning Ethra lights that illuminated the entire way, a soft peach scent filling the air as the man began speaking.

  “Welcome to the dueling pits or, as they’re known, fighting pits, where all the best cultivators come to test their martial skills against each other,” he started. Tunde doubted those who truly had names came there anyway, but he let the man continue.

  “Here, we pride ourselves on ensuring our fighters maintain the code of honor when it comes to hand-to-hand combat,” he explained, as Tunde nodded along, allowing him to drone on, much to Sera’s growing irritation as she shuffled silently along until they reached a large door. The guards studiously swung it open, allowing them through.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  It was a sort of guest room, filled with sweet-smelling smoke, as Tunde immediately snapped his aura around himself, unsure of what was in the smoke. He noticed a man seated on a rather large chair, two scantily dressed women next to him as he sucked on a pipe that billowed smoke softly. Tunde realized he was the source of it all. The man glanced at him, eyes assessing him as he pointed to the chair in front of him.

  Tunde nodded, sitting on it as Sera stood by his side. The man snapped his fingers, the attendant who brought them in hastily bowing and leaving with the guards, who bowed as well. Common sense told him a lord couldn’t run such a facility; hence Tunde knew better than to show off in front of him, keeping quiet as the two women excused themselves, visibly swaying their waists as they left the room.

  The man faced Tunde and eyed him carefully. “You two aren’t from around here,” he started.

  Tunde nodded. “Black Rock, honored?” Tunde replied inquisitively.

  The man waved his hand dismissively. “My rank nor my name are of no consequence to you,” he replied. Tunde nodded in acknowledgment. “Black Rock, that would be the new settlement far out at the border with the wastelands, right?” the man asked.

  Tunde nodded again. “Interesting, and what brings you all the way out here to Shimmersteel?” he asked.

  “Exploration. I have been sent by my sect leaders to see how things are done, as well as to understand just how high the cultivation of our neighboring cities is, to better train our cultivators,” Tunde explained with practiced efficiency.

  The man chuckled, reclining in his chair before speaking. “And you thought coming to a fighting pit where you might incur damages that neither I nor my business will be liable to pay for was a great idea?” he asked.

  Tunde nodded. “There will be no better way than to test the distance between the cultivators of Black Rock and Shimmersteel,” he replied.

  “True, true. A man speaks better with his fist and fist alone,” the man said, chuckling as he ran his hand through his spiky black hair, Tunde noting the scars on his entire arm.

  “Ignore the extra lumens requested by my bookmaker; he’s only alive simply because I do not have the strength to find another, plus he’s good at his job. Your friend’s five hundred lumens will be returned to her, should you survive five rounds within the pits,” the man said as Tunde gave a soft smile.

  “I see, and how much will I make during these five rounds within the pits?” Tunde asked.

  The man smiled, revealing a set of white pearly teeth. “You came with an aurum card. I doubt someone of your… standing is short of funds,” he replied.

  Tunde shrugged. “Every man needs a motivation to fight; mine just happens to be money,” Tunde said, as the large man gave a loud laugh. Tunde’s eyes were drawn to the large glass wall that revealed a vast circular pit. It went so deep that Tunde could only see the upper rims, where a multitude of people seemed to be screaming and waving at whatever was going on down there.

  “I respect a man like that. How about this,” the man said as he began, “I start a wager on your head, let’s say fifty lumens at the start, with the terms being that you reach the fifth round. By then, the minimum wager amount on your head would be two hundred and fifty lumens,” he said as Tunde raised an eyebrow.

  “And how much do your favorite fighters have on their heads?” Tunde asked.

  “The base usually goes for five hundred lumens to as high as two thousand lumens,” the man replied. Tunde stared at him, surprise written all over his features, the man chuckling. “We respect cultivators who have trained their bodies to the best possible; they get rewarded well,” he said.

  Tunde pondered the terms for a few seconds before replying, “And how much does the house get to keep to itself?” he asked.

  “Forty percent of whatever earnings you make within the pit. However, if you don’t make it to the fifth round, I get to keep your golden aurum card,” the man said with a wide grin.

  Tunde shook his head. “There is a lot more lumens in that card than a few thousand lumens; even you must know that,” he replied.

  The man shrugged. “I live for the thrill of the battle, anything to get my blood racing,” the man replied.

  “It’s risky. You have no idea the caliber of fighters within the pit,” Ifa warned.

  “These fighters, will they all be lords?” Tunde asked as the man nodded.

  “Of course, only lords duel within these pits,” he replied, almost taking offense at the question.

  Tunde nodded. “Then I agree to these terms,” he said as they shook hands.

  Ifa sighed. “Why do I feel you’re taking this as some sort of training to hone your perception and instincts?” he asked.

  “Because it is,” Tunde replied.

  “The stakes are too high for that, young one,” Ifa warned.

  “The higher the stakes, the more dangerous and important the fights will be to me,” Tunde replied.

  Ifa sighed again. “I thought you’d say that.”

  ***********************

  Tunde stood within the pit itself, the loud noises of the crowd above drowning his senses as he focused his attention inward. The pit was larger than any he had ever seen, the ground bored through to create a vast circular arena big enough to contain even the Swan, with all its size and bulk, and still have space for two more vessels of its form. The ground was layered with sand thick enough that his feet didn’t sink into it.

  His Ethra Sight revealed a layer of steel beneath the sand, no doubt reinforced with Ethereon. “This isn’t some random fighting pit,” Tunde said softly.

  “No, it looks too well-funded and constructed to be the work of some random cultivator. This has ties to the clan itself,” Ifa responded, and Tunde nodded in agreement.

  Somewhere high above in the first layer of rooms sat Sera, given the hospitality afforded to him but no doubt watching nervously. She was a cautious one, always on the lookout in case anything broke out. Not that Tunde expected it to, but he was in enemy territory, so there was that.

  “Cultivators and citizens of Shimmersteel, welcome to tonight’s special duel!” a loud voice echoed around the pit, answered by a thunderous roar from the crowd. Stripped all the way to his waist, Tunde’s dark skin was visible to all, along with the tattoo of his relic on his right arm, the sentient item taking the shape of a snarling wolf with its jaws around his shoulder.

  “Tonight, we have a special delight for you all! A cultivator from the far reaches of the borderlands, furious and lethal, dangerous and brutal yet cunning—we give you the Dark Wolf!” the voice said, introducing Tunde as he winced internally, Ifa chuckling even as the Ethra lights in the room suddenly focused on him.

  “I have to admit, I love that name,” Ifa said, as Tunde grumbled softly, waving weakly to the crowd. He had wrapped his hands in layers of thick, durable linen, giving the illusion of attempting to improve the force of his punches.

  “And his first opponent, one you know well—the Bruiser of the Dust Farms, the Destroyer of Livestock, the Blood Gorger!” the voice announced as a giant of a man appeared, roaring to the crowd. Pale-skinned with a bald head and one eye larger than the other, as if a defect from birth, Tunde watched the scarred man rumble with laughter as he pushed closer, towering over him intimidatingly.

  Tunde strained his neck to look up into the drooling face. “Place your bets, people! Will our Wolf survive against the Gorger?!” the voice continued.

  “I will break you, little man!” the Gorger roared.

  Tunde blinked, calmly wiping drool from his face. “Nice to meet you too,” he replied as the man laughed.

  “Cultivators, begin!” the voice roared. The punch came out of nowhere, slamming into Tunde and throwing him into the side of the pit with a thunderous crash.

  A roar broke out from the crowd. “The Gorger went first, slamming the Wolf! Is he down?” the commentator questioned. Tunde got slowly to his feet, looking at his arms as Ifa spoke, “That was unnecessary.”

  Tunde nodded. “Wanted to see how hard he hit.”

  “And?” Ifa questioned.

  The Gorger ran towards him at full speed, his disciple-ranked speed causing him to tear across the space between them as his aura, a violet glow, exploded out of him. Tunde stared at him for a second and then moved, his fist clenched as he imbued it before slamming into the Gorger’s skull.

  The giant flipped twice through the air before crashing into the ground with a thunderous slam, unconscious. Tunde flexed his fingers. “Weak,” he said, as a loud roar erupted from the crowd.

  ********************************

  Highlord Bajun raised an eyebrow as the Gorger passed out on the ground in front of the Wolf. He took a long swig from his wineskin just as the door to his office swung open abruptly, and a large figure stepped into the room, grinning at him. Bajun sighed, “No,” he said firmly, “and honestly, I don’t see why you would want to. Have some respect.”

  The figure laughed loudly, his black hair contrasting sharply with his light blue eyes. Dressed in rich blue robes, he sat down on the chair in front of Bajun’s desk without being invited. “You, of all people, should know better than to tell me no. Half the people watching are crooks and problems for the city. The remaining half know better than to be caught here by their various sects and families,” the figure said, his tone light yet edged with seriousness.

  Bajun raised an eyebrow. “Take it up with the authorities,” he said as the large figure chuckled, “Good one,” he replied.

  The figure collected the wineskin from Bajun, who rubbed his forehead as if troubled. He walked to the glass wall, staring down at the pit in silence. “Black Rock, is it?” he asked Bajun.

  Bajun crossed his hands. “Indeed, why?” he asked curiously.

  The large figure shrugged. “Nothing serious. I heard there was a scuffle there with the revenants and the imperial family itself. I even heard a Master turned up and a Highlord as well,” the figure replied.

  Bajun snorted. “Please, like the imperial clan would send a Highlord or Master to these parts of the empire. It’s probably a vassal clan or one of the great clans and sects,” he said.

  “The merchants who went there beg to differ,” the figure said, glancing at him.

  Bajun waved his hand dismissively. “Those ones couldn’t tell the difference between either. You know that,” he said.

  “Just saying, they would if the rumors about the Verdan clan turning traitor were true,” the figure said.

  Bajun nodded. “Never did like them, the Verdan clan. Why aren’t we lobbying the empire for the ruins of their territories? Heavens know we need it, I need it,” Bajun said as the figure snorted.

  “You really think the clan would let you expand outside of where they can keep you in check?” the figure asked, throwing the wineskin to Bajun, who caught it with a frown.

  “It’s empty,” he said as the figure shrugged, “Refill it,” he replied.

  “It was wine from the Hundred Vineyards of the Chun clan. Do you know how much one wineskin costs?” Bajun said irritably.

  The figure faced him with a deadpan look. “You and I both know that wineskin was filled with wine from an old merchant right here within the city,” he replied. They locked gazes for a few seconds before Bajun’s features softened.

  “Oh well, it was worth a try,” Bajun replied as the figure nodded. “Now you owe me,” he said, as Bajun rolled his eyes.

  “Why you would want to bet on a peak Lord baffles me,” Bajun said as the figure folded his arms.

  “To see just what this new sect has to offer,” the figure replied.

  Bajun froze. “Don’t tell me, are the clan thinking to—”

  “No,” the figure said, hastily cutting in. “At least, not anytime soon,” he finished as Bajun nodded.

  “It would be suicidal. Rumor has it the Highlord of the imperial clan took an acolyte within the sect. It explains why they are off-limits along with their territories, which extend to both the wastelands and the ruins of Jade Peak as well,” the figure said.

  Bajun swallowed hard. “You don’t mean to tell me you think that’s him?” Bajun asked.

  “Rumors, but still, even if it isn’t true, that means the caliber of cultivators from Black Rock must be exceptional,” the figure said with a grin.

  Bajun sighed. “I promised him only Lord realm cultivators. You’re about to make me a liar,” he said as the figure turned to him.

  “We can remedy that, can we not?” the figure said, a twinkle in his eyes as Bajun stared at the wineskin. He’d need more before the day was over.