2.5

Mutation Rate as Predictive Indicator in Unbound Cultivation Dissolution

Retrospective analysis of 847 confirmed Unbound Cultivation Dissolution (UCD) cases across three Ark populations identifies acute mutation rate during early cultivation as the single strongest predictive indicator of UCD onset (p<0.001, CI 97.3%). Subjects demonstrating mutation expression exceeding two standard deviations above cohort baseline within the first 90 cultivation-days showed a 73.4% rate of eventual UCD onset, with mean time-to-dissolution of 16.2 months following initial assessment. Human subjects comprised 91.2% of the study population despite representing approximately 43% of the assessed cultivator base. Tokh cultivators, comprising the remaining 57%, accounted for fewer than 9% of confirmed cases, a disparity the authors note with significant concern. Aspect identity markers show measurable degradation preceding observable behavioral dissolution by a mean of 23.4 days, suggesting a viable early intervention window. All terminal cases were resolved in accordance with standard compassionate termination protocol.

The Deepwell stopped on the surface level, and our boxy taxi bounced lightly. We were inside a robustly built structure, absolutely packed full of heavily armed security forces. Botcops, autoguns, and City Transit Police were in motion the moment we came to a full stop. Officers, most of them wearing partial or open-type exos, and accompanied by one or more bots, were dispersing across the platform to select vehicles.

I saw them outside the windows of the taxi, approaching drivers and asking for cargo manifests, licenses, and so on. Wands were being extended through windows to scan neck CIDs. Some vehicles didn’t need a security check, and were slowly rolling out into a polycrete tunnel that looked like a wall tunnel, only with gates and bollards and way, way more scanners.

An officer approached our cab, and the vehicle automatically lowered a window next to Vael for the officer. Although the tubepol had on a helmet with a mirrored visor, I could see the glow of User eyes through the tint. A pair of deep blue rings in the middle of a distorted fisheye reflection.

Water, maybe?

I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel Vael doing her normal megawatt smile regardless. The tubepol’s eyes took in what we were wearing and the huge tactical pack in the middle of the floor. I felt my hackles rise internally. I sensed judgment that might have entirely been in my head, pushed into me by countless stories of negative experiences from fellow threecits.

“CID, please,” he said, voice rough from smoking. You didn’t see the other telltale signs of it on him, the stained teeth or early skin aging. He looked like every other User ever. Handsome, healthy, young.

Vael pulled the hair covering the back of her neck to the side, and the long, flat black and yellow polymer of the wand waved over her neck and gave a beep.

The officer cleared his throat. “Apologies, ma’am. I’m going to perform a scan of your cargo.”

“By all means!” Vael’s voice was as bright as usual.

He pulled another black polymer box off his belt and held it forward, at the edge of the window. The top was covered in warning stickers, lenses, and several high-gain antennas. I recognized what it was.

CDA MMS Six. Laser, radiological, RFID, RF through terahertz, and backscatter imaging. Biometric, cybernetic, weapon, and contraband detection, linked to the Spire's databases that are updated in real time. Having a warrant, rocking unlicensed wares, or attempting to smuggle anything on the no-no list, and this bad boy would sniff it out and list out the 28 different laws you were breaking in microseconds.

Getting caught with your hands on one of these was a Class One felony with serious prison time. The official reason was dangerous output levels on the laser and backscatter emitters. The real reason was nobody wanted the wrong people knowing what was and wasn’t on today’s contraband list. I would have loved to play with one, regardless.

Red lasers swept over our goods, and the multimodal scanner emitted a warbling series of chirps.

The officer put the scanner back into his belt. He was addressing Vael, but his eyes were locked directly on me. “You’re cleared to exit on express lane four, ma’am. Please ensure that your companion is made aware of level conduct standards.”

“Have a wonderful day!” was Vael’s response, and the cab window started coming up the same time the vehicle rolled toward the express lane.

“Fucking tubepol,” I muttered.

Vael’s arm came back around my shoulder, and she snuggled up against me.

She made it hard to stay cranky.

The express lane didn’t have scanners in it, and we were able to exit at full speed while the rest of the traffic leaving the platform was rolling through the lanes in the tunnel at a leisurely pace with overhead light bars indicating speed for the odd vehicle controlled by a person.

The overhead panel whirred and rustled, and the entire thing retracted, exposing a sunroof that had to be ninety percent of the total space of the taxi’s roof. We rolled out into blinding sunlight, and I had to squint through the tinting.

“It’s a lovely 24 degrees outside today, Mx. Sul’Vethik. Fourteen kilometers per hour wind from the south, and the present air quality index is four. Clear skies throughout the day, with a twenty percent chance of light ashfall overnight. The UV index is nine today. Visitors from the lower levels may wish to note that prolonged exposure without protection is not recommended. Would you like to enjoy the fresh air?”

The aircon clicked off, and all the retractable windows came down, which left the cab almost entirely open-air. Cooler air than what I was used to rushed in, and the smell of it took my breath away.

My fingers were wrapped around my icon, and my eyes probably looked ridiculous with how wide they felt. Lush greenery almost everywhere. Rows of trees in wide, grassy medians between the roads, flowers and plants on the ground, filling spaces that weren’t entirely covered in polycrete or asphalt. Buildings that were only a few stories tall, made from natural materials like bricks, and draped in vines all down their front.

It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, and it was just… some random street. Clear blue skies, golden sunlight, and white, fluffy, clouds filled the entire sky above the horizon of the outer wall. I knew the dimensions, I knew how huge it was, and that the rim that looked comparatively so tiny was 200m of vertical, near-impenetrable barrier between the city and the wildlands outside.

Then there were the arcologies, which were visible in every direction around us. They came in every shape, color, material, and design imaginable. Cones, rectangles, organic double-helixes, and bulbous eggs. Some covered in more terraced greenery than building material, some shiny, gleaming metal, sheets of different alloy platings making intricate patterns. Some were just entirely mirrored or electronic glass. More than half of them had holo-projectors or digiglass rendering logos, looping product advertisements, or just plain old art. The individual images were bigger than entire hab-blocks back home.

Some of the arcologies had to be a kilometer or more tall, and had huge footprints on the overall surface of X-1. Entire cities all unto themselves, all were sovereign corporate territories, and some housed millions.

I was trembling and looking around rapidly, my nose sniffing like a dog at a Tokh barbecue. Vael squeezed my shoulders and let me take it all in.

In the center of the city, the largest structure of them all, and impossible to miss, as it blotted out a solid percentage of the sky.

The Spire. I'd read everything publicly available about it when I was twelve and retained most of it, because of course I had.

It was more visible through the sunroof than it was through the open windows. One of the largest free-standing vertical structures ever built. Just over 2700 meters tall where it met the base structure, The Pedestal, which was like the massive donut hole in the center of the city, the innermost part of each of the 36 sub-sectors. The Pedestal ran from bedrock below the city through all 800 meters of the three layers and extended above the surface of X-1, although not by much.

Three and a half kilometers tall in totality, The Spire looked like an elliptical needle pointed into the sky made of liquid metal. An illusion of precision macro-engineering, the mirrored glass surface was visually seamless. You couldn’t see The Candle–navigational light at the top–during the day from the surface of X-1. The Spire housed the central administration and control systems that branched out to touch every element of the city. The Pedestal, which was far larger in diameter throughout the layers, housed all the city-level emergency response and the strategic reserves.

No amount of reading or pictures could truly get the staggering scale of The Spire punched into my ape brain. Brains don’t do scale and numbers that well. Seeing it was… simply overwhelming. And we were nearly ten kilometers away.

We were rolling down an elevated road towards our destination, and something that had been picking away at the back of my brain finally came to me as a full-fledged realization.

There are no walls. I mean, there’s the city walls, but I can see ten kilometers across sectors, and not just inward or outward.

We’d been riding along in silence, the only sound filling the cab the movement of air around the frame of the vehicle and the wind in my ears.

“Vael? Aren’t there any walls and checkpoints?” I glanced over to her. All smiles.

“There are walls, yes. They’re much thinner than what you’re used to, and they only get deployed in the event of a major emergency. They come up from the ground, but only go up 25 meters. Look, there,” she said and pointed at a street running radially outwards from the spire.

“The… street?” I glanced back at her again for confirmation.

“Mhm! The road is built on top of the wall. The entire thing elevates in an emergency. Keeps it unobstructive; there are escape walkways that come up alongside to allow people to get down and into a shelter.”

“What about–”

“Checkpoints? Only for crossing into or out of the layer.”

But how…?

I took a more critical look at things below us. Botcops were painted in the recognizable blue and gold and could be seen on every street, but they were mostly just… helping people. Putting groceries into a personal car, escorting kids across crosswalks, hell, some were tending the ever-present plants. It was surreal, and my brain was having a hard time parsing what I was seeing. My eyes flicked upwards.

There was a lot of air traffic. Air Vehicles, or AVs, ranging from electric rotorcraft personal transports to more elite vectored-thrust corporate limos and sedans.

In fact.

A glance at the streets confirmed it. Ground vehicles were far less used here than air transport. There were bigger cargo haulers that looked like a series of shipping crates hanging from a spine and supported by brightly glowing repulsor crystal arrays. Sul’vari tech that was better suited to heavy lift than the more nimble AVs, including the odd combat or military airframe that was visible. Then there were the drones. Drones by the thousands buzzing and zipping around the sky, doing courier work, dropping off deliveries, and… there they were.

CDD’s. Civil Defense Drones, the declawed cousins of the Active Combat Drones the military used outside the walls. CDD’s were civil law enforcement equipment, ACD’s were military hardware to protect the city. Oblong blobs covered in antennas, packed with sensors, and bristling with mostly less-than-lethal weapons. Their bigger, meaner brothers rained death from above from anywhere between low altitude strafing runs to beyond visual range high-altitude strikes. The eyes, ears, and first line of defense against outside threat, all operated by Twelve.

It was odd, knowing that the teeth and claws were just more cleverly hidden and out of sight here than in X-3. It was oddly reassuring, knowing that the boot still existed and was ready to crush at a moment’s notice. The thought of idyllic peace without them was deeply unnerving to me in ways I wasn’t quite willing to explore at the moment.

Our taxi pulled onto an offramp and dropped us back down to street level, and a couple of minutes later, we were let out in front of a high-walled compound. There were more Sul’vari here than I’d ever seen in a single location before, two-thirds to three-quarters of the people here had horns, and there were quite a number of big, lumbering Tokh, as well.

“We’re not in 5-1, are we?” I asked Vael, who giggled.

“What gave you that impression?” She asked, while taking my hand and shooting a smirk at me.

4-1, it has to be. The entire 4 sectors were home to the bulk of the Sul’vari population here in the city, and Sul’vari tended to skew topside as Users. A lot of Tokh, too, although their home was generally considered to be in the southern quadrant.

Big, pale gray stone blocks without mortar were stacked up into a surprisingly uniform wall. The stone faces were irregular, lightly worked or left natural, and the bulge of each rounded side sticking out from the wall gave the entire thing an appearance like snakeskin. A gate made from two huge, curved timbers that bowed inward was heavily lacquered and practically glowed a warm red. Another, flatter pair of timbers ran between and on top of the main two. I recognized it as a Japanese torii gate.

Being the genius I am, just said the first thing that came to mind.

“It’s beautiful,” I gushed.

Vael perked right up immediately, her smile growing even wider. “You really think so?”

I nodded vehemently. It was gorgeous architecture in all natural materials. But it wasn’t only that; there was more to it.

Things that only a User would see-feel. I stepped closer, leading Vael for once, and placed my palm on one of the warm stones. The sun was heating my skin way more intensely than what I was used to from full-spectrum lighting in X-3, where UV and IR were precisely administered. My palm rested on the sandpapery surface of the stone.

The wall was all a uniform gray color, with very little variation outside the individual, unique shapes of the blocks. Below what mundane eyes would see, there were glowing colors that formed a rough mural, almost pixelated-looking, with the blocks being a bit over twice the size of my head.

It’s a seashore.

I could feel-taste briny water, hot, basking sand, radiant sunlight, and cooler shade cast by trees. Textures and tastes that came through the aspected mana present in the stone.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. I could almost feel the sensation of being there.

Opening my eyes, I looked over at Vael, who was observing me with a peculiar look on her face. “It is, it really is. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and felt. It’s a place, isn’t it? What is it? Where?”

Vael’s hand squeezed mine, her smile not quite meeting her eyes. She placed her hand on the wall and sighed.

“A reconstructed scene of our homeworld. I’m surprised that you can pick it up so clearly, but I’m so happy that you can.”

I squeezed her hand back, feeling like I’d gone and stepped directly into it once again.

She saw it on my face immediately and let out a soft laugh. “No, you’re fine, really. I was born here, I’ve got no connection to it, beyond heritage and tradition. But do be aware of bringing it up with others,” she cautioned me.

“Vael, ah…” I licked my lips. Hesitating to ask what I want, because my social convention told me it was rude, and I didn’t know if that crossed the species barrier or not.

She nudged me. I looked up at her face. “How old are you?”

Covering her mouth, she hid a smile poorly and snickered. “I’m eighty-four. How old are you, Kiera?”

I gulped. “Twenty-seven.”

She rocked her head from side to side and dropped the hand she’d been holding in front of her face. “I’m a little bit younger than you are, comparatively, although that’s a social thing that–”

“...Doesn’t map out cleanly?”

She winked. “Got it in one.”

“If you think this is great, you should see inside. Shall we?”

I bobbed, she tugged, we walked.

I asked another of the questions at the forefront of my mind as we walked through the huge gateway along with half a dozen other people coming and going. It was very busy here.

“Why the Japanese gate, or is that just a coincidence between cultures?”

The question earned me another laugh. “Do you think we’d move here in such large numbers if we didn’t enjoy Human culture?”

“I suppose that’s a fair point.”

A wide, open, and expansive courtyard filled the space inside the walls, nestled between very large, multi-story buildings that ringed the inner compound. Flat paving stones created clear walkways in the form of gently curving organic lines. Rock and combed-sand garden spaces were intermixed with extremely well-tended floral gardens, and several varieties of trees provided shade for benches where tail and horn-bearing people sat and held quiet meetings or enjoyed the environment.

The buildings were vaguely old-world European designs. Exposed, lacquered beam and timber construction, and a kind of plaster wall in a white cream color. Dark gray slate shingle roofs tied the color scheme of the buildings together with the courtyard and outer wall. It was all immaculately constructed and maintained, and the craftsmanship and minor imperfections seemed to be deliberate artistic flair. It wasn’t simply beautiful, which it was in spades.

It was also an unbelievable display of wealth. I could feel the imbuement present in every single one of these natural materials, and it wasn’t low-tier portal material. Furthermore, the deliberate decision to use all-natural materials itself was a flex, let alone custodians-only-knew-what tier it was.

People in the typically flowing and revealing clothing of the Sul’vari walked about, seemingly using the space like a social gathering area as much as they used it for guild purposes. Divers were coming and going, too. The eclectic tastes and equipment of professional divers were fully on display. People wearing full plate mail that looked like it stepped out of a time machine. Ceramic-composite sloped ballistic armor plates covered major organs and muscle groups, securely attached to a chainmail substrate. Quilted gambesons and synthetic moisture-wicking stretch fabrics. Modern tactical combat boots and articulated, segmented metal gauntlets. Someone wearing a bascinet with the face guard flipped up chatted with another person wearing a sallet with bleeding-edge optics replacing the eye slit. A great helm with ornate brass designs riveted on, but with rebreather filtration cartridges built into it and antennas sticking up from the back.

Many Divers were lugging heavy packs that were visibly bulging and strapped with carved, collected, and harvested goods, just like Vael.

When it came to weapons, I saw big-bore assault shotguns, longswords, coilguns, runic staves, and more than a few directed energy weapons. As I’d known from WoD, and from Vael’s firm reminders, every Diver had at least one melee weapon; some wore multiple in slings and sheaths, some bore only a single sword or mace to complement their military rifles and bulky rattlers. There was a distinct difference between these firearms and the kind you’d see on corporate security forces. There was a notable lack of smartlink cables, and what smartguns I did see were tethered to integrated helmet and mask systems, or freestanding goggles. There wasn’t a ton of skin on display, but where some Divers went for cut-down or heavily exposed styles, I didn’t see visible cybernetics.

The exception was the Divers who weren’t Users, which was a minority. Those baseline Divers were heavily augged out, more cybernetic than meat.

Vael was leading me to one of the largest buildings, and I took the opportunity to ask her about a fresh observation. I kept my voice low, probably a foolish exercise as no doubt all the Users and Augs could hear me perfectly.

“Vael, I’m noticing that the User Divers and the Aug Divers seem to be… segregated?”

She hummed and nodded slowly. “Yes, it’s a bit of a social stigma and cultural issue, honestly. User Divers tend to shun the Augs, and vice versa. Many Users think Aug Divers are rash and prone to taking risks they’re not comfortable with. Augs see Users as entitled and having superiority complexes. They’re both right to varying extents.”

Two imposing wood doors covered in carved reliefs of warriors fighting various alien creatures slid open on silent mechanisms, and cool, climate-controlled air washed over us as we crossed the threshold. Bright full-spectrum lighting and the scent of leather, steel, and oil filled my nostrils. I stopped just inside the doorway, like an idiot with their mouth hanging open.

Huge countertops made from sectional cuts of trees with the bark still attached stood in front of walls covering each side of the long and tall room. The walls were arranged in a pegboard manner with a bright white painted background to put the goods fully on display, and angled spotlights made every implement of war arranged on the walls shine and gleam. Martial weapons of every shape and size, and what had to be every way of killing something, ranging from simple to absurdly creative. The inventory of each wall section went up four, maybe five meters, and wood ladders on rollers and tracks allowed staff to fetch anything a customer inquired about. Small lettered and numbered indexing cards were placed next to each weapon, probably a practical necessity with the sheer number of weapons available on each wall section.

There were three full floors with wide full-length balconies wrapped around all four sides. Huge lighting devices hung from the rafters, chandeliers made from all manner of claw, bone, and horn.

There have to be hundreds, maybe even thousands of items to choose from. This is… absurd!

Vael leaned her weight on my shoulders as she dropped her head down to whisper in my ear. “Welcome to The House of Lorhara, Kiera. I’m confident that we can find you something that suits you here.”

There hadn’t been a sign, address, or name anywhere on, in, or around the compound. It made sense why, now.

House of Lorhara, technically a Sul’vari corporation, and one of the largest of the Sul’vari corporations. Corporate Council member. The guild that every craft guild in the city aspired to be. You don’t sit on the council without serious power, and in the case of The House of Lorhara, it’s institutional knowledge of skilled craftsmanship and economic might. A fairly significant portion of all exotic materials passes through their hands.

She gently pressed me back into motion; there was steady foot traffic into and out of the entrance, and I was being the obstructive tourist here. Nobody really seemed to mind; the doorway was large enough for a group of Tokh to line-dance through. I saw people with loaded packs going to a large room with some waiting lines and seating off to the side.

Taking my hand, Vael led me in deeper while my eyes darted around, and my neck was fully engaged, rolling my head around to take everything in.

The wall sections seemed to be divided by weapon lineage, and the floors were grouped by distance, or maybe tactic. Or both. Everything looked like it was museum-quality, regardless of the level of ornamentation or flair.

Is that a fighting fan? What’s that, it looks like a drone rotor made out of swords! A ring blade, with no handle or grip?

We walked up to a section of counter with a wall section covered in what I’d describe as unusual weapons. Two Sul’vari were talking to each other behind the counter with energy; one was tall and willowy with dark violet skin, silvery hair, and a shadowy gray eye color. The other was shorter, had cobalt blue skin, stainless steel eyes, and obnoxiously brightly dyed short fuchsia hair with some dark roots showing. The tall one flicked their eyes to the side, in our direction, purposefully to her cohort.

Both turned and put on professional smiles, but the shorter of the two’s expression immediately broke when she recognized Vael, and she slapped her palms onto the wooden counter.

“Is that Vael’Sura Sul’Vethik I see, or are my eyes drawing shade on me!?” Her voice was as loud and energetic as her hair.

The other answered the question in a cooler and more collected tone. “It certainly seems like it is, the stranger returned in the flesh.”

Two sets of glowing eyes worked their way over to me. I saw the tall one’s eyebrow shift upwards a few degrees. Curiosity and inquisitiveness. The shorter’s eyes roamed, then locked onto the neckline of my shirt, and her smile grew almost predatory. My cheeks warmed because she was looking at me like a starving lioness looks at a juicy haunch, and I was pretty sure I didn’t dislike it.

“Vael, who is your lovely friend? Are we going to be properly introduced?”

The taller Sul’vari’s tail spade was flitting around in a repeating S-pattern behind her.

Vael addressed the shorter one first. “Geel, Imir, this is my friend Kiera. She’s just awakened and did her first dive–solo! She’s learning and wants to find something that suits her, with no martial experience at all.”

The slightly elevated and manicured eyebrow of Imir rose several degrees higher upon hearing the introduction. She was taller than Vael by a good half a head’s height, and Vael already towered over me, which made her imposing, despite her thin and graceful figure. Those cool eyes regarded me with even more interest than they had previously. “First Dive, solo, with no training or experience?” They lazily drifted off my face, over and up to meet Vael’s eyes.

I looked up at Vael myself. Her smile was edging into a shit-eating grin, and she bobbed her head while humming affirmation.

Geel’s eyes had never left my figure, and she licked her lips. I could almost feel reluctance as they left me to lock onto Vael. “So, you want some floor time with her, or do we get the honor?”

Vael’s voice was a rolling purr when she replied. “Oh, I’d love it if you would help her find a suitable fit today! And she has materials for something, as well.” Vael released her grip on my hand and slid her XL bag off her shoulders to dig out the small stack of ingots, which she placed on the countertop with a soft clink.

Imir picked up one of the small ingots and flicked it with the back of a claw.

“Six kilos of tier one portal steel, huh?” Geel leaned forward, resting her elbows on the countertop.

“Normally, we charge a 50% material tax on any orders or commissions,” she explained to me with her tail cutting lazy figure eights behind her. “Since you’re a friend of one of our most esteemed client houses, we’ll extend a house rate of 35% to you.” She looked over at Vael purposefully and said, “Out of our respect for Lael’Mira.”

I’m so lost right now.

“That’s very generous of you, Geel. I’ll be sure to mention your generosity the next time I see her.”

Geel’s eyes snapped back to me. “That gives you four kilos of material to work with, which is a decent amount for most things. At least one item, maybe more than one, depending.”

I nodded despite not having a clue.

Geel stood back up, and both she and Imir walked around the counter. Geel had on a kind of high-necked, sleeveless doublet thing with four buckled straps holding the front closed and exposed stitching down each side. The soft, brushed leather was modest and didn't show any skin other than her rather muscular arms — it didn't need to; it was still quite flattering to her figure, snugly fitted across her full bust and tight at the waist. There was a peek of blue midriff where the front parted and hung loosely below the fourth buckle, and very snug high-waisted breeches in a chocolate brown below that.

The breeches left very little to the imagination, and what they didn't hide reminded me, with some emphasis, that Vael wasn't unique in her anatomy—just unique in what she chose to put on display.

Geel was... an impressive specimen.

I filed that observation somewhere I could revisit and examine later, and made a genuine effort to look like a normal person. My eyes came up to see both of them looking at me. I had no idea how long they’d been doing that.

Both of them taste-greeted Vael, with what I thought was a formal greeting. Then it was my turn, after Vael so kindly informed them I was learning Sul’vari culture via immersion.

And there are the nerves, once again.

Imir stepped in front of me.

She’s so tall…

She took a step backwards and bent at the waist until she was eye-level with me. It was embarrassing that it was just about an informal bow. Her face drew closer, and I smelled lilac and some other flower I wasn’t familiar with. My heart took a break from beating when the tip of her claws and the pads of her index finger and thumb held my chin and jaw as lightly as a feather’s touch. Then we kis–taste-greeted, in a casual manner. She tasted similar to how she smelled, neutral and just a touch floral.

I was pretty sure my face was a similar color to Vael’s when we finished.

Then Geel practically elbowed Imir off the stage and stood in front of me. She was shorter than Vael, but not by the absurd degree Imir had over me.

“You’re a new client, you know what that means, don’t you?” She whispered to me.

My heart performed a gymnastics routine in my chest with the realization. She pounced on me, taking my cheeks in her palms and quite aggressively stuffing her entire tongue into my mouth like an eel trying to escape a predator. I stiffened a bit and put my hands forward reflexively, and had to deliberately steady myself to not knee-jerk fuck this up.

I can’t be passive; that’s extremely rude.

I fought back, wrestling her for control over my own mouth. She let out a pleased murr and doubled down. It felt like a period several times longer had passed than it had between Imir and me, or Vael and me, for that matter.

Is she…?

Finally, she pulled back with an audible slurp and a massive grin on her face, fangs on full display. I looked down and instantly died on the spot.

My attention had been wholly swallowed by trying not to choke on tongue, and I had not paid one iota of attention to my near-reflexive shove.

I’d had my hands on her tits like I was reaching for a life raft the entire time. I cough-choked on my own spit and jerked them off her chest. A look was shared between Geel and Vael, to my side, and then Imir spoke.

“This way, please.”

We were led through the length of the main hall, Geel’s tail rolling and swaying in a very animated manner as we walked. We passed through a set of large double doors in the back, down a pair of hallways, and then to a heavy, iron-strapped wood door.

Vael leaned over and whispered to me in the moment after Geel and Imir entered the room, and we were still outside. “Be careful, Kiera. Those two aren’t natives, and they won’t hesitate to eat you up. And don’t mistake the difference, both of them have large appetites.” I squeaked, and Vael patted my shoulder, then entered. I followed behind.

The room was a large training center of sorts. The walls were covered in weapons, not nearly as many as the main hall, of course, but nearly every type was represented, just not with as many subtle variations. The floor was lightly padded, and there were watercolor-style murals on the walls behind the weapon pegs of misty mountains and wooded hills.

Imir gestured to me. She was wearing a light shade of blue that was no less rich in color for the lighter tone, and it had warm gold embroidery around the edges of the wrap consisting of overlapping scallop shapes. It was loose, showing a decent amount of both her shoulders and legs, and didn’t drape on the floor at all. I’d been so caught up in looking at the design details that I hadn’t recognized it for what it was, which was a type of martial clothing.

What I could see of her figure showed someone thin, graceful, and smooth-skinned. I strongly suspected it was a deceitful appearance.

My guess proved correct.

Imir wasn’t a salesperson; she was an instructor, and she knew the ins and outs of using pretty much every weapon in the building. She said she wasn’t an expert or a master in all of them, only a small selection of arms, but I’m pretty sure she was being overly modest with me.

I explained my situation to her while Vael and Geel spoke Dar’vari off to one side. The two were sitting on a low bench, holding hands with their tails entwined behind them.

“So you used a pistol and a straight-blade knife to complete the dive, along with your tail?”

The tail had gotten another raised eyebrow as I explained stabbing things with it and using it to grapple.

I nodded. “Yes, it was… not great, but I made do.”

Imir sniffed. “And the length?”

I held my hands out in front of me to demonstrate.

“Do you know what it is you’d like to learn how to use?”

“Not… really, no,” I said with a sigh. “Sorry, I know that’s not helpful.”

Imir produced a neutral hum and rocked her head from side to side. “What can you tell me about how you felt when you were fighting with your knife and gun?”

I tongued my cheek and rested my weight on my back foot. Crossing my arms loosely over my midriff, I stewed on that for a good long moment. It was an interesting line of questioning.

“Well. I was disappointed that the gun performed so poorly. Most of the uh ‘bang,’ I guess, of the bullets? It was lost on the hide, and only the cores really penetrated. Those didn’t do much, either, unless I was up in their face and drilling them in the eye socket or mouth, or something.”

She nodded and motioned for me to continue, and while I spoke, she slowly circled around me and prodded me with the tip of her tail in various places. Major muscle groups.

“With the knife, the cutting was difficult; I’m really not terribly strong up top. I had better luck stabbing than trying to slice, cutting the boar felt like trying to slice through an old boot with a plastic knife.”

“Mmh. Okay. Stand there. Spread your feet, unlock your knees. Take a firm stance–better.”

She guided my stance with taps of tail and claw, and occasionally used her hands. When she was satisfied, she had me run through a battery of fairly silly-seeming tests.

Push my hand as hard as you can. Pull as hard as you can. Lift, tug, shove, twist.

We moved on to her showing me the most dead-easy and simple way to throw a punch and a kick, and then had me demonstrate on her palms, again, as hard as I was able to do. I expected kicking her to be either like kicking nothing at all, or kicking a brick wall, but all she did was catch my foot and place just enough resistance to slow and stop it.

I asked her whether or not I should do my mana-thing, which set off numerous questions about what I meant by that. Finally, I amped myself up with cycling and pushing my mana, and we went through an abridged version of the same exercises.

She gave me several firm nods when we were done. “Good, Kiera. Your technique needs a lot of improvement, but you have the working foundation of a powerful ability on your hands. I suggest you continue to build and refine it whenever you have the time to do so.”

I swallowed. “You er–you really think so?” I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or teasing me, but she bobbed her head seriously.

“Yes, bodily enhancement techniques are one of the greatest strengths of a life-aspect user who wishes to do martial combat. Augmenting your capabilities while also being able to shrug off light and moderate wounds is a potent combination, and while it’s not popular in Human circles, it’s a well-respected school in its own right with us.” She parted a strand of nearly white hair from in front of her face with the tip of a single claw.

“Humans have peculiar beliefs about User abilities that we do not agree with in many circumstances. However, the strength of the User is in her ability to be diverse in technique, tactic, and application. So it is not our place to lecture, but to observe, and guide, when requested.”

More people doing what I wanted to do, huh? Not the blasting I had in mind, but it’s not being a backline hand-wringer, either. Maybe I’ll try and keep an open mind about this melee combat thing, if what she’s saying is true.

Wait, who am I kidding? She’s the literal expert here.

Imir proceeded to collect different weapons from the walls and had me try them out one by one. She pressed something on her wristband, and a machine lowered from behind a set of doors set into the ceiling. It was cylindrical, hung from a heavy, articulated arm, and was nearly twice my overall height. It came down until it was just inches off the floor mat, and the metal panels on the round body of the device opened up. Various shapes and sizes of limbs slid out, some holding edgeless training weapons, others holding what were clearly targets to hit.

We started with ranged weapons. Imir assured me that I could still fire a bow just fine if I wanted to, but I’d have to work on upper-body strength. I tried out a few using some of the different methods she showed me to shoot them. My aim was absolute trash, and my arms wobbled like noodles drawing the string. Still, it wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it was going to be. I filed them as a maybe option.

Throwing weapons were next. I was somehow significantly worse with those than the bows. There was an embarrassing amount of jiggle going on, both up top and down below. I threw the hat in after the third type of throwing weapon. No way.

Blunt weapons came next. I thought I would hate them, but I didn’t. The warhammer was honestly quite nice, it was light, easy to use, and if you screwed it up and were somehow holding it sideways or backwards, the different spikes and pointy bits on each of the four sides of the head all served their own purpose. I got some solid whacks on the dummy targets with it. Vael asked me to try out the bo staff specifically. I liked it, too. It was a bit more of a handful to wield, but Vael came out onto the floor and offered to demonstrate a few things.

She moved like a whirling blur of rapid-fire, non-stop whacks and cracks. Then she told me about vaulting and showed off how you could use one to send yourself flying up in the air, over monsters, in space-eating graceful arcs, and even took her shoes off and hopped up to stand on one end, with the pole balanced under herself like it was welded to the floor.

I clapped while she did acrobatic poses while standing on one foot on top of a pole longer than I was.

She hopped down and returned the staff to the wall when she was done.

“I really liked how mobile she was with the staff. Are there other weapons like that, but, I don’t know, more offensive?” I asked Imir.

“There are, but let’s go in sequence and not skip around,” she told me.

Edged weapons were next. Knives and short blades left a bad taste in my mouth, and I quickly moved past them. Then came various types of swords. They were actually easier to use than I thought, and weren’t terribly difficult to swing and hit a moving target with. Imir kept having to tell me to correct my foot placement. The issue I found with swords was that I was short, and I had to get fairly close to the training bot that would take swipes at me when I edged into range. The longer swords were harder for me to use, or heavier, or both. I liked the big, huge claymore with the giant handle, especially when trying to stick things with it using thrusts. I loved the range the thing had, but it was hell on my arms keeping the point up when it was extended like that.

Imir made note of my commentary, and we moved on to piercing weapons.

Spears are good. Like, really good. There’s a sharp end, and you stick it in the bad guy. They’re light, easy to carry, and you can even throw them. Imir had me try out a few shields with the spear. I could see it, and I got to have a few robot attacks bounce off my shield. Satisfying sounds, less satisfying getting your skeleton rattled. The spear felt better in two hands.

We were getting closer, I could tell. She was… really good at this. We tried some two-handed polearms.

And then.

I was handed a weapon that clicked almost instantly. It was another spear, kinda. A weird-looking one, with a shorter handle than most of the normal spears and a way longer head. Like a short sword with weird, stylized wings at the bottom of the blade.

It felt good in my hands. The shaft was an oval shape, the wide part aligning with the edges of the blade, and the narrow the flat. For the blade being as large as it was, it didn’t feel large, it wasn’t particularly heavy, and the entire thing was extremely well balanced, with a spiked metal cap on the end acting as a counterweight.

I gave it a few experimental swings at the dummy.

Imir cleared her throat, and I looked over. “It looks like the glaive you had earlier, but it’s not used like one.”

I blinked.

It’s a sword on a stick, though?

She slid up behind me, her feet adjusting my stance, and her arms coming down over mine, hands up against the sides of mine on the shaft. She pushed, pulled, and prodded me until I was flush up against her front.

“Like this, Kiera. Move with me,” she whispered down to me.

My cheeks flushed, and I tried not to let my mind wander.

You stood side-facing and did this shuffle in, thrust, shuffle out. Shuffle forward, thrust, shuffle back, thrust.

She smells like berries.

“Now, you’re not wrong about cutting with it; it does that quite well, but not chopping. The blade is robust, but it’s not made for you to split firewood with, otherwise it would be heavy like one of the axes, right?”

Her tail wrapped around my midriff and pulled me in tight against her once again. I looked up at her, and she had a coy smile teasing her wide lips.

“What you’re going to do is called a draw cut,” she explained without taking her eyes off my face, and guided my motion. I didn’t have to look at what I was doing with her like this. Extend forward, press, slide back while pressing.

“Target knees, ankles, elbows, necks, armpits, faces…”

We went through the motion again. I gulped.

Her rear hand left mine, and a moment later, a clawtip tapped the tip of my nose. I blinked rapidly at her.

“Just making sure you’re fully with me.”

“Yes, I am, totally,” I blurted out. “Draw cuts. Aim for vitals, connective tissue, and arteries. Disable their movement, or inflict a lethal bleed and keep them at range. When they’re down or weakened, move in and kill with a solid thrust,” I moved the two of us in the thrust I’d been shown. “Head, eyes, neck, chest. I can see the activity of their organs, I know right where to put the blade.”

Still with my head tilted back at an awkward angle, and hers craned forward so our eyes could meet, she blinked rapidly, and then her smile grew wide, and I could see her fangs peeking out. The first time I think I’d seen her fully smile.

“My, my. I can see why Vael’Sura’s taken a liking to you. You’re just a tightly-wound bundle of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I um. I.” I stammered. “I killed a lot, you know, of people. People and monsters. Virtually. I’m not a mass murderer. Except for the real monsters. I did kill those. Yeah.”

She broke eye contact and laughed loudly enough to draw the attention of the other two. I kept a firm grip on the partisan with my left hand and wiped some sweat off my brow with my right forearm. It was really warm in here.

“Okay, now, let’s show you what those wings are for, and then we’ll talk about your basic deflect and parry, and using the other end.”

The wings were originally for catching weapons like a cross guard on a sword, but that wasn’t their only function. Their other function was what I’d describe as dirty as fuck shit, and I loved that fact. Hooking them behind someone’s knee and yanking them straight onto their ass with a little, quick tug that took almost zero effort and was dangerously quick. Catching a blade or a shaft of another weapon, twist to lock, yank to disarm. Someone winding up for a swing, you put the wing straight into their elbow while their arm is retracted. Keep it there, and they can’t attack you at all, while you have a big-ass razor-sharp blade right up in their business and ready to eviscerate them. Push, and you sent them toppling over. Catch the edge of a shield and use the wing to manipulate it out of position, then thrust.

I was having more fun stabbing targets with the tip and hooking joints and weapons with the thing than I realized, because Vael had walked over and commented that it looked like I’d found my fit. It’d been a couple of hours, and I was starting to feel the exhaustion creeping up on me, along with the hunger.

We headed back out now that I had made up my mind. Imir gave me a business card for training lessons and told me she’d be happy to train me. Polearms were one of her stronger suits.

Vael and I went and met back up with Geel, who I learned was a metal singer, a type of no-heat smith that used their metal aspects and User abilities to forge some of the best weapons money could buy. We followed her into a nearby workshop, and she made my weapon for me right in front of my eyes, shaping and molding the metal like it was wet clay with both her fingers and hands. She did sing while she worked as well, but I got the impression that it was more of a performance than the way she was actually working the metal.

It was made, custom-fitted to me, and based on the designs from the extensive collection on the walls that I’d liked and had felt good, with some input from both Vael, Imir, and me on the finer details. The end result was a 2-meter weapon with a dark cherry-colored wooden shaft, oval in shape, the same way that the training model had been, but much nicer. The blade was 40cm of absolutely lethal razor-sharp portal steel, with a reinforced tip and central spine. The gently tapered blade came down to a pair of flared shoulders at the base, then tucked in to where it attached to the shaft. A pair of wings extended from the metal shaft the blade was affixed to, reaching past the shoulders of the blade, but were overall smaller than most of the models that they had on display.

Not all had wings at all; it was one of the big splits in partisan designs, I’d been informed. I liked the utility of the wings, but had to deal with the practical reality of them needing to be on the small side to avoid getting stuck on foliage or making it a pain in the ass to carry around in the strange environments of portal worlds.

The end was a rounded cap with a raised ridge that ran around the widest part for smacking into hard things–like skulls and bones–and a robust, but not particularly sharp 8cm spike. It was explained to me as being more useful for keeping the weapon planted when moving around with it like a staff, or thrusting into particularly hard surfaces like armor or carapace, if I felt like it would put too much force on the blade. The weapon was a finesse and technical weapon, and not a brute weapon for smashing and hacking. Portal steel was a significant improvement over mundane steel, but it wasn’t immune to breaking or bending.

I could get it reforged for free if either happened, I just needed to try and collect all the fragments. The weapon came with free maintenance and repair for life, even if it was damaged from heavy use. I got a nice sheath for the blade, a quick lesson on caring for both it and the shaft, and a strap so it could be worn.

The remainder of my steel went into making a newer, better knife, one better suited for carving, skinning, and processing monster parts. Still perfectly capable of murdering the odd monster with, but lighter and smaller than the bayonet-style knife I had been using.

After having the weapons made, we made a trip to the armor side of the courtyard, and this was far quicker. I chose a design from a huge binder and turned over my hides to be processed. I was getting some proper armor made, nothing spectacular, but a major improvement over tactical clothing for Diving. Going with a premade design lowered costs and delivery time, both of which were concerns.

I was stripped down to my underwear and getting my measurements taken when Vael’s slate rang. She made a face when she saw the identity of the caller and answered it, speaking quietly in Dar’vari. She pinched the bridge of her nose after hanging up and let out a sigh. I was all done and redressed. My armor would be done in 2 days and dropped off by a delivery drone.

I cocked my head at Vael as I walked over and held my hand out. She took it with a smile and stood up, pulling me in close by her side.

“Something the matter?” I asked her.

“No… Not really. Just unfortunate timing, is all. I should have expected wandering eyes and talkative lips to be running while I was here at the guild,” she grumbled.

“Why? What’s going on?”

She moistened her lips and looked down to meet my eyes. She was smiling, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“We’ve been invited over for dinner by my mother. And we won’t be needing to get a hotel room, either, because she’d choke the life out of me if I even suggested not spending the night there.”

“So does that mean…?”

Her grin grew mischievous. “You’ll be spending the night and enjoying supper with my Mother as well, yes. I’m sure you’re in for a memorable evening.”

I don’t know if I like the way she phrased that.