Chapter 15: Core Obligations

It still didn't feel quite real, but it was done. Rick sat on a clean bed, feeling his arm recovering, and just stared at the ceiling.

He'd done what Granny Whitney had suggested, telling the security forces who appeared that the Slayer had attacked him. They'd believed his story surprisingly easily, leaving him uncertain if that was because Whitney sat beside him, or if she had tricked him into accepting her agreement. Of course, given her obvious willingness to murder, he hadn't really had much of a choice.

At that moment she sat back, humming a little tune to herself as the doctor from earlier worked on his arm. The old woman actually hadn't done anything else to heal him, making him wonder if that was really her job. Subtle layers of lucrim cascaded from the doctor's fingers as they worked over his arm, which was no longer shredded. In fact, it felt back to normal, though Granny Whitney had done something to make his arm go limp so the doctor could keep working.

That was a reminder of just how easily the old woman could turn on him. Since he was stuck in this situation, his only chance was to find out precisely what she wanted. She must have had an ulterior motive for pressuring him into the deal and he needed to play into that to stay alive.

"It's obvious you're going to get what you want." Rick stared at the old woman as the doctor continued working on his arm. "Unless what you want is to torment me, please make it clear what exactly that is."

"So much cynicism for one so young..." Granny Whitney clucked her tongue and shook her head. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't go to all this trouble. No, I want you at your best, which means I can actually be a great friend to you."

Skeptical as he was about that, Rick would take what he could get out of his arrangement. "Fine. But I have obligations beyond the Underground, so I don't know how much I can do for you."

"Hmm. And what obligations would those be?"

"My parents left me with a lot of debt. I'll never be able to make anything of my life unless I can get rid of that debt entirely, which means cutting a lot of corners." He'd planned that lie to avoid mentioning Melissa, since he'd never forgive himself if she got wrapped up in this. It wasn't much of a deception, but he suspected that Whitney already knew about the aura leeches and an extravagant lie would be too easy to detect.

"Ah, that does explain why such a dedicated young man has gathered so few lucrim." Her eyes flickered over his face with a bit of hard skepticism. "I'm not sure that's the whole story, though. Keeping something from Granny Whitney, are you?"

He stared back at her, refusing to give anything else. To his surprise, she simply smiled.

"I'm not going to use it as leverage against you, dear boy... I already have enough of that. But if I'm going to be helpful to you, I need to know more about your life. Keep what secrets you want, so long as they don't interfere with our arrangement."

"How often do you need me to fight?"

"Perhaps every week or so? Those will honestly be just simple bets to bide our time and earn a bit of extra profit on the side."

"Right, this event in five months." Rick closed his eyes and leaned back, accepting that he'd need to take her objectives as his. "What is it, that you need to recruit random new fighters? Even with help, there's a limit to how much I can grow in only five months."

"This is not public knowledge, but Alger will be running a rather curious tournament at that time. Teams of five against five, but to keep things interesting, you aren't allowed to stack your team with your five strongest. No, you need people in five different power classes." Granny Whitney smiled up at him and sat back in satisfaction. "I'm afraid my old featherweight candidate got herself killed, so I'm looking for someone new."

Rick sighed. "So I'm classed as a featherweight? You're going to tell me that's the lowest, isn't it?"

"That's not so bad, dearie." She reached past the doctor to pat his hand. "There's a class below that called bantamweight, though they aren't included in the tournament. You're quite good, for a featherweight, and that defensive core of yours is solid. I don't make these decisions randomly."

"Alright, but that's far in the future. What do you need from me in the short term?"

"Oh, in the short term I'm going to be the one helping you. Those things I suggested weren't just enticements; I do intend to help you succeed."

Though she might have said more, the doctor finally pulled back. "I'm finished. Give me what we agreed, then you can scheme as much as you want once I'm gone."

Before answering, Granny Whitney reached out and tapped Rick's shoulder. "How does that feel, dearie?"

Since his arm suddenly worked again, Rick tested stretching it, then made a fist. It felt fine. Better than fine. Instead of being torn apart, his arm looked strong and it felt fresh. He'd been slightly muscular before, but now all the muscles in his arm stood out rigidly.

"Run along, dearie." Granny Whitney pressed something into the doctor's hand and waved her away, then sat down next to his bed in the same chair. "Now, young Richard... the arm was a start, but I have several more conditions. We might as well start with the simplest: a bit of an incentive for joining me."

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a pearl sphere. Unlike the cheap marbles that most used, this one appeared to be made of solid pearl. After siphoning out some of it, the old woman set it down beside him. When Rick hesitantly took it, he immediately felt the density of the lucrim within.

"That's 50,000 lucrim exactly. I hope you'll invest some of that in yourself, but it's up to you what you do with it. Oh, and do you need any spending money? I might as well give you some." She fished out a stack of bills and set it down as well, but Rick was still focused on the sphere.

"This is a lot..." If only the aura leeches could be bought off directly with this, but their values were more akin to generation rate, not generated lucrim. Still, this would be a significant advance.

"Just the start, dearie. But I'm afraid I can't give you complete freedom, since your development is now my concern. Can you bring up your lucrima portfolio for me, dear?"

There was no real choice, so he did so:

[Name: Rick Hunter

Ether Tier: 18th

Ether Score: 156

Lucrim Generation: 21,200

Effective Rate: 11,900

Current Lucrim: 578]

[Rick Hunter's Lucrima Portfolio

Foundation: 7700 (Lv II)

Offensive Lucore: 3700 (Lv II)

Defensive Lucore: 6400 (Lv IV)

Birthright Core: 1944 (Lv I)

Birthright Core: 1108 (Lv I)

Aura Leech: -4755 (Stage II)

Aura Leech: -2723 (Stage I)

Aura Leech: -1262 (Stage III)

Golden Lucore: 10 (N/A)

Gross Lucrim: 21,200

Net Lucrim: 11,900]

"These little devices are so handy. Checking portfolios was far more work back in my day." Granny Whitney looked over the screen, humming to herself. "Well! It's clear the first thing we need to do is get rid of that third aura leech."

Rick blinked. "The third one specifically? It's the smallest, so it's hindering me the least."

"Oh, but it's Stage III, which means it's draining you faster than the others. You can wait to get rid of the others if you like, but that one... that one needs to go. It looks like you've been feeding all the leeches equally. Stop doing that and focus all your effort on the third."

"Okay, I understand." He didn't like taking orders from her, but he had to admit her suggestion was logical. The lucrim that she'd given him would definitely help with that.

"We need to do something about your foundation, but you're not really in a position to redo it entirely. You'll have to stick with an R-type for now."

"An R-type?"

"Just jargon, dearie." Granny Whitney set down the phone beside him and patted his knee. "There are several different fundamental ways to structure your foundation, plus more complex techniques on top of that. Most people start with an R-type and it's hard to switch to an M-type, so that's not really a problem. But you should look into changing it eventually."

He could only nod, making a mental note to do more research about it eventually. The terms sounded vaguely familiar, now that he thought about them, but he'd never gotten deep into the forums where they were used.

"Anyway, your biggest weaknesses are lack of a speed core and lack of a Generation Core. You can't make those overnight, especially with those leeches, but you can use those Birthright Cores toward them. You notice how they're just sitting there, unchanging?"

"Yeah. I tried focusing on them during my training, but it didn't have any effect."

"Because those are essentially inert cores. The Birthright Cores given to most rich folks actually grow in strength over time, beyond just providing you with energy. But you're tired after today and I can see that you don't want a lecture. Let me just give you a few things for you to work on until we meet again."

"Actually, I had a question." Since she'd already looked through his portfolio, he didn't see any reason not to just ask her directly. "Do you know what this 'Golden Core' is?"

Granny Whitney blinked at him. "You mean you don't know? I assumed that you'd participated in a clinical trial for money or something of that sort. How did you get an unregistered core, then?"

"I'm honestly not completely sure."

"Well, what I can tell you is what function it's supposed to serve. What you have is just... a prototype, you could say. It doesn't actually function. But what it's intended to do is fundamentally alter lucrim flow. Instead of your body going through a natural cycle, this core would let you draw all lucrim at all stages, developed or incipient or recycling. Like borrowing power against the future, you could say."

"Is that... healthy?"

"Goodness no! That lucrim would be going to heal small injuries, increase your strength, and many other things. This core would burn all of that in an instant for a burst of power." Granny Whitney gave him a rather unpleasant smile. "Had you used it, you'd have thought that you obtained some grand ability and marveled at the new power you received, but it would have cost you in the end."

Though a bit disappointed, Rick nodded in understanding. "I see."

The old woman pulled her handbag into her lap and began looking through it. "Such things have long existed, of course, but they're usually for strong warriors who can afford to take such risks. The notable thing about yours is that it seems like it was designed for the weak."

Rick had no idea what to make of that. Part of him had still been hoping, despite everything, that the mysterious core was something that could grant him great power. Apparently this one was not only non-functional, but its function was something he wouldn't want in any case.

"Anyway, dearie, I have some medicine and exercises you can do to prepare to improve your portfolio a bit. All quite harmless stuff, so do as much as you can."

"Thank you."

"Oh, not a problem, dearie." Granny Whitney set down an old book, a small bag, and a bottle of pills on the bed. "There you go. Now, there's just one more thing before I go, and I'm afraid it's going to hurt a great deal."

He started to move away on instinct, but he was much too slow. The old woman grabbed his newly restored arm by the wrist and pinched down. Her lucrim speared into his body, creating a moment of blinding pain.

Then it was over and he was gasping for breath, staring at his wrist. It didn't look any different, but he could feel that there was something inside it. He wanted to check to learn more, but he was distracted by Granny Whitney rising to her feet.

"Just a little insurance for old Granny Whitney, okay? I can't have you running off on me. But if all goes well in five months, then I'll take that back out and you'll be as good as new. Take care, dearie!" With that, she bustled out of the room, a pleasant smile on her face.

Groaning, Rick massaged his wrist for a while before pulling up his profile again. He soon discovered that what she had done was clearly listed:

[Tracking Bond: 100 (Lv XIII)]

He stared for a moment before realizing why it seemed familiar. One of his cousins who was often in and out of jail had a similar bond placed on him, alerting the authorities if he left his house. This one couldn't have the same restrictions, but he was willing to bet that it would let Granny Whitney find him anywhere. Just what he needed.

Though his body felt good overall, his mind needed some more time, so Rick stayed in the hospital bed and looked over what he'd been given. The book seemed to teach lucrim techniques, while the pills were an expensive medicine and the bag contained something that looked like sand. Hopefully the book would explain what he was supposed to do with those.

Eventually he made his way out of the hospital. Guards took him down what appeared to be a hidden elevator, which opened up in what looked like a normal parking garage. They nodded to him as he went out, then the doors closed and he was free. Except he wasn't free at all.

Rick walked home slowly, taking time to digest everything that had happened to him. It felt like ages ago that he'd headed to the Underground to watch Henry's fight and have a simple match of his own. According to his phone not much time had passed, but his mind was swimming with thoughts of the brutal fight against the Slayer, working together with Tom, the attempted murder, and Granny Whitney.

Just Granny Whitney would have been too much.

By the time he got back to the apartment, he had no solutions but his mind felt a bit clearer. He found Melissa still awake, struggling to keep her eyes open while she watched television. As soon as he came in, she hopped up.

"Rick, are you okay?"

He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. "I got in a really nasty fight at the Underground and then somebody tried to kill me and it's fine now but I have to work for someone and I am very tired."

"Haha, I'll bet." Melissa moved to put a shoulder under one of his arms, helping him to the couch. "You can tell me all about it tomorrow, okay? Right now you really look like you could use the sleep."

"Yeah... you too, though... school tomorrow..."

"It's Saturday, silly." She helped him lie down and pulled his blanket over him. Rick tossed his phone and his keys onto the floor and decided to just sleep like that. After smoothing his hair a bit, Melissa turned to go.

At that moment his phone rang. Rick groaned and pulled the sheet over his head. He heard Melissa walk over and pick it up. "Uh... it's your boss. Should I tell him you're sick?"

"He wouldn't care." Rick forced himself back up and reached for the phone. "I should talk to him."

As far as he remembered, he didn't have to work that Saturday, though there was no guarantee that wouldn't change abruptly. It felt petty to be forced to go to work after everything he'd survived - he was holding the phone with the arm that had been destroyed not long ago - but that was his life.

"What's up, boss?"

"I should be asking you that." Jimmy sounded slightly more irritated than average, which for him was absolutely furious. "Just what are you getting yourself into?"

"Uh... I mean, I've been fighting in the Underground, but Henry does that too and it's not-"

"I don't meant that. I mean that fucking Birthrighter."

Rick sat up straight, all chance of sleep falling away. "What? You mean Mike?"

"The one that kicked the shit out of you, yeah. He came by today, without his friends, and asked about you. I told him to fuck off, and off he fucked. But then I get home tonight and I have a letter from his dad's company? The letter doesn't explain shit, but they sound pissed."

Falling back against the couch, Rick groaned. "I have a vague idea what this might be about. I'll take care of it."

"You'd better, or you can kiss your job goodbye. We do not need prying eyes around here." With that, Jimmy hung up without saying goodbye. Rick's hand fell down to his lap, his phone dropping onto the couch. He stared forward for a while longer. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Melissa was waiting in concern, but he didn't have the strength to explain it to her.

Life couldn't ever give him a break, could it?